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pha55ed · 6 months ago

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Everything I Know Abt Love || JMM21

type :: fluff tw/cw :: dumbass painfully oblivious!reader (their so me-coded) summary :: reader has been crushing on pepe since they were children, but is trying to get over their crush with a different driver. but that's impossible because it's fucking josep maria marti.

request :: can you write smth with pepe marti :D was thinkin something along the lines of the song “everything i know about love” by laufey. heavy mutual pining with an eventual confession and pure fluff <3 ur page is so nice and ur writing is so so so good 🫶 (AHH thank you so much! <3 you're so sweet!)

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liked by jakcrawford, christianmansell, sebastianmontoya, and 82,000 others

yourusername : Alexa, play So American by Olivia Rodrigo

yourbestfriend : YOU GOT ICECREAM WITHOUT ME???

yourbestfriend : wait a minute... 🤨

yourbestfriend : IS THAT A MAN....???

yourbestfriend : IS THAT P...?

yourusername : Noooo girl i need to update you so bad

jakcrawford : Your flavor looks like charcoal dust LMAO

yourusername : it looked purple under the store's lighting 😭😭

christianmansell : where's my thank you???

sebastianmontoya : what... 😀

pepemarti : same... 😀 sebastianmontoya : im coming over christianmansell : wait why??? sebastianmontoya : YOU CAUSED THIS YOU IDIOT

The date with Jak was sweet, almost perfect. He picked you up and called you beautiful, gifting you flowers. The entire time he was respectful, listening to you, and making you laugh. He was cute too, curly brown hair and an adorable smile. Everything should led to you liking him. Yet you couldn't.

The entire time you were still stuck on Pepe. Thinking about how Pepe would have gotten you flowers, but in your favorite color. How Pepe's hair was much softer despite being shorter. Not to mention that Pepe's smile is your favorite thing ever. It's not Jak's fault, he was lovely in every way possible. But you just couldn't imagine loving anyone else beside Pepe.

You grew up with Pepe, meeting at 11 year olds from watching your brother in karting. The rest is history. You met his friends and quickly formed a quad, with Pepe, you, Sebastian, and Christian. Throughout your entire childhood, you had a fat crush on him. But you could never tell if he liked you back or not.

But to Chris and Sebastian, it was painful to watch you both. They could tell that you both liked each other, maybe even loved each other. But you both were so awkward with each other that it seemed like you were friend-zoning each other.

Like for example, Chris and Sebastian tried to set you up both up by making a fake hangout. They planned a whole day of going to the beach and eating dinner, only for them both to get "sick" last minute. So it was just you and Pepe alone for the whole day, going to the beach and a fancy dinner.

Yet you guys still managed to turn one of the most romantic scenes into the most goofy and awkward. Collecting seashells, seeing who can hold their breathe longer underwater, and making a mess at dinner like you two were just clumsy and awkward best friends. When in reality, both of you were on the verge of a heart attack every time you accidentally touched.

So now you were stuck, alone in your room. Torn between either moving on or sticking with Pepe.

You barely had any time to think to yourself, because the very next day you were forced to attend the boys' Racing Sponsor party. Although you never liked going, it was fun with your friends and the food was always amazing. The only major cons was that the party was filled with business people trying to network and get new sponsors, but they usually left you alone once you just said you were a friend of the drivers.

So now instead of being alone in your room, with your thoughts eating away at your brain - you were alone at the large dining table. Seb promised to stay by your side, but he was pulled away by his engineers to try and talk to a fancy gasoline company so they could sponsor him. Chris also promised to stay besides you, but he was also forced away to go to a special engineering company. Pepe and Jak were also busy doing a ton of interviews and connections, they were very sought after.

You sighed, unable to help but just sit in your boredom as you picked at your food. Now you were wishing that those annoying business men would try to talk to you again just so you have something to do. Using your phone wasn't an option either, 1. because it's rude to do and 2. because your dress didn't have pockets so you stupidly gave it to Seb to hold onto.

But just as you were about to count the petals dead floral centerpiece in front of you, Jak sat next to you. Fuck, you thought.

"Hey!" He said, wearing a black tux just like everyone else in the room. "You look so bored haha"

His small chuckle was charming and cute, he was so "boy-next-door" coded. Jak's curls were a bit more defined and his suit had almost no imperfections on it. He obviously paid deep attention to his suit. You watched as he started to fiddle with his tie slightly as he sat next to you. It was clear he was a bit nervous around you, trying to put up a good first impression still.

"I can't lie, I am a bit bored." You say with a smile at his attentive nature. "I'm just waiting for it to be over so we can all go out and play games at Chris's house."

"We?" He asks, quoting you before connecting the dots as to who 'we' was. "Oh! You, Pepe, Chris, and Seb, right?" Jak tilts his head slightly, like a dog.

You simply nod, taking a mental note of how much of Jak resembles a golden doodle. One of the cute golden doodles, not the ones' with ugly human eyes. You wanted so badly to like him. It wasn't like you weren't aware of how cute and sweet he was. Yet your brain just wouldn't allow yourself to feel a spark between you two.

"Well uh, would it be okay if I joined?" Jak asked nervously, looking in your eyes.

Before you could answer, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Although you hated how embarrassing it was to admit, you could already tell who was touching you just by the fingertips and vein on the back of the hand: Pepe Marti.

"NnnnooOOO!" Pepe said, making you want to laugh but you knew it would hurt Jak's feelings. It was clear he had quite a few drinks, most likely due to the businessmen always pressuring the drivers to have a few shots. Mainly so they could take advantage of their drunken state and get them to sign any deal they wanted.

"Oh uh..." Jak sat their awkwardly, looking at how close Pepe's body was to yours despite him hovering above your chair. "Hi Pepe,,,"

"Hi JAK!!!" Pepe said, quite loudly, "Or should I say JAK - ASS!!! Hahaha,,, ha..."

Pepe's entire fucking head and neck turned to you, trying to see if you laughed at his awful joke. When he sees that you didn't laugh, his smile instantly died. You could tell that he was cringing at himself.

You knew you needed to get Pepe out of the room, before he does anything stupid. So you quietly excused yourself from Jak, apologizing for Pepe's lame joke. Although Pepe was perfectly able to walk over to you and Jak, all of the sudden he began to act as if he's never walked in his life. So he clung onto your waist, using that as support while you both exited the party.

It didn't make much sense for him to hold your waist for support. Holding onto your shoulders or even your head would make much more sense - but he insisted on holding your waist. But you weren't going to complain when he hand perfectly fitted there. And you definitely weren't going to complain when he was pulling you closer to his body on instinct, as if he was a magnet attracted to you.

You struggled to get his tall body into your small car. But you did it. Now you had to struggle with getting the buckle on him. Not that he's fat, far from it, he's quite lanky and lean. The struggle came from the fact that Pepe was insisting that he should drive. That the man should always drive the woman home. He even drunkenly giggled and said, "If I driveee, then we couldd kiss at red lightssss!"

He said that while looking up at you with a shit eating grin. As if he was trying to see if you would blush at his joke, which you did. And as if his cute giggle and smile weren't enough, he did a stupid little fist bump in the air after making you giggle, as if it was an accomplishment. He has never ever been this flirty with you, making you unsure of how to handle him.

You can't help but laugh even more at his stupid acts. And from your laughter, Pepe finally sat still for once. He was stuck in his seat, staring at you, completely star struck. His big dark eyes starring up at you while you giggled, he looked as if he's seen the Northern lights. His lips were slightly parted, mainly because he was tired from fighting you away from buckling him, but also because his breathe was genuinely taken away from his lungs.

And that's when you felt something click in you.

At that exact moment, when Pepe was looking up at you with big puppy eyes and kissable kips - you realized that you would never ever be able to replace Pepe. You would never be able to settle and date Jak just to move on from Pepe. Because in one single moment of Pepe barely saying anything, he made you feel more cherished than Jak did within your entire day. Because in one single moment of Pepe's eyes staring in yours, you felt your heart pound faster than it ever did when Jak gently held your hand at night.

You knew you needed to tell Jak soon. Although you knew that you and Pepe weren't an item yet, you were determined to get him to be yours. And for the first time within almost a decade - you felt as if you had a chance with him.

As you dragged Pepe behind you, you safely managed to get him up the stairs and into his apartment. It was a cozy place, with tan and beige furniture decorating the place. There were photos hung up of his friends and family, shelves filled with comic books and gifts from fans. It felt warm, homey despite it not being your home.

Due to Pepe's strong grip on you, as if he was glued to you, you were forced to throw him roughly onto his couch. You sighed out of relief from finally getting him to settle down. You were beat, ready to go sleep asap. Meanwhile Pepe was the exact opposite. He was still giggling and giddy despite there being nothing funny happening.

His smile was permanently on his face, but you weren't complaining. As you slumped down next to him, you could still smell the alcohol in his breathe. He lazily threw his hand on your thigh, looking at you before saying "You're so farrr".

The lazy grip he had on your thigh quickly turned into an overpowering grip, as he easily pulled you all the way close to him. Even though he got what he wanted, you being right beside him, his hand didn't leave your thigh. You were left in shock, never ever seeing this side of him. He's been drunk around you before, but never this drunk. You're lost on why he felt the need to get so drunk today, especially when he knew being drunk was a huge no-no at sponsor parties.

When Pepe saw your eyes widen, he instantly copied your expression. His hand left your thigh in a flash and he scooted away from you by a foot. "I'm sorry, did you not like that???" He asked, his words not slurring as much.

"No no, it's okay." You said as you looked at him, his shoulders relaxing at your words. You wish you could say the same, your shoulders were killing you now from having to bring Pepe up a whole flight of stairs.

Rolling your shoulders didn't help the ache, making you slightly wince at the soreness. Pepe, despite still being drunk, could tell it was because of him. He looked guilty, scooting a bit closer to you.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, the most gentle you've heard him all night. "I shou' have gone home on my own."

You shook your head, "Definitelyyy not, you would have crashed your car into a family of five or something."

"Better than hurting you," He said almost in a whisper. You watched his face scrunch up. He let out a light burp and threw his head back onto the couch. "God I feel awful already."

On instinct, you were about to get off the couch and get him some pain medication. But Pepe's arm shot out, blocking you from getting up.

"Not physically." He says, "But,,, mentally."

You tilt your head slightly, confused at what he meant. He looked into your eyes, able to tell that you had zero clue at all what he meant. A sigh left his lips, as if he was tired despite him being the one that got dragged up a flight of stairs and a ride home.

"I'm sure you'll feel awful physically soon." You say, "But why do you feel hurt, mentally?"

"I just," Pepe's voice was stuck, unsure of how to word himself. He let out a few murmurs but it wasn't actual words. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making him unable to speak or if Pepe just didn't know how to word what he was thinking. You were assume it was both.

He knew he wouldn't be able to outright state what he was feeling, so instead he opted for questions. "(Y/N), be honest with me." You nodded, shifting in your seat to face him. His tone sounded serious. "How do you feel about Jak?"

You assume he must have felt awful mentally for his rude jokes to Jak. "Oh, Jak is cool. If you're worried about your joke to him, I'm sure he'll just brush it off."

"Are you close now?" Pepe asks, completely ignoring your answer to his question. "After that date you guys had, seemed like fun." He says, his eyes not looking at yours. As if he was too scared to make eye contact with you.

"Um, it was fun. But I mean, I didn't feel a spark or anything-"

"Don't lie."

You were frozen, unsure of what to say. "I'm not lying...?"

"I see how you laugh at his jokes, how he looks at you, how you smile at him." Pepe says slowly, "Do you think you like him?"

His tone was so serious that you were caught off guard. But you knew the answer to his question now, thankfully you realized it this night. "No, I think we're just gonna be friends. He seems super sweet and nice, but not for me-"

"Then who is for you?" Pepe asks, this time looking at you. There was no smile on his face, instead a look of investigation. A look that seemed as if he was trying to put a mask on, to protect his feelings from getting hurt.

You knew the answer to this question to. But you weren't able to say. All you were able to do was stare into Pepe's eyes, watching them soften as he looked at you. You swallowed and broke the eye contact, feeling too intimate to keep staring into his dark eyes.

While you were looking away, Pepe scooted back close to you. Your knees touching. Although your head was still turned away, too flustered to look at him and unwilling to give him an answer. Pepe was staring right at you, his entire torso turned towards you to examine your whole body and features.

You didn't want to turn your head around and face him. You could tell that if you did, your faces would be only a few inches away from each other. Close enough to make your breathes touch each other faces. Although you were trying to look away from him, his hand gently reached for your face. There was no pressure in his grip, instead it was lightly guiding your head to face him.

Now your faces were close, eyes locked in, and bodies only a few inches apart. You looked at him, holding your breathe in fear that it stank from eating. His eyes and face were no longer tense, it was soft and looked as if he was pleaded. It looked as if he about to beg you for something, which he did:

"Please, please say it's me." He said in a whisper.

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#f2 #formula 2 #pepe marti #pepe marti x reader #josep maria marti #jmm21 #jak crawford #sebastian montoya #christian mansell #f2 smau

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thatguywrites · 1 month ago

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Main Masterlist

Highschool Sweethearts Event Masterlist

The Grid

Drivers with Chronic pain Boyfriend - Headcannons - Multiple

Drivers with Autistic Boyfriend - Headcannons - Multiple

Drivers + Wags with Tattoo Artist Boyfriend - Headcannons - Multiple

Oscar Piastri (And Lily Zneimer)

Our Boy - SMAU - Lily Zneimer x Male!Reader x Oscar Piastri

Hab and Wag² - Headcanons - Lily Zneimer x Gn!Athlete!Reader x Oscar Piastri

Daniel Ricciardo

Our Next Chapter - SMAU - Daniel Ricciardo x NASCAR!Male!Reader

Max Verstappen

Anything For You - Written - Max Verstappen x Migranes!Male!Reader

Vienna - Written - Max Verstappen x Male!Reader

Lewis Hamilton

No Matter What - Written - Lewis Hamilton x Male!Asexual!Reader

Other

We've Got Your Back - Headcanons - Pepe Martí x FtM!Reader x Christian Mansell

Da Boys :P - Texts - Valtteri Bottas x Male!Reader x Zhou Guanyu

#f1 x male reader #max verstappen x male reader #oscar piastri x reader #lily zneimer x male reader x oscar piastri #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #male reader #lewis hamilton x male reader #lewis hamilton x reader #zhou guanyu x male reader x valtteri bottas #zhou guanyu x reader x valtteri bottas #valtteri bottas x reader #zhou guanyu x male reader #zhou guanyu x reader #valtteri bottas x male reader

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httpiastri · 10 months ago

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PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER TWO (JEDDAH)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6k

warnings: hmmm nothing except heartbreak in several scenes lol

author's note: guys im really sorry but im pretty mean to paul here..... like it got to the point where i rewatched jeddah videos of him and physically felt ill because i was mad at him LMAO 😭 but we'll get through this together!! this was supposed to include some other scenes but it was long enough as it was sooo 😶 summary for this chapter ig is yn feels very torn between her boys, and so do i. hope everyone has a good week (it's finally race week again aaaaa) !! 💗

also i think the next chapter might be shorter because i just wanna get it out already and i don't have a lot to write about in it hehe, fingers crossed that i can finish it soon<3

(alsoooo i proofread this a few days ago but i just cant find the energy or time to do it rn, praying that there are no big issues…. if there are, i would be so thankful if you could send me an ask or message etc 🙏)

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"i still can't believe i missed out on the top ten again. and by just three hundredths, even..."

pepe shakes his head as you both make your way out of the campos truck, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair before pulling on his red bull cap. you can't help but chuckle – he's been like this all day, and all evening yesterday. you understand it, though; finishing just outside the reverse grid pole once again must feel frustrating.

not that you can relate. with a much better qualifying session yesterday in your second-ever qualifying in formula 2, you managed to snatch an eight-place finish. in other words, you will be starting third in today's sprint race, and just the thought of the probability of getting some big points sends tingles through your entire body.

"you'll get it next time," you say with a pat on your friend's back. "i mean, look at ollie. from p-nowhere last week to pole yesterday. that can be you next time around."

you've just come out of your morning meeting – morning meaning starting at ten and ending around noon – and now you're finally getting some lunch in the red bull hospitality. even during a race weekend like this, with mostly evening and night sessions, you still managed to oversleep and almost didn't make it in time for your meeting. you didn't get to have any breakfast, you had to run all the way from the shuttle to the truck, and you even forgot one of your racing boots as well as your phone in your hotel room. thankfully, you'll still have time to go back to the hotel before the sprint race, but walking around without your phone feels like being naked.

"speaking of ollie," pepe starts as you turn left and head into the formula one paddock. "are things between you two... alright?"

your eyebrows furrow together at the pause in the middle of his sentence. "why wouldn't they be?"

"well, i..." he stops again, and it makes you want to shake him. "i heard something. but it doesn't matter."

"who are you to decide that it doesn't matter?" you scoff. "tell me."

pepe sighs – he knows fighting you over this is a losing battle. you're way too stubborn to let go of this. "i heard that you were having issues. that you aren't happy, or something along those lines..."

you stop in your tracks, brain working in overdrive to comprehend what your friend is telling you. not happy with ollie? why would you not be happy with him? "who told you this?"

pepe stops in front of you. "i heard it from kimi, who heard it from... paul."

"what?" your eyes squeeze shut as your hands interlace on top of your head. "why would kimi come to you? instead of asking ollie himself?"

"you know kimi," pepe starts instantly. "he's young and gullible. i think he wanted to go for the see-if-the-best-friend-knows-anything strategy instead of asking ollie straight out." his hands squeeze your shoulders softly and you look up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips. "i guess he was scared that ollie would get mad at him or something."

"it's just-" you sigh. "it doesn't make any sense, does it?" pepe is just about to say something more when you cut him off with a dismissive swat of your hand in the air, stepping away from him and continuing your walk down the paddock. "let's just forget about it. i need lunch."

pepe stands frozen for a few moments before hurrying up to you again. he can't quite read your mood – you look unbothered, but he can't help but notice the slight touch of redness of your ears and the way your eyes seemingly can't focus on one thing for long enough. there's no way you can be over it already.

with pepe shutting up for a little while for the first time ever, you're left all alone with your thoughts as you continue your stroll. you know you should've asked for more information; you should've asked for details, for exactly what kimi said and how he worded it. you probably should also ask kimi himself for what paul told him. but right now, it's like a shadow is clouding your vision.

how dare paul say something like that? he must've known that the rumors he made up would spread like wildfire, as they always do in the formula paddocks. the snowball effect can make something tiny become huge, which is why you're always cautious about rumors. but apparently, paul doesn't care about that.

you're far too enraged to think even straight, and that's why it takes pepe pulling your arm to make you stop walking. you frown – to be fair, your frown hasn't left since it appeared a few minutes ago – but when you realize what it is that he's pointing at, both your frown and your jaw drop.

there's a swarm of journalists and fans following a ferrari driver down the road in front of you, which isn't all that uncommon. both charles and carlos are always incredibly popular. but what blows your mind is the fact that when you finally catch a glimpse of the driver's face, it's neither of the team's main drivers.

it's ollie.

"ollie! mate!" pepe yells, his arm waving erratically over his head. it takes a moment for the brit to find the owner of the voice, but he's tall enough to look over everyone else, and he's soon making his way over to you both. "i know you're popular, but this all seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

"i don't know what happened, as soon as the news came out..." ollie lets out a chuckle before turning to you, eyebrows raised at your expression. "i've called you like a hundred times, what have you been up to?"

"i left my phone at the hotel-" you begin but cut yourself off and shake your head. "wait, what news?"

when ollie starts speaking, time slows down. the entire world around you goes dark, the only thing you can hear being ollie's explanation of how carlos needs surgery and the call he got as he was having lunch. you feel lightheaded, almost like you could faint, when he speaks his final words. "...and they said i will be the one to replace him. i'm driving the formula one grand prix tomorrow."

you don't waste any time before throwing yourself into his arms, a loud squeal passing through your lips. "are you kidding me?" you exclaim, hugging him even tighter. "this is incredible, ollie! oh my god, i..."

"i can't really believe it myself, to be honest," ollie says, shaking his head as you part from the hug. pepe slaps his shoulder, congratulating his friend. "i would love to stay and chat, but i need to be in the car for the last practice, and i have a lot to get done-"

"go! go!" you usher, softly shoving him away back towards the journalists and fans who are still waiting just a few meters away. "we will talk later, okay?"

"of course."

and then you watch him leave – your boyfriend, the soon-to-be formula one driver – with a much lighter heart. this definitely helps you forget about all of the things regarding paul.

at least for a little while.

but of course, pepe stops your train of thought. "does that mean i get the reverse grid pole?"

you've never ever been to the ferrari garage before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-practice duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the garage instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull race suit, even. great.

you were in the middle of preparations for your sprint race when ollie texted you, and since you still had some time before the race started, you made it over to the other side of the paddock as quickly as you could. but unfortunately, that meant that you didn't have time to change your outfit into something more discreet.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

"he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "i really need to go, because the sprint starts in..." you shoot a quick glance to the clock on the wall. "forty-five minutes. my team is going to kill me. but go out there and show them, baby."

and that's exactly what he did.

though, that's not the only thing you were correct about; your team was indeed furious when you finally made it back to the campos garage. your main engineer, who was supposed to help you get strapped in and fix all of the last details with the car over fifteen minutes ago, was apparently so angry he left you to do everything yourself. it's not that you didn't know about your schedule; you just needed to be there for ollie before his big debut.

everything works out in the end, at least according to you, and you're soon settled in your car on the grid, waiting to go on your formation lap. however, you've barely gotten as much as a glance from anyone on your team. you can't help but press the button to activate your radio. "i'm really sorry, guys. i just... had to do something."

"hope it was worth it." the voice of one of your engineers booms through your earpieces instantly, the sternness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "we got a huge fine because you were so late to get into the car, so..."

another of your engineers speaks up. "let's focus on the race instead now. no need to fight."

maybe it was because you got to visit ollie right before the race, or maybe it was just starting third and having a good car. either way, the sprint race was one of your best races in a long time. not only did you pass richard verschoor starting one place ahead of you into turn one; you also overtook paul, who started from pole, before the end of the first lap and got to lead your first laps in formula two ever.

dennis came around to steal the lead from you, but just landing yourself a spot on the podium was enough for you to celebrate. when you scored a second-place finish where the guy in first place was one of your former academy members, it didn't really matter that the guy on the third step of the podium was your ex-boyfriend.

going through all media duties is always exhausting, but it's usually never as dreadful as it is today. sitting in that press conference, knowing that your boyfriend is starting his first ever formula one qualifying in just a few moments. you have to literally bite your tongue not to pull a valtteri bottas and ask the journalists how q1 is going.

when you're this busy, you don't really have any time to think about paul's rumors. though, something about it continues to loom in the back of your mind all evening. especially when he speaks in the press conference, despite how hard you try to not even look at him, and especially when he's asked about ollie.

as the press conference finally comes to an end, you're not the only one who wants to hurry out of there to watch the rest of the qualifying session. you and the rest of the podium trio find a big screen that's showcasing the session, and you all insist that you should stay and watch, despite the f2 staff members' continuous attempts to squeeze the last drops of content from you.

they keep stuffing their phones and cameras in your face, throwing all kinds of questions about ollie your way, but you refuse to budge. you won't let them ruin this moment for you.

you're sure they've gotten quite a lot of embarrassing pictures of you teary-eyed while admiring your boyfriend's results, though.

you follow the timing board like a hawk, but something breaks you out of your trance. "who are you watching?" your head snaps to the direction of the voice – the f2 instagram admin with her phone pointed to paul.

as if you all haven't been watching and chatting about ollie for the last ten minutes.

you try not to, you really do, but you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of paul. he's trying to look all innocent, hugging his trophy to his chest as his big, blue eyes blink up at the screen in the distance. a year ago, you would've just thought he was adorable – but today, this frustrates you more than anything. "i'm watching my dear friend ollie," he starts, eyes finding the camera so easily.

dear friend, huh? a dear friend is someone you spread rumors about?

the next time he speaks up, you have to physically bite your tongue to not yell at him. "the guy who gave me one position on tomorrow's grid."

you turn your head away in pure disgust. how could he say something like that? is that the only thing he cares about, places in his starting grid for tomorrow's feature race? is he serious?

you want to escape, to just storm off and never speak to him again. but instead, you force yourself to take a deep breath and focus back on the thing you're here for. ollie is doing so well; when q2 ends and he has driven his last lap, he misses out on q3 by just over a hundredth of a second. he almost even manages to knock out the legendary lewis hamilton, his fellow countryman whom he's been following for as long as he can remember, in his first-ever qualifying session.

you've never been prouder.

"honestly, as long as i can just bring the car home without wrecking it completely, i'm satisfied."

you give ollie's hand a soft squeeze at his words, fingers intertwining as your hands rest on top of the hotel cafeteria table. your other hand lifts your sandwich to your mouth and you take a bite, chewing it down quickly before giving him a nod.

you know his statement is meant as a joke, but you know it's just as much of a truth as a lie. driving an actual ferrari f1 car is his biggest dream, and even just making an alright race probably is enough to make him happy. there's no pressure on him, no one is expecting him to perform a miracle or even score some points.

but at the same time, you know he would never be satisfied with himself if he "just" brought it home safely. ollie isn't like that; he's way too stubborn, too determined, too much of a sore loser. it's what makes him. no matter what he says, there's always going to be something inside of him telling him that he needs to do better.

"i think you'll score your first points today," you tell him with a shrug. "i can feel it."

"don't say that, we don't know anything yet."

a shake of your head in combination with that smile of yours is enough to make some hope spark in him. "well, you have the car for it," you start. "and you have the skills."

ollie stays silent, letting the distant chatter of the other hotel guests having their breakfast fill the air. the cafeteria is emptying out by now, but new faces have been dropping in for a long time now, most of them walking by to give ollie a pat on his shoulder or a quick "good luck, mate".

you put down the last of your sandwich, leaving it behind with the fruit rinds and other scraps on your plate. "but don't think too much," you hum, eyes softening as they land on his. he's trying to contain his worries and anxiety as much as he can, but the slight tilt of his eyebrows and the way his gaze tends to dart away every once in a while tells a different story. "it's just driving. it's just what you always do, no problem."

you hold your glass of orange juice up to him and he gets the hint, clinging his own glass to yours before downing the last of its contents.

you're just about to speak up again with new words of affection, but an icy feeling spreads through your body at the sight of paul entering the cafeteria. the feeling soon turns into real nausea, and you can't even remember what you were supposed to say when you realize that he's making his way towards the two of you.

you want nothing more than to stay and keep encouraging ollie, but you can't take it at this moment. you stand up from your seat, giving ollie's fingers one last squeeze. "i forgot that i have a meeting soon," you make up. "so i need to go. i'll come see you before the race, okay?"

he doesn't even get to say bye before you've stormed off.

unfortunately, you have to pass paul in order to make it to the exit, but you make no effort to even recognize that he exists. you keep your gaze straight ahead.

karl, paul's physio, does a quick greeting from you though – as well as a confused look at the candle pressed into a pastry in one of the hotel's yogurt bowls – but then, you're off to hide in your hotel room until you're needed at the track for race preparations.

of course paul had to come by and ruin everything yet again.

with a good race from yesterday in the bag, you thought you could keep the momentum into today. however, that didn't turn out to be the case.

when a trident driver hit you from behind in the first lap, you lost a few positions instantly and after that, it was a bit too tough to recover. you had opportunities for overtakes, and the car was good enough to go through with them, but you never could. you kept slipping up, making rookie mistakes, and falling back even further. it even got to the point where your team came on the radio to remind you to focus on the road.

but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't work. the entire race, something else clouded your mind.

or, more specifically, someone.

every time you even caught a glimpse of paul's silver car, it was like something in your mind short-circuited. the memory of your conversation with pepe, the thought about paul running around and spreading rumors about you in the paddock… you couldn't push the thoughts, or the anger, away.

other times, back in the day, you were always good at turning your anger into something positive for your races. if you were upset with your father for something he said about red bull or the junior program, you went out there and proved him wrong. if you heard that another driver had complained about how you just got your seat because you were a girl, you made sure to dominate the race.

your stubbornness was always your biggest strength. but today, it was like your tank had run out. as much as you wanted to completely crush paul, you didn't have the capability.

at least paul didn't have that good of a race, either.

the second you get out of your car, you storm off towards your garage. you know you'll probably get a lot of shit for your performance your entire debrief, but if you can at least get over with it sooner, then you can forget about it and refocus on the next race weekend. plus, you really want to catch ollie before he's away for his f1 debut.

thankfully, you're not the only one getting criticized during the debrief; the team is not very happy with pepe's start, nor his DNF. after they've gone on and on about how costly this weekend has been for the team for an hour, you're finally released, but not without one last reminder to "think about what you're doing here and whose time you're wasting".

it's natural to lose all energy and confidence after a race like this. but the second you're back in ollie's arms, it's like the world around you just disappears. he's always been the best at keeping you grounded.

you've probably never hugged him this tightly before, but you can't help it. the second your arms wrap around his neck, you pour everything you have into the embrace.

he looks so good, so handsome and professional dressed up in his ferrari race suit. not just his prema suit with the ferrari logo on it, but an actual ferrari outfit. he looks like a real f1 driver – and the realization that he indeed is a formula one driver now brings tears to your eyes.

"hey," he says around a chuckle. "don't cry on me, woman."

"i won't..." you reach up to wipe away a drop from the corner of your eye as you pull away slightly from his embrace, shaking your head. "i won't. i'm just so proud of you."

"why are you so sappy?" the scene in front of him brings a huge grin to ollie's lips – he finds you equal parts adorable and hilarious. "i'm just going out there to drive a car. no biggie."

"no biggie," you repeat with a scoff, dabbing your other eye quickly before doing your best to blink down your other tears. earlier today, you were the one saying all of this was no problem. and yet, now he is the one who has to convince you of it. "right. it's just your passion, the thing you love. but i'm still proud."

an engineer catches ollie's attention above your head, sending him a certain look that has your boyfriend nodding before giving you one last squeeze. "i think i should-"

"of course, go," you usher him, retracting from his arms. "i'll be here after, no matter what happens." he nods, and he's about to leave when you speak up one last time. "have fun, okay?"

"always."

who would've imagined that ollie would not only score points in his first ever f1 race, but also win driver of the day, have the most overtakes, and score a seventh place as the second best british driver of the race?

well, you had imagined everything from him coming last to winning the race by horse lengths. and yet, this was all so unexpected. if someone had told you on wednesday that ollie would score six f1 points three days later, you would've laughed in their face. but now, it feels like it's been a long time coming.

you weren't allowed to stay in the ferrari garage for the actual race – it would've been a pr nightmare for everyone involved – so your nerves were all over the place since you weren't able to hear ollie's radio messages, info about the strategies, and so on. at least you get to wait right outside the garage with jamie, chris and his dad david, being the first to congratulate him after such a good debut race.

he looks completely worn out when he finally walks out through the door, but you can almost feel the pride and happiness radiating from him. his sweaty hair rests messily on top of his head, and an ice vest is draped over his body already to cool him down from the insane heat. and, most importantly, the smile on his lips is bigger than it's been all week.

ollie looks like he doesn't ever want to let go of his dad's hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of david's neck for a long time. you can only guess what things the father is whispering in his son's ear, but when the result is ollie pulling him even closer, your heart expands in your chest.

when they part, it's jamie's and chris's times to congratulate the point-scorer, and when he pulls away from his manager's arms, his eyes land on you. you're pulled into his embrace in just a second, a giggle slipping past your lips when he lifts you up into the air and spins you both around. his strong grip around you never eases, not when he sets you down on your feet again and not when he starts speaking.

"i knew it would be hard, but..." he shakes his head, a sweaty fringe brushing against the side of your head. "my entire body is ruined. like, it doesn't hurt because i have so much adrenaline, but i'm going to be in so much pain later. my neck and my shoulders and-"

another one of your waves of laughter cut off his ramblings, and he joins in once he realizes what he's been doing. when you finally pull apart slightly and your hands come up to cup his cheeks, you're just staring into his eyes for what feels like forever.

your boy, the f1 driver.

"this is from your mum," you whisper to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "and this is from your sister." a kiss to his other cheek. "and... this is from me."

ollie has to crouch down slightly because even when you get onto your tippy toes, you can't reach all the way up to his forehead. but once you press your lips against his skin, all of the hidden tension in his eyebrows disappears. he's like putty under your touch.

"i'm so proud."

ollie's groans are muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into, head twitching when your thumbs press into some tense areas of his neck. you shush him jokingly, like a mother comforting a crying baby, but your movements never halt.

ever since he got out of that car, he's been complaining about how sore he is. especially his neck and shoulders, and all of the muscles that were most affected by the g forces. you don't blame him, however – he's got a free pass for pretty much everything for the next week, you think – but you decided to be a nice girlfriend and help him out. the strings of whines and swearwords he keeps letting out don't seem to be stopping anytime soon, though.

the lotion on your hands is enough for you to be able to glide your fingers across his upper back, along his shoulder blades, all over his freckled skin. as you're straddling his lower back, you can reach pretty much all angles of his upper body, and the knots in his muscles seem to be disappearing despite how painful your massage seems to be.

eventually, ollie tilts his head to the side, his blushed cheeks decorated with lines from the pillow underneath him. his slight pout is on full display and his tired eyes flutter closed as he speaks. "hey, y/n?"

"yes, ollie?" you reply, your thumb pressing into one especially stubborn knot in his right shoulder. ollie stays quiet for a few moments and takes a deep breath, almost as if he's gathering courage for something.

"you know that i love you right?"

the world around you stops.

everything freezes.

he loves me?

your breath hitches in your throat at the words. it's the first time he's ever said them, and though it's not the most uncommon thing for someone to tell their girlfriend of over six months, they make your head spin.

a mishmash of thoughts clouds your mind. they won't shut up for even a second. but the loudest thought is the only one you shouldn't have; it's about the only person you can't be thinking about right now.

the way that your mind instantly wanders off to paul is frankly embarrassing, but you can't help it. he's the first boy you've ever loved, the first person you've ever uttered those three words to. the only one. and no matter how badly you wish you could just forget about that and move on, he's still a part of you. he's your only real experience of love.

and this just isn't the same.

you want to say it back to ollie, you truly do. but at the same time, you don't want to say it if it isn't true – it's not fair to him.

ollie senses that something is up. your signs aren't exactly subtle, anyway; your movements have stopped completely and he can't even hear you breathing anymore. "hey, i'm sorry-"

"don't apologize," you interject instantly, shaking your head as you start to climb off his body. "you did nothing wrong. i'm the one who's sorry."

"stop that, you shouldn't be." he turns around, staring up at you with those big, brown eyes of his. "i don't expect you to say it back if you don't want to. i just..." he lets out a low sigh. "i wanted you to know, i guess."

you sit still for a few moments, before leaning down to place a kiss on his rosy cheek. "thank you." another pause. "it means a lot, you know?"

"well, you mean a lot to me."

and he does to you, too.

but is that enough?

ollie loves me.

he actually loves me.

he told me today after the race, and... i didn't say anything. i just sat there like a complete moron.

i couldn't say it back. i just don't feel what i felt for paul yet.

what's wrong with me?

why don't i race like i used to? why can't i control my emotions? was the sprint race yesterday just luck? did i really deserve that podium?

why does paul still affect me this much? why is he always there in my thoughts – when i'm racing, when i'm with ollie, when i try to sleep...

i have a perfect boyfriend and a great car, so why do i feel like everything is falling apart?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername p2 in the sprint 🥈 big thanks to the team for the hard work!! and i got to witness the rb p1-2 up close, congrats redbullracing 💙 also check slide 4 for an appearance from me and my former family on f1tv <3

show all 96 comments

user y/n and the prema staff during the driver's parade 😭 they're so cute

→ user her referring to them as her family, byeeee

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user why is no one talking about the last slide???

→ user because i can't talk while i'm crying, sorry

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great job this weekend y/n !!! thank you for signing my cap 🥺

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user loved to see her celebrate the red bull double podium even after a hard feature race ❤️

→ user she had to balance out the post with that max and checo pic 😭 would've been just ollie & prema otherwise

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user ollie looks like a baby in the second pic 🥲

→ user just a little boy playing with his toy cars

→ yourusername i had to hold his little teddy bear during the race to make sure it wouldn't get dirty

→ user stopppp you're so real for sharing that

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ts4wishbuildercc · 7 months ago

Text

Ts4 Undead Lordaeron House 🎃

from World of Warcraft (CC)

(functional fan build)

by Ts4wishbuildercc

In night ....♥

And for the arachnophobes (like me)I added here an undead pet called "Pepe" the spider wizard! XD Sadly he cannot move (just a statue)

House inside for your undead sims:

(a familiar look innit?)

You can also use the outside laboratory, Basement toxic bathtub and my favorite mod - archery,..bless you all amazing autors :)

♥

In not a creator of cc. I just build with them. Many thanks to all creators❤️

I have an old version of the game and I must reupload. But if you are interested in my ts4 buildings and this build, I'll try to add tray filles soon. Never done this before for another game so give me some time pls and check for changes. Then I must ask for permission of custom content authors or make a credits list with cc or download links. Sorry I am new in this entire thing. My wish is to build your favorite builds. People must have joy. That's what games are about.

Hope you like it. See you next time with Draenei or Trolls place. You can also try tell me your building wish and I will try to build it. I'm little lazy ( laboratory in first floor is still in progress :P )

"Dark Lady watch over you" XD

14 notes · View notes

xandriagreat · 1 year ago

Text

Teaching and Learning with The Paw | chapter 2: Granny Gumbo

First chapter | Last Chapter | Next Chapter

Author's note: This story is ALIVE! Sorry that it's been so long. Writer's block… but anyway, story! Also, a hug thank you to @vanessafangirl13 for helping me with this chapter and to let you all know that the names of Diane’s parents is something that we both chose.

Notice/Warnings: weapons, anger, sad past, good ending

▪▪▪

Governor Moe Wolf drove to the hideout of the Paw with his team/friends.

The hideout is in the abandoned part of the city.

He parked his car and got out of his car before they went inside by the garage door.

They looked around at the almost empty house.

There were a few boxes that were filled with the treasures that Diane had stolen over the years and there were some folded cardboard boxes.

The only things that weren’t packed were things behind a locked bedroom door.

Lou picked up the folded cardboard boxes and carried them as the five went to unlock the door.

“You still got your lockpicks?” Herbert asked, looking at Moe.

“You know that I do.” the wolf answered, taking out lockpicks. He started to pick the lock and got the door opened, turning the lights on.

They entered the room and looked around in curiosity.

The room looked ordinary. It felt it was fit for what a child would think a princess bed room would be but it also had a punk rock feel.

The walls were painted a crimson red golden lining, and the carpet was black.

A metal bed frame with white and black sheets over the mattress. There were pick and yellow pillowcases on her bed along with an orange comforter over the bed.

Up against the wall on the left side of the bed was an old-fashioned drawer. There was a chair in the cournor that faced the bed. A desk against the wall and a medium sized window above it.

There were a few photos, some rock and roll posters, and some ninja posters on the wall.

There was an old TV with VHS and DVD player on top of a TV stand. On the lower shelf of the TV stand was a CD player, some CDs and DVDs.

“Wow.” all five of The Bad Guys breathed as they looked around.

“Strange.” Stefaine said under her breath as she looked at her phone.

"What's wrong?" Lou asked, looking at her on his shoulder.

“These things aren’t on the stolen list.” Stefaine said, looking up to look at everyone, who were looking at her confused. “Look.”

She showed them her phone to show the list.

The things in the room weren’t on the list.

“That is strange.” Herbert said before shrugging. “But we should still get things packed.”

Everyone nodded as they got some of the folded cardboard boxes unfolded and taped.

Before they started packing, Moe looked at the photos on the walls.

“Hey, guys. Look at this.” the wolf said, pointing at the photos.

The team looked at the photos.

There were a few photos of a young fox and her parents. One of the photos was of the same young fox and an alligator. Another was the same young fox with a young bunny rabbit.

The young fox looked like Diane.

“Hey, the little fox looks like Diane!” Pepe exclaimed, pointing at the photos. “That’s probably Diane.” Lou said, looking at him.

Then they heard the clicking sound of a shotgun behind them. All five turned around and saw an old female alligator, who was holding a shotgun.

“You all have a lot of explaining to do to be here in the Foxington residence, trespassers.” the alligator growled at them.

☆◇

The Bad Guys were sitting on the bed and looked in fear at the old female alligator who was sitting in the chair across the bed.

The alligator was wearing an off white button up shirt, brown overalls, black boots, and a dark green sunhat.

“I’m not into politics but why is the governor of LA and his team here?” the alligator asked in a stern tone, glaring at them as she still held the shotgun. “Why are you five in my god daughter’s home?”

The Bad Guys looked at the wolf as if he could explain. “Um… well, we’re like friends of Diane’s. And she literally gave directions to this place so we could give everything that she had stolen back to the places she stole.” Moe explained, looking at the alligator again.

The alligator glared at him and pointed the shotgun at him. “I don’t believe you, mutt dog.” she growled at him. “Unless you have evidence.”

The fear in Moe’s eyes became a glared look. “Don’t call me that.” he said, a serious look on his face. “Also, we do have evidence.”

The alligator lowered her gun and placed it on her lap. The alligator ignored him as she looked at the others and asked, “Is he tellin' the truth?”

The others nodded.

"Show me." she ordered, stretching her clawed hand out to them.

Moe was about to get the map, that Diane gave him at the gala, from his suit jacket but Herbert stopped him. “Wait. Let’s make a deal first.” the snake said, looking at his friends before looking at the alligator.

“What is the deal?” the alligator asked, a growl in her voice as she pulled her hand back.

Herbert looked at her, his eyes cold, as he said, “We show evidence if you answer some questions that we have about Diane. Also, if we don’t get shot by your shotgun, we don’t need to file a report on you. As far as I can tell, your shotgun is old fashioned and not a lot of places can sell that. So…” Then Herbert shrugged with a bit of a smug look on his face. “Do we have an agreement?”

The gang watched the alligator, who was thinking if it was a good deal or not. “We do.” the gator said, nodding. Then she stretched her claw hand out again and Moe got the map out as the rest of the gang sigh in relief.

The alligator snatched it from him and looked at it. Then she got a piece of paper from her pocket and looked at both papers, comparing the two.

The silence was a bit awkward for a while until Stefaine spoke up, “So… you must be Granny Gumbo. Right?”

The alligator stopped comparing the two papers and looked at Stefanie. “I am known by that name in my small town in the woods.” The alligator replied. “My actual name is Gretel Nyx Gumbo, but a lot of people call me Granny Gumbo for I’m one of the living elders of the town.”

Stefanie hummed and nodded with the others.

Granny Gumbo gave the map back to Moe. “I see that you were tellin’ the truth.” the alligator said as she put the piece of paper back in her pocket.

The Bad Guys sighed in relief.

"You all probably have some questions, since you mentioned it in the deal." Granny Gumbo said, placing the shotgun next to her seat. "You can ask questions. Just don't ask about the Lost Girls. I only met them a few times."

The Bad Guys nodded in understanding.

“I have a question!” Pepe said, raising his fin.

Granny Gumbo nodded to him. “Go ahead.”

“So… is all the stuff in this room stolen or was the stuff here before?” the piranha asked, pointing at the tv.

Granny Gumbo looked at the room before looking at Pepe. “The stuff has been here before Diane became The Paw. This is Diane’s childhood room. Actually, this house is her childhood home, the place where she grew up.” she replied, smiling a bit.

Pepe was in awe as he looked around the room as the rest of the gang hummed, figuring that Granny Gumbo was done with the question.

Moe raised his hand to ask the next question. Granny Gumbo noticed his hand and nodded to him to let him speak. “So, um… How do you know Diane?” Moe asked.

Granny looked at him for a moment before answering, “Owen and Margaret Foxington, Diane’s parents, used to have a summer home long before she came along. They were like my neighbors during the summer time. We didn’t get to know each other a lot until Diane came along and was at the age of three years old. That little fox was very curious about me. So curious that she walked over to me while I was resting in the sun. I was surprised to see her by me.”

Then pointed at the photo of the little fox and alligator on the wall. “See that photo there? That’s me and Diane on the last summer before that horrible day happened.”

The Bad Guys were shocked and confused by this. “What do you mean?” Stefaine asked the question.

Granny looked at the five and asked, “Do you five know about The Nevergreen Camps?”

Herbert, Moe, Lou, and Stefaine were shocked while Pepe was confused. “I don’t.” Pepe said, looking at his friends. “What is that? Or what was it?”

Everyone in the room was quiet for a moment. “Remember what happened during the second world war?” Herbert asked, looking at Pepe.

The piranha nodded. “Yeah. I learned what happened. It was another big war and a lot of lives were lost. And those scary camps… What does that have to do with The Nevergreen Camps?”

“It’s similar to the camps but it’s more for predators and it was a bit more recent.” Granny Gumbo answered.

Pepe’s eyes widened. “How recent?”

“22 years ago.” Granny Gumbo said, a sound of a bit of sadness in her voice. “She was only eight years old at the time. She was ten years old when it was over.”

Pepe was in shock with everyone else while Granny Gumbo shrugged before continuing, “Anyway, with that aside. The number on her back is branding like on cattle or prisoner numbers way back in the day…”

The Bad Guys nodded, still in shock.

Granny Gumbo sighed, taking her hat off and rubbing her head with her free hand. “Do you all have any more questions?” she asked, putting her hat back on.

Pepe raised his hand again and asked, “Who was in charge of the Nevergreen?”

Granny looked at the piranha and shrugged. “It… depends on who you see is at fault.” she explained, looking at him.

“What do you mean?” four of the Bad Guys asked in confusion, not seeing the one ask becoming red.

“It was Everett Evergreen!” Herbert shouted angrily, getting up from his seat. “He was the one who wanted predators locked away and turned into animal products!”

Granny Gumbo got up from her seat and looked down at Herbert. “I know.” she growled, a dangerous look in her eye. “But he wasn’t the only one at fault.”

Moe carefully grabbed Herbert by the neck and pulled him back to his seat when it looked like Granny was about to step to him. But instead she walked to the desk as she added, “Everyone thought that it was James Wonder, the owner of the Wonder farms at the time, after giving Everett one of the farmlands.”

Granny Gumbo went back to her seat with an old newspaper. “There’s a reason why they lost that part of farmland.” she said as she sat down. Then Granny Gumbo cleared her throat before she continued, “James Wonder, the owner at the time, was struggling with that farmland. He wanted to plant crops and trees for the business but nothing was growing. That’s when Everett Evergreen came into the picture and offered a deal with him.”

The Bad Guys got interested in this. “What was the deal?” they asked, their eyes wide.

“The deal was if James gives Everett that part of land, Everett would give money to him after selling products that he would be using.” Granny Gumbo said, looking at them. “Everett didn’t tell James what it was and James didn’t mind until two years after the deal. That’s when Abby, his youngest child, went missing around Easter time. That’s when the truth came out.”

Then Granny Gumbo gave Moe the newspapers and The Bad Guys looked at it.

A Two Year Agreement Broken

James Wonder and the rest of the Wonder Family found out what product that Everett Evergreen was using after finding Abby Wonder, the youngest of the Wonder Family, in a gas room with a young fox.

The gas room was on the grounds of a dangerous campsite that used to be one of the old Wonder farms before Evergreen took over it.

It turns out that it was similar to what happened in World War 2, a dangerous camp just for predators.

After finding out and getting the survivors' help, James shut it down and the camps were destroyed.

No one knows where Everett Evergreen is.

The Bad Guys looked at Granny Gumbo, who looked lost in a bad memory for a moment. “It was the biggest and scariest thing in history.” Granny Gumbo said when she came back to the present. “Thankfully she survived the horrors of that place with the other survivors.”

“Yeah…” Herbert said, nodding slowly.

The Bad Guys were processing what they learned.

Then their attention went to Granny Gumbo when she hummed. “Are there any more questions? Or are we done?” she asked, looking at them.

The gang looked at each other before Lou raised his fin. “I have one question.”

“Go ahead.” the gator said, nodding to him.

“Is the Nevergreens Camps the reason that Diane has those scar burn marks?” the shark asked, rubbing his lower back a reference. “The ones on her lower back.”

Granny Gumbo was quiet before nodding. “Yes… She got the burn numbers from there… All of the predators that were there got different burn numbers.”

Then the gator sighed and got up from her seat as The gang also got up from their seats.

As Granny Gumbo got her shotgun, she looked at the five. “Oh, thank you five for helping Diane.” she said, smiling a bit as she walked out the room.

The Bad Guys were surprised.

“How did you know?” Pepe asked, his eyes wide as he and the gang followed her.

Granny Gumbo turned around to look at the five before leaving. “I figured that you five were the ones who helped her. Since she doesn’t let a lot of people help her and by the looks of it, she trusts you five.” Granny said, smiling softly.

The Bad Guys looked at each other, smiling a bit with the same thought going through their heads, ‘Diane trusts us.’

The five started a huddle, talking about something before Granny Gumbo left.

The alligator looked at them with a confused look.

The Bad Guys finished talking and broke the huddle, looking at the alligator.

“We trust you and we want to help.” Moe said as the gang nodded. “With investigating the camps.”

Granny Gumbo nodded and hummed, “That’s very brave of the five of you. But I suggest not going in head first of this investigation.”

“Then what should we do first?” Stefaine asked.

“I suggest that you five see Abby Wonder.” Granny said, opening the door to the garage. “Also, don’t overwork yourselves with this and your other lifes. Your bodies will thank you.”

Then Granny Gumbo left, leaving The Bad Guys by themselves, packed boxes, and their thoughts.

“Hey, Webs.” Moe said, getting the gang’s attention. “Get an appointment with Abby Wonder, please. We got to know what happened.”

The gang nodded and the five left the place, turning off the lights and locking up the place before leaving.

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futurebiblestudies-blog · 5 months ago

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Genesis 39

Doctor "Poochie P", Doctor Hando Doctor, Doctor Thao OBP, the eternal butterfly. Since then, Pepe's Egyptian zoo has changed colors and gained traction, and his boasts began to improve.

So, you're a starfish, and he's a half starfish. Madam, you are alone, and he is half alone.

Please make a plan based on the price of Magic Hands, the age of your child, or even the member-priced version.

So, that season, I saw blessings in his eyes and sent him to his old Kentucky home, while I was handed over to the hands of my own Zen. I spent the entire weekend that season under his watchful eye and he drove me to his mansion to hand me over to him. These are your old ones. This is your sieve.

So he brought a mullet into his home and took everything he had, and Nush blessed the Egyptian's home with cloth. So it's the most important. He took us home, brought back everything else he had, and painted people's houses and blessed them. The good words were almost over.

So I had to learn to eat persimmons because I didn't know they could be eaten in anything other than bread. I didn't know that you could eat salt during the festival, so I mentioned that it's convenient if you eat salt. So Joseph is a good guy and was there again. Joseph is a very understanding person.

After I said that, the husband left. Uncle Sudo said: "Please come with me." Well, I was a mushroom. Uncle Sudo said, "Please come with me," and went to the man's wife.

When he heard this, he said to his master's wife: the beautiful child didn't even look at me to see if I was doing anything inside the house, and left everything to me. "That cute girl doesn't mind me doing anything and leaves everything to me."

There is no me in this flower. He misses you because you are his wife. It's like, how could I think something like this, what kind of evil?

And while his girlfriend was talking to him every day, he couldn't listen to what she was saying, couldn't lie next to her, couldn't be with her. There is no me in this flower. You are my boyfriend's wife, but he is lonely without you. I'm here.

At that time, the reliable one was at home for work. At that time, I was at home for work. That's why both genders weren't there yet.

So she grabs his wonderful fortune and asks him to sleep with her. She asks him to use his great talent to be with her.

Dr. Tortoise, Paz, and Wency the accountant then adjusted the expenses from the ground members to the new version and confirmed the proposed amount. They have created a new lineage from the lewd side.

My girlfriend was calling the guy home and I had a drink while he worshiped me. Girlfriend is calling the men of the house. As he worshiped, I drank.

And it came to pass, when he heard that I lifted up my voice and cried, that he left his garment with me, when he heard me start crying, he left his clothes with me and ran away for help. He fled, he got out.

And she helped with the girls' expenses, helping with the poop expenses, helps with their poop, and admires the turtles. She pays the girls' living expenses, admiring the sea turtles.

And I'm going back to school. He did it inside me to tease me. On my way back to school he was doing this, in my mind, to tease me.

And it came to pass, as I lifted up my voice and cried, that he left his garment with me, and fled out. What happened was when I yelled, he left me with my clothes on and ran away.

And the doctor passes with a tortoise, as he passes by with the turtle, the doctor raises his voice and shouts the plan, and from the hand to the left the cost is with me, he shouted the plan aloud, paid me with his left hand, so that the plan is given to the king. He handed the plan to the king.

So, the owner of the gangster took him with him and appeared in a criminal dream. King Gangster had nightmares.

Leading Fund Planning provides techniques for its members to consume equal percentages of suppliers and trains Japanese suppliers in large funds cash sales techniques executed using remote financing method services. A covered phone can leave some people feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable.

And the prison administrator committed a crime, and Joseph's hand worked in the prison. So the police chief took action and decided to bribe the police. And the lifeguard: Oh, I'm so tired. "Oh, I'm tired. I've watched it from beginning to end," the director said.

The prison warden did not wake up, but everything was in his hands. And that is until the end, and until the very end.

#generative text #bible studies #experimental writing #Genesis 39

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agentmarvel · 7 months ago

Note

I'm on pins and needles for the next installment of Bury Me 💀🖤 (please don't interpret that as impatience-- I'm just really excited to see what happens!)

Thank you for all your work!

Also I made cacio e pepe the other night after reading the latest chapter thank you for prying me out of a dinner rut lol

i'm excited for it, too! and i'm excited you're excited! 🥰🥰 the next chapter will be coming soon! i'm about 1.5k deep in it, so halfway there!

also, super glad i could help! it's one of my favorites! did you use chicken or pasta or both? love it both ways, but chicken over the risotto is P H E N O M E M A L.🖤

#tenthmoon #jj speaks

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christmic · 2 years ago

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That moment you realize when you try to help everybody but you ended up hurting them. Like yeah I tried to help my sister with her marriage because she was at wits end a period ago. Nothing in common, no hint of everylasting relationship, can only drink and laugh with him... yada yada yada a moment of weakness! He tells her he's depressed around the same time its not a good time not a bad time either except punching the fridge being triggered from fiddler on the roof. But in front of the children! It doesn't matter, it's family! But so I try to help everyone - I try to help her by cleaning and being easy company and I try to help him by encouraging sobriety and getting a weekly bible study /mens group together so he can get his weaknesses out there instead of on his wife. But he bails on the first one! We have it anyway and it's great, but not the same -_- . So when you try to help both parties you end up hurting them. Same with Jick helping CringeChrist.

Why is it impossible to maintain a daily freewrite with my artist friends? Did I miss a day? no! The vaxcattle couldn't keep up! We're moving on though, it's been a year now since poliw.at got some love so it's time. This truly is the last safe space left in the universe, even tumblweed didn't pan out.did a bible study with chad and nate at inn n out and the worker there said he loved his job praise! and who needs to write anymore? I surely do not but who needs to cry? who wants to die? who wants to fill their cup with spirit who believes they are not of this earth? this realm? who organized bible study, because it certainly wasn’t me - and who is the living translation helping and are the distractions distracting or are the pigs finally flying who is the lord of deception? would you follow the lord of deception into a grave that’s really a pit on a ship about to take a dip from 30,000 feet in the sky? drip goes the fountain of youth donated to goodwill for the chance of children priceless to the parents and worthless to the unworthy ‘my future nice christian wife’ in the line at inn n out Looks like I have some cringe left in me! but remember pepe’s lesson ‘the goal is not to kill the cringe, but to kill the part of you that cringes’

so what’s the replacement of feeling the cringe from another person’s follies? I must kill the part of me that cringes. But first I must find them. They probably know the black squid that lives deep inside my lungs that elusive little zucker. Every time I managed to squeeze it it slips through my fingers and dashes off behind some other organs. It shoots ink and I can’t see around corners in my own vestige. It may take years to sniff em out. But I will by God. The hunter doesn’t learn patience. The hunter teaches patience when you watch the hunter hunt you learn persistence pertenance patience and poonani. alright lets be frank, watch the hunter long enough and you’ll learn every word in every language that starts with ‘p’ or anything that sounds or looks like it. because you can ask me to take any letter in the alphabet in any language and I can relate it back to everything empathetically. I can talk my enlarged nuts off. You call these people bullshitters or you call them used car salesmen. They are entirely worse if they enjoy the sound of their own voice. Tools. You do not enjoy the sound of your own voice, because you do not enjoy anything without permission. You do not grant yourself permission because you are not other people, you have made that decision long ago before after the accident blood that made you chew the cud of the same decisions over and over again. when they are the same set of cuds in the same field it’s been so long and your brain named fog you forget by the time you get to the next cud you already cudded before that grace you decided yes its warm I’m there I’m water and love warmth will you wage war with me grace? Will your ever so wise mother wage war against the foggy eyed goyim tooo vaped vapid vaxxmaxxed out to see the BS in their heads? You are a tool if you are on social media, in my opinion. You are under the influence of mind control if you use iOS or android, in my opinion. THANK GOD he’s not in power! He’s gross! He pulls out his nose hairs for fun! He sleeps on a matt of spikes! Plastic spikes he’ll sleep on but he brings his own glass mason jar everywhere and refuses to drink from plastic. He tells strangers the word ‘microplastics’ in new humourous and nuanced ways you’d need a codex to understand them. But you will laugh n think. he will never know if grace joined the water willy but at least the flood got the family fed since it forced the squatters out by now. All the aunts and uncles lived in SF and didn’t have the guns or guts to get the squatters out of their front yards, so together they all cram in the cuck chair and watch me deliver ecclesiastic pronouns with my wife in full chorus.

<!-- Dailies Questions Answers Read() What did you read? X Write() What did you write? X Create() What did you make? X Exercise() Dance workout (or otherwise?) X Audio() You recorded what: X Video() You filmed what: X Finish() You bounced what track: X Live() You sang what live: X Finish2() You made what visuals X Phone() You called who: X Share() Uploaded what to archive: X PBD() You did what for PBD? X Web() You did what to POLIW.AT? X PBQ() You asked what question? X PBS() You learned what story? X FBR() Federal Beat Reserve X FA() Freestylers Anonymous X SiSo() SING SONG X PBA() Pale Blue Archive X PBD() Pale Blue Dawt X Love&Legacy() You did what for friends/fam? X God() You're grateful for what? X v1.0

Starts: That moment you realize when you try to help everybody but you ended up hurting them.

Ends: 'my future nice Christian wife'

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ultragamerz · 2 years ago

Text

Meme Coin Craze continues, PSYOP is the next?

New Post has been published on https://www.ultragamerz.com/meme-coin-craze-continues-psyop-is-the-next/

Meme Coin Craze continues, PSYOP is the next?

PSYOP on CMC:

https://coinmarketcap.com/currencies/psyop-eth/

https://www.psyopeth.io/

……………………………………………………………..

PsyOp Coin: Unveiling the Playful World of a New Meme Coin

In the ever-evolving landscape of cryptocurrency, a new player has emerged: PsyOp Coin. This mem coin is making waves with its playful and satirical approach to digital assets. In this article, we’ll take a closer look at PsyOp Coin and explore the intriguing world it presents to crypto enthusiasts. $PSYOP PSYOP’D | A decentralized statement on community-ran #PSYOPs | Home of the PPJC, is a meme coin that embraces a lighthearted and humorous perspective on the crypto market.

The Playful Nature of PsyOp Coin

Memetic Appeal: PsyOp Coin utilizes internet memes, viral content, and humor to capture attention and engage its audience. By infusing memes into its branding and community initiatives, the coin aims to create a sense of camaraderie and levity within the cryptocurrency space.

Community-Driven Projects: PsyOp Coin encourages active participation from its community members. It organizes community-driven projects such as meme contests, social media challenges, and collaborative artwork. These initiatives not only promote engagement but also foster a

Unique Tokenomics: PsyOp Coin employs distinctive tokenomics designed to incentivize and reward holders. These may include reflection mechanisms, automatic liquidity provision, or deflationary measures. Such tokenomics provide an added layer of interest for investors and holders.

Considerations and Caution It is crucial to exercise caution when dealing with meme coins like PsyOp Coin. Their volatile nature and potential susceptibility to market trends and sentiment require careful evaluation. Investors should conduct thorough research, be mindful of risks, and make informed decisions aligned with their personal financial goals. PsyOp Coin offers a playful and satirical take on the world of cryptocurrencies. With its memetic appeal, community-driven projects, charitable endeavors, and unique tokenomics, PsyOp Coin aims to carve its own niche in the ever-expanding meme coin landscape. As with any investment, individuals should approach PsyOp Coin and similar assets with due diligence and an understanding of the associated risks.

Tweets by PsyopETH_io

…………………………………………………………….

This is not in any form financial advice. You should do your research and invest based on your knowledge of the asset.

The information provided in this article is for educational and informational purposes only. It should not be considered as financial or investment advice. Cryptocurrencies, including mem coins, are highly volatile and speculative assets. The value of mem coins can fluctuate dramatically, and there is a risk of substantial financial loss. Before engaging in any cryptocurrency investment, it is essential to conduct your own research, consider your financial situation and risk tolerance, and consult with a qualified financial advisor. The author and the platform do not assume any responsibility for the accuracy, completeness, or timeliness of the information provided in this article. Trading or investing in mem coins or any other cryptocurrency involves inherent risks, and individuals should exercise caution and make independent decisions based on their own judgment.

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years ago

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Sin Without Limits (Javier Peña x reader)

Masterlist | Spotify Playlist

*gif not mine*

Warnings: MDNI, Narcos Season 2 and 3 spoilers, canon-usual violence, unhinged behaviour from Agent Peña and reader, unprotected p in v sex, choking, spanking (?), oral (m and f receiving), knife play (if you squint), overstimulation, angst, swearing

A/N: bruh I just cleaned this one up and I'm appalled at what I have written but enjoy. I’ve written a secondary plot (and changed some sequence) to what happened at the end of season two heh

Word count: 7.7 k (wtf)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You trained your gaze on him as you leaned your entire weight onto the truck. You watched him pace and scan the officers before him, his hand clenching and unclenching as he tried to stim his anxiety away. Watching a DEA Agent act skittish is not always the best thing in your books.

You felt your breath quickening slightly as Steve slapped his back and beckoned you to join them. You jogged to keep up with them as they jumped into a truck. You turn in the front seat to look at him. The eye contact he made with you for a millisecond told you everything you needed to know. Javier Peña looked absolutely terrified.

“...armed men…”

“Checkpoint…”

You caught a few words of what Steve was trying to tell the both of you and you realized that your suspicions that you had been having for the past few days are slowly unfolding to show you a harsh reality, a reality that you were not ready to admit to. You watch from the truck as Javier convinced the men to lower their weapons, after Steve’s failed attempt. The way you could pin-point the shiver in Javier’s hands even from a distance made you curse yourself for being so aware. You watch his hands curl up to clutch the collar of his bullet-proof vest, as he spoke to Steve, the one constant tell that you could pull from him and your heart broke under the pressure that your brain was putting you through.

You masked the heart wrenching pain that you were going through until Steve left the office. It was just you and Javier, like how it had been for the past few months, working late, going home to nothing but the empty shells. You hadn’t even noticed you were staring at him until he called your name.

“Everything good, mariposa?” He said, squinting through his cigarette smoke.

You had to confront him, this was your only chance. You nod and try to find the right words.

“Just wondering how Los Pepes always manage to get there before we can.” you say softly, picking at a hangnail on your finger.

You catch Javier shrugging on your peripheral and decide your next best move.

“What if there's someone here who’s telling them what to do?” you said, locking your eyes with him.

“Well, a rat wouldn’t be surprising to me, that's how this world works, mariposa.” he huffed, setting down his cigarette and rubbing his face with his hands.

“Hmm.” you got up and pushed Javier’s chair away from his desk, perching above it as you stared down at him. “Javs?”

He looks up at you, but his eyes don't find yours, settling to look past them.

“Look at me.” you whispered, tracing his jaw with your fingers.

“I am.”

“No, look at me properly, Javs, or I swear to god-”

He does, and that gives you all the confirmation you need.

“You’re fucking around with Los Pepes, aren’t you?” you murmur, your eyes wide with fear.

Javier nods slowly as he looks away from you. You gasp softly as a tear runs down your cheek. You slid off his desk and turned away from him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Marip-”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Javier?!” you scream before he could continue. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

“It’s not a big deal, I’m handling it.” he said getting up from his seat and walking towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, that I can fucking assure you. Those assholes are killing innocent people in their quest to take down Escobar, you know? People who don’t deserve to fucking die, Javier.” you said, shaking his hand off you. “Their blood will be on your fucking hands.”

Suddenly, you found yourself being slammed into a nearby wall. Javier was towering over you, a glowering look etched upon his face.

“I need you to shut that pretty mouth of yours. We all are working towards one goal, don’t you dare blame me for trying out my last option.” he snarled. “Anyway, what the fuck can you even do about it, report me?”

You stared up at him, your gaze hardened and unfaltering.

“What if I did? You’re gonna go down their fucked up root, Javier? Hmm? Go on, kill me then for knowing your little secret.” you mocked him, straightening your back and standing a little taller.

Javier’s breath hitched a little but he didn’t budge.

“They are going to use you like the whore you are and then when they’re done with you, they’re gonna put a bullet through this thick skull of yours and leave you all fucked out.” you spat.

The next thing you know, Javier’s hand was around your throat as he flattened you against the wall with his entire body weight. He wasn’t squeezing you, but a rush of panic settled in the pit of your stomach as you stared into the raging fire in his eyes. He moved forward until his face was next to yours as your hand reached up to grab at his.

“Want me to show you what a whore can do?” his lips grazed the shell of your ear as your breath quickened.

He brought his face in front of yours until the both of you were nose to nose. You could see every tiny detail on his face and if he got any closer his lips would be on yours. You contemplated making the first move as Javier’s fingers flexed at your throat, pushing a whole flow of arousal straight down between your legs. A part of you almost forgot why he had you pinned against the wall, and it made you a little afraid by the way he was taking you apart just with one swift move.

The sound of the phone ringing brought Javier out of his trance and he immediately let go of you. You immediately hurry away from him and grab your jacket, not even turning to look back at him as adrenalin pushes you to jog out of the office.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javier kept his aviators on inside as he squinted at the work he was doing. He could clearly remember what he had done to you but could only vaguely remember what happened after that. He had drowned himself in whatever liquor he could find lying around and stumbled into the office in the morning with an almighty hangover that could rival the power of two colossal giants fighting. He obviously felt awful about how he treated you yesterday and dreaded leaving his apartment in the morning. Steve gave him an understanding pat on the back, handing him a painkiller which Javi took gingerly and accidentally made eye contact with you.

You instinctively looked away from him, his warning from last night ringing loud and clear in your head when you slyly glanced at the wall that he had pinned you to. In a weird turn of events, you still couldn’t decide whether you were scared or turned on by his threat. Although, you do have to admit that calling him a whore was a little over the top, despite all of the picturesque rumours you had heard about him. Being the only woman on the team meant that you had to deal with questioning individuals from the red-light district and that ultimately gave you a clear idea of what Javier Peña’s sex life sounded like and you hated yourself that you were slightly intrigued. Your thoughts were interrupted again when Javier slid a tiny piece of paper in front of you and walked away. You raised an eyebrow at his retreating figure as you grabbed the note.

Mens. Stall five. Now.

You were still pissed at the way he was engaging with Los Pepes. Javier is practically giving them full leeway to do whatever they please, but if he seems to think that if that's the way they are going to get to Escobar, then so be it. Besides, you’d like to see how this plan of his plays out, despite the part of you that is scared shitless about the consequences that he might face after this ordeal.

You rolled your eyes and got up only to be stopped by your boss. You froze and crumpled the paper in your hand, stuffing it into your pocket as fast and discreetly as possible.

“Agent, how are things?” she asks, staring you down with her usual demeanour.

“All good, boss.” you feigned a smile as your eyes end up landing on that good awful wall again, making your eye twitch slightly.

“Good, good. I expect to see you at the party tonight.” Messina says, catching you off guard.

“Hmm?”

“You know the state party?”

The fucking state party. You almost forgot that you were invited entirely. Who in their right mind holds a party in the middle of a narco war?

“Yea, of course, I’ll be there.” You said beaming at Messina.

Sure, you had nothing to wear but whatever to please Messina, you’ll figure something out soon.

“I’ll see you there then.” You nodded quickly at your boss and quickly walked to the mens as soon as she was out of your sight.

As soon as you opened the door to stall five, Javier used his brute strength to pull you in, making you collide with his chest.

“Ouch, man, I have legs, I can invite myself in.” you groaned, rubbing your forehead.

He sits you down on the closed toilet bowl and kneels down in front of you, his eyes coated in exhaustion as he gazes up at you.

“Lo siento, mariposa.” he murmured, taking your hand in his.

“For pulling me into the stall or for working wit-” Javier cuts you off by pressing a hand to your lips.

“For everything.” Javier drops his hand and tugs at your collar, exposing your neck.

His fingers softly trace the skin of your neck as he examines you and you felt slightly frozen by the way he was touching you. To think that those hands were capable of killing a man and having those hands so close to a vulnerable spot caused a shiver to run down your spine.

“I don’t bruise easily, Javs, if that's what you’re so worried about.” you whispered, bringing your own hand to meet his.

“Lo-”

“Say that you’re sorry again and I’ll kick you in the dick and walk out. I think you know that if I wanted to disarm you yesterday, I could have. I have work to do dumbass, so what's up?” you rushed through your words, noting how Javier’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I need your help.” Javier says after a moment of silence.

You nodded him along and he gulped, his eyes downcast at your shoes.

“I heard from my CI that there is going to be a person at the state party that's going to be the key for some information that I need.” He whispers. “I need you to help me get that information.”

“And is this information for us, or for Los Pepes?” you say, curling a finger under Javier's chin and tipping his head so that you can catch him if he tries to lie.

“For us.” he said, holding your gaze tightly.

“Why aren’t you asking Murphy?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously because you already know about it, you know?” he hissed and you grinned back at him.

“Hmm, okay.” you hum, surprising Javier.

“That’s it? Man, I thought I had to pull up some waterworks to convince you.” Javier chuckled nervously, rubbing his collarbone.

“Honestly, I’d do anything to get away from Messina at this point. I’m the newest recruit here, she's gonna make me socialise.” you pulled a face, making Javier smile. “Besides, now I’m more valuable to you than Steve.”

“That's my mariposa.” you roll your eyes at his excessive use of the endearing word.

Secretly, you loved it. Mariposa, or “butterfly” sounded a little too close to mi esposa, or “my wife” and it tingles your insides everytime Javier would call you that. Yet, you always find yourself pushing away the thought of having a nice domestic life with Javier the second he does something reckless and stupid. Sometimes you wonder whether he bribed his way through this job because of how dumb he can be.

Javier stands up and pulls you up with him but in that moment the both of you hear the door open. Javier quickly sits back down and taps his thighs, gesturing for you to sit and hide your legs. Your eyes widen as the footsteps get closer to the stall and you silently hook your legs over him and straddle his lap.

“Peña? You in there, man?” Steve’s voice floated through the cracks in the stall’s door.

It was hard to calm your breathing with the way you had slotted your face in Javier’s neck, breathing in a slight hint of aftershave, smokey goodness and clean skin. You poked him for an answer.

“Uh, yea dude, I’m here.” he croaked out, his voice a little strained, probably from the way you were clinging onto him for dear life.

“Come on man, you’re taking a shit at work?” Steve groaned and your body shook as you strained hard to keep the laughter in.

Poor Steve, what a naive man.

“What the hell do you want Steve?” Javier pressed, pulling you closer to stop you from bursting out into laughter.

It must have worked because when Javier pulled you closer, his thigh hit something so devastatingly amazing that you felt yourself being rendered into a shocked silence.

“Hurry up, there’s a meeting we gotta go to. And remember to wash your hands, you filthy fuck!” Steve chortled as he walked out of the mens.

You and Javier waited with baited breath for a few seconds before you brought your face out of the crook of Javier’s neck.

“He didn’t see you walking in he- wait are you okay?” Javier caught the flush look on your face as you turned to look at him.

You blink twice at Javier’s beautiful face before nodding your head vigorously. He hadn’t even touched you and you slowly felt yourself being pulled apart by him. Javier didn’t look convinced but he shrugged it off as he helped you get off from his lap.

“Aight, I will see you later at the state party?” He said, steadying you.

“Yep.” you mumbled, giving him a tight lipped smile as he exited the stall.

When you were sure he had left, you exhaled the breath you were holding and pinched the bridge of your nose.

Today was going to be a long one.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Javier nervously checked his watch for the billionth time. You were late. You were always never late, always clocking in earlier than him. He couldn’t deny that he was trying hard to hide how nervous he felt. He never wanted to bring you into this, but he always had a feeling that you were going to somehow find out anyway. The disappointment he felt was indescribable, he hated himself for being too obvious.

He adjusted his mask again, uncomfortable with the way it was cutting at the soft skin covering the back of his ears. His eyes searched in the sea of masks, hoping that they would land on yours. The dim lighting made it hard to see through the masquerade themed party and Javier strained hard, willing for you to appear.

Suddenly, a beautiful figure steps into his line of sight. Javier couldn’t take his eyes off the figure, watching them sway as their dress hugged them tightly in all the right places, clinging to every curve. The figure walked closer and closer to him until they were in front of him. A long slit exposed a holster that was disguised as a garterbelt, definitely carrying a concealed weapon. Javier instantly recognised your eyes and pushed the mask away to reveal your heavenly face. He stares in disbelief, he had been used to seeing you in suits and minimalistic makeup, and he was ashamed to think that he hadn’t expected this. He felt a rush, a similar rush that he had felt the night before as he scanned your face.

“You look good, dolled up like this.” he murmured, pushing your mask back on.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” you really had toned down your initial compliment, he looked like a prince, the way his hair was styled and the way the tux complemented his beautiful broad shoulders.

He offers you his hand and when you take it, he leads the way into a small closet. He clips a microphone to your neckline and you help him thread the wire through your dress. Javier was quite literally smitten by the way you looked. He resisted the urge to run his hands down your curves and he tried to rid his mind from remembering the way your body had been pressed up against him before. He sighs and kneels down, looking up at you.

“Can I?” he said, gesturing at the transponder and your thigh.

You nod and watch as he gently pulls the slit in your dress aside to hook the tiny transponder onto your holster. His other hand steadied himself by gripping your thigh and you felt like you were going to melt in his grip. A tremor ran through your body and it didn't go unnoticed by Javier. He smiled to himself and purposely tried to let his touch linger, sliding his fingers slowly across your soft skin, savouring the feeling of you. Your breathing gets slightly heavier but you let him do as he pleased.

When he finally hooked the transponder and slowly got up, the eye contact he was making with you sent an army of butterflies to violently collide with your stomach. You could literally cut the thick atmosphere with the knife you had on you as Javier held your gaze like it was his last lifeline. His eyes were slightly hooded and he looked as if he was about to say something when you broke eye contact with him and let your eyes drop to his lips. Before the both of you could do or say anything, the sound of footsteps snapped you out of your haze.

“Alright, the floor is yours, take it away.” Javier cleared his throat, nodding towards the door.

He handed you a key, the key that he booked under a pseudonym so that you could interrogate the intended target away from the prying eyes of people. You took it and slipped it onto your tiny purse, your mind racing. You swallow and nod, hoping your guise was enough to mask you from the people you were going to eavesdrop and enough to mask the lust that was blooming for Javier Peña.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You let Javier lead you through the sea of masks, as he searched for his intended target. You felt out of place, watching people dance while you followed him around to do his bidding.

“Javs?” you whisper, pulling him closer to you

“Hmm?” he turned to look at you.

“Dance with me.”

“But-”

“I said, dance with me, I have a plan.” you said firmly, pulling his hand to settle it onto your waist.

He stares at you for a second and again you feel as if the whole world has stopped around you. You found yourself craving for his attention, to feel his hands on you again and only then you could think on how to make the next move. He readjusted his hand that was at your waist and held you firmer, his confidence radiating out of him as he laced his free hand with yours. You tried to refrain from savouring the feeling of your hand on his tough shoulder but you slowly felt yourself being lost to him as he started to lead the both of you into a slow dance.

You straightened your back and kept your eyes trained on Javier only looking past him when you judged it was safe. You spotted your prey, a lawyer who was known to make deals with the cartels. You tapped Javier twice on his shoulder and he turned the both of you around, immediately spotting the lawyer from where the both of you were standing. You could feel his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer to him, your arm trapped between your two bodies.

You were so close to Javier’s jaw, surveying its sharp edge as he gritted his teeth. It was perfectly sculptured as if an artist had taken a chisel to it. Before you could think twice, you pressed your lips to his jaw, leaving a light imprint of red lipstick. The tip of your nose dug into his cheek, and when you breathed in you could smell the delicious scent of his aftershave, intoxicating you and driving you to do what you need. Javier’s grip loosened and you pulled yourself away from him to walk towards the lawyer, turning to wink at the stunned Javier as you parted the sea of disguised individuals, your lipstick stain staining like a work of art on the canvas that is his beautiful face.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It didn’t take long for Javier to find another woman to dance with. He kept a watchful eye on you, but willed to keep his distance. He continued to grit his teeth and lock his jaw to contain every ounce of violence that was trying to emit out of him as he watched the dirty lawyer run a finger up your bare arm. He tried not to push the woman he was dancing with aside as the lawyer suddenly grabbed you and pulled you flush against his body. Javier could hear your giggle and it made his blood boil hot watching you being touched like that. His eyes followed you as you led the lawyer to the room, partially glad that his plan was unfolding.

When Javier got to the outside of the room, he held his gun in front of him in his usual defensive stance, hoping that you had enough in you to overpower the lawyer. He heard a thud and he immediately swung the door open and found you standing over the lawyer, the sharp edge of your high heel pressed firmly where his sternum was. You smirked as you crouched low, putting all of your weight onto the foot that was atop the lawyer’s chest. You smoothly pulled out your blade from your holster and mockingly shushed the lawyer as he screamed while you made a spectacle of cleaning the blade.

You could feel Javier’s eyes on you but you didn’t acknowledge his presence. You could tell that he was undoubtedly staring at you while you blatantly flirted with the lawyer on the dance floor. You wanted Javier to feel the anger, to know that you were risking almost everything for him. You hold the blade at the lawyer's throat and smile innocently at him.

“My informants have given me a tip that you have been in contact with a certain important sicario. Tell me where La Quiqa is hiding and I’ll think of sparing your measly life.” you hiss in Spanish, pressing the blade slightly harder.

Blood beaded at the edge of your knife and you raised your eyebrow amusedly as the man below you whimpered and begged for his life. He turned to Javier and started to beg him instead and you rolled your eyes at the man and slapped the lawyer.

“Don’t you dare think for a second that I am more patient than my partner here. I’ll slit your throat open before you can feel the bullet passing through your skull.” you continued to jeer.

“Okay fine! I’ll tell you where La Quiqa is!” the lawyer screamed.

You kept your heel planted firmly against the lawyer’s chest as Javier rang Steve. The second the information was passed across, you stepped off the lawyer and he scrambled away from you. Javier caught him by the collar and pulled him up.

“You do not breathe a word about this to a single person, or I swear to god, I'll unload this gun in your mouth.” he sneered before pushing the man out of the room.

Once he was gone, you perched onto the edge of the bed.

“Won’t he go and warn La Quiqa?” you question.

Javier stayed silent for a while. He then suddenly walked towards you and got onto his knees, removing your high heels from your feet and setting them aside. He had already given Los Pepes the information that the lawyer would be outside of the hotel within seconds. He made a deal that the police force gets to arrest La Quiqa while Los Pepes can extract information from the lawyer, which was a win in his books.

“He won’t get far.” was all that he said as he looked up at you, his hand massaging your calf.

You lean forward and take his face in your hands. One of your hands fan out and you stroke his cheek, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. He wrenched them open again almost as if he didn’t want to lose sight of you. His hand at your calf reached out to grab your arm and he slowly started to rub your skin. You knew he was trying to erase the lawyer’s touch off you and you smiled at the gesture.

“What?” you question, reading his eyes, knowing he had something to say.

“I can’t stand it.” he whispered.

“Stand what?”

“The way he had his hands on you.” Javier’s hands were shaking now and you could see a fire raging in his dark brown eyes.

“Javs, we just needed the infor-”

“I don’t like it when people touch what is mine.” he growled slightly, making your heart leap to your throat.

“I’m not-”

“You are.” he confirmed firmly, his chest heaving now with shallow puffs of his breath.

“Then, show me how I’m yours.” you sighed, your lungs constricting your last bit of oxygen.

Javier stands up, and you could tell that there was a shift in his demeanour at your words as he gazes down at you. He towers over you, looking absolutely dazzling under the dim lighting.

“Only if you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I am.” you say a little too quickly for your liking.

“Kneel.” He says, his voice edging lower, sending an array of goosebumps at the nape of your neck as your vision blurred slightly.

But you kept your chin up and knelt between his feet.

“What? Not gonna kiss me first, Peña?” You smirked, knowing that you were pushing his buttons. “Too used to fucking whores?”

He smoothed out the hair that fluttered to your forehead, running his fingers through your locks until he got to the nape of your neck. Suddenly, his hand grabs you by your hair and your eyes widen. He tips his head to the side and surveys the look on your face.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you like the teasing brat you are. I’ll only kiss you when I know you’ve learnt your lesson.” He gives you a smug smile.

His hand loosened its hard grip, leaving a delicious stinging sensation at your scalp. His fingers trailed to your lips, tapping them.

“Open, mariposa.” you were positive that he knew how that nickname made you feel and your jaw automatically dropped open.

“So she does follow instructions.” he said pointedly before leaning over and spitting in your mouth.

You knew from that second that the man before you was not going to let you off easy and a small voice at the back of your head was giggling gleefully at the prospect of your night. You closed your mouth and swallowed, only to open it up right away, making Javier nod in appreciation. You edge closer, placing your hands on his legs.

“Go on, take what you need.” you were already running your hand up his thigh before he could finish his sentence.

You cup his hardened bulge and he hisses, but surprisingly lets you have your way. Your fingers shake slightly as you undo his slacks, letting them fall to his ankles, revealing that he had in fact gone commando. You would have rolled your eyes if you didn’t take note of how big he was. Your sharp inhale didn’t go unnoticed by Javier and he watched as you shifted your weight from one knee to the other slightly nervously.

“Like what you see?” he questioned smugly.

You couldn’t let him know you were anywhere close to backing out, you wanted this as much as he did. You spit on your hand and grab his length, pumping him from base to tip, letting your thumb graze his tip only to watch him writhe slightly.

“I’ve seen better.” you smirked back, looking up at him from under your lashes.

Before he could form a retort, you licked a long strip down his cock and whatever he was going to say was mingled in a strangled moan. You continued with small controlled kitten licks, testing out all his soft spots before closing your mouth over the tip and sucking softly. Taking your time, you invite him into your mouth at a slow pace, partially teasing him and partially adjusting yourself to his size.

You gradually swallowed around him, gagged slightly when he pistoned his hips slightly forward. He pushed you on and you swallowed around him, making him groan proudly as he bottomed out into your mouth, your nose nestling in his curls.

“Look who’s the whore now.” he managed to say as his hands found your hair to grab onto.

You rolled your eyes at him and began to move your mouth along him, sucking him hungrily. He sang his praises, incoherent moans spilling out of him. He wanted to punish you, to teach you a lesson, but how could he when you were taking him so well, without a single complaint or cry. It made him want to worship you instead. But the primal creature inside of him forbade it and it took over him, making him pull out of your mouth and slam back. You choked around him but the sounds that he made spurred you on, letting your tongue lick his underside. Your perfectly done makeup was most definitely ruined as you felt your eyes water. You both were definitely in a game of seeing who could tap out and for a second you thought that you could in fact overpower this man.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Javier suddenly pulls you off him but didn't give you a chance to take a breath, pulling you up to your feet and letting his lips meet yours in a frenzied fashion,

“Lose your limits, mariposa, just give me a chance to prove to you just what I can do.” he pulled away and commanded sinfully, but he might as well had just done it straight to your cunt from the way you were already soaking.

“What are you waiting for Javs?” you exhaled and he reclaimed your lips with his.

He pressed himself hard against you, making you moan as he showed off his possessiveness. He licked into your mouth, groaning at how sweet you tasted. You could taste cigarettes on his breath and it instinctively made you want to rut your hips against his hard on, an aroused buzz coursing through your veins. He pulled away slightly, not before nipping your lips and drawing another moan from you.

Javier pushed you down onto the bed, falling on top of you. He dragged the tip of his nose down your neck and sunk his teeth into the soft skin of your neck. You reeled at the pain that surged up your spine before crying out loud at the way he started to kiss and suck your neck. You were pretty sure that he was thinking about you claiming that you don’t bruise easily, making it his priority to mark you with all he’s got. When he was satisfied, he pulled away and smirked at you before flipping you over. You felt the bed dip around you as Javier’s fingertips grazed the back of your neck, moving your hair aside.

You felt his hand at your holster, slowly pulling out your blade and letting it skim across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, making you whimper slightly. Suddenly, you felt it at your dress, the sharp edge almost touching you as it tore your dress open. You were mad but it was was your turn to smirk as Javier gasped at the surprise that met his eyes. His knuckle skimmed your skin and you could tell that he was staring open mouthed at the delicate branch of flowers trailing along your spine.

“Fuck, youre fucking beautiful.” he hissed, feeling like it was Christmas, hastily pulling away your dress like it was wrapping paper to reveal you all bear for him, tossing it aside with your knife.

You were completely naked under your dress and Javier was impressed. He let his hands explore you, leaving no inch of skin unattended.

“Stop being a fucking tease.” you moan, secretly relishing the way he was taking his time.

Suddenly, he smacks your ass hard, drawing a muffled moan from you as you bury your face in the sheets, before flipping you over again. He immediately ran his hands up and down your body, quenching his quest of wanting to touch you. The shape of your body drove him mad and he wanted to worship you, to make you call out to him and only him.

He testily palm at your tits, moaned together, you at the stimulation, him at the way you felt under his hand. He tweaked your hardening nipples, making you writhe and moan. While you were distracted, your legs fell open and Javier brushed a finger through your slick, making you moan.

“Fuck, Javs…” you breathed as he pushed a finger inside of you and brought it back out for you to taste.

“I bet you taste great, but I’ll get mine straight from the source.” he smirked, as your tongue swirled around his finger, sucking it the way you did his cock.

Your clit is warm and throbbing under his touch and you shudder as he starts to massage it back and forth. He bends down and his tongue licks slowly up your wetness, parting your pussy lips and teasing your clit, going absolutely feral at the way you tasted.

You shiver and moan, arching your hips trying to get him to lick you more. Instead he stops and you immediately whimper and bite your lip trying not to show how badly you wanted him to keep licking. You grind your hips against his face, your clit catching his nose and you whine, grabbing onto his hair and pulling him closer to your pussy. He finally caves in and gives you what you want, holding you down and pushing his tongue into you.

He greedily fucks you with his tongue, putting in a new meaning to eating you out as his hands spread you wide open and his tongue scoops out every remnant of your wetness. Your clit isn’t abandoned with the way his thumb gave it all of its attention. It doesn’t take long before it’s too much and you start to feel the orgasm start to wash over you. Your body bucks involuntarily at his touch as he slows it to match your moans. His big dark brown eyes watches you intently from his vantage point, wanting to see how the first orgasm he gives you absolutely wreaks havoc on your body.

You were absolutely out of it, the orgasm ripping every cell in your body in half, rendering you absolutely useless. You shook in Javier’s arms, only vaguely hearing his praises as they floated their way into your ears. Your eyes are shut and you didn’t realise that he was already plotting his next plan to destroy you. You feel something nudge your entrance and Javier slips into you without any resistance, and his lips are back on your mouth, swallowing your moans.

One of his hands found yours, gripping them at the wrist and breaking the kiss only to pin them over your head. He held them firmly, one wrist between his thumb and index finger and the other wrist between his index and middle finger, locking them in position as he started pistoning his hips. Your eyes were hooded as you looked up at him, indulging the way sweat made his face shine and glow.

“You look fucking deadly like this, cariño, all spread out for me.” he grunts as his cock continued its assault on your pussy.

You clench down around him and he slumps slightly, not expecting that move from you as you lazily pull your lips into a smirk. He pushes on deeper, hitting all the best spots, pressing down on your wrists harder. You feel your juices squelch out of you and onto the bed. Your tits jiggle harder and the bed frame creaked with Javier’s thrusts as he slowly lost himself in you.

“Javs, yes… don’t stop, please…” you whine as he keeps slamming into you harder.

“Say my name again,” one thrust.

You mumble, trying your best to let his name tumble out of your voice box.

“Please, say it.” he trusts again.

“Javier…” his cock literally pushes his name out of you.

Suddenly, Javier pulls out and flips you over before you could lean towards your pleasure. You whimper at the emptiness you felt, your pussy fluttering around nothingness. You felt your arms being gathered at your back by one of Javier’s arms and he bent you backwards so that your chest stuck out. You gasped for air, sweat sticking bits of your hair to your forehead.

“Who do you belong to?” his mouth was back on your neck, leaving kisses in between his questions.

“You…” you clearly did by the way he had just used you.

“Never going to let a filthy criminal touch you again.” he growled in your ear and you smiled, coming to your senses.

“Says the criminal who is touching me.” you feel a spike in your confidence as the words leave your mouth, only to have it crashing back to ground zero as Javier dropped you onto the bed.

“Oh you’re going to regret that, mariposa.” he says and you could visualise him grabbing his cock and feeling the stretch as he shoves himself back into you.

His hand inched its way around your throat, and he pulled you up again, making you choke. Your pussy betrayed you as you clenched down on him, making him laugh deliriously.

“You fucking like it when I did that to you yesterday, didn’t you, you slut.” his hand grips harder at your throat, squeezing ever so slightly, his touch is forceful, masterful, alluring with the hidden depths of just the right amount of sensuality as he pulls your head closer to his. You helplessly tried to ask him to keep going, came out of your mouth like hot garbage from the strain his hand was putting on your throat.

“Harder, I need it harder.” you breathlessly spoke.

“I know, baby, I know” his soft words were a huge contrast with the way he was manhandling you.

Now all you can think of is his hard cock, there’s a pulsing in your head, a dizzying, nauseating feeling overcomes your entire body. You can feel his hard body pressing against yours and all thoughts of the night left your head, leaving a void that was soon filled with disgusting, disturbing thoughts. You want this man to fucking ruin you, you had tasted the sin on his lips and you couldn’t help yourself but want more.

Moaning and whimpering you cum before you even know what’s happening. It was blinding again and you literally lost all sight as your tight cunt contracts and squeezes his cock as tight as you can over and over again in time with his hips thrusts. He doesn’t stop pounding your wet cunt and you let him chase his own orgasm as more filth spills out of his mouth. He makes a wet slapping sound as he fucks you from behind.

After a few more seconds of fucking your cunt you feel him tense up. He lets go of your neck and pulls your hips tight to his and his cock flexes and then begins to spurt his hot cum into you. He folds his body over yours, grunting as he tries to catch his breath, subconsciously canting his hips forward to ride out his own orgasm. His sweaty skin was sticking to yours as you felt his moustache against your neck.

“Fuck, Javs.” you say first, feeling his heartbeat against your back.

“Lo siento-”

“And he’s apologising again! What now, Peña?” you sigh.

Javier stays silent for a while before pressing his lips to your shoulder. The air around the both of you smelled like crazy sex and your brain was still slowly coming down from its high.

“Sorry for calling you a slut.” his hand trailed against your spine, tracing your tattoo.

“Jezz, Javs, you know I like it.” you said, keening into his touch as he smiled against your skin.

“I’m sorry for calling you a whore too.” you said, smirking as Javier’s hand kneaded your ass. “Although, I do mean it, you’re fuckin’ freaky as hell.”

“You’re welcome.” his hand left your cheek and came back down with a sharp smack.

Slowly he pulled out of you and you groaned, feeling his cum seep out of you. Two of his fingers pushed his cum back in, to no avail and he eyes your cunt as he does it over and over, accidentally pulling another orgasm out of your sensitive cunt from his trance.

“Oops.” he mumbles before gently flipping you onto your back and walking to the bathroom.

He slowly wipes you with a warm towel, avoiding any part of you that could have been potentially sensitive before tossing it aside and laying beside you. You pull his head into your chest and he leaves soft promising kisses onto your tits as you wrap your legs around his torso. You both fall asleep like that, not another word leaving your mouths as the after effects of your madness lulled the both of you into deep and dark dreams.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were not surprised when you woke up to an empty bed. A pile of fresh clothes sat at the edge and you sighed, willing yourself not to tear up at the abandonment you felt coursing through your veins. You stumbled into work all sore, every part of you hurting from the way Javier had treated you, including your heart. Cheers greeted you and you pulled your collar tightly around your neck as Steve stepped towards you with a cup of what suspiciously looked like whiskey.

“Let me guess, you guys got La Quiqa?” you said, taking the cup from Steve.

“Yep.”

You looked around for the one you needed to see the most but your eyes never caught him.

“I’m guessing you haven’t heard about Javier?” Steven suddenly says, making your eyes snap towards him instantly.

“What?”

“He turned himself in, just got on the flight back to D.C. for his re-evaluation.” Steve says, shrugging, but the sadness was evident in his voice.

Your head swimmed as you stared into your cup of whiskey. He has truly left you.

Without even a single goodbye.

You nod to no one in particular, anger driving you to stay upright. You sigh and walk towards your desk.

“What are you waiting for, Murphy?” You said shortly, “We have Escobar to catch.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

A few months later

Javier sat at the bar and swirled his drink in his hand revealing his past few months. He woke up every morning to the thought of you and tried hard to drink the feeling of you away with bottles of the shit he kept at home. But here he was, back in Bogotá, nervously tapping his leg, wondering when he would ever catch a glimpse of you.

He breathed heavily, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and searched for his lighter, but to no avail. He searched again and was ready to admit defeat when a light suddenly flashed before him.

“Hola patrón. Congratulations on the promotion.”

That voice.

The cigarette dropped out of Javier's mouth as he turned to stare at you. You wore an angry expression on your face, but Javier wasn’t phased. He was so happy to see your beautiful face that a dopey smile unwillingly spread on his face.

“Who’s the criminal now, you thieving little minx.” he snorted, snatching his lighter away.

“You fucking left me, you asshole!” you started to hit him.

He grabbed your arms and pulled you off the bar stool and flush to his body.

“No, I fucked you, then I left you. You need to work on your English, mariposa.” he smirked.

It only made you swing harder, but Javier was quicker, pulling your face towards him with his free hand and locking you down with a bruising kiss. You relax into his kiss and you feel him smile triumphantly and you let him, wrenching your arms out of his grasp and pulling him in by his tie.

You pull away and scowl at him, biting your lip slightly. You take a better look at his getup, smiling slightly at his more professional look, a contrast to the shirts he wore with open buttons.

“You know I had to go, mariposa, I couldn’t do it anymore.” he said, smoothing out your hair and kissing your forehead.

“I know. But that doesn’t make me any less mad.” you say, looking straight into his eyes as he pulled away.

“I know how to make it up to you?” he said, clearly testing the waters.

“Whatever you say, patrón.” you smirked, crashing your lips to his once again.

Translations:

- Mariposa: butterfly

- Los Pepes: Paramilitary group composed of enemies of Pablo Escobar.

- Lo siento: I’m sorry

- Sicario: hitmen

Reblogs are appreciated ~~

- Cariño: sweetheart

2K notes · View notes

straighttohellbuddy · 3 years ago

Text

but you're talking in your sleep {Wilbur Soot} // 2

two. and she told me that she fucking hates you

Summary: Two years ago, you'd met Will Gold in a pub shortly after moving to London, and had a six-week fling with him, but ended up falling out of contact when it turned out your ex-boyfriend moved to try and make things work... But now you're back in contact, back to being friends, and have made arrangements to finally hang out face to face. And any latent, traitorous feelings Wilbur may or may not have aren't anything he wants to bother you with.

Need to Know: She/Her, implied early 20s, Sister-Innit!Reader. it is never stated or even implied whether Tommy & the reader are related by blood or otherwise, so that's up to you, and while there are mentions of reader celebrating christmas, it's more because Tommy's family celebrates it. reader is said to be studying literature at university. please heed the warnings.

A/N: 11,707 words. unedited as all fuck, i have so much love in my heart for this part, but please heed the warnings. PLEASE Tell me how you're liking it so far!! :)

Warnings: recreational drinking, implied emotional & verbal manipulation/abuse, emotional & physical cheating, heavily implied intimacy but never explicit.

{ masterpost : 2 / 3 }

{ p l a y l i s t }

Taglist: @marvelsmurphy @automaticcomputerpaper @kattenprinsen @parkerpeanuts @bumblebea-xo @lovehatewhateveritis @rainyaheysoe @tcphat @smol-flower-kiddo @pogface @luluwinchester @captainpuffyrp @dreamerwasfound @pepe-lepe @njhrecord @auralol @moonlightaura03 @the-friendly-ghostwrite @blaisey-bee @kingudon @friendwasfound @ahsteriawrites @eeyore-onthefloor @30-minutes-into-the-future @rexgoesrawrrrrrr @arielting @laneunderwave @axeofwars @hoezeeor @lightninginab0ttle @irwinkitten @gyneve @stoop18 @franaby @ozdramaqueen @moriiartist @ticcisimon @randokku

Taglist is always open!!

----

In less than a week, after only a few texts to confirm times and [just stay with me I have a couch] sent without hesitation after you’d asked for hotel recommendations, and now he’s been sitting in his car for twenty minutes at the train station, kicking himself for being so early. Berating himself is easier than dealing with his nerves, so he turns up his music and texts you while waiting for your train to pull into the station.

Your texts are vibrant and excited since you’d gotten on the train, in a way they hadn’t been in the few days lead up to your trip, but he doesn’t think much of it, too busy trying to convince himself that he’s got his nerves under control. Really he’s doing quite a good job, right up until you message that the next stop’s Brighton, in all capitals. He tells you he’s going to wait inside the terminal, and when you send [SEE YOU SOON!!!!!] he’s left alone with his music and his thoughts and his goddamn erratic heartbeat.

There’s a moment of terror, amidst the lively crush of people inside the terminal near peak hour, that someone might recognise him. It’s kind of the nightmare scenario; neither you nor he needed that right now, and he hadn’t even brought some sort of hat or glasses. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear to be a problem, however, as he makes it to the exit for your train’s platform with little stress.

And your smile is even brighter than he’d imagined it would be.

Like something ripped straight out of a movie, you stop at the top of the platform’s steps you’d just ascended, the other passengers parting in streams left and right behind you, continuing on their way, but giving you this moment. You seem to pick him out of the crowd instantly, meeting his gaze with a hundred-watt smile. Though you’re too far away to hear, but he can read it on your lips when you say his name, like a confirmation.

The moment only last a seconds and then you’re both moving, stepping forward to meet in the middle, and you don’t even hesitate to wrap him up in a hug. There’s relief and warmth as you fist your hands in his sweater, as your shoulders relax with your breathless laugh.

“It’s so good to see you!” You tell him, stepping back holding him at arm’s length for a moment as you look him over.

“It’s been –“ a long time coming, something we both seem to need, something I didn’t realise I’d been waiting two years for, “too long; good to have you here,” he tells you, simply letting himself enjoy this moment. For a beat, you seem like you’re about to say something else, but when you see the way he’s grinning, matching your energy, he thinks he can see your breath catch. Wishful thinking? Maybe, but you look up to the roof, then around, step back, bouncing on the balls of your feet as your next words are something of an excited, only half coherent babble.

It's endearing, but Wilbur has just realised how absolutely stupid and terrible this idea was.

You’re Tommy’s sister.

You’re in a relationship.

You and he had a fling for six weeks, two years ago.

So it’s easy to tell himself when you’re in another city, that he doesn’t have feelings for you. Again… But he can only delude himself for so long when you’re by his side.

Offering your arm, you ask him if there’s any restaurants he’d recommend.

“What?” Surfacing from his thoughts, he tries and fails to process what you’d asked. He loops his arm through yours, and thankfully, you don’t seem to think much of his momentary lapse, apart from it being amusing.

“I’m bloody starving,” you reiterate, and he takes the hint, leading you both to the exit closest to his car, “and I’d be happy to get junk I’m familiar with, but if you had any recommendations for not-junk restaurants,” you laugh a little at your own phrasing, “I’d love to hear them.”

He takes you to a hole-in-the-wall, family-run restaurant a block from his apartment, and you buy him dinner as thanks. In some strange way, it’s as if you’ve picked up right from where you’d left, just as easy to talk to as he remembered, just as earnest. You hum along to the songs on his playlist and compliment his taste in music and seem genuinely excited and interested when you ask if he’s been working on anything recently.

For a moment, he’s quiet, expression twisting as his mind flashes to the lyrics he’s been trying to grasp for the melody he keeps humming to distract himself whenever his mind remembers you’re wilfully dating a guy your brother hates. It’s petty, and one of the things the two of you don’t talk about, so he keeps that to himself. Instead, he talks about another song on the EP he’s been working on. The light in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his music – he’d forgotten how you could make him feel elated simply by listening to him. It makes him want to work on the EP, just so he can have something to show you.

At his door, however, you grow quiet, one hand reaching up to grasp at your backpack strap as you watch him unlock his door. As he turns, tries to ask if everything’s alright, you’re already thanking him for giving you a place to stay. His voice dies in his throat, and all he can do is give a smile.

“Of course,” he offers, “any time.” He’s not sure if he was meant to see the relief in your eyes as he turns back to open the door.

In his flat, you sit tentatively on the sofa, graciously accepting his offer of a drink as he heads to his kitchen. Still, you’re quieter than you were earlier. When he comes back with your drink of choice, you’re surprised for a moment. He puts his own drink on the coffee table and picks up the TV remote, anticipating your question.

“We spent a lot of time in pubs together,” he points out, not looking at you as he tries to pick a streaming service, “least I could do is remember your favourite drink.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you duck your head quickly.

“And you call me a simp,” you mutter, but your tone betrays just how touched you are that he’d remembered. He feels justified in the smug smile he wears as he asks if there’s anything you want to watch.

The night grows late as the mood grows warm and comfortable, both you and Wilbur tipsy watching trashy movies and making up drinking games with vaguely incomprehensible rules, and you ask if you can send a photo of him to Tommy. Of course he agrees with delight. For a moment, you deliberate, squinting at your screen with your camera pointed at him, before you gesture for him to move closer to you.

“I gotta be in the photo,” you tell him, as seriously as you can manage. Wilbur, seeing no flaw in that logic, shifts to sit beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulders. Both of you are positively beaming, your head on his shoulder, his cheek against your head, a little blurry from your unsteady hands. You caption it [our friend tall will ☭] and send it without a second thought.

Until, a moment later, Wilbur’s phone starts vibrating.

“It’s a discord call from Tommy,” he says with a half-giggle, and you smack your hand to your mouth, before you scramble to mute the TV, and the movie you’d stopped caring about before it had even started.

“Tommy, hello, you’re calling at a strange hour,” Wilbur tries and fails to sound sober, missing the mark atrociously.

“I’m streaming,” comes Tommy’s response. You double over, dropping the remote and pressing your other hand to your mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. Wilbur’s free hand gently rests on your back as he can’t help his own mischievous grin.

“Am I on speaker? Hello, Tommy’s stream!”

“Are you drunk?” Tommy asks, faintly disbelieving.

“I’m not sober,” is how Wilbur chooses to phrase it.

“’s very late,” you stage whisper, straightening up again, looking from the phone to Wilbur, unable to fight off your smile, “why’s he still streaming –?“

“Wilbur!” Tommy, insistent this time, interrupts you.

“Tombles go to sleep, it’s a school night,” you say, louder this time, and Wilbur breaks, laughing loud and bright.

“Hey, Mother Innit’s fully aware I’m still up and streaming, take it up with her,” Tommy counters, before seemingly remembering the situation at hand, “and Sister -” he says pointedly, only to be interrupted by Wilbur.

“Ooh~ listen to that tone, you’re in trouble!” He teases, and your delighted, mischievous laughter rings out loud in the little apartment. After a moment, however, your own phone buzzes with a text from Tommy [glad you arrived safe]; on the phone, however, he clears his throat.

“Yeah, she’s in trouble! She’s stealing my friends! I don’t think I like you and Wilbur being friends anymore –“

“You don’t have the authority to revoke my Wilbur privileges,” you take the phone from Wilbur, nose in the air, while he’s wheezing with laughter beside you, “I’m revoking your Wilbur privileges!”

“You can’t do that!” Tommy spluttered.

“I just did!” You crowed, triumphant, “be nice or I’ll revoke your Tubbo privileges too.”

“You wouldn’t dare –“

“It’s part of my master plan, Tombles,” you tell him, spouting absolute bullshit with ease, “next stop; America. You got to hang out with Dream’s sister, so me, your sister, will hang out with Dream,” you squinted for a moment, considering, before you amended, “that’s a threat.”

“Can you believe this, chat?” Tommy gasped gently, playing the victim.

“Where is all this coming from?” Wilbur says, confused and delighted by your sudden conviction and apparent foresight.

“’s the Cain Instinct,” you said with an air of fondness, before settling back against the sofa, leaning your head against Wilbur’s shoulder, “you can retain Wilbur privileges because I love you,” you tell your brother, “and he’s a good sort –“

“’Okay bet’ says Dream!” Squawks Tommy in mock horror, setting off both yourself and Wilbur all over again, “Christ, man- Dream’s trying to call me-“ as soon as Tommy announced that, both you and Wilbur excited requested that Dream be added to the call, much to Tommy’s exasperation. However, once he’d conceded, you realised –

“I feel like I shouldn’t meet Dream for the first time while I’m drunk,” you stage whispered to Wilbur.

“That’s how we met,” Wilbur points out, which only serves to confuse you.

“You and Dream?”

“You and me,” and as he says it, you finally understand what he’s saying, your initial worry already forgotten. For a moment, you’re giggling as you look at him, and he’s ninety percent sure you’re remembering how the two of you had met –

“This is great –“ you hadn’t even heard Dream join the call, but the moment he does, your laughter stops, eyes going wide, “- I’m so okay with us becoming friends to spite Tommy, that’s funny as fuck.”

“Dream you can’t bully me on my own stream,” you knew from Tommy’s tone alone that he was rolling his eyes, but smiling gently. Despite Dream lazily offering to start streaming, delighted that it again would be out of spite, Wilbur watched you with concern as you levelled an intense gaze at his phone.

“You okay?” He asks quietly, and you lean closer to his phone.

“Dream Minecraft-YouTube, I’m so drunk, I’m so sorry,” you whisper with great concern, and the tension breaks as everyone else on the call bursts out laughing. But then you gasp sharply, “oh fuck, Tommy’s live! I’m live! Oh no, I promise I’m less drunk usually, Tommy’s chat! This is a joke, mostly, I love Tombles very much, but also if I haven’t embarrassed myself too much I would actually like to be friends with Tommy’s cool streaming friends; Dream –“ you say suddenly, taking a deep breath, squeezing your eyes closed as you tried to focus, “Dream I mean you, you seem very cool.”

“Hey, what about me?” Wilbur asked, still grinning, before Dream even had a chance to respond.

“Unfortunately we are already best friends,” you told him without missing a beat, taking the phone from him and leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees.

And you continue to chat with your brother and Dream, but something about what you’d said had overwhelmed Wilbur’s heart, and as you lean forward to chatter away, he half drapes himself on you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his face against your shoulder blade. The moment, illuminated only by the light of the muted TV and the street lights out the window, fills him with an indescribable contentment. Did you used to fit so easily into the space by his side?

When the call is long forgotten, and the hour has gotten unreasonably late, and he realises you’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder, he thinks about how easy you are to love. Tomorrow-Wilbur can regret that sentiment, but for now he’ll stand by it, especially since the moment he goes to move, you wrap an arm around him. Carefully, well as carefully as he can manage, he frees himself, gently insisting that you stretch out properly on the sofa. He’s gone for all of two minutes, getting you a blanket and a glass of water, but you’re clutching one of the sofa pillows beneath your head, curled up, by the time he’s back.

“Thanks Will,” you mumble with a contented little smile as he drapes the blanket over him, which, okay, a little spooky considering he thought you were properly asleep. What’s more terrifying, however, are the two words you manage next; “love you,” which you follow with a gentle sigh, as if you hadn’t just uttered two of the most confusing words in the English language.

The rest of his night is spent staring at his ceiling, the silence of the flat as deafening externally as the racket of his conflict was internally. It’s nothing, he’s sure it’s absolutely nothing; he tells his friends that he loves them all the time, it’s not like he’s pinning for any of them. You’d been travelling and drunk and tired and it had been a nice night, a perfectly platonic declaration mumble of love wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

But, his traitorous mind sees fit to remind him, this isn’t actually the first time something like this had happened. Last time, he’d kept it to himself, and you’d ended up with Mark, so he thought he’d made the right call. Maybe it was a coincidence, but –

“Okay, what are the most important things I should know about London?” You’re half giggling in the dim, golden light of the pub. The cover band that’s been playing is between sets, but you’re still leaning across the table the way you’d been just so he could hear you earlier, “apart from the location of the most underappreciated flat in a ten kilometre radius.”

“I never said underappreciated,” Wilbur can feel himself flush, but is doing a very good job of keeping his somewhat aloof demeanour intact, “I said I think a girl like you would appreciate the contents of the flat as much as you’d appreciate any other tourist trap –“

“So your flat’s a tourist trap?” Your smile is sharp and teasing, but there’s nothing malicious in it. He takes the bait happily, playing along.

“It has its moments,” he says loftily, “we’ve been known to host a party or two, but no-one’s thought to leave a review on Trip Advisor, so it’s still trendy. No lines.” For a moment, his expression wrinkles as he thinks about what he’s saying, but you seem thoroughly pleased by the bit.

“Nothing on Yelp?”

“I haven’t checked recently, but if you’d like to, be my guest,” he answers without even really thinking, though when he does, he’s fighting back a smile, “still got my fingers crossed for a good Google Review soon.”

“Is it like an Uber driver asking you to rate them five stars at the end of a trip?” You asked, light dancing in your eyes, “’broke my phone but that’s on me; would get smashed here again, five stars’?”

“Absolutely; we’re wonderful hosts, of course we’d get five stars,” he says with absolute confidence. For a moment, his words hang amid the warm, golden air. Looking to you, he’s surprised by the way you’re regarding him, watching him with quiet delight, or perhaps even amusement, completely comfortable in this moment.

“Well then now I have to go there,” you say softly, sounding almost nervous and trying to hide it behind your amusement, “see for myself if the hype is worth it.”

Wilbur, who’d been caught up in enjoying the convoluted joke, and had momentarily forgotten that he had been rather boldly hitting on you, had not expected that to work. The band was making their way back to the stage, he’d almost finished his pint, and your whole demeanour has turned electric despite you not moving a muscle.

There’s the click, hum of the amp being turned back on, and the patter of drumsticks as the band gets themselves back into gear, and the sigh you give is so carefully casual as you tilt your head to watch them. Remarking that they’re good, you follow it with an offhand mention that you’d be happy to head out at any point. No rush, but all anticipation.

And in the cool night air, he finds himself going back to your earlier question, half-jokingly asking what the most important thing would be to know about you.

“It’s not the most important in general,” you start with a sly little smile, “it’s not really important in any other situation.” He makes a noise of confused intrigue, not quite sure where this could be going, but you wet your lips as you look at him properly, meeting his gaze with an expression that could only be described as coy, “I talk in my sleep.”

The morning light is infiltrating his room through the cracks of his blinds as he desperately wished he could remember your first meeting with less clarity. But alas, it’s all he can think of until he finally manages to shut his mind up enough to sleep.

Of course when he wakes around eleven, not only does he regret getting to sleep so late, but is worried for a moment that you’d been stuck waiting for him for hours.

Which, while technically you had, you hadn’t seemed to mind. You’d spent the morning catching up with his flatmates, well the one who’d accompanied him to Brighton who’d been overjoyed to see you again, and the others who were more than happy to meet you and help you nurse your hang over. They’d given you a towel so you could shower, and you’d helped cooked breakfast, and he’s spilling from his room, all pyjamas and apologies, but you’re sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, looking up from your phone.

There’s that smile again, the one you’d worn yesterday at the train station when you’d first spotted him, just as bright to see him for the first time, mid-morning in his apartment. It’s like just being around him brightens you up; he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that. He’s not sure he wants to. His panic eases. He takes a moment. You ask if he wants tea, and then, with a smile, to remind you how he likes his tea.

He's still half waking up so you're more than happy to lead the conversation, the fallout from the call with Tommy and Dream, looking back on your own antics with faint embarrassment, thankfully, rather than regret.

"It could have been so much worse," you laugh lightly, "my saving grace is that Mark doesn't watch Tommy's streams," you don't leave time for him to even properly process that thought before you're fondly rolling your eyes at your brother's antics. Tommy's still trying to talk you into getting Twitter, but he's been trying for months now.

A moment comes as the two of you are weaving around the kitchen, chattering away about plans for the afternoon, your asides asking about where the tea and sugar are kept not even breaking the flow, it feels familiar in a way he knows it shouldn’t. But then he goes to reach for a cupboard just above your head as you’re adding sugar, part of him knowing that he should ask you to watch out but it’s muscle memory, faster than he can process, and you’re in the middle of speaking -

You’ve ducked, anticipating him, without even missing a beat, or a falter in your words.

He’s still moving on autopilot, searching for the marmalade, and you weave around him, heading to the fridge to get milk. Physically, he’s making himself toast, mentally, he’s beating the part of himself that’s a hopeless romantic with a broomstick as it’s desperately trying to ascribe meaning when there probably isn’t any. Except once you’ve finished with the milk he takes the carton without even thinking, putting it back while he’s enthusing about the unique nature of the DreamSMP as a storytelling device, and you take the marmalade he’d just capped and was about to put back, putting it in the cupboard above you, and somewhere in the back of his mind, the words Drift Compatible light up in neon.

It's almost midday and you’re in his kitchen, dissecting the story he’s now largely responsible for, with the same enthusiasm and detail as you do any of the other literary classics you’d dedicated your life to. There’s a light in your eyes that’s captivating as you scrutinise the story with delight, lavishing praise on he and his friends, and the world they’d helped build. It’s a dialogue, he’s swept up in it, matching your enthusiasm as he adds nuance and clarification, right up until –

“- in the end, I think my main thought is,” you took a long sip of your tea, unable to meet his gaze; when you put your cup down there’s a smile twitching at the edge of your lips, “this Breaking Bad roleplay got really out of hand.”

“But for a Hamilton role play…?” He prompts, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, very on brand;” you assured him with mock seriousness, “exactly what American founding father Alexander Hamilton would want for his legacy in the modern day,” you nodded adamantly, and Wilbur sat tall, throwing out his arms in triumph.

“See, you get me, thank you,” he announced, barking a heaty laugh as if relieved to finally have someone seeing his perspective. It dissolves into laughter for you both, before lapsing into comfortable silence.

The few days that you’re here seem to fly by, a blur of joy and easy companionship. You’re less impulsive than he remembers, but there’s still a glint in your eye when you spot a tree with sturdy branches, or look longingly at a high-rise, like you’d still quietly like to lie on the roof and gaze at the sky. On the second night of your stay, he’d woken at three in the morning to get himself a glass of water, and you’d sat bolt upright on the sofa, scaring him half to death, telling him seriously that his flat was ‘sturdy and safe’ as if it was of vital importance. So yes, you still talked in your sleep it seemed. It alleviated some of his worry about the previous night.

Friday, your third day in Brighton, he had intended to stream, but was fully prepared to take a rain check, but you get all wide-eyed, and tell him not to put things off on your behalf. Which is how you both end up in his office, with him on camera, and you sitting on the floor a few feet away, your back against the wall, assuring him that you don’t want to be seen.

“I feel like Tommy told me you wanted to do YouTube too,” he says, browsing through his Twitter for some last minute suggestions for games to play. He hadn’t exactly anticipated doing this stream at all, so it was going to be rather off-the-cuff. You respond with a faint, nondescript huff. Looking over his shoulder, you’re frowning slightly as you look down at your phone.

“Yeah, I-“ you say, distractedly, before you look up and fully process what he’d said, “yeah, I mean, doesn’t everyone our age,” you say, faintly dismissive, expression drawn as you hold your phone close to your chest. Pressing your back flatter against the wall, you crane your neck up to look at his set up.

“I mean, I guess,” he shrugs a little awkwardly, “but I feel like he wouldn’t have mentioned it if there wasn’t, like intent, like he mentioned you wanting to still be a professor.” Your nose wrinkles just a little at that.

“He’s probably remembering me talking about that when I was younger,” though your tone is a little uneasy for reasons Wilbur can’t quite place, you give a small smile, “I think I’m just trying to focus on something realistic and stable for myself now. Even a uni professor needs a Masters; high school teacher only needs a Bachelor,” but you still can’t meet his gaze, “’d you think I’d be good at it?”

“At what?” There’s several different options there, and he’s not quite sure which would matter to you most.

“The high school teacher thing,” finally, you looked back at him, smile widening, mood lifting. He considers for a long moment, leaning back in his desk chair, looking back until he’s gazing at the roof as he makes thoughtful noises.

“I thought you were set on being a uni professor,” he says carefully, dropping his cheek to his shoulder to look at you, expression carefully neutral. You tried to shrug casually, but your shoulders were tense.

“Just answer the question,” you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your sudden discomfort behind your fond tone, “me, attempting to teach high schoolers literary analysis; you think I’m up to it?”

“If it’s the kind of thing you want to do, yeah,” he says with a half-smile, “I’ve heard you talk about the books I hated in high school; if you’d been my teacher I probably wouldn’t have hated them half as much.” His smile stretches wide and as innocent as he can manage as your eyes narrow, trying to decipher exactly what he means by that. But the answer was satisfactory enough for you that you let it drop, changing the subject as you ask what he’ll be playing.

He refers to you as ‘the cryptid crashing on my couch’ smiling bright as the sun as he does so, identifying you early as to not confuse his audience if he talks to you during the stream. He asks again, a final time, if you’d like to join him, that you were more than welcome to. All his audience sees is your hand, holding out your phone to him where you’ve written out ‘only if you distort my voice and blur my face like im in witness protection’. At that, he barks a laugh, and reads your statement to his audience. That’s how you’re known for the rest of the stream, as the hand that pops up whenever you have an aside you think is pertinent to add.

Every other question chat asks is demanding to know who you are. Whenever Wilbur mentions it but keeps his mouth shut on the truth, his gaze flicks to you, because he knows you’ll be smiling. One of his off-hand jokes, however, has you making a noise in the back of your throat which draws his attention. When he looks back at you, there’s something amusing in your eyes, mouth pressed into a thin, frustrated line. Your nose wrinkles, further showing off your frustration at your own self-imposed silence, when you meet his gaze. Of course he knows why; he’d made a blatantly wrong statement with far more confidence than the statement warranted. It was exactly the kind of bullshit you couldn’t help but play along with.

“If you’ve got something to say,” insufferably smug, he watches you puff out your cheeks. Averting your gaze, you flip him off, hand in frame for the camera to see, “sook,” he teases, “just say what’s on your mind.” For a moment, your mouth drops open as if you’re about to say something, to call his bluff, but your gaze flicks to his webcam.

What’s on my mind, you mouth pointedly when you look back to him; something about your expression has turned bashful for reasons he can’t quite fathom. You glance quickly at the camera again before shaking your head, you wish, you mouth, but can’t quite look him in the eye. There’s a serious moment where he considers ending the stream, because this feels like it could be a moment, a chance. He’s a hypocrite, he can’t begin to say what’s on his mind, won’t give himself the chance, getting back to his stream after another brief moment and a deep breath.

By the time the stream ends, chat is eighty percent sure it’s a fellow YouTuber trying to keep a low profile, but Wilbur simply shrugs, stretching back in his chair with a Cheshire-esque smile.

“There’s only seven billion people in the world, eventually one of you’ll guess right,” his smile is toothy, and you’re grinning at him, watching him finish up his stream with your knees drawn up to your chest. After it ends, there’s sincerity in your voice as the two of you head to the pub to meet up with his housemates for drinks.

Just as you had with Wilbur, your friendship with the housemate you remember had picked up as if there wasn’t a two year break in the middle, and the others were bantering with you as if they’d known you just as long. You match them all drink for drink, playing along with stupid jokes and shenanigans. As the night continues and you slide gracefully from tipsy to drunk, you begin to hum to yourself between thoughts and words without even being aware of it. It’s familiar, but you’re not humming consistently enough for Wilbur to pick it.

There’s more flashes of who you used to be, impulsive ideas and an inherent need to climb anything and everything as the pack of you head back to the flat in the early hours of the morning. Wilbur’s perception of the world is blurry in it’s own right, and he barely has enough forethought to keep you from attempting to climb a street-sign like Mulan with your jacket that you’d just shed. He grabs your hand while you’re eyeing up the pole, tugging you along to keep up with the others, and you seem to be deciding whether or not to be put out by it, but when you look down to see him still holding your hand, you grin. Giving a little skip, you behave for the final block to the flat, humming louder now, chattering away whenever you felt your input was required.

You all make it about an hour through the first Lord of the Rings movie, and the terrible, convoluted drinking game you’d made up, before one of his housemates is throwing up, and you all decide to retire for the night instead of trying to keep going; you’d have tomorrow night as well. Like long forgotten habit, when Wilbur stands and stretches out, he offers you his hand, and you take it.

“Don’t have to call this time,” you giggle, sitting on the edge of his bed as he comes back from getting two glasses of water.

“Call?” He puts the glasses on his bedside table, and when he looks at you, déjà vu hits like a truck.

“Like that song,” and you hum the same melody you’ve been humming all night; he recognises it now, “I think they were playing it in the pub,” Wilbur’s pretty sure he would have remembered if they’d played Do I Wanna Know? at the pub; he would be humming it too.

“Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few, ‘cos I always do~” your memory of the melody is a bit all over the place, but you’re grinning widely, “to see if you’re real,” you explain, then look around, “I can’t believe I keep asking that,” you laughed, “you’re so patient, dude, I can’t believe you keep indulging me, or, well, that’s not the right word but you know what I mean,” you give a gentle, endeared sigh, focus back on him, on where he’s watching you, still wearing his jacket and shoes.

“’s kind of funny, kind of a self fulfilling prophecy,” you say after a moment.

“What is?” He’s afraid of moving, of breaking this moment, the moment he thought he’d never get to experience again.

“The song,” smile widening, you lean back languidly, looking at his roof, “there’s this tune I’ve found that makes me think of you somehow~”

“And you play it on repeat?” Wilbur can’t help but smile in response.

“And I play it on repeat,” you echo quietly, grinning, hands behind your head, “of course you’re real,” you muse with an adoring sigh, “I could never imagine you.”

“Being around you again has kind of made me feel more real than I have in a while,” he finds himself saying, pulling off his shoes. He’s desperately, internally trying to convince himself to not do what he knows he’s going to do. But you agree with the sentiment, and he has to pretend like the rest of the song isn’t playing in his head, chipping away at his reservations bit by bit. You say it’s all felt very familiar as you’re pushing yourself back up to a sitting position, head tilted just a little as you watch him. There’s something in your eyes that’s dangerous and enticing; he’s doomed. Pulling off his jacket, he finds himself unable to look at you despite the way he's steeling his nerves, “would you forgive me for being selfish for a moment?”

“Depends,” your voice is a murmur, something unidentifiable in your tone. When you stand, he catches the movement out of the corner of his eyes, “depending on what you mean,” you give the faintest huff of laughter, “I might even encourage it.”

“Encourage it,” he echoes softly, and your smile turns to something coy. Anything he’d wanted to say is lost in that moment, and he crosses the space to you, taking your face in his hands. For a moment, he pauses, gaze searching yours. It’s time enough for you to break away, to back out.

“Familiar?” He murmurs with the faintest smile, trying to memorise the way you’re looking at him, almost starry-eyed, voice catching in your throat.

“Wil, please -” suddenly breathless, you’re almost pleading and it’s all the encouragement he needs, crashing his lips to yours. It’s sweet triumph, just a kiss for all of three seconds before he finds his arms winding around your neck, pulling you closer, pulling a pleased noise from you as you deepen the kiss to something messy and insistent.

All his hesitations and reservations and doubts are quickly disappearing, just as the back of your legs hit his bedframe and the moment break as you both find yourself falling; Wilbur catches himself before he lands directly on top of you. In the few seconds that follow, shock reads on both of your faces like a neon sign, as he’s braced over you, blinking rapidly. You recover first, beaming as laughter erupts from you. Of course he’d almost accidentally body slam you when he finally gets to kiss you again. Groaning with faux embarrassment, he flops onto the bed beside you, unable to keep his own laughter in as he hears yours.

“Pretty familiar,” you giggled, looking up at the ceiling as your laughter died down.

“Would another reminder help?” Looking to you, he reaches out to trace his fingertips along your jaw, and you lean into his touch for a moment before giving your coy but enthusiastic response.

Making out with you in his bed after a night at the pub turns out to still be one of his favourite experiences, all he needed really was a reminder. Both of you agree it wouldn’t be right to go any further in your current, drunken states, but considering he hadn’t expected any of this, he’s thrilled as you kiss down the column of his throat. Your nails are a welcome sting, and the noises that escape your with each gentle bite he gives is like music to his ears.

The guilt, however, starts to settle in when you both agree to try and get some sleep. Which is… difficult. If he falls asleep, the night ends, and you’re a day closer to leaving, to going back home to your boyfriend. Neither of you is innocent in this, but something about the idea of knowingly, deliberately, being a side-piece curdles and sours in his chest. You’re laying on your side, while he’s looking up at the ceiling, gaze glassy as he’s stuck in his own mind.

This should feel worse than it does, morally speaking, he thinks. But it feels almost sickening peaceful, this moment soothing an ache in his soul that he’d successfully repressed right up until you video called right back into his life a few months ago.

He’s awoken from his surprisingly restful sleep at around five in the morning as you jostle him. Only half-aware, he can feel the way you’re tapping his torso, then his shoulder, moving down his arm, chanting the word ‘hand’ in a way that’s more than a little ominous. But he’s seen this before.

“Y’ okay?” He asks blearily, and you go dead silent. For one, unsettling moment, you’re frozen, before he feels your fingertips press gently against his wrist by his side, before sliding against his palm, fingers lacing with his. Then, carefully, you rest your head back on the pillow by his. “Better?” He mumbles, yawning, and giving your hand a squeeze.

“Need hand,” you say with absolute sincerity. He knows, even in his half asleep state, that he’s more conscious than you.

“Need hand?”

“Don’t let go it’s illegal,” you tell him, as if stressing the severity of the situation, but he’s already almost back to sleep. This too feels familiar, he finds himself reminiscing before he passes out again.

“I’m gonna get you a roof,” is the first thing you’d ever said to Wilbur in your sleep. It was the week after you’d first met, and your second time spending the night in his flat. You’d woken him up to tell him this, all while being completely unaware that you were still asleep.

“I have a roof?” He rubs at his eyes, confused and concerned given the intensity with which you were speaking.

“You deserve so many rooves,” you tell him, one hand on his shoulder, eyes wide and glassy, but sincere in your absurdity, “I’ll get you so many rooves.”

“What?”

“A whole city of rooves, Wilbur,” you’d insisted, “for you, and for me, and for the stars.”

“What do you mean? Are you okay?” He’d asked, yawning a little, propping himself up. Your hand was still on his shoulder. It seemed, however, that your urgent thought was over, as you simply stared at him blankly, expression vacant, evidentially not hearing anything he said. He does try again, says your name gently; you blink at him.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, thankful when you comply and flop back down, seemingly content. At least now he could be sure you weren’t joking about sleep talking, especially when he brings it up the next day and you scrunch up your whole face with embarrassment, having no memory of anything you’d said.

So it became habit for him, to make note of the things you said to him on the nights he awoke to you talking in your sleep. You always seemed to be suitably mortified whenever he brought them up, but you never asked him to stop, as if simply embarrassed by how sweet and sincere you were despite not making any sense most of the time. It’s not every night, of course because you’re not at his flat every night; you’ve really only known each other for a few weeks, that would be strange. Except then it becomes a month, and it’s every night you are at his flat, and he finds himself looking forward to hearing whatever it is your unconscious mind deems important for him to know. The page in his notes app is barely more comprehensible than you are.

“bad interior decorator but its okay because you’re a good guitar”

Very worried about my circulation in the winter

Good flat

Offered to punch a police officer for me since she kept telling me I’d been arrested

Said she’d float away if I didn’t hold her hand. Also said she’s very bad at being a balloon animal because she keeps opening her mouth to breath and letting the air out.

Im the best half of a spider :)

Took my hand, told me to wait here, and immediately fell back to sleep

“love a long boy” asked if that was me and she just said “gangly bitch” :)

Rats told her they have orgies in the walls because they’re full of love too. she thought it was important that i know

Really tried hard to get up and climb out of my window insisting that we needed to climb a tree. Back in bed she claimed that I was good for her and told me that she loved me.

When he wakes up the next morning, wakes up properly, for the first time in years, he adds to the list he’d curated, both from last night, and the two nights before. You’re still asleep beside him, curled up on your side away from him. He feels a little strange, a little nostalgic and guilty in equal measure, both for the warm sense of contentment that settle in his chest, and acknowledging that he never deleted those notes from his phone, that they sat idle at the bottom of the list of notes he’s taken in the past few years.

So he gets up, removes himself from the moment and gets breakfast, because it’s almost ten in the morning and he really should be starting his day, and not being a creep. He takes the time as he waits for the kettle to boil to remind himself that last night was absolutely the wrong way to go about shooting his shot, and that you still had a boyfriend. Did he regret kissing you last night? Absolutely not. Would he let it happen again? Well, probably not; if he had any good sense he wouldn’t.

And tomorrow you were heading back to London.

And…

And where’s his good sense gone? Probably where he left it last night, in a pile on his floor beside your jacket, because after getting food delivered, the two of you last all of one episode of a nature documentary he’s only half following, before you somehow end up in his lap.

“Christ, didn’t miss this,” one of his housemates remarks when he gets home, punctuating it by throwing a balled up, empty chip packet at the pair of you.

“Not our fault you’re home early,” Wilbur grins as you hide your embarrassment against his collar.

“Were you raised in a barn?” His housemate counters from the kitchen, “we just bought this lounge, don’t be feral –“

“We weren’t being feral!” Wilbur crows, just as you raise your head and call out.

“But I’m always a bit feral,” and Wilbur feels like he should have anticipated that, scrunching up his face with defeated amusement. He concedes, mentioning that you can watch the show in his room, his hands resting on your hips.

“Yeah,” your lips twitch into a smirk, “that was the important part in all of this.” You quirk a challenging eyebrow at him, and Wilbur’s pretty sure he made some kind of resolve this morning, but can’t even begin to remember it.

“I was deeply invested in it,” he tries to be earnest, tries not to smile to wide.

“Was truly fascinating,” you nodded, matching his energy, still in his lap, arms around his neck, “riveting plot.”

“It was a documentary,” his resolve is crumbling, and your smile grows wider.

“I must have been distracted,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him again, though this time Wilbur’s housemate throws his keys at you two, hitting Wilbur in the back of the head. It’s incentive enough to finally move. There’s a bounciness to the way you move, picking up your leftovers from lunch, putting the scraps in the bin, swanning through the flat to Wilbur’s room as he follows, endeared by your whimsical nature.

You’re spinning idly in his desk chair, waiting for him, one leg tucked up beneath the other. Closing the door behind himself carefully, he watches for a moment, leaning on his wall, arms crossed. Each time you spin, you make eye contact with him, expression bright.

“So, documentary?” Finally, you grin mischievously and keep spinning. That smile could inspire him to move mountains, or something else sickeningly saccharine; his stupid heart is bordering on embarrassing itself at this point. So before he can say something embarrassing and far too honest for this light mood, he closes the distance between the two of you, taking your face in his hands and crushing his lips to yours.

Later, the guilt will settle in his bones.

Later, he’ll ask the question that’s been plaguing him, ask if you even like your boyfriend.

Later, you’ll be wrapped up in his sheets, stretched out on his bed as your whole face scrunches like you’ve bitten a lemon, and he’ll have no idea what you mean when you tell him that that hasn’t mattered in a very long time. It feels like an answer bigger than whatever’s happening between the two of you, but it doesn’t make him feel better.

Later, he’ll be wearing pyjama pants and you’ll be wearing his sheet like a toga, and you’ll try to absolve his guilt. You’ll take his hands once he puts down his glass of water, and tell him that he doesn’t owe Mark shit, and you’d made your choice happily; Wilbur isn’t the guilty party here.

Later, he’ll ask why.

And you’ll let go of his hands. In the moment before you turn away, your expression falls, but he’s not sure he was meant to see that, as when you sit on his bed, wearing a coy smile, there’s something faintly guarded beneath your teasing tone as you tell him that he’s funny and pretty; what’s not to like?

“You play along, people are so afraid to play along, you know? And you start your own bits, good bits,” you’d told him over lunch, having only known him for a month at that point, “you’re a weird bitch, Gold, I like that in a person,” you grinned, before taking a bite of your food to emphasise your point.

“Glowing review,” Wilbur smirked, only half-sarcastic, as he watches you over the lip of his cup before taking a sip, “you should add it to your Google review of the flat.” It had become something of a running joke, and Wilbur has come to love the endearingly mischievous glint in your eyes every time it’s referenced.

“Weird bitch, five stars?”

“Feel like it would draw in the hipster crowd,” Wilbur’s smile grows wider as he clarifies.

“You and your flatmates are the hipster crowd, you don’t need my help with that,” you point out, instead immediately offering the alternative of, “you should slap it in the corner of your first album.” The assuredness of your words, even amidst this joke, catch him by surprise. First album, as if you knew there’s be more than one. But you’re still talking; “you know I do mean weird bitch as a compliment, right?”

“Y/N, you’re a weird bitch,” Wilbur says it fondly, say it like he means obviously. You beam.

“See that’s what I like, you know? People are afraid to be weird bitches but weird bitches make the world go round.”

And he gets these flashes, these memories that he’s never read too much into before; there’s always something there, always something you can’t say just beneath the surface –

“What about you?” Your words break through his thoughts, curious if guarded, and he takes a deep breath, pondering for a moment, “is it just nostalgia?” You huff a laugh but there’s no humour in it; you can’t quite look him in the eyes. But you’ve given him an easy out, if he wanted to take it.

“Nostalgia’s a pretty way of putting it,” he chooses his words after only a faint hesitation, because he’s not going to fuck this up and take the nonsense you say in your sleep to heart, he’s not going to emotionally overstep. So he smiles, and the tense set of your shoulders relaxes.

“I needed… this,” you admit carefully, something grateful in your voice despite your obvious hesitation. He still takes it as a win.

“And you know I’m always happy to help a friend in a time of need,” Wilbur’s tone is faintly amused as he steps forward and leans down, into your space, though you’re giggling at the not-quite-truth of his words, picking and choosing which parts you believe. Still, you tilt your face so your lips meet his, and Wilbur won’t allow himself to dwell and ruin this moment. Or the several that follow.

That night, the two of you make dinner together in his little kitchen and take it up to the roof of his flat. He’ll give a half-hearted apology about it not being as tall as his London flat, or even your dorm building, but you’re uncharacteristically quiet as you look at the stars. When you look at him, there’s so much in your eyes that he can’t even begin to understand; mouth open but wordless, you look like you’re on the verge of a half-dozen different things, but unsure where to start.

“We should eat before the pasta gets cold,” you drop your gaze, finally speaking, but you don’t seem able to stop smiling. A little quieter you add, “hell, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a roof.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Wilbur can’t help his confused little half-smile, “do you mean, like, you’ve stopped trespassing on rooves or-“

“No, just altogether,” you carefully mix the sauce in with your pasta, not taking your eyes off of it, “even ones I’m allowed to be on; didn’t realise I missed it this much,” finally, you meet his gaze. He’s surprised by the forlorn look in your eyes; despite this, you’re smiling, thanking him.

The moment passes when you look away, without even giving him a chance to let you know that you didn’t need to thank him for anything, but your tone has brightened as you announce that you’ve been reading the fanfic named Heat Waves purely because you think telling Tommy that you had would causes him psychic damage, but it turned out to be well written. Wilbur suggests telling him while he’s streaming with Dream; the idea has you incapacitated with laughter.

His chest feels lighter somehow, but there’s an impending sense of dread in the back of his mind knowing that he may very well start spiralling the moment you head back to London. If he doesn’t dive into a new project, he’s not going to be able to stop himself thinking about all the things you’ve said and not said, and what it all means.

He’s not awoken by any tremendous movement that night, instead he gets up to go to the bathroom, and when he gets back into bed beside you, you don’t even open your eyes as you drape an arm over him.

“Love you, Will,” you sigh, cheek half pressed against his shoulder. He tries not to take your sleep talking to heart, but it still makes him smile.

During the drive to the train station the next day, Wilbur mentions that you’re always welcome to stay a few more days. While you thank him for the offer, you joke that you don’t want Mark getting suspicious, and it leaves a sour aftertaste in the back of his mouth. But as he agrees to walk you to the train, it disappears.

“Have you ever heard of the poem You Are Jeff?” You ask as you hoist your bag from the boot, and Wilbur makes a noise in the back of his throat indicating that it hasn’t. But he should have. You’re quiet; he asks if you recommend it. After a noncommittal noise of your own, you shrug, “I was thinking about it in the car, it’s kind of long, but the last stanza…” trailing off, you shut the boot and take a deep breath. Grinning with faint nervous energy, you change the topic to your own imminent departure. Wilbur tries to make a note of the poem, but it doesn’t really stick.

It feels sappy, but like the done thing, to watch the train leave, and it doesn’t have long to go as he finds himself leaning on a pole, watching you through the window packing your bag into the luggage compartment above your seat. You catch him watching through the window and you grin impishly for a moment before darting through the cart to the door as the voice on the speaker announces the train’s stops; it’ll be leaving very soon. But you weave through the thinning crowd for a moment until you find him, and he’s already hugged you goodbye so he’s not sure what else there is to say. You glance surreptitiously around for a moment before beckoning him close. He obliges, confused for all of three seconds before you kiss him quickly.

“Okay, I should…” you seem a bit flustered, like you can’t quite believe your own courage, gesturing to the train. But Wilbur sees your hesitation, and if he gets a kiss goodbye, he’s going to get the big, movie kiss, so he pulls you back in with a grin.

If it’s the last thing you remember of the trip, he wants to leave you breathless, and he succeeds, murmuring for you to come back soon, arms still around each other in the few moments that follow. You nod, a little speechless, a little giddy, stealing a final, quick kiss before boarding the train for good.

The doors close. You wave through the window. The train departs.

[okay I’ll bite] he messages Tommy from his car, still in the parking lot of the train station half an hour after you’d left, having been working on the song he’d been trying to ignore in the back of his mind the whole time you’d been in town; [what is mark’s deal? Y/N doesn’t even like him and neither do you. what’s up with that?]

[he’s a bitch and im going to roundhouse him into an active volcano] Tommy sends back with very little hesitation.

[i’m serious]

[so am i] Tommy responds, and Wilbur scrunches up his whole face in exasperation. But then his phone is ringing.

“Is she still there?” Is the first thing Tommy asks, frowning over the video call, and Wilbur, expression still mostly pained, shakes his head, “she get on the train okay?”

“Half an hour ago,” Wilbur sighs deeply, finally relaxing his face, looking at the uncharacteristically serious kid on call, “I’ve just spent five days with her, and I don’t mean to pry, but I have to, man I have to.”

“She really, actually told you she doesn’t like Mark?” Tommy’s tone is hard, and Wilbur hesitates for a moment.

“Implied as much,” he deliberates before adding, “said it didn’t matter if she liked him or not,” and he tries not to think too much about the situation in which you’d said it, at least not while on call with your little brother.

“And you believe her?” The question is unexpected, and feels rather like a test.

“I mean, yeah, I- uh, yeah,” seeing as you’d happily cheated on him with Wilbur, he was inclined to believe you. Looking at his little phone screen, however, he sees some of the tension ease in Tommy.

“Okay, good,” he says, mostly to himself, “it’s good she’s saying it to more people, people who believe her,” he specifies, which doesn’t sit quite right with Wilbur. He files that away for the time being, “it used to be just when she was drunk she’d call and rant and wouldn’t get mad at me for calling him a bitch, but,” Tommy makes a face, like he knows he shouldn’t be saying this much, but he doesn’t stop himself, “it’s been happening more.”

“The bitching about him?”

Tommy’s quiet for a very long time.

“Yeah,” one word says so much; yeah the bitching is happening more, but so’s the drinking. But Wilbur won’t pull on that thread, that’s not his business. Well, none of this is his business really, but he feels like he’s been left out of the loop a little too much regarding that boyfriend of yours.

“So what’s the deal with Mark? Is he… is he magic or something?” Wilbur fumes, “because she- she- Tommy she doesn’t seem happy with him, so I don’t –“

“She’s not,” Tommy groans, “and I don’t get it either, I just know-“ and finally his mouth snaps shut, scowling. Wilbur wants to apologise, wants to acknowledge that he shouldn’t be asking about this, that he knows he’s prying, but Tommy exhales loudly through his nose, “Mark was like a knight in shining armour back when they were in high school, bit of a dork, but nice enough and didn’t seem as much of a Tory as his dad, so I thought he was pretty alright.”

“What?”

“Mark’s dad’s been chief of police in our town for as long as I can remember,” Tommy says with a sigh. Wilbur watches quietly, patiently, as Tommy puts down his phone at his desk and runs his hands through his hair, “and Y/N’s kind of always been seen as a wild card by our parents; I don’t know if she was like that when you met her, but that would have been the only time she hasn’t been with Mark since she was seventeen, I don’t know if she –“

“Climbing things, enjoys being on rooves,” Wilbur nods, and for the briefest moment, Tommy smiles, though it’s tight, “impulsive things like that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy’s got both his hands resting on his head, leaning back in his desk chair, gazing off into the distance, “it got her in a lot of trouble when she was about my age, but I think Mark ended up offering to talk to his dad –“

“The policeman?” Wilbur interrupts, and Tommy pauses, gaze flicking to his phone, expression drawn. For a moment, he sees the family resemblance between you and your little brother around his eyes in this moment of seriousness, of unspoken truth. His silence speaks volumes. “I just never knew is all,” Wilbur says quietly. Tommy looks away again.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like she was ever charged with anything, Mark made sure of that,” things quickly start clicking into place bit by terrible bit. Finally, Tommy sighed, almost deflating in his seat as he doubles over, forehead coming to rest at the edge of his desk, “I don’t know- man, I don’t know why she stays with him,” he admits, “I’ve- I’ve got theories, but she never- I don’t know for sure, you know?” When he looks up, there’s pain in his eyes; his heart was obviously aching for his sister.

“Man, she called me bloody well crying the day she found out he’d moved to London after her,” he murmurs, dejected at the very memory. However, before Wilbur can even ask why Tommy’s telling him all of this, the boy in question sits back up, tone far lighter, “she used to tell me about you, you know, back before we knew each other.”

“What’d she say?” Both confusion and affection course through Wilbur at this piece of information, and Tommy shakes his head, laughing softly.

“You and your flatmates were the best thing to happen to her in a long time, she couldn’t wait to tell me about you lot,” his tone is so affectionately teasing it’s almost sickening. But it practically confirms something Wilbur had been concerned about for a long while; you hadn’t revealed how close you and Wilbur actually were, either when you’d first met, or now. Thank god, that was future-Wilbur’s problem.

“I think that’s still true,” Tommy says after a moment, “but maybe I’m biased. Would be a bit hard if my sister and one of my best mates didn’t get along,” Wilbur feels his heart grow warm at the sentiment, listening to Tommy ramble on, “and it’s good for her to have someone else- I mean, someone who she can admit that stuff about not liking Mark to. He’s so Milquetoast and that’s the problem, everyone thinks he’s incapable of sin, and ‘calmed Y/N down’ or whatever the fuck… I hate him.” Tommy groaned, rolling his eyes, before pivoting without a second thought, “are we still streaming Lore tonight?”

Wilbur sighs and it feels like the tension in his whole body eases.

“Yeah.”

But it doesn’t last.

It’s a weird stream, a weird night overall, only half focused on the content. Thankfully he wasn’t the focus of the lore, so he could get away with being a little vacant as Ghostbur. The moment he signs off, he’s humming the now-established melody that’s been frankly plaguing him, and piecing together lyrics on the drive home.

The days pass by, turn to weeks, and you’re still messaging each other like nothing ever happened. Sometimes friends shag friends and its not a big deal; usually those friends aren’t actively in other meant-to-be monogamous relationships with people they don’t actually like, but that’s more your problem than his, so he tries not to let it get to him.

But it does.

Every text feels strangely sanitised, like words and meaning can’t quite align, with the freedom of honesty only being granted in the sporadic calls the two of you still keep up. He likes habit, likes tradition, likes the sound of your voice. So maybe he’s weak, he’s not the one playing along while seeing someone else.

"Hey," he can hear your smile in your voice, and can't help his own, feeling tipsy and warm as he struggles with the buttons of his shirt.

"Hey," he giggles, and you don't even ask if he's drunk; its usually the only time you call each other.

"Good night?" You ask, and he gives a long, contented sigh, pausing where he's losing against his shirt.

"Such a good night," he hums contentedly, and decides to leave his shirt for the moment, focusing instead on his shoes, which seem like the next most worthy opponent, "you gotta come to Brighton again, we only saw, like, the third most best pub, this one- this tonight one has the best beer battered chips, I can't believe I didn't think to bring you here -"

"Is that Pandora?" Across the line, Mark speaks around a yawn, "is she okay, it's late -"

"Who?" Wilbur asks, and it takes him a few moments and falling on his ass to put the pieces together as you seem to be telling Mark that everything's okay, "is my name in your phone Pandora?" He's met with muffled sounds of movement, and then the closing of a door, and you huff a faint laugh.

"Sorry about that -"

"Is my name in your phone Pandora?" Wilbur asks, feeling far more sober than he'd felt several minutes ago. But you're silent; it's answer enough, "does Mark still not know we're friends?"

"Are you home safe?" You sound suddenly very tired.

"Do you want me to stop calling?" Wilbur asks seriously; it's not accusatory, it's genuine. Something about knowing how thoroughly you've been lying about him to your boyfriend, it makes him feel ill. In his current state he can't say what he wants to, well he can, but he knew he's put his foot in it, sound like he was blaming you, and that's the last thing he wants, "I can stop- if it- it's more trouble than I'm worth -"

"Wil," you laugh softly, warmly, endeared, "it's okay, it's- Mark's friends- it's okay. It's like putting a goldfish in a new tank, gotta acclimatise him to the idea of us being friends before he knows you're a dude."

"Is that why you don't text or call Tommy? Because Mark gets weird seeing a man's name on your phone?" Falls from Wilbur's lips as he gives in and lays back on his floor. It takes him a moment to realise what he's said, right around the time you start spluttering - "fuck, sorry." He groans, scrunching his whole face up with regret, "don't hold that against me, I'm sorry -"

"That's... not exactly the reason," your voice at the other end of the line is so small, "or, well, no it's not exactly applicable, since I don't really message anyone..." you stall for a moment, before admitting, as if through clenched teeth, determined to finish the thought despite realising it might be a mistake, "apart from you."

"What if he hears its me when you pick up?"

Immediately, and much to his surprise, your tone shifts very suddenly.

"I'll risk it if it means I get to hear you like this," there's something about the way you say that, the way you're grinning and amused at that, that has his heart in his throat.

"Why?"

The silence is fucking deafening. He's half worried you've hung up, and he has to check, but no, you're just quiet on the other end.

"You're not gonna remember this, are you?" And he's not even sure of his own answer, but you don't give him time for one, "enrichment?" Though it sounds like a question, like your trying to make it sound light but it’s not quite working, like you're not even sure yourself. The word, however, has the air Wilbur breathes turning sour.

"You're not a zoo animal," he responds flatly.

"I shouldn't have said that," you laugh awkwardly, trying to keep your tone bright, but its clear your heart's not in it.

"Did you lie to him when you came to Brighton?"

Silence. Again. Always silence when you both know the truth and know it will hurt.

"You're drunk, Wil."

“You know talking to the people who love you shouldn’t feel like enrichment, right?” He asks, all sharp and mean and bitter in the moment as he found himself fixated on how thoroughly he loathed your boyfriend, how you could barely speak to your brother, or seemingly have friends because of him. It’s misplaced, the anger spilling out at you, but he’s not in any sort of shape to think critically about it. Over the phone, you’re spluttering, confused and defensive, but he’s so caught in his own head that he barely hears it. Angry and half-dressed and cross-legged on his bedroom floor, Wilbur scowls with sudden clarity.

“Is that all I am to you?��

“This is entrapment,” he can hear you’re crying at the other end of the line.

“It’s not entrapment, it’s a yes-no question,” he snaps, “am I just enrichment in your little life? Something a little bit brighter than your reality? A holiday; am I just a holiday to you –?!”

“This is so much bigger than you, Wilbur!” Explodes from you tearfully, “and I’m sorry, okay? You don’t deserve this, I know that –“

“Go back to bed,” Wilbur flopped back onto his floor, looking up at his ceiling.

“Wilbur –“

“Go,” he says, “I’m sorry I called.”

The conversation weighs on him even after a full night of rest, and all he knows is that he has to get into the studio before this song eludes him.

The content, the idea isn't new to him or his music, but this… this one’s the most telling; he’d had plausible deniability with the others, fabricated things to make it not immediately obvious to… well to anyone who isn’t you. He’s pretty sure you’ll get half a verse in and know, because sometimes it feels like you know him well enough that it's almost an accident. Because yes, he’s written for songs for girls he’s loved before you, and girls he’s loved in the two years of radio silence, but considering the situation he found himself in, he desperately needed some plausible deniability with that one.

This one, however, had no structure until he saw you again, until he left and your absence felt raw. It’s half finished when he brings it to the band. He’s immensely grateful when Joe takes an interest and offers to help him finish writing it.

But in the end, he knows he’s already swallowed his doubts and agreed to put Sex Sells on the EP. This one they’re tentatively calling Perfume, and already he’s conflicted. Maybe it’ll go on their album.

#wilbur x reader #wilbur imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot x y/n #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur soot #cc!wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur imagine #cc!wilbur soot x reader #cc!wilbur soot imagine #cyltlanp #shut ur pretty mouth

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pabro-picasso · 3 years ago

Photo

i finally finished this, after a good 3 weeks to a month of working on it

of course when the AC update hit i went stupid hard on it and bulldozed the island and tried to complete every little thing so i neglected everything else, especially drawing

but i was so hooked to the point where i made sticky note doodles of arthur and alfred as villagers at work and then i thought about how the other main 8 plus matthew would look and thats where we are now

theyre grouped by relative geography, and i made the heights of the different villagers consistent across all three drawings B) every piece of clothing is something you can also find in game

ok some explanations under the cut cuz im assuming not everyone wants to read this

ok lets start with the top:

yao is based off of a red-crowned crane, a crane found all over east asia, and i believe the national bird of china? idk, if i got that wrong my bad cuz i was all over the place in researching stuff. i had the hardest time trying to figure out what he should be, and i chose his villager model last. he was gonna be a regular tweety bird villager, but someone mentioned using feathers as a pony tail and the ostrich villager model was the only bird type that does that

ivan of course is a big old bear. i took some creative liberties with the scarf, but i figured that theyll give extra bits to villagers on occasion (like raymonds glasses or audies sunglasses) i struggled a bit w the shirt, but i ended up w a yodel sweater because at the time it looked the best out of all the sweater options. i think if i were to do this again id give him a different one but drawing the knit pattern took too damn long to start over w something else

kiku was also a bit of a challenge. not because picking a villager species was hard, but because of the color scheme. idk, when i think of japanese color schemes my mind automatically went to red black and white and i already had made yao, and it just was feeling too stereotypical at this point. i went with the earthen greens and browns as a reflection of a lot of the vintage japanese furniture in the game. he’s a deer because i instantly thought of the nara deer park and i thought that’d be cute. his antlers and fawn dots also reflect that.

next pic:

francis!!! i originally was going back and forth between a skunk (because of pepe le pew lol) and then a rooster, because roosters are like the animal of france right? but i couldnt get a decent design with either of them. i was scratching and racking my brains when i realized that the literal in canon joke is him being a frog 🤦‍♀️ then the design was almost too easy. i went with pastel colors because i thought of the french courts in the 1700s. while he’s the only one i went anachronistic with, i feel like it still suits him with how cute it is.

ludwig’s a german shepard. p straight forward w this one. i struggled with finding an outfit for him because while there is the bavarian lil leiderhosen suit, it just didnt seem to fit. i went with the collarless coat because it seemed very modern german fashion.

feliciano’s villager species was picked second to last, just before yao. idk, i really struggled with him too because while the entire show’s about him, not much really sticks out to me when it comes to picking stuff for him. there’s not really any classic “italian” animals other than like.... a greyhound? idk im kind of an ignorant boob about the mediterranean countries 😬but, i ended up with a duck because i pictured a matching, angry romano and it seemed hilarious. it didn’t show well, but i based his color schemes off olives. his belly is red like an olive pit. the sweater shirt also seemed very italian to me.

bottom crew (pun intended):

alfred!!!!! we had to go with the obvious classics. not much else to explain about this one. he’s a bald eagle with his flight jacket. i tried to make his design different enough from apollo’s to where it wasnt a one-for-one copy but 🤷‍♀️ not much you can do with a bald eagle

arthur’s a little english rabbit. i thought it would be cute to see him be very little and very angry. i’m not a huge fan of the color scheme i ended up with but tbh i really didnt know what to do with him that would still look good. i tried navy, but it looked awful. i feel like he needed dark, moody colors and the other two boys already had browns and i didnt want to make them all look the same.

and finally, matthew 🥰 while i did say that feli and romano would be matching ducks earlier, you know i had to make this fool a moose. he’s technically a bull character model, but hey this shit aint real i can bend the rules. i tried giving him a maple syrupy color palette, while not being as all out food based like feliciano was, but this might be a bit too subtle. either way tho, coloring him made me hungry. he has a flannel shirt because of course he does hahaha

i had a sticky note with style preferences, personality types and all that but i dont feel like digging for it, this post is long enough anyways, and also its late and i just want to get this shit out already. i’ve been stressing about finishing it for too damn long

#shit i drew #hetalia #hws china #hws russia #hws japan #hws france #hws germany #hws italy #hws america #hws england #hws canada #too many damn tags and too little brain cells #AC crossover #hope it looks decent enough because towards the end i just stopped caring haha

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httpiastri · 6 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/httpiastri/759556209227563008/so-im-the-original-skinny-dipping-anon-i-feel

Great minds think alike 👹👹👹

Okay but like- to add in some spice, a little tweaking here, some fucking with her mentality over there, obviously between Ollie and Paul, what if the day before her and Ollie leave when summer break ends to head back for training practice sim sessions whatever it is, they accidentally go to that same beach or they walk/drive past it. And as soon as reader sees that beach she gets flashbacks to that very night. Because as mentioned before it’s the first time her and Paul were like physically vulnerable. No spice happens but just the two of them reaching a new milestone in their relationship. Like it causes her even more conflict cause the way she felt that night she hasn’t felt the same with Ollie, or at least hasn’t felt it on the same level. And looking between the promise ring from Ollie and looking at the beach she’s just even more conflicted. Cause Ollie is just such a sweet and amazing boyfriend but he doesn’t cause her to become all soft and fuzzy inside, the butterflies she feels are often mixed with anxiety because she knows she doesn’t love Ollie the same way Ollie loves her. She Knowles she doesn’t feel the love from Ollie the same way she felt the love from Paul. And it’s so messy and maybe when she gets back to campos or the next time she sees Pepe she like breaks down from the internal conflict and mindfuck-

I hope this isn’t too much but like- what if- Yk?

s t o p 😭 i cant 😭😭😭 the guilt she's feeling is so heartbreaking….. i honestly have no words, you put it all too well 😭 and omfg her having been bottling everything up and when she just sees pepe, she just breaks down instantly because she knows she can let down her guard around him? she sees his big smile and just starts crying in his arms and confesses everything to him :(((((((

#now i rlly wanna put that pepe part in the next chapter in some way #hmmmmm #i feel so bad for yn because i was with a guy recently who liked me more than i liked him #(theres a first time for everything aparently)#and i kept feeling so so guilty :/ but also so conflicted? i think its easy to fall into that??#like its hard to tell what you really feel #yn :(( im so sorry for causing you this pain 😔😔#asks!#lunar <3

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baradragon · 2 years ago

Text

no one is asking but im currently on a journey to master the four roman sauces and ive p much got carbonara and amatriciana down, just did my first attempt at cacio e pepe to a happy crowd and sometime in the next week ill be attempting alla gricia

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danniburgh · 4 years ago

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Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 25

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +3.5k

Chapter warnings: smut, (unprotected p in v), a bit of mutual masturbation, a lot of exposition lol, brief mention of drugs

A/N: This chapter is set after season three. // So, last chapter my dudes; im so happy but sad that the main series is ending but so satisfied of everything we’ve done together, i have a fuckton of people to be grateful for but honestly i rather do that in private. I just wanna say that im so happy for the attention this fic has gotten and im so grateful for everyone that has read, liked, commented and reblogged this piece of my heart; i owe you <3. And its not the end of this universe, we’re still gonna see slices of Flor and Javi along the years after this story. I love them and i love you.

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gif: @pescopadral

A big breath of air left your lungs and the already known sinking of the light that woke you up almost every morning made your brain half conscious; Summer sunrises in Texas made you open your eyes earlier than you wanted, you didn’t know if it had something to do with the position of the house, that the sun entered the room through the beige sheer curtains and nagged at your eyelids as if it was eager for you to see it or the overall fact that you weren’t able to sleep with light.

You whined softly when you opened your eyes and covered them with your forearm as the amount of light that hit your face directly hurt you; you had been living in that town and waking up in that bed for almost a year and you couldn’t seem to get used to the amount of light that entered the rooms almost all day.

You opened your eyes slowly and rubbed the sleep off them, making a mental note to buy another sleeping mask whenever you went downtown, as Pepe had destroyed the one you had.

You stretched on the bed and let your arms drop to the sides, your right arm falling on a warm lump that let out a muffled groan at the hit.

“Mornin’.” you muttered, shifting to your side, putting a hand under the pillow to face him, he was on his belly, hands under his pillow, his eyes were closed but you knew he was already awake. A small smile grew on your face at his half asleep face and the messy case of wavy bed hair he so easily pulled off.

“No.” he mumbled in that hoarse voice of his you only got to hear in the mornings and shoved his face in the pillow, you bit your lip and eyed the bit of the skin of his back you could see before the sheet that covered both your bodies began.

“Javi, I’m hungry.” you whispered, reaching to his naked shoulder and sliding your hand to his nape, he sighed.

“Go to my dad’s,” he mumbled, the pillow muffling his voice, “today he’s making pancakes.” you snorted at him, your fingers scratched at his nape and you shifted to get closer to him.

“I’m not walking to his house to steal his food, Javier,” you chastised him in a low voice and left a small kiss on his shoulder. “and I have a different kind of hunger.” you murmured on the skin of his arm.

Javier lifted his face out of the pillow just enough for you to see his grin, he raised an eyebrow and you nodded once.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” he said, making you chuckle, he slid off his hand from under the pillow and reached out for you, shifting on the bed to lie on his side, you stirred closer to him and cupped his face to take his lips on a kiss.

“What an excellent way to go.” you teased against his lips, Javier chuckled and licked your bottom lip to nibble at it between his, his hand slid to your naked back and his warm fingers made their way to the bottom of it, the sheet going down with them, leaving your top half uncovered and at his mercy.

Javier’s kisses traveled down to your jaw and your neck, leaving sloppy nibbles at the skin and he smiled at the smell of your body; a mix of your coconut soap, laundry detergent from the bedding and his cologne, that had a habit of clinging to you since the first day you slept next to him on your house.

One of your hands wrapped around his neck and you brought him closer to you, your breasts brushing the skin of his chest and you shivered when your nipples hardened because of the contact, your other hand sneaked from his shoulder to his chest, all the way down his tummy and then to his half-hardened cock; Javier shivered slightly when you took him in your hand and started giving him lazy strokes to get him ready for you.

Javier sighed and the warm air that left his mouth collided against the wet skin of your neck and a wave of arousal came out of your core and slid slowly to your naked thighs; he moved his hand from your back to your thigh and down to your mound, brushing his fingertips softly on your covered clit until you folded one leg and opened up for him, his fingers found your slick escaping out of you and he eased his index and middle finger inside you, making you gasp.

“You’re always so wet.” he whispered against your skin and his tongue tasted the essence of your flesh as his fingers curled inside you, hitting several times that spongy part of you that made your legs tremble, your hand gripped his cock at the sudden shock of his pressure inside you and the hand that was keeping him close to you moved to his shoulder, and you pushed him to lie down on his back, his fingers sliding out of you and the hand on his cock never leaving him; you loved to feel him grow in your hand, only for you.

The sheet that covered you when you were sleeping was slowly kicked down the bed as you rouse from your side of the bed and straddled him, one knee on each side of his hips; his hands clasped immediately with yours, one dry and one wet with your arousal and you leaned down to cup his face with both hands and take his lips again with your own, his thumbs were making small circles around the skin of your hips and he moaned softly when you bit his lower lip.

“Get inside.” you whispered against his mouth and one of his hands left your body to grip his length, you lifted your hips and he played the tip of his cock on your wet slit, making you shiver when he made it press on your already swollen clit and found his way into you.

You sat on him slowly and you both sighed in relief once he was fully inside you; you slid your hands from his face to his chest and circled your hips slowly, Javier brought his hand to your jaw and pulled you to him, kissing you again and trying to let you know with his lips how much he needed you.

His hand helped you move on top of him as you started a tantalizing rhythm that was making you both gasp on each other's mouth, you smelled his morning breath and let out a soft chuckle at yourself; you didn’t mind it one bit.

“What?” he whispered when he heard you, moving his hand to your hips to help you circle faster.

“I like you very much.” you replied, he smirked in response and leaned up to give you a soft kiss; you slid your hands to his sides and under him, wrapping them around and gripping his shoulders to gain leverage and start moving on top of him, Javier moaned when your started bouncing your hips on him making his cock slide in and out almost entirely and his tip was already grazing at that soft spot inside you that made you whine his name.

“Fuck, baby.” Javier gasped when you hid your face inside his neck, moaning his name, he tightened the grip on your hips and folded his legs, planting his feet on the bed and meeting your movements half way, you gasped at the already known brushing of his cock with your g-spot and smiled when he made you stop your bouncing to pound into you.

“Fu–‌fuck, Javi jus–‌just like that.” you whispered in his ear and he let out a soft grunt when you clenched your walls around him, almost strangling him inside. Javier slid one hand to your upper back and pressed you tighter on his body, his lips and mustache brushing the skin of your shoulder as he and his thrust and the graze of his pubic hair on your clit brought you to pleasure.

You whined his name a couple more times as his warm breath on your skin along with his cock inside you helped build that knot in your lower belly; he started panting and you knew he was close to burst inside of you; so you moved your hand slowly towards the union of your bodies and started circling your clit at the rhythm of his thrusts; you started panting as well at the same time as him and you felt your orgasm come softly, your toes curled and your breath hitched as the knot inside your belly released at once and Javier drove into you a few more times, he moaned when you shoved your slick covered fingers on his mouth, and he sucked, the taste of you and him mixed made him cum and fill your pussy with that warmness of his you really loved feeling spread in and escape out.

“Oh, god,” you panted out, he let out a spent chuckle and hummed, agreeing with you, you tilted your head to his shoulder and kissed the warm skin “I love you.”

Your low voice against his skin made him smile and his hands started drawing shapeless patterns on the skin of your back and hips, he moved his face to your cheek and licked a thin stripe of sweat that ran from your ear to your jaw.

“I love you more.” he muttered.

“I wanna pee.” you said after a few seconds of panting and recovering from your own orgasms, Javier chuckled and disentangled his arms and legs from you.

“Now I’m hungry.” he let out after another spent sigh, making you laugh.

After a cold, shared shower and Javier trying to get inside you again but failing because of his stomach growling in need of food, a packed breakfast courtesy of your non-husband insisting on going to his dad’s and eat the pancakes he made and your usual hour of catching up with the news, Javier brought the truck to the entrance of the house and between the both of you packed the bed with a small cooler and some blankets.

Pepe was walking next to you, and Javier huffed at the dog when he licked your hand after you had offered him an ice cube from the cooler..

“Y’know…” you let out, patting the black dog’s head with your wet, icy hand, “the only thing I miss about Colombia is the weather.” Javier snorted.

“Yeah,” he replied, shoving Pepe to the side softly to close the truck’s bed’s lid “I had forgotten how hot Texas can be.”

“Where are you two chamacos going?” Chucho’s voice came from behind and both of you turned around at the same time, seeing him on his horse, with the hat you gifted him for Christmas perched on his head, Chucho smiled at the mirrored gesture you two made and you smiled at him with a hand on your forehead to cover your eyes from the sun.

“For a ride, pop.” Javier replied, putting his tinted sunglasses on. Chucho hummed in affirmation.

“Check the paddock’s fence while you’re there.” he let out and you smirked at him.

He knew exactly where you were going; he knew both of you like the palm of his hand, surprisingly to you he had learned to read you so well in so little time and while you appreciated it, it was also somewhat exasperating, but you loved him as if he were your own father already, so there was nothing you wanted to do to stop him.

Chucho had modified a saying after you and Javier’s escapades to the piece of land that adjoined with the Río Bravo, saying that it fit you two best; you can take the agents out of the DEA, but you can’t take the DEA out of the agents.

“¿Van a venir a comer?” (are you coming for lunch?) he asked, whistling at Pepe so the dog turned to him.

“Yeah, pero usted no haga nada,” (you don’t do anything) you replied, eyeing Javier over the corner of your eyes “Javi’s cooking.” you let out, making the old man chuckle.

“So we’re not eating.” he let out and you shared a laugh, Javier frowned and took off his sunglasses.

“No hablen de mí como si no estuviera,” (don’t talk about me like I’m not here) he said in a growl “stop ganging up on me.” you let out a loud laugh when he turned around to walk to the driver’s door and hop in the truck and you raised your eyebrows at Chucho.

“Don’t be late, Florecita,” he said, guiding the horse to the side “vente Pepe.” he called out to the dog and he followed the horse as Chucho led it to the opposite side of the land, to the stockyard.

You turned around as well, Javier had opened the door for you from the inside and you hoped in, he turned on the ignition as you closed the door and started driving to the farthest part of the ranch; the ride to the south part was quiet and quick, Javier didn’t say much and the comfortable silence filled the cabin until he parked the truck in the middle of the paddock.

“Oh, I lied just now.” you said while opening the door and getting out of the truck.

“What?” Javier frowned a bit because of the sun and you walked parallelly to him towards the back of the truck.

“There’s another thing I miss about Colombia.” you let out as he walked to the edge’s fence and tugged at two of the posts before walking back towards you.

“What’s that?” he asked, taking off his sunglasses and hanging them from his shirt.

“Real arepas.” you let out, Javier chuckled and reached for you, his hand found its spot on your waist and he pulled you to him, leaving a kiss on your cheekbone.

“I finished another chapter last night.” he whispered against your skin before stepping away and pulling down the truck’s bed’s door.

You raised your eyebrows at him, he was writing a lot for the book you and Connie had suggested him and Steve should write, just to help process everything they lived while in Colombia.

“Is that why you came to bed so late?” you asked, reaching for one of the blankets you had packed and unfolding it to spread it on the open door, Javier hummed in affirmation.

“Want you to read it before I send it to Steve.” he said, grabbing your hips and helping you sit on the truck, stepping closer while you opened your legs for him to stand between them and wrap his hands around your waist.

“Why?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him even closer, he smirked.

“Just because.” he replied and shrugged softly, making you huff a silent laugh at him as you leaned towards his face and took his lips in yours; Javier hummed at the soft, dry contact of your lips with his and fisted the fabric of your shirt. You knew how hard it was being for him to remember all the things that happened down there, so sometimes he would end up with huge chunks of information missing that then he’d have to fix, so he was using you as his proofreader and you were more than happy to help, learning in depth things he didn’t dare to say out loud.

He opened his mouth after you brushed his lower lip with your tongue and you invaded him, tasting the minty flavor of the toothpaste.

He broke the kiss and you moved one of your hands to scratch at the short hair on his nape, Javier sighed softly and you took in his features; he looked like the man you had fallen in love, his deep, brown, expressive eyes were the same, his lips were too, the aquiline nose that you loved to kiss hadn't changed but you knew he was a slightly different man than the one you had met almost two years before in a foreign country.

That man was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders; traumatized and tired, his own spirit was hanging from a thin thread that was so tense it threatened with snapping at the smallest blow of the wind. But the man standing in front of you wasn’t that man, you could see some glimpses of his old self behind his eyes or when the day had been long; after all, years of being that Javier Peña had clung to him and became a custom; but he was fading into his own self, you were slowly meeting the man he was and the man he wanted to be, and you couldn’t be more in love with him.

Your hands brushed his brown waves and you smiled at him.

“You’re really pretty.” you muttered to him, Javier huffed and gazed at you.

“Am I?” he teased, you nodded twice.

“Very,” he caught when you whispered, “and handsome, too,” he let himself smile at your compliment, “and sometimes you’re funny.” you added and he huffed a laugh before closing the short distance between your faces.

The fact that he could have you so close to him, available to touch and kiss and hug and wrap his arms around made Javier feel like he couldn’t ask for anything else; he still didn’t think he deserved it, but he had learned to be selfish and to appreciate what he had in you and with you. Even if the feelings of what happened with you still hid inside his body when he saw you in your hardest days, even if his brain still whispered to him you would do the same if the opportunity came; he knew you better.

He had seen you stripe yourself naked to him and he had helped you rebuild yourself slowly.

He still was. As were you with him.

Javier knew who he was with and knew your strengths and your weaknesses, he had learned slowly to read you as you read him and he understood that your past, as hard as it was, was the thing that led you to him.

He would run through the same fire again if that meant he would have the chance to wake up next to you for as long as you two wanted. And he wanted to do it for the rest of his life.

You frowned when he broke the kiss.

“Are these gray hairs? you said in a feigned gasp, he rolled his eyes and smirked at you.

“Well, I’m old.” he obviated, stepping away from you and reaching for the cooler, dragging it closer.

“I don’t think you’re that old.” you said, he let out a chuckle as he opened the cooler and took out two beers, handing one to you.

“You don’t say the same when I ask you to rub my back after three hours sitting on the desk.” he teased, sitting next to you, you laughed and scooted closer to him, leaning on his shoulder and opening the can of beer.

“I’m definitely buying you that lumbar pillow.” you said, he let out a wheeze and turned his head to leave a kiss on the crown of your head, he opened his beer and you sipped at yours, seeing a small boat make its way through the water. You grinned and sat straight.

“This is the same one from last week,” you muttered, he hummed in affirmation “I think it’s the first one that has the same rower.”

“Maybe they’re running out.” Javier said, drinking from his beer.

“Wonder when migration is gonna start patrolling around here.” you leaned back onto his shoulder.

“Do you think old man Peña’s gonna let them enter?” he rhetored, and you looked at him.

“You mean you or your dad?” you teased, Javier grunted playfully, “he asked me when I’m giving him a grandkid again.” you said, returning your eyes to the small boat that made its way slowly through the river, not wanting to think about kids or the lack of them.

“Ese hombre no entiende.” (that man doesn’t understand) Javier let out softly, huffing at his father’s wishes.

“Maybe we can call Steve and Connie,” you suggested, brushing the odd feeling off your mind that talking about you having kids always made you feel “they can bring the girls down and maybe ease your dad’s baby fever.” Javier snorted.

“Maybe,” he muttered, downing the rest of his beer and pointing at the river with the hand that held the empty can “there goes another one.”

“That one’s new,” you said, drinking from your can and then handing it to him, “baby.” you called him.

“Mhm.” he took the beer from your hand.

“Do you think we’re still gonna be sitting here watching drugs being smuggled into the country when we’re gray and wrinkled as raisins?” you asked him, Javier chuckled at the question.

“Yeah,” he shifted to wrap his arm around your shoulders “why?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered “maybe we need to build a porch or a gazebo around here. I can’t push you into the paddock if you’re in a wheelchair.” you teased, and Javier let out a soft cackle.

“C’mon, amor, don’t be an ass.”

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