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randombush3 · 6 months ago

Text

cool about it

alexia putellas x reader

summary: you can't find inspiration for your play

notes: this was rotting in my drafts and then i got drunk and finished it lolz

i refuse to read it back so have fun

The first time Alexia sees you, you are with your friends; sleeves rolled-up, wide smile on your face, a pool cue in your hand as you wield it like a weapon the minute one of the women beside you opens her mouth. She is drawn into observing, craving the knowledge of what you are being told; what is making you blush so furiously. She sees your mouth open, a blackhole that draws her in without mercy, and she barely survives the sound of your loud, raucous laughter

Suddenly, in the universe of football and media events and her little sister’s embarrassingly active love-life, you appear. Like a new star, burning bright, big and hot and… “You’re staring,” says Mapi with a smile. She knows not to tease, and she treads lightly. “You’ve been staring for a while.”

“They’re speaking English.” It’s an incriminating sentence, but it would have been futile to deny Mapi’s accusation anyway.

“I saw her at the bar. She spoke Spanish then.”

“You’ve been stalking her.”

Mapi nods, and holds Alexia’s drink in a silent push to get her over to the pool table. To you. “Because you’ve been staring. I was only making sure she wasn’t a psycho.”

“Thanks,” she scoffs, but, in truth, she is grateful.

As she saunters over (a newly regained skill, months down the line from her traumatic ACL reconstruction surgery), her confidence a believable façade, she decides that she is going to be Alexia Putellas. She is going to be cool about it, and she is going to impress you, and she is going to make you laugh so that she can hear that sound again.

Again, again, again.

“Yeah, sure, you can take over for Soph,” you say, nodding towards the woman who had been on the receiving end of your light prodding with the wooden stick all of friends regret allowing three-drink you to be in charge of. “So you’re spots, I’m stripes. I’ve got two left until I can pot the black, and you, er, you might be at a disadvantage here.” You rub the back of your neck as you peer at the balls on the table, almost all of them left behind by Soph’s inability to play pool. “How about we just, um–”

“Está bien.” Alexia pretends to understand a lot more of what you said than she really does, regretting her choice to approach you in English, but she gets the jist. And, although you make her feel as though life has only just begun, she remembers her competitiveness very, very clearly. “Voy a ganar,” she scoffs.

She holds in her celebration as you break out into a grin, immediately rising to the challenge, glad your friends have tired of the pool table so that no one can interrupt the battle you are about to commence. A battle with a very pretty woman, you must admit.

You lose.

You blame it on Alexia – she tells you her name as she pots three balls in a row – and try not to acknowledge the taunts from your friends at the bar, most of them having watched the entire game from afar to have something to talk about tomorrow. “You win,” comes your pitiful concession after a brutal defeat. “So, what will your prize be?”

It’s an easy answer.

That morning, throat hoarse from the cries that left it the night before, eyes red and tired and way too sensitive to light for you to consider drinking a drop of alcohol ever again, you wrap your arms around the warm body in the unfamiliar bed, finding the intimacy to have lived on longer than it should for a one-night-stand. Barcelona is warm and sunny, the day one to be enjoyed, and the company the best you have had in a while.

It isn’t just that Alexia is a goddess. It isn’t the Amazonian ridges of her stomach and the firmness of her thighs, nor the softness of her hair or the deft movements of her fingers against your scarred skin. No, that is not what has, in just one evening, made you fall in love with her. (You bite your lip as you are overcome with emotion, chest filling up – with which feeling, you do not know –, heart pounding into your bones as the rhythm of your desire to be in Alexia’s life sets into the very framework of your being.) No! How could it be that? How could it be that when there is more?

The coarseness of her determination; the slippery confidence, delicate and sharp, as though it is both the petal of a rose and the thorn that will prick you. Her humour, mistranslated at times, but always ready to make fun of idiots (most often, a specific idiot with a neck tattoo, as you come to realise).

Personally, you believe it to be unfair that Alexia, Alexia Putellas, is simply ‘all that’.

Getting to know each other fails to feel awkward, though you spend a lot of time waiting for the tension to appear.

She discovers who you are, how you have moved to Barcelona for inspiration, finding that very thing lacking in dreary Leeds (the most depressing place on Earth, you could argue). She learns of your dream, although you label it as your ‘plan’: to write a play and to see it on the stage, preferably a grand theatre in the West End. Or in Stratford, where upon lies the greatest soil from which a playwright can grow.

You show her your empty pages, devoid of black print marks. White and white, that goes on until it is clear that you have tired of pressing the ‘enter’ button as though it will ignite a story within. A story that hasn’t yet come, mind.

“Do you think it will work?” she asks you, her accusation carrying nothing but curiosity once you see past the abrupt manner in which she interrupts your lengthy monologue about your severe case of writer’s block.

Maybe you intend to be a little vague, for the sake of your racing heart and your delicate emotions, because you only shrug. You have already found your inspiration, not that you are going to tell her.

Alexia is forward in the sense that she checks how temporary your presence is in her city before asking you out on a date. Your answer of ‘however long this shit takes’ is enough for her to be sure that she wants a second. A third, too.

Then, before you know it, it has been a year.

A year of Barcelona, a year of Spanish sun, and, excitingly, a year in which you have been cured; fingers blessed with movement and ideas and words on the tip of your tongue that run free in Alexia’s ear as you talk and talk and talk. She listens and listens and listens, and switches into the focus of your pairing when you go with her to watch her team play and play and play (why the fuck does football have so many matches?!). The final stage direction, all curling italics and sentimentality, sits at the bottom of the page.

The end of your play.

It is finished, it is done, and, soon after you have revised it one last time, it is sent to your producer friend with a nervous click of the ‘new email’ button and the hope that he is thankful for the times at university when you cared for him when he drank himself so silly that he barely made it to his lectures two days after the night-out.

“It feels good,” you tell Ingrid, the girlfriend of the idiot with the neck tattoo, beaming as she inquires about your work. “I feel like I lived through it to get to this moment, you know? All that’s left to do is for him to read it and decide whether he’ll pick it up. Then, table reads and funding, of course. I’d want to direct, but, also, I’m not going to sell this one. Leasing it and taking a percentage of the royalties will make me loads more, because, Ingrid, this one is the best thing I’ve ever written.”

There is a moment, usually, that comes after you have finished writing. A brief, sharp sort of panic, where you question your worth and your talent; you wonder if you have been lied to your whole life, and that your version of the same twenty-six letters of the alphabet, jumbled up on a white canvas as though you are (after a sleepless, usually) Picasso, is terrible. Or, worse, bad.

Bad. Bad is so… plain. If it is just ‘bad’, you have failed as a writer. If it is not outrageous or unbelievably horrible, or, as one obviously hopes, incredible and amazing… if it is just ‘bad’, well: “Alexia, I’m terrified.”

Alexia kisses your neck (you do not feel the finality of it, or maybe it is that you do not want to) because she knows it isn’t bad; she is more than aware that your play, your new creation, is really rather good. Brilliant, even. “Tranquila, mi amor,” she murmurs in your ear, bringing her arms to rest on your tense shoulders, a hand closing your laptop on its journey. “Le va a flipar.”

“You think so?”

“Sí.”

“Are you saying that because we’re together and you love me?” Your voice is small and unsure, and its teasing lilt is thrown off-kilter by the croak of your anxiety. “Or do you mean it? Please, I hope you mean it.”

“I mean it.” She hates that she does. “Yes, of course I mean it. I love you and I am proud of you.” She hates it, she hates this, and she hates the talent your mind wields; something that is going to rip you from her grasp. It was bound to happen.

Your phone rings; soft, electronic trills dancing in the space between you and the coffee table it has been placed on. “I think that’s him,” you whisper, the volume you had intended to speak at smited by the nervous lump in your throat. Alexia nods mournfully, but you are too busy accepting the call to see.

“Let’s do this,” he says.

…

The first frost of London comes that January. It’s unusual, the locals claim, because the city exists in its own polluted microclimate, but their statistics do not stop the layer of ice from freezing onto the windshield of your car. You are glad London feels just as cold as you do.

Your play is beloved by the actors who speak your words, and the critics amongst your friend group, who for once, have no criticism to give. There is promise here. It is going very well.

You drive to the theatre, ready to sit in on another rehearsal. Though your original intention had been to direct, you pawed off the role to an old school friend upon her return from Broadway. Your decision, you tell her, comes from a lack of experience in direction. You pretend to have had an epiphany: you only want to write the plays.

In truth, this is a lie.

Of course it is a lie.

But how can you direct such happiness, such love and romance, if you know that the very thing that inspired each line has ceased to exist?

Alexia feels like she has ceased to exist.

On the outside, she seems relatively fine. She trains well, plays well, makes appearances where she should, says what you’d expect of her, hopes to make the world a better place. She walks Nala as though the Pomeranian does not whine for you to hold her leash, and she visits her mother and sister even though they continue to ask her why she did what she did.

At night, she scrolls through social media, fingers always leading her back to you; your life; your work; your experiences that you no longer share with her. She cries, then, usually: a common occurrence nowadays.

There is a gaping hole in her chest that has been made by her sticking her fucking foot in it.

She has questions, naturally; each directed hatefully at herself. Why? Why, why why? Why on Earth did she tell you never to come back? Why did she blame you for leaving?

You were always going to leave! Alexia knows that, hates that she knows that.

You came to Barcelona because you couldn’t write, and you wrote. You wrote, you made her fall in love with you, and, when you had finished, you discarded the life you had unexpectedly built all because of some stupid, stupid play.

A play titled–

A play.

A… Alexia can’t even bring herself to think about it.

No, all Alexia can think about is how insignificant she feels when you are no longer in love with her. You: sophisticated, intelligent, brilliant, adoring. Her?

“Lex, you can’t mope if you’re the one who broke it off.” The words leave Alba’s mouth in jest but Alexia recoils as though she has been whipped by her sister’s tongue.

“I’m trying to be cool about it,” she replies like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

It seems as though the globe has spun a full circle on its axis by the time Alba formulates her response, dumb-struck by such fucking idiocy.

Alba hopes her sister feels like a fool – she hopes Alexia looks at herself in the mirror and… laughs, at this point. The whole thing has been ridiculous, in her opinion.

First, her sister claims she is in love with a playwright with no plays to her name (Alba is examining the facts objectively, here, because she did quite like you); then, poof! Like a rabbit in a magician’s hat played in twisted reverse, away you go, and it somehow isn’t even your fault.

She’d like to hate you, for her sister’s sake, but she finds herself loathing her own blood as it thins and thins until it trickles just like water.

Okay, maybe she is being a little dramatic there, but she is still annoyed with Alexia.

Alexia – whose existence as more-than-a-footballer is fading as she loses herself to waves of futile guilt – hates that she cannot hate you. She is plagued by emotional constipation, and though she tries to squeeze the situation for a drop of cruelty from you, she fails to discover a gram of relief.

It would have been kinder for you to have been cruel. Mercy is getting Alexia nowhere, and she would run to you if it were fast enough. Mercy is what renders her in a perpetual state of regret. Mercy is what keeps her up at night, but maybe mercy is what she likes having because it is yours and, in that way, she carries a piece of you with her.

To confuse herself even more, to skew her mind further onto a path of unconventional self-destruction, she silently begs the mercy you have left behind to disappear so that she can learn to do without it. It’ll become a crutch and she wants it ripped from her grasp so that she can learn to walk on her own. She’s capable of that, she tells herself.

(It probably isn’t true.)

…

Opening night.

You’re wearing something far too nice to be comfortable, and there has been a champagne flute in your hand since the lunch held by the investors of the production company. The bubbles have served their purpose, clouding your mind with thoughts that weren’t to do with Alexia and her Alexia life and her Alexia smile and her Alexia way of making an Alexia-shaped cavity in your heart.

It gushes quite a bit, because Alexia is strong and big and capable of damaging you to this extent. You reckon your surprise is foolish but fuck off, you’re trying your best.

Comfortingly, not one scrap of red velvet is visible once the audience is ushered inside the theatre.

It’s beautiful here; small, old. The perfect place to fall in love, just as you did. Or at least, experience the good part through deliciously talented actors and a stellar script (your horn has been tooted enough times for you to give it a go).

Fear creeps up your legs as you take your seat in the front row, guarded by friends and family and proud English teachers who’d believe in you, but you take another sip and it simmers down.

“Careful,” whispers your mum, shoulder nudging yours as you place your plastic cup (no glass in the auditorium) on the patterned carpet just as the show is about to begin. “You’ll not remember this if you don’t take a break.”

And you’re halfway to announcing you don’t want to remember anything at all when the curtain goes up and a woman walks onto stage.

It’s sobering.

The audience is restlessly quiet, anticipating the brilliance they’ve been promised with an impatience that demands to be sated, but the actress takes her sweet time.

She walks from stage left to stage right, then up and down. She’s passively searching for something.

Someone.

(It’s the fucking point, and you knew this would happen because you typed out these exact stage directions once upon a time. Alexia had misplaced a sock – a lucky sock, she claimed – and her passion, her desire to discover it, had weirdly morphed into a scene you could see being played out on a stage.)

“Figure this out later,” speaks the actress with a satisfied smile, folding her arms over her chest. Finally, the audience’s breaths catch, enraptured by the vaguest cop-out of opening lines you could’ve chosen.

They love it, though; they lean forwards in their seats as they are plucked from London and dropped into the middle of Barcelona. It’s mildly unnerving that you can’t escape the journey, clearly a member of the audience even if you don’t need to be told the story, but you land without the masses in the rows behind you.

You land right into Alexia’s arms.

There she is before you, in all her glory, proudly displaying the blue and red that she is so admirably dedicated to. Muscular and tanned, beautiful in the way that she always is, but shining brighter than just that.

And you fucking hate it.

When you imagine Alexia, you imagine her crippled and bed-ridden. Cracked knuckles come to mind, too, and she can barely speak without descending into rattling sobs that hack on and on until she somehow falls into fitful rest.

You come prepared for absolution, expecting to see her dying just as you are, so it’s no wonder that your fists clench at her blasé declaration of “no regrets”.

(By the way, Alexia’s not really there. You’d been stalking her Instagram and so that’s why she’s wearing her training kit, and… and you’re drunk!)

There are many things you’d like to say to her.

Alexia had always been apprehensive of your relationship. She was closed-off to new people, and though she was certain of your importance to her, she was untrusting of much else. It happens when you’re famous; there are many wrong turns to take. And she needed to stay on the right path.

It was impossible to pass Alexia’s test.

For you, that is clear. Broken up with, told to leave and never come back, and begged to find someone else are not descriptors of the winner, nor she who achieved full marks. You’re a bit of a stranger to failing, but you’re trying to forget about it so that it never happens again.

You’re breaking a sweat trying to banish her from your brain, barely registering the applause rippling through the theatre as you reach the interval. Trying to get her out of your head is like tugging at your intestines – a hand down your throat renders you dumb, and pains sears through your stomach as you are emptied and left to be a carcass.

“Is it good?” you ask your mum as you head to the bar in the foyer.

“I wish you had let me meet her.”

…

Alexia has never been to London outside of football before. She’s played in the north and in the south – she’s won every time – and it’s summery enough right now, but she is still a foreigner in the city.

It’s fitting, this feeling of being lost, and it’s acceptable to feel it here because she has an excuse. Lost in Barcelona would be ridiculous.

(But she is.)

Why is Alexia in London when she could be in Spain?

Well the only answer is that she has a ticket to a play in a theatre just off the West End that reminds her of someone she once loved.

She thought it might help, seeing as she hasn’t scored a goal in four weeks with no assists to excuse the drought. Her manager gladly gave her the weekend to recharge, and she escapes matchday seven of Liga F under the guise of illness.

While sleeping with your pillow, your t-shirt, she must have absorbed whatever the fuck you were on. By osmosis.

That block.

And now she has to act like she can’t read your mind.

Her ticket, acquired last minute by a friend in high places as a massive favour, means that she has a front row seat to a damned play. She is well-prepared for the dread that wrenches her gut.

The silence settling over her is uncomfortable and impatient, and the lights go down with a sense of impending doom. It’s a bit like being on death row, Alexia thinks. Here she gets to see the good things – a last meal of whatever she would like (you, of course that’s you) – but it is only because of her inevitable execution that this happens.

The necklace hanging from her collarbones is a noose, the seat is a wooden box about to be kicked out from underneath her, and she needs to make her decision now: does she scream? Should she–

She’s pulled out of her insanely dramatic spiral by a woman walking onto the stage.

Her shoulders are hunched slightly and she has that look in her eye; that pang of hunger.

The actress is recognisable, sure, but that is not the familiarity that strikes Alexia.

It’s the character.

It’s you.

Walking from right to left, towards the back, down to the front, the actress is desperately searching for something.

Inspiration, Alexia assumes, a smug smile briefly brushing her lips as the opening line breaks the tense silence.

“Figure this out later,” you say.

The actress is experienced but she has never read a script like yours before. It moved her to tears, though you claimed it was very happy.

She lies awake at night, furiously envying those who could love like you do.

She pities you, partly, because it’s no secret that the story of this love ended when you came here to put the show on.

She has had to fall in love with someone – method acting, according to the director.

It’s not quite the universe exploding and stars being born that your relationship must have been, but it’s alright and she is glad to see him in the audience.

He’s next to a woman who does not seem to be enamoured by the beauty of the plot.

A woman who seems absolutely fucking horrified.

Her eyes are wide, fists clenched.

You – the real you – are watching Alexia with curiosity, more interested in her reaction to the play than the play itself. You wonder if she knows the significance of tonight; the reason you are here once more.

In one month, the set and costumes will be packed up in boxes and taken onto the main street.

It’s a dream come true.

You’re here to announce the good news at the end of the show.

…

“Alexia.”

She tries not to turn around but she does.

The night is cool and fresher than she’d expected the London pollution to allow, and the lamp posts are scarily looming over her as she forces herself to not run into your arms. You don’t wear a coat, although your year in Barcelona has borne a certain nostalgia for a warmer climate, but Alexia is wrapped up warm.

“How… how are you doing?”

You cringe at how apologetic it sounds. She broke up with you.

There is a year that will be forever lost to love and happiness, bliss in Barcelona that was always going to be too good to be true.

There is a year that you will never get back, but there is a breakup you must deal with.

It’s not a brick wall, it’s a hurdle to jump over.

Breaking up won’t be the end of your worlds.

Knowing this, despite the weakness in her knees and the aching of her heart, Alexia lies. For your sake, she lies.

“I’m good. It’s nice to see you.”

You’re drowning but you’ll eventually remember how to swim.

“You too,” you say with formulated sincerity that one day will grow naturally. “Score a goal next time you play, though.”

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #randombush3

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Everyone Else Is No.2 {One-Shot}***

Lewis Hamilton x Attorney Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, Mature 18+ Content, Angst, PLENTY OF WORDS, DIALOGUE HEAVY

Words: 15.2k

Summary: Again, nah.

Note: Inspired by that old August Alsina song "Kissing on My Tattoos". So sorry for how long it is and for the long sentences toward the end, it couldn't be any other way. Forgive the weird spacing throughout, Tumblr has a 1,000 block limit per post, and guess who reached it before correcting the spacing.

Note II: Really interested in hearing what you guys think about this one. Let me know.

As always, thank you guys for reading! I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you did enjoy this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

-Y/N-

"You're beautiful you know that right?"

You smiled and took a sip of your drink.

"Thanks."

The man sitting across from you, Darius, nodded and before he looked down to his plate you caught his eyes drop to your cleavage. Of course, you thought. This was your 2nd date with him. The first went smoothly though you'd went with little to no expectations for it to be so. Tonight, he said the right things, did the right things, and was the perfect gentleman.

He'd even chosen a great restaurant. The ambiance was perfect for a second date. So far you had only counted 2 things that were less than satisfactory, everything was on point. He was so on point that you wondered if he was acting and not being his genuine self.

You hated the dating scene. Everyone held their cards too close to their chest. No one was ever real about anything. Everyone liked to waste people's time all in the name of fun and sex. These days you only treated dating as a pastime and a way to relieve stress after long hours of working on briefs and reviewing case files.

"A woman with your track record in law. Wheeew. Was it hard?"

You shrugged then wiped the corner of your mouth, "It definitely wasn't easy. I still remember the sleepless nights, and times when I only had 1 meal a day. My parents still remember not seeing me for 3 months because of the bar and my first major case that came nearly right behind the other. They won't let me forget it."

"It looks like it paid off. You're on the partner track. Shit, you'd be the first woman under 35 to make that happen at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw," Darius said.

You bristled, but politely smiled and took another sip of your wine.

"I'm sorry I don’t mean to make this weird I'm just in awe of you."

You studied him for a few moments but found no lie. You could always tell a lie. No matter what the case, no matter who it was. It was your secret weapon and it served you well as a lawyer.

"Thank you, but enough about me. What about you? Tell me about Darius Forrester."

He smiled, licked his lips then looked you directly in the eye.

"I'm pretty much a what you see you get kind of guy. I've been at Berry & Clark for the last 6 years as a criminal attorney. The work is challenging but I do alright for myself.

You nodded. He did. From what you heard his win ratio was nearly 92% and he took upstanding cases. He was a good attorney. Normally you wouldn’t shit where you ate because mess was not your style. You did not want to walk into a courtroom or boardroom and see the opposing counsel was an ex. That one thing gave you nightmares.

So dating lawyers was out of the question. You dipped in every other career field, playing it safe. The further they were from a law career the better. However, after a conversation with your other lawyer girlfriends about limiting oneself in the already limited dating pool, something clicked, and you decided to try it once but only if they weren't in your firm. Darius was your first attempt.

As he continued to tell you facts about himself you listened, but he didn't have your full attention. There was another person who held your attention, a person who though was usually out of sight was never really out of mind.

You heard your phone sound from your clutch resting on the table and both your eyes shot to it. Darius spoke before you moved.

"Go ahead please."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm an attorney as well, Y/N I know you come attached to it."

You smiled, held up your finger to him silently promising it would be quick, then took your phone in hand. You expected it to be Kemi, your paralegal, with files you were expecting, but it wasn't her name on your screen.

MSG Lewis: What're you doing tonight? Going over an endless to-do list of contracts and briefs?

You smirked.

MSG: Not even close.

MSG Lewis: Wow did someone finally decide to live a little and cut loose?

MSG: This sounds an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black.

MSG Lewis: Plead the 5th.

MSG: The Lewis Hamilton out maneuvered. Say it ain't so.

MSG: I'm close to your place. Just got back in town. Can you be ready in 10?

Your eyes flitted to Darius across from you who was taking the time to check his messages as well. You looked over him slowly, noting again how great he looked in his suit and how you liked the effort he had put in the last 2 dates down to the flowers he brought you and the activities you'd done. Things could progress if you chose to allow them to.

MSG Lewis: Is that a no?

MSG: I'm not home.

MSG Lewis: Okay. Where you at, the office? I can come pick you up.

MSG: I'm not at the office. I'm actually on a date.

You waited a few seconds, but he didn’t reply. Why didn't he reply?

"Everything ok?"

Caught off guard, you looked back up to Darius whose eyes were already on you. His brows were knitted with concern.

"Uh--yeah. I uh--I think so."

"A case?"

You thought about it and technically he was right. You were Lewis' entertainment lawyer. You were his personal attorney who reviewed the contracts after the company attorney said they had. You gave it to him between the eyes, never sugarcoating, and told him what was made with his best interest and what was made to capitalize off of him. However, when your services weren’t needed you were friends. Had been for practically a decade now.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe you’d known each other that long. You’d known him since he was just another F1 driver rather than the greatest. He knew you when you were going through school always on an empty tank all in the hopes of rising above the tax bracket you were born into. A decade later and he was dominating F1 and you’d more than risen yourself several levels past the tax bracket you’d been born into.

You were on the partner track at one of the largest firms in Europe. You brought in more revenue than most of the attorneys at the firm thanks to your high-class clientele. You'd both worked your asses off to get to this level and enjoyed the spoils of your labor often. You clubbed together, went to dinner, and sometimes did the vacation vibe together. You enjoyed one another’s company.

"A client."

"Oh. Everything cool or---," Darius said.

Another message came in just then. "Everything is cool."

Darius smiled. "Good. I'll be right back, men’s room."

"Yeah."

Darius stood then walked off leaving you with the perfect opportunity to check your phone.

MSG Lewis: Is that right?

MSG: Yeah. 2nd date. Well technically 3rd if you can have 2 dates in one day.

MSG Lewis: Cool. Is it going well?

MSG: Yeah. He's made it this far.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

MSG: When he drops me home Ill text you. Come get me then.

Several moments passed before he replied. Again, you wondered why.

MSG Lewis: Cool.

The remainder of dinner you were distracted. Darius played all his cards right, even scoring himself the green light on a little hand-holding action. You had to admit he was smooth. When he pulled up to your condo building he walked you to your door then went in for a kiss. You hadn’t expected it, but rather than pull away, you allowed it to play out. It wasn’t a bad kiss. He hadn’t been too overzealous, only slipped you a little tongue, and had kept his hands respectful. All in all, for a first kiss it was a solid 8.

With a promise to call to set date number 4 sometime next week, you went inside and allowed yourself to come down. The dating scene was not something you enjoyed often. You always felt like you were performing, like men wanted a certain kind of woman, the perfect woman who they could prance around on their arm to make other men envious and that took its toll.

You never felt you had to perform with Lewis. Never felt like he wanted the perfect you. He made fun of you whenever you were perfectly put together for work meetings and said many times he liked you out of the makeup and heels. After another sigh, you took your phone out and texted him.

~~~~~~

-Lewis-

The ceiling looked like every other ceiling he’d ever seen but that didn’t stop him from focusing most of his attention on it like it was the most interesting piece of construction ever. His eyes should have been focused elsewhere but they weren’t. A loud 'slurp' echoed in the mostly quiet room reminding him again that he wasn’t alone.

"Mm. Why are you so distracted tonight, bae?"

Julissa's voice was as smooth as honey and as seductive as ever. He lowered his eyes to where she was kneeling between his legs and took her in. Her lips and chin were wet as she gave him her bedroom eyes. This was not the first time between them. Usually, it would work but not tonight. Tonight he was struggling to even keep his head in the room.

He watched her tip her tongue out and lick from the base of his dick to the glistening tip. Once there she swirled her tongue around him then sucked his head into her mouth. He’d have to be dead for it not to feel nice but that’s all it was--nice.

He sighed then brought his attention back to the ceiling. "Work."

"Aw babe, when you’re with me work should be the last thing on your mind," Julissa said before lowering her mouth down his shaft. When he felt her tonsils he groaned. His body wanted to like this wanted to give her the reaction she was working so hard for, but something was holding him back. Julissa's mouth bobbed up and down his cock sucking and slurping to her heart’s content trying to get him off, but he knew she had her work cut out for her.

He thought back to your text from 2 hours ago. You were on a date. Well shit, he hadn’t seen that coming. That was the last thing he had expected you to be doing tonight. It wasn’t because you weren’t desirable, or he thought no man would want you. For fuck's sake, you were beyond desirable, you were gorgeous and so damn intelligent. He couldn’t figure out which of those made you more beautiful, your looks or your brains. You also worked hard to be where you were, and you deserved all the praise and attention you got wherever you went.

However, sometimes he wished you got a little less male attention--x that, a lot less male attention. He sighed again. This had been going on for 10 years now. Your friendship had only strengthened but along with a strengthening friendship came a lot of other stuff. Stuff like him taking notice of the fullness of your hips or being tempted to peek when you’d been changing in the backseat of his car, or being painfully aware of how your breasts felt against his chest when you hugged.

That coupled with things he had picked up from you, made the unspoken and ignored things that much more—confusing. There were times when the way you stared at him when you thought he wasn’t looking spoke volumes or the way your hand always lingered on him for a few seconds longer than necessary but not long enough for it to be inappropriate, or the time you'd fallen asleep together on the couch and he'd woken to you wrapped around him using him as your personal body pillow and mumbling his name in your sleep.

Yeah, there was a lot of extra stuff, stuff neither of you ever addressed. The only ones who assessed it were his friends. Miles told him on several occasions that he should be careful before he or you fucked around, and someone ended up hurt. That stuck with him, but not in the way Miles had probably meant it. Rather than taking it the way Miles meant, he used it as a means to keep himself in check, a form of prevention from him crossing the line. He knew if he did, neither of you would be able to go back. It would be impossible and was one fuck up worth a decades-long friendship?

So friends were where you stayed until he added another facet--professional. Years passed, dates passed, flings, non-labeled encounters on both your parts passed and through it all your friendship remained, and nothing changed. Except today there was even more extra stuff.

The feel of Julissa’s lips wrapped around his balls sent his hips jerking upward as a curse left his lips. Julissa moaned and giggled.

“Daddy likes that?”

He knew how he would like it more. As quickly as he revved to that thought he steered away from it. That was when his phone sounded.

MSG Y/N: I’m home. Whatdaya you wanna do? Should I change?

His eye caught the time. 1am. Almost 3 hours from your last text and you were only now getting home. Clenching his jaw he took a deep breath. He had no right to be mad or annoyed right now. He knew where this was coming from. You’d been on a date, and you said it was going well. A date going well had a chance of making it upstairs. He closed his eyes squeezing them tightly. He hoped to God that you hadn’t just gotten it in.

MSG Y/N: Hello?

MSG: You don’t have to change. How about some treats and a view?

MSG Y/N: Okay. Still 10?

MSG: Make it 15.

Pulling himself up he reached down to stop Julissa. She looked confused.

“I gotta go J.”

Now she looked even more confused. He didn’t owe her an explanation, that’s not how this worked between them.

“With your dick out?”

He scoffed then fixed himself as he stood.

“Lewis this’s never happened before. Are--,” she began before he cut her off.

“All good, just—not in the mood I guess.”

She looked offended now. “I’m sorry J. We’ll talk.”

He walked to the door then left her apartment without a glance back. He didn’t feel any way about it because both of them knew what their relationship was and wasn’t. She’d agreed. Once he was in his car, he zipped through the London streets maneuvering the quickest route to your place. Thanks to the time it was an easy drive with minimal traffic. 15 minutes on the dot he swerved around to the front of your luxury condo building then sent you a text letting you know he was there.

A few minutes later, he peeped you from the corner of his eye. You walked off the elevator in a short and tight black dress, impossibly high strappy black heels, and a flowy robe-like jacket that danced behind you as you walked.

“Fuck.”

You were beautiful. Just then the thought that you’d gone on a date dressed like this rubbed him wrong. Some other man had seen this view, a view you gave willingly. Clenching his jaw, he looked through his windshield as he tried to push all those thoughts—all that other stuff to the side as he’d done countless times before. He looked back just in time to see you open the door of his car then climb in. His eyes dropped to your legs but seconds later he corrected that.

“Hi!”

Your smile was bright as if you really were as happy to see him as your voice indicated.

“Hey.”

You reached over and pressed your cheek to his for a bougie kiss. The only thing he could think was that you smelled like a treat all by yourself.

“How are you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Wow, what’s it been? 2 months?”

He shrugged as he shifted gears and took off. “Something like that.”

“Mercedes sure knows how to keep you busy,” you teased.

He tried to focus on the road but from his peripheral, he could see you crossing your legs displaying even more skin.

“What were you doing? You smell like fruits.”

He chastised himself because he hadn’t done a bit of cleaning up before he came. His only thought was you. Julissa’s fruity lip gloss still stained his dick that he couldn’t manage to get hard for her.

“Nowhere special. Just kickin’ it.”

You didn’t press further which said you knew just what he was doing. He clenched his jaw again, this time annoyed with himself. As he drove to the dessert place you told him about what was going on in your life while he shared some bits of his with you. Like always conversation flowed like a calm river. It was something he loved. It didn’t take long for him to pull up to the drive-thru of the vegan dessert shop. When it was his turn at the window he tipped his hat lower and left the ordering to you.

You ordered damn near everything on the menu. You didn’t care if it was cake, cupcake, ice cream, brownie, or whipped cream. You ordered at least 2 of everything. It took the staff a good 5 minutes to prepare it all and when he loaded them in the backseat it was completely filled. When he looked at you with an “are you serious right now” look, all you did was giggle. Fuck, he thought. There went all that extra stuff again.

“There is no way we can finish all this,” he said looking at the bags they’d moved to the front since parking at their destination.

“Speak for yourself. I always have room for sugar, sugar.”

He snorted then shook his head. “Mad whack.”

Your jaw dropped as you gaped at him, and you looked too fucking adorable. You sifted through the bags until you found the dessert you wanted—the vanilla bean cheesecake. Your eyes lit up as you gawked at the large slice that was topped with white chocolate shavings. “It's so pretty,” you gushed.

He watched you snap picture after picture of the treat before you took your first forkful. When you did, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let out a completely indulgent, hearty, and dick-hardening moan. The fuck, he thought as his dick spasmed to life. Quickly he moved one of the bags to his lap and looked out the window.

“This is so good,” you obliviously said still munching on cake.

He pulled out the vegan chocolate truffle cake and took a bite. It too was good.

“That looks good. Is it?”

“Try it,” he said holding out a forkful to your mouth.

You paused for a split second then cut off a piece of your cheesecake before you held your fork to his mouth.

“You try too.”

The image that came to mind was that of a new husband and wife feeding each other wedding cake and with it, his throat went dry. He knew if he tried to speak he’d sound like a pre-pubescent boy, so he wrapped his lips around your fork taking the piece of cake then fed you his. Your eyes lingered on one another for a few moments nut when you moaned again his dick spasmed again. with that he turned his head so fast that he was surprised he hadn’t snapped his own neck in the process.

“So good,” you repeated.

The two of you sat there commenting on the desserts you went through in record time. He didn’t indulge in sweets often but when he did he found it was usually with your sugar-addicted ass. You said there were 4 things in life you would never give up, sugar, your favorite perfume, your favorite underwear set, and sex. He believed you on all points. When there were only a few pieces of cake left the silence in the car stretched.

“So—a date huh.”

“A date.”

“I thought you gave up dating.”

You took a deep breath then slowly released it before turning your body at an angle facing him. The hem of your dress hiked a little higher and he forced himself to look away.

“I did. Then I got bored and he asked.”

“What does he do?”

You didn’t answer automatically, instead, you took another forkful or 2 of cake, then you spoke.

“He’s an attorney.”

“I thought you didn’t date attorneys.”

“I don’t but me and the girls were talking, and it clicked that by x-ing out a whole career field greatly decreased me finding someone who could stick around.”

He paused. Stick around? This was new.

“Stick around? Are you—are you looking for something—serious?”

You took a beat then shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought the other day, I have everything I have ever wanted. I am on this partner track, I make very high 6 figures, I have a great condo, my mental health is amazing, I have no debt, no baby daddies or drama, I—I’m kinda a catch but I go to sleep alone 98% of my nights. I come home to an empty place, I have no meaningful text exchanges, there is—nothing fulfilling in my life. I began to wonder if it was time to change all of that last bit.”

Silence stretched again as he thought over your words while studying you. This was the first time he’d heard you speak like this. Usually, you changed the subject or downplayed having any other thoughts than fun, sex, and work. Now hearing the vulnerability in your voice he knew you’d come to a point where all of this, intention-free dating, pastime sex, stress-busting flirting and all the meaningless interactions were unfulfilling and empty. You wanted more, you wanted love, a life, a husband, kids, vacation homes, and retirement funds, you wanted the quintessential definition of it all. He also noted you now found everything he was currently partaking in meaningless and unfulfilling.

Dropping his head, he stabbed the cake still in his hands. The more puncture holes it picked up the less and less he wanted it.

“Fuck, maybe I’m just bored and need a really, really, good fuck.”

He snorted but it was humorless.

“Don’t downplay what you feel, Y/N. Don’t—make what you feel insignificant, so you feel less vulnerable. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s you and me here.”

“It’s just—you—I know those are things you don’t necessarily want and you’re happy with the--.”

“Who said I don’t want those things?”

His tone was sharp and defensive though he hadn’t meant for it to be.

“Uh—you did.”

“No. I said it’s not something I can afford right now with my schedule and my contract extension. I didn’t say I never wanted it.”

You looked away from him to out the window. “Yeah, but your actions say a lot different,” you mumble.

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N, look at me. What does that mean?”

You sat quietly for a few moments then just when he was about to ask again you blurted.

“There is a difference between I don’t want it now and I don’t want it ever. Someone who wants it someday would leave themselves open to it rather than boxing every interaction they have into--other things.”

“What if I don’t want to open myself to it?”

“That’s clear Lew.”

“No. You don’t get it. What if I don’t want to open myself to it because I don’t want to find the perfect thing—the perfect woman and then be fucked because it’s too soon and too hard to keep her in my world to wait until I can make those commitments because my world is fucked—I’m fucked because I want the world and will actually keep going until I get it anyone else be damned.”

He could feel your eyes on him, and it was his turn to feel vulnerable and exposed.

“You think because you put everyone in one box it stops what’s meant to be from—being?”

He glanced at you with a pained expression, he knew it. He was actually feeling pain.

“Also—you’re not fucked because you want the world. I want the fucking world. Am I fucked?”

“To be determined.”

You both busted out laughing then. You laughed for a good minute then smiled as it tapered off.

“Aren’t you the tiniest bit lonely in the other side of your life—away from F1?”

He didn’t need to think about that. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to tell you. The facts were that he was lonely more times than not. That was when he called someone to come distract him or make him feel good. He’d become an expert in the art of distraction. In his life, he only had time and the capacity for low stress and no mess. He had enough of both already.

He felt your hand creep into his and squeeze gently. Suddenly, there was all this other stuff again. The feel of your smaller hand in his larger one was something he really liked. Usually, when either of you took the other’s hand it was in passing or for a second, but the moment lingered and stretched, and still you kept your hand in his swirling your fingers against his palm and other fingers. He liked this too much.

“You can tell me. I won’t judge you. In fact—I’m lonely.”

His eyes slipped to you. Your head was down staring at your hands. It had now moved to trace the tattoos on his hand with the point of your nail as if his flesh were an adult coloring book. He watched you trace the rose on his pinky, then the planets on his ring finger. When you got to the lined arrow down his middle, he was having trouble swallowing again. Slowly, you traced the spaceship then went up across the sword until you reached his wrist.

He didn’t know if there was rhyme or reason to your movements or if you were just absently doing it. Goosebumps peppered his skin when you went up his forearm. He looked at you just before your eyes met his.

“You are?”

You nodded. “I am,” you whispered.

The air was on but inside the car easily felt like a sweltering 99 degrees. He didn’t know if it was from your touch or if it was the shift in the air between you. Did you notice it too?

“I think it’s okay to be lonely especially looking at how we live. We’re always working, always pushing ourselves to and through glass ceilings and when we do there is no one really there to share it with, not really, not in the way that fulfills,” you said.

Your face was closer to his now. Had he moved closer or was it you? Your eyes met again, and the temperature kicked up again. Fuck, he thought as his dick recklessly spasmed, begging for attention.

“I’m never lonely with you,” he said before his brain could stop his mouth.

A small smile lit your face, “Me too. Never with you.”

The smile slipped. “Well—not always.”

He turned to you more now, curiosity filling him. “What do you mean?”

You stayed quiet for a few moments but kept tracing his skin with your nail.

“There are times I can’t—guess what you’re thinking. Times I can’t—figure you out.”

“Then ask me.”

“Would you really tell me?”

He leaned closer. “I’d tell you anything.”

You searched his eyes, but you didn’t move back.

“Anything?”

He nodded slowly. His head felt hazy like you had him under some sort of spell with nothing more than your presence and the tip of your finger and all he truly wanted was to touch you in return. So he did. Reaching across to your exposed knee, he circled his finger around the smooth skin there. You sucked in a breath the moment his finger touched you and that one action nearly had him pulling you across the partition right onto his lap. Nearly.

So there on a hill that overlooked London, in his car, sitting near enough to a lone road light, you trailed your finger across his forearm while he did the same to your knee. The low light that illuminated the car bathed your skin in amber making him feel like you were on a whole different plane of existence rather than this real proven and tangible one. Your eyes held him in place to the point where he felt like he couldn’t move though he wanted to.

Without even realizing it you were mere inches from him. In fact, you were so close he could make out the hidden colors in your eyes, so close he could smell the fragrance on your skin that went deeper than perfume. This was your essence and by God he was intoxicated. Unable to stop himself, he inched his hand higher gripping your inner thigh. A soft moan fell from your lips and that was all it took for him to press his forehead to yours like the sound was tethered to his very core.

“Y/N,” he groaned.

The sheer might it was taking to keep himself restrained was becoming too much. At this point, it wouldn’t take much for him to abandon those restraints and give in.

“Lewis,” you whispered.

Your voice was raspy and dripping with what he dared label as desire. Fuck, he thought as he squeezed your thigh. He was so close, mere inches and it wouldn’t take much to close the gap between his fingers and your core but still, he fought himself. He was so wrapped up in his own battle for control within himself that he didn’t even realize when your hand rested on his upper thigh. You were dangerously close to kicking the lid off the box of other stuff that he’d worked years to keep shut. Half of him silently begged for you to keep going and kick it off so everything would be out in the open and it would be do or die but the other half of him hesitated still. The unknown was a powerful and sobering drug.

Your hand inched higher, then closer to what was the rock-hard physical evidence that deep down, now closer to the surface than ever before, he felt more, wanted more than what was. He wanted more than he could possibly afford. Still, his hand persisted, it inched higher making your hips jerk forward. The knowledge that he’d hit a sensitive spot sent his system into overdrive making a deep moan from his lips fill the car.

On cue in response, your legs opened a few inches more, making way for his hand. Jesus Christ he thought. There was his consent, you wanted him as he wanted you. There would be nothing wrong with him slipping his fingers underneath whatever underwear you wore. Fuck, he hoped they were lacy and strappy. There would be nothing wrong with him letting your hand slide to the aching dick straining against his pants begging for your attention. Shit, he bet your hands would feel incredible wrapped around him. There would be nothing wrong with him moving closer and finally claiming your lips as his. Damn, he just knew they were as sweet as they looked, that they felt amazing. There would be nothing wrong with him pulling your body against his for more than a clothed hug. There would be nothing wrong with him cupping your breasts and swirling his thumb across your nipple just to see the reaction it elicited. God damn it, he knew your moans would destroy him. There would be nothing wrong with him finally learning what you tasted like, nothing wrong with him finally smearing your wetness across his lips. Holy fuck, he knew you had to taste like pure sugar and cream.

His cock spasmed again then your hand made the move for him. In the same breath with his eyes squeezed tight, he lurched for your hand, gripping you by your wrist stopping you just before you touched him. As he did that his jaw clenched, the only thing he could do to stifle the moan at the tip of his tongue. It came out as a half groan and growl instead. The strangled whine that left you said you liked it, and he knew he had to end this here. It took him some time to find the smallest bit of control to open his eyes, but he didn’t possess enough control to look at you. There was no way he could.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, voice low and so close to a whisper.

He tried to keep the longing, regret, and hope from it. Slowly he removed his hand from your thigh hoping with everything in him that you grabbed it and nudged it higher. You didn’t though, so he turned forward readying himself to drive. You didn’t move for several long moments; you remained there half facing him with your thighs still tempting him to go back and take things further. With his hands on the steering wheel, he trained his eyes forward. He could feel all the antsy energy bouncing off every cell of his body, he could feel all the need in him wreaking havoc on him telling him to stop being a pussy and do what he really wanted to, say what he wanted to, take what he wanted.

His hands squeezed so tightly that the creaking of the leather echoed in the intense silence in the car. Just when he was about to say fuck it, you turned away from him. You softly cleared your throat then buckled yourself in. Sighing, he pushed started the ignition then swerved out of the parked spot they were in taking the route back to the city. As he drove you didn’t speak, you didn’t even move. You kept your head turned away from him looking out the passenger window with your legs crossed away from him. Your body language sent a completely different message now. Before you were open and so close to him. Now, you were so far he wondered if he’d turned Miles’ words into truths.

~~~~~

-Y/N- 8 Months Later-

The loud ‘pop’ of a champagne cork echoed just behind you making you spin in that direction. A group was just behind you laughing and toasting to something you guessed was momentous. You sighed then turned back to the painting you were currently studying. The abstract lines and swoops looked so similar to the slopes of a body. The longer you stared at it the more it felt like an erotic image than some random lines and swirls. There was something about it that stirred something in you, something that you’d ignored and buried so deep, something you hadn’t felt for 8 months.

You drained your champagne glass then squeezed your eyes shut. It had been a long 8 months. You’d worked your ass off times ten taking on more and more clients than before. You brought on 12 celebrity clients and 4 major corporate ones which brought Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw to the top of the field in revenue. You brought in so much money that you’d gotten 7 poaching offers from firms in different parts of the country.

Thanks to those offers that you hadn’t necessarily kept confidential, the interest in you for partner rose to unbeatable levels. Anyone you were competing against for the position paled in comparison. Those 8 months of ass-busting work led to your name being signed on the paperwork titling you as the new partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw. It was so much of a done deal that your bank account proudly embraced your new status.

With that new status came an increase in the events you had to make an appearance at as thee number 1 entertainment and criminal attorney in London. Your calendar quickly filled with meetings, speeches, appearances, court appearances, dinners, and more. You were so booked that the next time you had any schedule free time was 6 months away. You’d catapulted so far out of your original tax bracket that you’d shattered the glass ceiling that tried to confine you and now you wondered if you’d aimed too high.

“Looks like I’m right on time.”

You looked to your right and found Darius holding another glass of champagne for you. Smiling, you took it.

“That you are, thank you.”

“Of course. To you, the youngest and newest partner at Halsey Boyd and Crenshaw and in the greater London area.”

You smiled as the man who’d stuck around through your insane schedule, your hot and cold behavior, your pull you close one minute, push you away the next, your disappearing acts, your reluctance to place a label on your interactions, your give me sex then get gone rule, and more for the last 8 months.

“Thank you, Darius,” you said leaning toward him and pressing your lips against his.

Darius moaned and reciprocated the kiss, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you close. You felt like you were thanking him for much more than the toast and the fresh glass of champagne. You felt like you were thanking him for taking your bare minimum and it made you feel like shit.

Darius pressed his forehead to yours and instantly you had a flash back to the last man who’d done that to you. In a split second, your heart rate spiked, and an intense feeling gripped you.

“You don’t have to thank me, love.”

Your reaction to the action ricocheted through you making you pull away from Darius. Turning back to the painting, you gulped down the champagne.

“It’s crazy that your firm has so many celebrity clients and that this many are here to welcome you as partner,” Darius said in hushed tones.

“It is crazy.”

All night you’d been rubbing elbows with actors, musicians, models, athletes, and more. All of them congratulated you on your promotion and wished you greater success in the future. It was touching but a little bit overwhelming. You couldn’t let on though, so for the entire night you’d been performing, and you were nearing the limits of your stamina for it. You’d been performing for the last 8 months. Shit, you’d even been performing with Darius. You’d been performing ever since you were dropped off in those early morning hours those 8 months ago.

“Y/N,”

To your left, your paralegal now turned assistant, Kemi touched your elbow drawing your attention to her.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, you look incredible,” she said.

“Stop saying that please, you’re gonna blow my head up so big I just might start thinking I deserve a higher position.”

She giggled but gave you a look that said “well ya’ do.”

“The big wigs are asking for you, although you’re now one of them so--.”

You snorted while rolling your eyes. “Then doesn’t that make you the big wig assistant?”

She posed then making you laugh.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to Darius as you walked off to find those big wigs.

It didn’t take long before you found them surrounded by a group of about 10 people. When they saw you they waved you over with large smiles on their faces. You took a deep breath and approached them with an equally large smile.

“There she is ladies and gentlemen!”

The group smiled, patted your back, and welcomed you with friendly banter.

“Everyone!”

The music died down and someone handed Malcolm Boyd a microphone. He was your biggest fan, a black man who’d made unfathomable feats in the field and became an incredible mentor and second father to you. He put his arm around your shoulder as he always did.

“I am filled with great happiness and pride calling this woman the new partner here at Halsey, Boyd, and Crenshaw!”

Everyone began applauding then, drowning out his next words so he paused and allowed them a few moments before continuing.

“She has been with us for 6 years now and in those 6 years she has accomplished incredible things and when she was done with those incredible things she moved on to outstanding things. Y/N has reminded many of us of what it means to be determined and persistent. She tackles every case with poise, confidence, and grace and that confidence has given her that 99% win record.”

Again everyone clapped. You softly smiled at them half embarrassed by the praise but half so damn proud of yourself and happy that your accomplishments were being recognized.

“Just as Malcome said, “Patrick Halsey began placing his hand on Malcom’s shoulder, “Y/N more than deserves this promotion and I expect her to blow all of our minds in the coming months and years. We just might have to add another name to the plague.”

Many in the audience hollered and hooted at that and you couldn’t lie that the greedy ambition within you salivated at that possibility. You still wanted more. You exchanged a look with Malcome who gave you an all-knowing look. You just found your next accomplishment. The founding partners took turns praising you and giving reasons why you’d earned this promotion then raised their glasses to you for the ultimate toast of congratulations. You humbly thanked them and gave a quick appreciative speech before lifting your glass to the audience.

As you drank down the tart liquid, your eye caught sight of a figure you hadn’t seen in person for almost 2 months—Lewis. He stood at the back in a black suit that clearly was made for him. His braids were pulled back in the way he liked when he was tackling more professional events. He looked as good as ever. He lifted his glass of water to you and in response you gave him a tight smile.

The same thing happened that always happened when you met one another ever since that night. Your body went through this strange cycle of reaction, excitement, confusion, hurt, anger, annoyance, and disappointment. It was exhausting. Because of these feelings, you regretted that night. You regretted allowing your thoughts to go so astray that you opened up your ‘what if’ box. You regretted every whisper, every lean in, every almost touch, every lingering look, everything. You even regretted getting out of his car when he pulled up to your condo instead of pulling him by his hair to you and telling him to go upstairs with you. you didn’t know what you regretted more.

The worst part was that you had to continue on like always. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem because that night was not the first night there had been many ‘what if’ nights over your decade-long friendship. The common factor was that both of you moved on and slinked back into the basics of your relationship—comfort and friendship. This time is difficult, so difficult you contemplated passing his case off to another attorney. If it hadn’t been for Malcome talking you out of it he would have been someone else’s responsibility. Instead, you put on your big girl panties and a mask and did something you never thought you’d ever do with him—performed.

When the crowd thinned out and everyone returned to what they were doing you began making your way back to Darius in the opposite direction. You were ready to leave. Before you got far Lewis stepped in front of you stopping you in your tracks.

“Congratulations, Y/N.”

Smiling, you thanked him.

“You look--,” his words stalled as his eyes roamed your body. You noted the conflicted look on his face before it disappeared. “Incredible,” Lewis finished.

His compliment made your body warm and something like hope filled you. Chastising yourself you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Thank you. You look nice too.”

Lewis scoffed softly then nodded. You then tried to slip by him, however, Lewis wasn’t having it. Again, he stepped in front of you.

“In a rush to get away from me?”

“Why would you say that? Have you done anything to me for me to want that?”

Silence stretched and Lewis studied you his jaw clenched tightly. Instead of speaking, he looked down, an act of defeat.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

“We’re talking right now.”

He gave you an unamused look, but you kept your nonchalant, innocent one. Unexpectedly Miles approached then.

“There she is--partner lady. Congratulations Y/N.”

You smiled then hugged Miles. “Thank you!”

“This is incredible news, Y/N. So happy for you.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you for coming,” you replied.

“You know me, always this fool’s plus one.”

You smiled then the silence returned for a few seconds before Lewis spoke again.

“Maybe we can go somewhere—quiet after this?”

“Unfortunately I don’t think I can.”

“Why?”

Just then Darius approached and wrapped his arm around your waist resting his hand on your hip. You watched Lewis’ eyes drop to that hand and continued to watch as his jaw turned tight as if it filled with cement.

“Oh wow. Lewis Hamilton,” Darius said turning to you, his voice awestricken. “Babe it’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You nodded as a soft smile played on your lips. “Let me introduce you. Darius, this is one of my clients, Lewis Hamilton, and his best friend Miles Chamley-Watson fencing champion and Olympian. Miles, Lewis this is my—.”

You hesitated and in the same second, you felt Darius’ eyes on you filled with hope. Two other pairs of eyes were on you--one giving complete double eyeball emoji and the other searing you almost daring you to continue. The longer you didn’t speak, you watched Darius’ hope turn to disappointment. Glancing back at Lewis you found his eyebrow up with a curious and confrontational look while Miles was the epitome of if ‘well this is awkward’ was a person.

“This is Darius Forrester.”

You felt even more like shit now. Darius shook Lewis’ hand first then Miles’. While he did Lewis looked him over sizing him up. You knew he was wondering if he was the same man from those months ago when you’d told him you were on a date.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m a fan,” Darius said to Lewis.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I can sign something for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at his underhanded jab while a half chortle escaped Miles. Darius on the other hand leapt at the opportunity, handing Lewis the only thing he had, an art bidding ballot. Lewis signed the back but kept his eyes on Darius’ hand on your hip.

“Bidding on some art tonight?”

“I am. There is a piece this gorgeous angel has been staring at all night, it’ll be my gift to her for her promotion,” Darius explained rubbing your hip.

You smiled at him then kissed his cheek. Lewis now looked entertained while Miles’ eyes widened as he finished the drink in his hand.

“Ehm, anyway. So I’m sorry I can’t pencil you in tonight but if you call Kemi and make an appointment she’ll get you on the calendar for a different day for that talk,” you said.

“Plans tonight,” Miles guessed looking between you and Darius.

“Absolutely. I’ve had way too much to drink and plan on taking advantage of that.”

You leaned closer to Darius kicking up your performance another notch. Lewis smirked but also clenched his jaw to that. Miles whistled while nodding his head.

“Go on then Ms. Partner, fly by the seat of your panties or no panties,” Miles teased making you and Darius chuckle while Lewis gave him an unamused look.

“Well, enjoy your evening gentlemen. Thank you again for coming by,” you said before you made a move to walk off with Darius.

As you walked away you placed your hand over Darius’ and slyly slipped it lower to rest on your ass. You knew Lewis was watching and decided to deliver the last blow. Was it petty? Yes. Was it fair to Daius? Not at all.

The next hour or so passed with you roaming around the gallery looking at the art while Darius flirted with you. As you roamed, no matter where you went you saw Lewis from the corner of your eye and no matter how much space was between you, your skin reacted as if Darius’ touch was his. The more you felt that way the reality that Darius’ touch was in fact all his own annoyed you making you feel even worse. You knew what needed to be done and knew it had to be done soon.

The only way you could distract yourself was with glass after glass of champagne. As you emerged from one of your countless trips to the bathroom you bumped into Miles.

“Funny bumping into you here.”

You smiled warmly, “Still here? I thought you and Lewis left hours ago.”

“You knew we were still here,” he accused.

You tried to give an affronted look but failed. He was right. Sighing, your act fell for the first time that night.

“Wow. Feels good to not perform huh.”

You looked at Miles and wondered just how much he knew. He didn’t keep you in suspense long.

“What a twisted web we weave when we practice to deceive.” He scoffed, shook his head then continued, look, I am going to tell you the same thing I told Lewis.”

You perked up then but tried to play it off.

“You better stop playing before somebody gets hurt and by the looks of it, it’s gonna be your homeboy Darius if not all three of you.”

You took in his words then put your mask back in place. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah you do, just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

Your curiosity peaked then. “What are you talking about Miles? What do you think you know?”

He scoffed. “I’m a straightforward kinda guy so I’ll say I know everything. As the neutral 3rd party who is both on the outside looking in and the inside watching this train wreck, I know everything. I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Your eyes lingered and the longer they did the more you got his meaning. Glancing away you tried to pretend like his words meant nothing, but you knew you were failing.

“I get it, I really do; 10 years is a long time to put at risk but are you really putting it at risk knowing all you know? You have 10 years of proof. Man up.”

Miles leaned in, kissed your cheek, and whispered, “Let homeboy go so he can find someone who really loves him, someone who can love him. Your corner is full.”

With that, he walked away leaving you speechless and confused. Your corner was full? You had no idea whatsoever what that meant, and you were tempted to follow Miles and get some clarification, but you decided against it remembering the last time you chased down the rabbit hole. When you found Darius again his expression was somber when he told you that the painting he’d been bidding on was outbid and that he didn’t have it to gift you. After assuring him you were fine, you decided you were more than ready to leave.

Darius got the car as you waited outside allowing the cold air to cool your skin. You didn’t care that you were risking illness because it served as a needed distraction. When you felt a fabric drape over your shoulders you bristled at first but then Lewis’ scent circled you and your body relaxed. Even that annoyed you.

“I don’t need this. Darius will be back soon anyway.”

Lewis snorted. “8 months, is that a record?”

“I think it’s a record for you, but I’ve gone longer.”

He scoffed then shook his head. “No doubt, remember Y/N. I will be here long after you get bored with them all. I’m always here.”

Your eyes locked and his should have been radiating cockiness that matched his words, but instead, they were gentle, open, and vulnerable.

“Will you?”

There was no time to reply because a car horn blared drawing your attention. Darius waved at you as he got out of the car to walk around to the passenger side.

“Good night Lewis.”

You walked away from him then slipped into the passenger side. As you waited for Darius to get in and drive off, you stared at Lewis who hadn’t budged from the curb where you left him. Miles’ words echoed back to you then.

“Just like Lewis knew what I was talking about all those years ago, but he still decided to keep playing, and now look where we are.”

“You have 10 years of proof.”

“Your corner is full.”

The word ‘full’ echoed over and over as Darius pulled off. Bullshit, you said to yourself in disbelief.

When Darius pulled up to your condo you sat there marinating in all your thoughts throughout the nearly thirty-minute drive. It wasn’t until you felt Darius’ hand on your exposed knee did you realize he was still there.

“Are you okay? Want me to come up?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “We need to talk Darius.”

When you looked at him his expression said he knew just what you were about to say. Being as gentle as you could, you ended things. Although the old “it’s not you it’s me” line fit the situation perfectly. You dug a little deeper and gave him and heartfelt reason without revealing you were and had been in love with your best friend for 10 years and didn’t realize it until his feelings were already on the line. When you finished, Darius remained the good guy he was and told you he understood and that he’d expected this sooner or later. You thanked him for being good to you then began making your way to the elevators.

Halfway there you dug into the pocket of the jacket you wore and froze. When you took your hand out you held a note with your name sprawled on the front in Lewis’ handwriting.

-Y/N-

I’ve thought for months about what to say to you because there is so much to say, so much that has gone unsaid for so long that I don’t know where to start—how to start. 10 years is a long time especially when neither of us has been 100% honest with the other. I want to end that. Please.

-Lewis

You read then reread the note over and over hoping you would know what to do next but no matter how many times you did, you had nothing. So you walked back and forth in the lobby. When your phone sounded, you found a message from Lewis.

MSG Lewis: Ball’s in your court. I’m outside your building.

You froze then slowly turned and saw his car. It had been months since you’d been in a car with him and the thought of doing it again freaked you out a little. Your eyes met at that moment, but he didn’t move. He was giving you the time to decide for yourself. You turned your back to him then walked to the elevators but stopped halfway. After a few moments, you turned back around and walked to the doors only to stop halfway again and repeat the whole cycle. Still, Lewis didn’t budge. He just watched as your internal debate played out physically.

After ten minutes you stooped down and put your down, completely exhausted by your indecisiveness. Taking a deep breath, you held it and allowed your lungs to adjust. It was an action you often did to help you think and calm down. As your oxygen levels decreased your heartbeat would slow and as it did, there was always one particular beat where you figured it all out. It usually came right in the nick of time.

So you allowed your heartbeat to slow and though you should have panicked you didn’t. You thought clearer than you’d ever thought before.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me, and I know what you don’t tell him.”

Miles’ words came back to you again and it was then you gasped filling your lungs with air. After a few breaths, you stood then turned to the doors. It worked all the time. With your head high and back straight you walked toward them then climbed inside Lewis’ car. Without a word, he pulled off then turned back onto the streets.

~~~~~~

Thirty minutes later you walked into a penthouse suite right behind Lewis.

“Why here?”

“Thought neutral ground would make you more comfortable.”

You scoffed and beelined right to the bar, tossing his suit jacket over the back of one of the bar stools. As you mixed yourself a drink you tried not to focus on him, but you did. No matter where he went you knew. You were hypersensitive to him at this point. You’d only meant to make a glass but ended up making a whole shaker cup. You kicked off your heels, climbed onto the bar stool then plopped yourself on the countertop. Once comfortable you crossed your legs and sipped your drink.

“Where’s Darius?”

“Not here obviously.”

“You and I are so alike it’s insane,” he said as he approached you, but he didn’t come close. He stopped at the sectional couches in the middle of the large living area and then sat.

The silence in the room was thick for such a long time you began thinking about leaving altogether.

“Congratulations again. I’m so fucking proud of you. You saw something you wanted and didn’t stop until you got it. You deserve this.”

Your stomach flipped hearing his praise. More than anyone he knew what you’d gone through to get here. It touched you. Looking away from him, you cleared your throat. “Thanks.”

His eyes remained on you as if daring you to look back at him. It was a dare you had to accept. Your eyes locked and you instantly felt it. There was so much to say. Just behind him, you saw something familiar. Squinting, you made out the painting you’d been staring at all night, the painting Darius wanted to bid on for you. It clicked then, the reason why Darius couldn’t win it was because Lewis claimed it first. You scoffed, the man was competitive and dominant to a fault. You couldn’t help but be touched by the gesture though.

Lewis sighed bringing your eyes back to him, “I don’t even know where to start,” groaned, rubbed his eyes then spoke again. “Maybe I’m sorry is a good place.”

You studied him for a few moments then took a mouthful of your drink. “For what?”

“You know for what.”

That night.

Those words hung in the air, and you did your best to remain aloof. Scoffing, you shook your head. “It’s all good Lewis.”

“You’re lying and you know it. I thought attorneys believed in the truth.”

“Who are you to tell me what my truth is?!”

You hadn’t meant to shout it, but you did.

“Because more times than not our truths match up and I am sure that what happened was not all good to you because it wasn’t to me.”

“And what exactly wasn’t all good to you?”

“The way we—I left things,” he quietly said.

You waited for him to continue because there was no way in hell you were going to make this easy for him. He wanted to talk so he’d talk. Lewis shook his head then hung it backward. He sat there staring into the ceiling for almost a full minute before he looked back at you.

“I just—flipped when we were—you were—you wanted--,” he stuttered.

You scoffed again, “Don’t flatter yourself, Lewis,” you said slipping into the barstool and spinning it around so your back faced him.

“What?”

“You and I both know that none of that meant anything to you. It’s all good.”

“Now who’s telling who what their truth is?”

You didn’t take the bait, instead, you kept your back to him and finished your glass.

“You forget, I know you, Lewis. 10 years of friendship and I know you so well that it was my own damn fault that night.”

“Whatdaya know?”

After refilling your glass you turned back around then hopped off the stool and walked toward the large floor-to-ceiling window. “I know that that you were with one of your rotation chicks before you came to pick me up. I smelled her on you. That fruity aroma was all her. I know that because of that tidbit of info, none of it meant anything.”

Leaning against the window you stared down at the view of London. Lights glistened down below, and you imagined everyone scurrying to where they had to go so wrapped up in their own thoughts or existence to even suspect that it all was fleeting.

“Okay, I’ll own that bit. Yeah, I was with one of them but that was only after I found out you were on a date.”

“So it’s my fault. I was on a date living my life, so you decided to get your dick wet. Okay.”

You took another sip from your glass not liking the direction of this little talk he wanted to have.

“I never said it was your fault. It’s just a fact. I texted you because I wanted to see you, wanted to spend time with you and you were spending time with someone else, someone you probably did God knows what with hours before you saw me.”

And with that, you were done here. Finishing the glass you turned and walked to the door.

“Good night Lewis.”

He scurried in front of you blocking your path. “Wait, please. Shit! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Two sorries in the span of twenty minutes, cool. Get out of my way.”

“No, Y/N, please wait.”

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “I’m sick and tired of waiting. I’ve waited 10 years!”

“You’ve waited? I’ve—.”

Lewis threw his hands up then walked away grunting and talking to himself. He looked insane and it kind of made you pleased seeing it. He always appeared so in control, so aware of himself and his actions at all times. It had all gone to shit now. You stood there debating if you should just leave and let things remain how they were until the day you both just stopped talking and checking in and it ended up going on for another 10 years until you were just people who used to know one another, people who’d missed out on something. It was then you realized you weren’t wearing shoes.

“Shit,” you whispered.

“I wanted you that night. I wanted you more than I had ever wanted anyone, including anyone in the rotation. Do you know what I was doing while you were on your date?”

“Getting your dick wet. I know.”

“I was lying on Julissa’s bed as she gave me head.”

You scoffed, “Of course you were.”

“She’d been going for 40 minutes and still I was barely hard. No matter what she did, no matter the tricks, no matter how nice it felt, barely hard. I was lying on her bed with my dick in her mouth thinking about you on your fucking date.”

You looked at him then. Those were words you hadn’t expected.

“My mind went crazy thinking what was happening. The longer that went by without you texting me the thoughts killed me. As soon as I got your message I left. No other thought, just you. I prayed to God that the date didn’t go well enough for you to let him upstairs. Then I saw what you were wearing, and I couldn’t believe I was jealous. I was jealous.”

“Why?”

Lewis looked at you then. “Because he got to see you like that. You’d dressed up for him, wanted to turn him on with that outfit. He’d spent the entire night with you. He’d had what I wanted.”

Well shit, you thought before walking back to the bar. Rather than making another drink, you took up a bottle of champagne and brought it to your lips.

“Do you know what it feels like to want someone so bad that it fucks with you and everything you do? To want someone more than you’ve wanted anything. To want someone in a way that is new to you, so new that it scares you. Do you know what it feels to have this crippling fear every time that someone is in your grasp, but not being able to resist the temptation, the desire to make them yours? Do you know what it feels like to know that you only burn this bright, this hot, this dangerous with one person, and the burn is all-consuming?”

He looked almost hysterical now. “Do you know what it feels like to want the perfect someone for you? I’m talking molded for you in every way while knowing it’s not the right time for you because you both want too much from the world and because you know that because you burn so hot, so bright that you’ll burn each other if either of you ever let go and let it happen? To know you are so similar that you will either destroy each other or ruin one another for anyone else.”

The look on his face was so damn relatable. He’d just said everything you’d thought over the last 10 years. Everything.

“I know what he tells me and what he doesn’t tell me.”

He was practically ranting now. Spewing every single thing that he’d ever thought, confessing it all.

“So because of all that you try to keep up pretenses that you’re friends and nothing more though you have countless moments where you slip up and stare at them too long, or hold them in your arms from a hug for half a minute too long, or let your hand linger in theirs or around their waist to test boundaries because you just can’t not touch them, or even find reasons to do every single thing together. You take those 2 steps forward not realizing you do because the pull is too strong, then you freak out and leap back 5 steps. You do this for weeks, months, years until 10 of them have passed and you have this huge box you’d filled with all the other stuff between you that you can’t express or fess up to until that box just gets stirred by one action, one moment--one night.”

His eyes were locked on yours. Somehow he’d traveled across the room to the bar and was standing right in front of you. Somehow he’d locked you in the frame of his arms leaving you nowhere to run. Somehow he’d managed to inflate your chest with hope right beside your thundering heart.

“Then suddenly—everything has changed, and nothing can be the same ever again,” he finished, his voice a whisper in the completely silent room.

You watched his eyes lower to your lips and your gut flipped again.

“Do you know what any of that feels like, Y/N?”

There were only mere inches between you now and the sheer proximity of his body to yours made you shiver.

“H—how long—have you—felt this way?”

Your voice quivered in a way that made it obvious to him what his nearness was doing to you.

“10--fucking years,” Lewis replied eyes glued to yours.

He took one step to you, “I’ve spent the last 8 months cleaning my life, cleaning my circle because I’ve gotten to the point where I could no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. You’re number one, Y/N.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to say, and even more unsure what to do. He was right, your truths usually did line up and this was no different.

“And I know it scares you, shit it scares me too. All of this does. I know my life is insane and yours is about to be even more so, I get you still have things you want to accomplish; I saw your face when Halsey mentioned adding your name to the plaque. You want it and I want it for you as well as the world for both of us. Our timing can’t be any worse, but something has got to give, love, because I can’t take another year let alone 10 of this.”

You took a deep, ragged breath.

“Where--,” Lewis began before stopping and chewing his top lip.

It was a nervous tick. “Where do I—stand—with you?”

For 10 years he’d been so hard to read, so nearly impossible to gauge, and here right now in the darkness of the room you could see him as clear as day. He was oh so transparent and scared you’d reject him. Scared you’d decide he was more trouble than he was worth. Scared he’d just showed you his heart and ruined your friendship in the process. Without realizing it you were crying; you felt a tear roll down your cheek.

Sniffling, you wiped it away, “Ehm, I broke up with Darius tonight.”

Lewis looked shocked. Clearly, he thought you were still together.

“Why?”

You wiped the other tear that fell from your eye then looked away from him. All of a sudden the room felt smaller than it was, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. Lewis cupped the back of your head cradling your skull in his palm making you look him in the eyes.

“Why?”

“For the last 8 months, I’ve been hot and cold with him, I pulled him close one minute then the next pushed him away, I disappeared a lot always using work as the excuse. I was busy, yeah, but it wasn’t work. I was always so reluctant to put a label on what we were doing, every time he brought it up I changed the subject never giving him the answer he wanted. Even when we had sex--.”

Lewis took a deep breath, dropped his head, and harshly released it, clearly displeased with confirmation that he’d had you that way, but you continued.

“Even then it was usually always on my terms, and I always wanted him to leave right after. I was—I was always thinking about someone else, something else instead of him, and for 8 months I never felt anything remotely close to what I felt that night with him. over the months every time I saw you it hacked at whatever was going on between me and him until tonight seeing you again it just--.”

You flicked your five fingers indicating an explosion. I’ve become hypersensitive to you, and I don’t know when it happened. It dawned on me that—I was using Darius and it wasn’t fair.”

Lewis searched your eyes not hiding the hurt in his. You took a step towards him. “You’re right about a few things. Our timing couldn’t be any worse.”

He nodded.

“Our truths usually always line up.”

Lewis looked hopeful then.

“Your life is insane.”

The hope faltered.

“I do want my name on that plaque, and I will get it.”

A small smile crooked his lips.

Another tear rolled down your cheek and again you wiped it away, “I can also no longer ignore that everyone else is number 2 for me. Always has been because you’re my number one.”

He clenched his jaw then and the emotion that washed over his face rocked you. Like an earthquake rocking the Earth’s surface.

“I am scared.”

As this tear rolled, Lewis was the one to reach out and gently wipe it with the pad of his thumb. Your lip quivered.

“I’m so scared.”

Lewis pushed forward then, crashing his lips to yours in one swift move. Once your lips met neither of you went slow. The kiss was frenzied from the beginning, both of you wanting it all and not wanting to waste any more time taking it. As his tongue rolled with yours you closed the space between you pressing your body against him. Lewis softly moaned, wrapping his arms around you. When you bit down on his bottom lip he groaned then walked you backward until your back collided with the edge of the bar. Trapping you there once again, he kissed you without holding a thing back and your body responded to him instantaneously.

In a matter of seconds, you both were moaning against each other and completely wrapped up in the new feelings that were consuming you. Lewis cupped your face as he kissed you then ran his hands down to your neck. You couldn’t deny that this felt even better than you imagined. Moaning, you clutched his waist but when that didn’t suffice, you slowly slid your hands up along his toned abs, over his chest taking in the bulge of muscle there. When you wrapped them around his neck, Lewis pressed more persistently against you.

“Mmmm!”

Lewis tore his lips from you and put his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I don’t want to get too carried away. I’m sorry I should have asked first.”

“Consent fucking given,” you said before you crashed your lips to his.

This time you took control. Swirling your tongue with his you didn’t give him time to react or gain the upper hand. You wanted to taste him, and you refused to wait any longer. Teasing his lips, you nibbled his bottom one, taking your time to sensually suck on it until he moaned against you. The vibration shot through you making you feel like you’d only now just begun to truly feel. Lewis’ hands roughly gripped your hips, holding you steady so you could feel that you weren’t the only one finally feeling for the first time.

Heightening both if your pleasure, you sucked his tongue until he groaned. The next thing you knew Lewis’ had you by the hips lifting you onto the bar top. You wrapped your thighs around him and nearly came when you felt his hands pry your legs apart. The heat radiating off of his hand on your bare thigh reminded you of the night in his car and you prayed he didn’t stop again.

As if reading your mind, Lewis met your eyes while he slid his hand higher and higher and higher until his fingers crawled to your inner thigh. Softly he raked his manicured nails against your skin forcing a whimper from you. You bit down on your bottom lip and silently willed yourself not to cum from the anticipation. Suddenly the back of Lewis’ fingers brushed against your sex. Your gasp was loud, breathy, and stretched out as he took his time moving centimeter by centimeter until he’d trapped your clit between his pointer and middle finger. Your jaw dropped all the while he held your gaze.

When he tightened his fingers and rubbed against you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You knew then he was dangerous, and you were going to cum.

“F—ha—fu-huck!”

Your back arched, head fell back as your body moved like it were possessed. Each spasm of pleasure had you bucking against his fingers until you could hardly breathe.

“My god you’re so fucking beautiful when you cum, love.”

You giggled and moaned as the tremors worked their way through you. “Mmm, orgasms and compliments, a girl could get used to this,” you cooed.

“Good. This is your future.”

Lewis moved his hand, brought them to your thighs then lifted them. As he planted your heels at the edge of the bar, you knew what he wanted. Your eyes dropped to his lips then you moaned. Pulling your dress away from your legs you allowed them to fall back to the bar showing him not only gymnasts were flexible.

“Oh fuck,” Lewis groaned.

You watched his eyes drop to your sex and the look on his face was unlike any you’d ever seen. No one had looked at you like this before. He stared where your thighs met like it was the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen, the first of its kind and something he wanted to completely destroy. You now felt like prey spread before him like this, like at any moment he was going to pounce on you.

“Mmm.”

Lewis came closer and closer until he rested on his elbows and was just inches from your sex. The anticipation was killing, and he had to know it.

“I knew you were a lacy knickers kind of woman,” he muttered.

“I take it you’re a lacy knickers kind of man.”

“On you, fuck yes.”

With that, Lewis hooked his thumbs in your underwear and pulled them to the side. He blew out a breath in reaction to seeing you bare for the first time and that breath fucked you up all over again. You threw your head back trying to calm your anxieties, but just when you met his eyes again you found his tongue out sliding against your wet folds.

Oh—my—goooood!”

Lewis moaned and did it again and again until he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue. “Mmmm.”

Lewis pressed your thighs back keeping them spread then went to town. If you’d ever doubted before that his mouth game was incredible you didn’t now. He licked, flicked, and sucked along your flesh making your back remain in a prolonged arch. Within seconds you were whining and writhing as his tongue worked literal fucking magic. The sound of Lewis’ slurping echoed in the living room and that was when your hands grabbed his head. Pulling his hair free you held on and bucked against his mouth.

“Mmm.”

He stuck his tongue out and let you take over. With every buck against his tongue, you called his name and the more the tip of his tongue flicked your clit the more out of control you felt. Your release was so close your body moved more wildly needing it at all costs.

“I’m gonna cum Lewis.”

“Cum for me, Y/N!”

You didn’t need to be told more than once and when you were right on the precipice you felt Lewis slid two digits inside of you. Just like that, your orgasm morphed from a toe-curling release to soul snatching one. You screeched as your body convulsed but he didn’t stop then, he pumped his fingers in and out of you then added a third finger stretching you wide.

“Uuuugh fuck!”

You barely finished your words before Lewis threw you over his shoulder, keeping his fingers inside of you. As he walked through the suite his fingers kept fucking you, readying you for him. When your back met the soft sheets of the mattress, Lewis still hadn’t broken contact. He watched you now as you lay there unable to control your body.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Pulling his fingers free he cleaned two of them off before you sprang to your knees to claim the third. As you sucked his finger you kept your eyes on his. You could see how badly he wanted you, how much he wanted from you, and you couldn’t believe he’d held back all this time. You took your time sliding each button through its slot until his shit was wide open. When you pushed it off of him you took in a sight you’d seen plenty of times only now it was different.

You brought your hands to feel across his torso marveling at each defined ab muscle and each tattoo. When you intentionally rubbed against his beaded nipple you noted the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. How had you never noticed your effect on him? How had you never taken it seriously? Bringing your hands back to his waist you undid his pants. You brushed your palm against the protruding mass straining against his pants which made him shiver as he grunted.

“Oops.”

Lewis scoffed then licked his lips and that was all it took for him to claim back some of the control you possessed over this exchange.

“Of course, you’re a fucking tease.”

You innocently smiled. “I haven’t even begun to tease you.”

“I bet.”

Lewis snuck forward kissing you one peck at a time, over and over.

“Mm, can you take it?”

“Any other night my answer would be yes, hell in an hour my answer will be yes but right now--.”

He cupped your sex with on hand and the back of your neck with the other.

“Mmm.”

“Right now, I have no control left. I’ve remained in control around you for 10 years and right now I just want to let it all go. I want to bury myself so deep inside of you there is no mistake that we belong to each other bad timing or not. It’s you and me, Y/N.”

You groaned as his words only increased the wetness between your legs. You kissed him again, then you turned your back to him and swayed your body against him. Lewis dropped a kiss to your shoulder as his hand crept around to cup the underside of your breast. You leaned forward getting on all fours with your ass poking out to him.

“Undo me?”

He didn’t move for a few moments, and you waited for him to enjoy the view. When you felt his hand rub against your ass you dipped your back lower which only made your ass poke out more. Lewis trailed his hand along your spine that the backless gown proudly showed off. Then he went to your tailbone and lowered the zipper of the dress. Peeping over your shoulder, your eyes locked as you allowed the dress to fall away from your body.

His groan was low—primal. It was all you needed to hear to know he liked the strappy number you wore that was made of fine lace. You expected him to take his time but instead, you felt him peel off the garment leaving you completely naked before him for the first time ever.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N. So wet and so fucking perfect.”

You spread your legs further then stretched your arms over your head using your head to hold you up. As expected, Lewis flipped you onto your back making you giggle. You roamed your hands over your body, cupping your breasts then sliding them down your abdomen to your dripping core. The entire time, Lewis kept his eyes on every move you made while he pulled his pants and underwear off.

When he stood bare before you, your surprise could not be masked. You didn’t know what you’d expected in your late-night thoughts about what he was packing but you had no way of expecting this. Lewis gripped his length then slowly stroked it as he pressed a knee onto the mattress.

“Scared?”

You bit your bottom lip as you gawked at what the good lord blessed him with. It was unfair and completely intimidating.

“Now I see why everyone in the rotation was so happy being one of many.”

He snorted, bringing his other knee to the mattress between. Slowly he stalked closer like a predator with a deadly weapon in hand.

“There is no rotation anymore.”

“Oh yeah. The LH44 Harem has been disbanded?”

As he crept closer, you slid backward.

“You’re not funny.”

“So am I the first to usher in a new era—a new harem?”

Lewis grabbed your ankle then pulled you back to him making the backs of your thighs slam into the fronts of his. He then hovered over you before dropping an opened mouth kiss on your nipple. Sucking the peak into his mouth he sucked raising your back off of the bed.

“You’re in no harem. I told you, it’s you—and me,” he said nibbling your flesh.

Stared at him letting it all sink in. You brought your hand to his bearded cheek and rested it there.

“Are we really doing this? Like—for real?”

Lewis boxed your face in with his muscular arms and stared into your eyes. “I’ve told you where I stand, Y/N. I’ve told you everything that’s in here.”

He took your hand and placed it over the roaring lion etched on his skin keeping his hand over yours.

“It’s time you tell me what’s in here,” he finished placing his other hand over your left breast.

“You,” you whispered.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Before you could react or even respond Lewis thrust forward sending the tip of his hardness inside of you, stealing your breath, and every thought. A breathy gasp filled the air. Slowly he pushed forward, leisurely filling you giving you time to adjust to his size.

“Haaaa.”

Lewis kept his hand over your heart while holding yours over his as he filled you inch by tortuous inch never taking his eyes off yours. Your entire being was on fire like he was pouring molten lava inside of you with every inch he gave you.

“Oh fu—Lewis,” you panted.

From the way his jaw was clenched, and eyes focused intently on you, you could tell he was feeling everything you were.

“How are you so tight?”

Digging your nails into his chest you tightened your leg around his waist and as if that was his last straw, Lewis flicked his hips forward filling you completely and tearing a scream from both of your lips. Neither of you moved for several moments but with every second that passed by your body blazed. Bucking against him, you slid your hand up to his throat and then gripped it.

“I love you. Fuck me. Now!”

Those words would be your ruin because he did just that without mercy and complete recklessness. Your moans and whimpers melded together rising in decibel and power until the entire room shook with the power of your screams for one another. As he plowed inside of you he didn’t go slow, he followed his basal instincts that were imprinted in his DNA, a need to claim, and dominate.

You’d never felt so out of control in your life. No matter how he fucked you, you couldn’t get enough. No matter how deep he went you wanted him deeper. No matter how he called your name you wanted him to scream it. You wanted every fucking thing he had. You wanted to leave him in shambles. When he flipped you onto your stomach like you weighed nothing, he held your ass in the air and fucked you so thoroughly you’d lost track of how many times you came. It didn’t matter because you wanted more.

He must have been able to read your mind because there was no way he could tell what you needed this soon, you thought to yourself as he grabbed your wrists and pulled you back, so he had your upper body hovering above the mattress.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming Lewis! Ooh shiiiiiit!”

He took advantage of this new angle and circled his hips as he jackhammered into you, fucking you as you did something you’d never done before—squirted. You screamed from the force of your release, but Lewis didn’t stop, he fucked you through it then torpedoed you into another one that you knew would tear you apart. Racing for it, you slammed yourself back into him relishing the mix of pain and pleasure that only intensified when Lewis bit down on your shoulder.

“You got one more for me, darlin? Cum for me. Soak this dick, pretty girl, drench me so I can fill that pretty pussy up.”

“Aaah!”

You clenched around him as you lost yourself and fell off the cliff and into an endless pit of pleasure. You felt Lewis spasm inside of you before he cursed and shouted his release doing just what he promised. Filling your pretty pussy up.

When the two of you finally collapsed on the bed Lewis held you to him spooning you while still being nestled inside of you. Bit by bit you came back to your body and slowly your body went from violent shakes to subtle tremors and a hazy feeling washed over you. Lewis peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder nipping your skin every now and then.

“Mmm. Oh my god!”

He snorted. “You good?”

“Good? Am I good? Are you—at the risk of swelling your head even more than it already is that was--.”

“Was?”

You searched for the words but couldn’t find the right ones. “It was,” you settled on making him laugh as he held you tighter.

“Naw, I was alright, you—you were,” he said making you snort.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being for real for real. It’s a miracle I held on that long, you feel unbelievable, so good, too good. You—are!”

You giggled then moaned, sleepiness creeping up on you.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep, I’m nowhere near done with you.”

His manhood inside of you lurched nudging your g-spot and just like that your eyes snapped wide open.

“Watch yourself, I know your weakness now.”

“You?”

“Nope, this pussy.”

Lewis snorted then flipped you onto your stomach again. This time he straddled you as he slowly pulled out of you only to plunge right back in.

“Mmm.”

“Still so damn tight,” Lewis groaned.

“You’re welcome to try stretching me out.”

Lewis jerked his hips forward delivering a bruising thrust as punishment for your your sassy mouth. It was a thrust that took your breath and made you go cross-eyed.

“Mmm, yes!”

“Oh, aren’t you full of surprises. Pretty girl likes it rough and hard.”

He did it again and again, making you hit the bed each time as you buried your face in the sheet to muffle your screams.

“God yes, Lewis!”

“So fucking alike,” Lewis said before lowering his lips to your ear. “Remember I love you 'cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Not waiting for a reply he held your arms to the bed then delivered on his promise. Everyone else was number 2 compared to you being each other’s number 1. Nothing else mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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@majx00 @bbhyuneee @queenanababy @ravenqueen27 @multi-fandom5 @xsweetdellzx @bqueensweet @misswolff @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @blveeeeeee @majx00 @rowansshit @tian-monique @venusesworld @motheroffae

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #everyone else is no.2 one shot #black fanfiction

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pxperplxnets · 3 months ago

Text

tiktok edits

summary: kimi catches y/n scrolling through ship edits of them.

pairing: kimi antonelli x driver!reader

word count: 841

warnings: none

lowercase intended!

-------------------------------------------

being a prema driver didn’t only mean driving, it also meant dealing with the media. it is fun to do some of the challenges and entertain the fans, but it was extremely tiring.

also, prema had already caught on in how the fans loved to see kimi and y/n paired up. there were even edits and small fan fictions written about them, which everyone but them seemed to find extremely funny.

y/n and kimi sat on a couch, in front of them were two paper sheets and a telephone. he had to book a room in a hotel without saying basically any words that were related with what he was looking for and she had to order a pizza without saying the name of the majority of the ingredients. she couldn't even say the word pizza!

After they finished filming, they went their separate ways to fulfil their remaining duties of the day.

about a week later, y/n sat on the drivers trailer at the end of the day, waiting for everyone else so she could say goodbye and hopefully get a ride home when she received a message from hamda.

the girl’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she opened it. she had sent her a link. she went into it, expecting the worst.

she found herself watching an edit of herself and kimi on the latest prema video. the slowed down version of dandelions by ruth b was playing in the speaker as multiple clips of them laughing or even looking at each other played over and over.

y/n smiled softly, liking the video and leaving a comment on it so the creator would see it was seen by her.

not.y/n

not me being fine asf

>y/n.antonelli.editz

obviously

she replied with a single omg to hamdas text and went back to tik tok, going into the profile where she had seen the edit. a smile formed on her lips as she saw the various edits of her and her fellow driver. she scrolled aimlessly through them, liking a few and adding them to her favourites.

no one had to know her favourites tab was filled with them. the other drivers already made fun of her for the mere existence of those videos, now imagine what they would say if they knew she actually liked them.

of course, luck was not on her side. without her even noticing, none other than andrea kimi antonelli had walked into the room.

she was facing away from the door, and her short stature helped him peek over her shoulder. his face went red when she liked and saved a video that really clearly shipped them.

the boy backed away lightly and cleared his throat, getting her attention. he couldt supress the small smile that creeped into his lips when she turned on her phone rapidly, so obviously trying to hide something.

“oh, hi” she stuttered, immediately regretting even opening her mouth. “hi… what were you watching?” he asked, a smug smile making it clear that he had definitely seen what she was watching. “just some edits that the fans make, you know” she tried to play it cool. “thats cool, who was it of?” the smile remained on his face, and she knew what he was trying to play. “just me and you, you know how much they ship us.”

the girl regretted starting that sentence almost immediately after she started speaking, and he could notice that from the way her voice lost confidence mid sentence. “yeah, it's kinda cute” he gave her a small smile. he thought he would be extremely nervous if a situation like that ever placed itself between them, but he was abnormally calm. “it is?” she looked up at him faintly confused. “yeah, do you not think so?” his head tilted slightly to the side as he showed an innocent smile. “yeah, i guess” she agreed, not completely understanding what was happening.

he was enjoying how flustered she was, kimi had to admit.

“you live fairly close, right?” she nodded, not expecting the sudden change of subject. “i can walk you, if you want. ill just take an uber from there or something.” he offered. her face was red as a tomato by that point. “you don't have to do that…” he shook his head, dismissing her statement. “just give me a second to get my stuff and we’ll go” he smiled at her once again and gave her a quick wink before walking towards his space on the trailer.

y/n just stood there dumbfounded, her head still trying to process everything when he spoke again. “ready?” she nodded, starting to walk alongside him. as they got out of the tailer, sebastian and hamda were walking towards it. kimi waved at them casually and kept walking. y/n did the same, not without earning a confused look from sebas and an excited one from hamda.

is safe to safe that after that, kimi walked her home many many times.

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author's note;

REUPLOAD

#kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli #f4oneshots #f4 #prema racing #prema #premaoneshots #pxperplxnets

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kitkatscabinet · 1 year ago

Text

Lay all your love on me

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x f! Reader

Summary: You've been best friends with Kyle for years, but will a night of drinking and introducing you to his teammates change that?

word count: 1.2k

A/N: unedited, I kind of hate it but wanted to get it out before I start working on all the angst.

He’s holding a beer in one hand, eyes darting between where his phone lay on the table and the door of the pub. His left leg was bouncing in anticipation, drawing an odd glance from Price.

“Y’alright mate? Barely touched your beer.” Gaz almost didn’t hear him over the ambient background music.

“Hmm?” it took a few seconds for the words to register but when they did he finally tore his eyes from the door towards the table occupied with his teammates, only to find them all staring at him. It’s Soap that answers for him with a wicked smirk,

“He’s fine, just waiting for his lass to arrive.”

“She’s not my lass. She’s my best friend and she’s a little anxious to meet you all so you better behave“ he sent a stern glare their way, focusing especially on the grinning Scotsman who had his hands raised in surrender. Any wisecrack is cut short by an excited yell of his name.

He barely manages to turn and stand before he’s got an armful of you, infectious laughter already curbing his annoyance at Soap. It’s only when he realises that perhaps he’s been clutching you just a bit too long to classify as friendly does he pull away, eyes flickering over your face as if trying to memorise every minute detail after months of not seeing you in person.

You’re already blazing ahead however, eager to meet his teammates as you offer them that stunning smile of yours whilst making short work of introductions. By the time he’s returned from the bar with your favourite drink you’ve already slid into the booth next to Ghost, engaged in a passionate debate with Soap. You barely even throw Kyle a second glance apart from thanking him for your drink, before you’re sliding it across to Soap with a dead pan.

“Drink this. I guarantee that my cocktail is ten times tastier than your shitty tap beer.” Never one to back down from a challenge, Soap makes a show of taking a sip from the straw whilst dramatically rolling his eyes. Though the second the drink hits his tongue it becomes apparent that Soap’s enjoyed the taste, something you pick up on right away with a victorious laugh.

“You liiiiike it!” you tease, playfully smacking him on the arm before taking back your drink, “have fun drinking your shitty beer.” Kyle could do nothing but watch the interaction sourly, a light frown decorating his face. Were you flirting with Soap?

“You know, Kyle had me convinced you guys were scary, I had to have a few drinks before I got here to calm my nerves.” You smiled sheepishly as the boys laughed, “What! You made Simon sound like the fucking terminator or something!”

He should be relieved, but for some reason Kyle can only feel irritation at how well you were getting on with the boys, especially Soap. You’re supposed to be his best friend, so why had you sidled up next to his lieutenant, why were you laughing so much at Soap’s jokes? Did you think Soap was funnier than him?

A voice is suddenly projected through the space, stopping you mid-sentence and Gaz watches as delight fills your face.

“Karaoke! Oh my god Kyle you have to sing with me!” You’re already on your feet, tugging on his arm impatiently, apparently, you want to be the first performer of the night. A disappointed pout rests on your face as another girl beats you to the punch. He doesn’t want to upset you but Kyle knows he has not had anywhere near enough to drink to get up on a stage and sing for an entire pub, especially not his jeering teammates.

Watching as your face falls even further into devastation at his refusal he tries not to wince, promising to take you to a karaoke place next time the two of you go out.

“Awww, but I wanted to sing tonight. It’ll be fun!” As if sensing you were getting nowhere with him you suddenly turned to Soap, eyes bright once more and a question on your lips. You barely get the words out before Gaz is suddenly standing, taking your hand in his and leading you towards the stage. It isn’t until the previous ‘performer’ nears the end of her song that it truly sinks in what he’s done, but you had let out a delighted shriek at his acquiescence and he hadn’t liked the look on Soap’s face when you’d almost asked the Scotsman.

You’re an excited whirlwind of movement when it’s finally your turn, pulling him on stage by hand and shoving a mic in his face. He’s given no consideration over song choice and it’s clear to everyone watching that you are in charge. The music picks up and Kyle feels something akin to dread as he recognises the introduction of your favourite song. You’d made him sit through Mamma Mia enough times that he could sing the soundtrack in his sleep.

“I wasn’t jealous before we met, now every woman I see is a potential threat” You're smiling at him, moving close enough that he can smell your perfume as you grab his hand to twirl him. As the first verse nears its end Kyle struggles to pull his eyes from you, a lump building in his throat as his turn to sing draws nearer.

“It was like shooting a sitting duck, a little small talk a smile and baby I was stuck.” Somehow he managed to get through his verse without stuttering, shoulders loosening as he saw how much fun you were having. His eyes never once leave your face, the words falling from his mouth without the need for subtitles.

“Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.” As you continued to sing Kyle could almost allow himself to believe that you truly were singing to him. Everything that wasn’t you faded into obscurity, the crowd didn’t exist, nothing did outside of you. Blinding smile that’s focused entirely on him.

By the time the song ends Kyle is running on adrenaline and what could only be described as delusion filled confidence. As the last words fall from your lips and the crowd cheers, a particular Scottish voice ringing out above the others, Kyle finally lets himself move. Dropping the microphone he reaches out with both hands, one gently clutching your cheek and the other clasping the back of your neck as he closed the distance. You let out an adorably surprised squeak before your eyes fluttered close, lips curving into a giddy smile as you kissed him back.

The audience cheers grow even louder but neither of you care, even as you pull away. Resting his forehead against yours Kyle is at a loss for words, but you seemingly aren’t. “Is that why you’ve been glaring at Soap like he killed your puppy all night?” It takes a few seconds for your words to process but once they do Gaz lets out an incredulous squawk, only to be silenced by you leaning in to press your lips against his once more. His right hand briefly leaving the warmth of your cheek in order to flip off the jeers coming from the corner he knew his teammates to be located.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod mw x reader #x reader

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venusjaynie · 2 years ago

Text

wish you were sober

Pairing: College!Frat!Bucky x Fem!reader

summary: you've had a crush on your roommate, Bucky, for a while, and after rescuing him from a party while he's drunk for what feels like the 1000th time, you finally admit your feelings.

Content Warning: friends with feelings situation, sexual tension, strong language, pet-names (angel, baby etc.), alcoholism, drunk bucky, parties, angst, fluff, mentions of puking (no actual puking)

word count: 2k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"C'mon, Angel, please come with us?" Bucky asks, tugging on your arm. You roll your eyes, yet a playful smile toys at your lips.

"I said no, Buck. If you wanna go, then go. No one's stopping you. But I'm not going. I don't wanna deal with a tequila drunk Bucky Barnes all night." You tell him, gently removing your hand from his grip. His face falls immediately.

"I promise I won't get drunk this time. I swear I-" He's cut of by a loud laugh from Sam.

"Bullshit! You know as well as I do that you won't last 10 minutes before you're wasted, Barnes." Sam says. You agree.

"See Bucky, even Sam agrees. I'm tired. I'm not going, and that's final." You tell him, defiantly. "And don't you have that biology exam tomorrow?"

"I already studied for that! If you don't wanna come that's fine, but I swear I won't get drunk." Bucky remarks, a pointed look on his face.

"Even if I'm not there?" You ask.

"Even if you aren't there." You eye him suspiciously, but believe him nonetheless.

"Have fun, call me if you need me, yeah?" Bucky nods in response. He looks deflated, but bids you goodbye with a kiss on the cheek which absolutely does not make you blush, despite Sam's insistence that it in fact, does.

------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out, you not going to the party was not final. After a few hours of you watching TV in the living room of you apartment, Bucky calls you, begging you to come and pick him up.

30 minutes and 3 rounds of shots, which you did not participate in, later, you're taking care of an extremely drunk Bucky. He smiling stupidly at you and is babbling about nonsense, while you try to coax him into the car.

"You'll never guess what Wanda said to Sharon-" He cuts off his own sentence with drunken laughter.

"Bucky- just get in- Jesus Christ, would you sit down and put the seatbelt on, please?" You say as you shove him into the car, being mindful of his head.

"And then-" He, again, interrupts himself with giggles. "And then Sam- he spilled an entire bottle of vodka right down Sharon's shirt! It was so fucking funny, babe. You shoulda- You shoulda been there!" He spirals off into another giggling fit as you finally get him into the car and he lets you buckle his seatbelt. You close the passenger door with a sigh and walk to your side of the car, sitting down and starting the vehicle.

The car ride is mainly silent, save for Bucky's occasional giggling or whining about something that gone down at the party. You stay silent, keeping your eyes on the road, and even in his drunken state, Bucky can tell he's fucked up.

He thinks for a moment, not wanting to anger you any further and make the situation worse.

"Angel?" He asks, somewhat quietly. You nod. "Are you mad at me?" He almost whispers.

You don't say anything.

"You're mad." It's a statement, yet he poses it as a question. He sounds so sad, you almost feel bad for him.

"And you're drunk." You say.

"What?! No I'm not!" He replies.

You sigh, before asking, "How much did you drink tonight?"

"Uh- I did, like, 3 rounds of, uh, tequila shots. I did the keg challenge- you know the one from Stranger Things-" You cut him off with an unimpressed look. He chuckles nervously, but continues. "That's irrelevant. I had, maybe, 2 cups of Jack and coke..." He trails off as you stop at a red light and turn to face him.

You sigh. "You promised, James." His eyes widen at the use of his first name, and he immediately knows he fucked up.

"I know I did. M'sorry. I just got carried away... again." He sends a resentful look in your direction. You turn away from him. The lights turn green and you continue the car ride to your house.

After a while, Bucky speaks up. "I-uh- I don't feel so good." He says, swallowing, hard.

"There's a bottle of water in the glove compartment. James, if you puke in my car I'm never speaking to you again. If you need me to pull over, tell me. We are not having another Fulton Street incident." You tell him, deadly serious. He takes the water from the glove compartment and sips it. Thankfully, he doesn't puke in the car, and you soon turn into the car parking area back on campus, which luckily, is close to the frat house you share with the boys and Nat.

Bucky gets out first, and stumbles and trips his way over to the path leading up to the house. Sighing, you do the same, minus the stumbling and falling, and make your way over to him. As you arrive at the front door of the house, you pull the key from your pocket, and the little keychain picture of you and Bucky clinks on the metal of the door handle as you open it.

Once inside the house, Bucky immediately goes to the kitchen. You take off your coat and shoes at the door, and follow him.

He's getting another beer from the fridge.

"Bucky, what the hell are you doing?" You whisper-shout.

"I'm getting a beer." He says, loudly.

"Lower your voice. Everyone else is sleeping." You say, almost irritated.

"Sorry, Angel." He giggles. He opens the beer and moves to take a swig of it, but you're faster than him in his drunken state and you manage to take the beer from him before he can consume anymore alcohol. "Hey!"

"You need to go to sleep, c'mon." You take his hand and practically drag him to his room, reminding him to keep quiet as you walk past the other bedrooms. When you reach Bucky's room, you go in to help him get ready, but he simply flops onto the bed and attempts to pull you with him.

"No, James, you need to get changed." He groans, but sits up anyway. You help him out of his clothes, and into a pair of plaid pyjama pants, but he refuses to wear a shirt.

"Alright, no shirt. Go brush your teeth. I'm gonna go back to my room, 'kay? Night, Bucky." You make a move to leave, but he grabs your hand before you can get very far.

"Don't go. Stay here tonight." He gives you his best puppy dog eyes, which he knows you can't say no to, and you roll your eyes, but sit down on the bed anyway. He grins cheekily before getting up to brush his teeth, not letting go of your hand and consequently dragging you in there with him. "There's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet." He mumbles, his toothbrush still in his mouth, and you reach over to grab the one he's talking about. As you're brushing your teeth, you catch Bucky's eye in the mirror. He's already looking at you, and before you look away he winks at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. You can't help but laugh, and the faint tint of pink on your cheeks makes Bucky smirk and raise his eyebrows at you slightly. Even in his drunken state he notices those little things about you. He can't help it. He's infatuated by everything you do.

After brushing your teeth, you lightly pull at Bucky's arm to guide him to his bed, and he goes pliant at your touch. Before getting into bed, though, he goes to his wardrobe, albeit stumbling on his way, and pulls out one of his old jerseys for you.

"Here. You can't sleep in your clothes." You take it from him, thanking him, and you make a start to the bathroom until Bucky stops you. "Just change in here, angel. I think we've known each other long enough to get changed in the same room." He laughs as he says it, and you can't help but laugh too. You contemplate his offer for a moment, and then you remind yourself that he probably won't even remember this tomorrow morning, so you set the jersey on the bed and begin to undress yourself. You notice Bucky not-so-subtly watching you, so you clear your throat to get his attention.

"No peaking, pervy. Cover your eyes."

"Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist." He uses his hands to cover his eyes, and you continue to get changed, and soon enough you notice that he's looking through the gaps in his fingers, but you don't bother to tell him you can see him, too tired to deal with that shit at 2am. You do your best to ignore his watchful eyes, but you can't, however, ignore the quiet intake of breath that comes from his direction when you take your shirt off, exposing your bra clad chest. Not wanting to encourage his ogling, you quickly slip the jersey over your head.

"Alright, you can look now." You tell him, and he removes his hands from his face and pulls back the covers of the bed, and you climb in beside him. You've slept in the same bed before, so being this close to Bucky shouldn't feel weird, but as you settle down in the bed and he shuffles closer to you, the feeling of his breath fanning on your neck, and the arm that's somehow circled your waist and pulled you into him all in the span of 10 seconds has you feeling slightly overwhelmed. You've had a crush on Bucky since you moved in with him and the others, which was a year ago. So being this close to him has turned the butterflies in your stomach that you feel when you're around him into a zoo enclosure of elephants and zebras and giraffes, and they're all chasing each other and causing your insides to flip around all over the place. It's fucking annoying. You're pulled out of your thoughts by Bucky's voice breaking the silence in the room.

"Thanks for tonight. Sorry you have to deal with this." His words are quiet, and you don't really know how to respond, because frankly, as much as you may complain about having to deal with Bucky when he's drunk, part of you doesn't mind taking care of him when he's like this.

"Don't worry about it. I'm your friend, it's kind've my job."

"Correction: you're my best friend." You giggle and he doesn't say anything else for a while, and you've closed your eyes, ready to sleep by the time he pipes up again.

"Angel? Can I tell you something?" You crack open one eye as he moves away from your back and turns you over by the hip in the process.

"Sure."

"I think you're really fucking pretty." He whispers it, and his face is inches from yours, and blood rushes to your cheeks while the elephants, zebras and giraffes in your stomach to backflips off the walls.

"You, uh, you shouldn't say shit like that when you're plastered."

"I know. But drunk words are sober thoughts. Isn't that what you told me that time I told Maddie I didn't like her when I was drunk and then she got all pissed at me and I blamed it on the alcohol?" You nodded at his question. "I really like you. Like, really."

"I really like you, too, but I don't wanna do this when you're drunk, so we'll talk about it in the morning, yeah?"

"Alright. Alcohol doesn't change how I feel about you, though." You smile at him, and he tilts his head up and kisses your forehead. "Night, babe."

"Goodnight, Bucky." You turn around again and his arm wraps around your waist as it did before, and he pulls you flush against him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of Bucky's 8.30am alarm pulls you from your sleep. You slept well throughout the night, even though you ended up with a 6'2" hockey player lying half across you. When Bucky wakes up, though, he doesn't make a move to get off of you, and just makes his head more comfortable against your chest. You turn the lamp on beside his bed, and he groans, shutting his eyes even tighter and covering them with his arm, and you laugh at his actions.

"Don't laugh. I'm in pain." He says, dramatically.

"Oh, shut it. You're hung over. C'mon, lets get you some Tylenol and a coffee." He groans again as you try to sit up, and wraps both his arms around your waist to pull you back, and you're giggling at him again. "James, c'mon. It's 8.30. Your bio exam is in an hour and a half, and you need to be on campus in an hour to get signed in."

"Ugh, fine!" He rolls his eyes, but gets out of bed and goes to walk to the kitchen, and you stand up to follow him.

"Woah, don't get pissy with me. I'm not the one who thought it would be a good idea to get drunk the night before an exam."

"Shut up."

By the sounds of the conversation, it doesn't seem like Bucky remembers the confession he made last night, and you can't say you're surprised. The cuddling may have been an indicator that what he said was true, but the two of you have quite a touchy, almost flirtatious, friendship so it doesn't really confirm anything for you.

Bucky must notice that you seem lost in thought, and it's almost like he can read your mind.

"Hey, I remember what we talked about last night. We'll talk about it as soon as I get home, okay? Trust me, I wouldn't forget something like that." His words put you at ease slightly, and you nod, smiling. "And, for the record, I meant it. All of it."

You look up at him.

"Me too."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this has been in my drafts for like 6 months ngl but anyways here you go <3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes college au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #marvel #jayne writes #bucky barnes au

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lorre-verie · 2 years ago

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₊˚ʚ ᗢ. ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ ᴏʀ ᴅᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴛ. ᴛᴡᴏ ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

the unfortunate pair: ao’nung x fem! sully! reader

chapter summary: ao’nung is doing his best to hide his discomfort by someone else getting closer to you, and you’re hiding a couple of secrets yourself 🤭

warnings: cussing, jealousy, the teeniest TINIEST microscopic pinch of possessiveness ever (u can see it if u squint rlly hard)

word count: 3.9k

“I dare you to say one more thing about my swimming, you pompous ass,” you glared at Ao’nung as he moved through the water with obnoxious ease.

His self-satisfied smirk made you want to vomit. “Challenge accepted,” he cocked his head back to look down at you.

It had been 5 days since you fainted, enough time for you to recover and enough time for you and your family to get acquainted with how things worked around Awa’atlu.

Your family was definitely concerned, your father was on the brink of calling Norm here to check up on you, but you insisted it was a one time thing. After all, it was probably just because you spent so many sickening days on your ikran.

Today Tsireya, Rotxo, and the tall blue frog had taken you and your siblings swimming to get you guys accustomed to the water, but he just wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Your tiny weak tail can barely support your movement, your body is rigid, your hair is all messy,” he went on and on about things that weren’t even related to your swimming, and you were this close to choking him out in front of his sister.

You were all floating in the middle of a reef, Tsireya and Rotxo were helping your siblings swim faster while the blue frog was berating your every move because he didn’t have anything better to do.

As he kept going on about the most minuscule things in your appearance and habits, the corners of your lips turned up as you’d found a way to make him shut up, at least for a little while.

The only good thing about his unabating whining was that it went long enough for you to formulate a good response by the time he finished.

“Your fingers flail around like you’re trying to conjure up a magic spell while you swim,” and as he paused, you’d found your moment to strike.

“Wow, Ao’nung!” you batted your eyelashes, pretending to be appreciative.

“It sure sounds like you’ve been staring at me for a while now. Tell me again why you were paying such obsessively close attention to my every move?” your sweet smile concealed the way your eyes narrowed wickedly, watching him choke on his sentence.

“That’s, that’s not..” he tried to explain himself, but you swam away to your siblings triumphantly, finally having gotten him off your back for at least an hour or two.

“Having fun with your true love, sister?” Lo’ak chirped as you passed him in the water, his smile way too wide to be genuine.

You made a small gagging motion before Tsireya popped out in the water in front of him, and you heard her say softly, “Lo’ak? Did you get that?”

His brain malfunctioned, as he could only stammer out a “Yeah, yeah, I uhm, I got it.”

Your mouth curved into a cheeky smile that mirrored his. “I dunno, are you having fun with yours?” you dipped your head under the water to swim away, and as you did so you saw his submerged hand flip you off, causing your smile to grow wider.

Your twin brother was swimming laps on his own along the surface like a pro, and while he took a break you decided to surprise him. He stopped his motions, taking deep breaths with his back to you.

You snuck up to him carefully, trying to make it seem like you were simply one with the waves underneath the ocean.

“BOO!” you slammed your hands onto his back, and the most laughable, unexpectedly shrill shout came from his mouth.

“Y/N!” he scolded, his voice cracking. “That was,” you laughed in between your words, “That was awesome– Oh my gosh–”

He scowled at you, clearing his throat as he noticed the rest of his siblings and the metkayinans staring at him, also holding in their laughs.

“Bro, you scream like a girl!” Lo’ak yelled. “Yeah, and you like a girl!” Neteyam rolled his eyes, amused by the flush creeping up Lo’ak’s cheeks, him whipping around to see if Tsireya had caught onto that.

Neteyam sighed, looking at you who was still laughing lightly. “To what do I owe this surprise visit from my favourite sister?” he emphasised the word “favourite” as if he was being sarcastic (he totally wasn’t).

“Nothing much. Just wanted to know what you thought of our new home so far.” The words came off bitter on your tongue. You wanted to spit them out and wish them farewell, to never see them again.

He exhaled sharply, “Huh. Well, it’s alright. But I suspect you’re adjusting well, hm?” he gave you a smirk, looking at Ao’nung who was talking to Rotxo behind you.

You turned to look in his direction, observing the pompous ass frog (Ao’nung). Your eyebrows scrunched together, eyes peering at his more relaxed posture.

You could only see the side of his face from here, but it was enough to see the clear difference when he talked to you versus when he talked to literally almost anyone else.

His shoulders were square, posture straight, and he exuded a natural sort of confidence, and not the assface kind. He gestured with his hands while speaking, your own fingers twitching when it dawned on you much larger his hands were.

He maintained eye contact, listening attentively to what Rotxo had to say and nodding or smiling in response. He seemed genuinely interested in what his friend was saying, and your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to be able to talk to him in the same manner.

You gulped subconsciously before turning around, meeting eyes with a smirking Neteyam. “...He looks like a disfigured frog,” were the words you vomited out.

“Yeah, well you kinda have crushes on the strangest looking people.” he said with a teasing tone, an angry splash of water hitting him in the face right after.

“I do not have a crush on that idiot. He infuriates me!” you continued to vent to Neteyam about the frog’s condescending and foul behaviour the past few days, your frustration spilling out in a torrent of words. your brother only responding in satirical ‘mhm’s, ‘yeah’s, and ‘ok’s.

You were too invested in your ranting to feel the abnormal movement in the water, a small tap on your shoulder making your body freeze. You turned around and there he was, looking at you quizzically with a hint of a smirk on his face. Your brother (that skxawng) let out a low whistle before quickly disappearing into the water, leaving you all by your lonesome.

“I suppose you enjoy talking about me then, little forest imp?” he smugly crossed his arms, enjoying watching you try to regain your composure. “Just shut up,” you huffed before swimming away as fast and as far as your arms and legs could take you.

You had to admit that as annoying as he was, Ao’nung always being there to make fun of you served as good fun for the day. But then again, on days that would have been perfectly fine on their own, he was a little piece of shit.

Today was the day you would learn how to bond with and ride the ilu, something you and Kiri were both equally as excited about.

You stood next to her in the warm light of the day, the beautiful water engulfing your body waist-deep.

Your siblings were all standing (Tuk clutching onto Neteyam like her life depended on it) in a circle around Ao’nung who was clicking his tongue, summoning a few ilu to assist us for the day.

“If you want to live here,” he made it a point to glance at you before saying his next statement, “you have to ride.”

Kiri groaned next to you, and you turned your head confusedly, “What’s up?” She gave you an unsmiling look, something close to pity in her eyes. “It’s nothing, just don't worry about it,” she waved you off, averting her attention to one of the ilu that had caught her eye.

Tsireya tread through the water to stand next to her older brother, using her finger to count the amount of omaticayans and the metkayinans to assign us into pairs.

“Alright, I will decide the pairs if that is okay with all of you?” she looked towards everyone, each person giving her a little nod of agreement.

“Okay!” she smiled. “Neteyam can be with Ao’nung,” you saw Neteyam roll his eyes, Ao’nung turning to look at his sister with accusatory eyes. Tsireya pretended not to notice, simply

“Rotxo can be with Lo’ak,” who both seemed a little downcast at this (clearly they were expecting to be paired with someone else).

“I will help Kiri and Tuk…” Tsireya’s eyes fell on you. “And Y/N can be with Veyä.”

You tilted your head, the name unfamiliar to your ears. Who’s Veyä? I don’t see anyone else here, you thought to yourself as you looked at your twin, but his eyes didn’t meet yours, instead pointed behind you.

You felt a sudden rush of a strange type of warmth as someone's hand landed softly on your bare shoulder, your body tensing in response.

“I apologise, where are my manners?” a female voice sounded from beside you, removing her hand from your shoulder. As you set your gaze upon her, you felt a sudden flutter in your chest. The woman before you was undeniably beautiful, and you found yourself momentarily lost in her captivating features.

She was about Neteyam’s height, maybe a little shorter, and the smile on her face was cheshire-like. Short locks of dark curly hair fell in front of the right side of her face, the left side of her hair woven into tiny braids leading back into a tight ponytail.

“My name is Veyä Te Tiva Iyrr'ite,” she introduced herself, bowing her head slightly, yet her eyes never left yours. “I will help you with your ilu training,” she smiled. Your cheeks grew warm as you summoned the courage to introduce yourself to her.

“My name is Y/N te Suli Neytiri’ite,” as the words left your mouth, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle curve of her lips and the gentle sparkle in her eyes.

However, what you didn’t notice was that a few feet away, a certain disfigured frog tensed up as he watched your interaction with Veyä, his jaw clenching in place when she kissed the back of your hand.

“You know, brother, if you want to be paired with her, you could just say so,” Tsireya giggled from behind him, never seeing this side of her brother before. “No, it’s fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

Veyä clicked her tongue, summoning who you assumed to be the ilu she rode most often.

“Come, Y/N. There is so much I want to show you,” she extended a hand. You took it reluctantly, hoisting yourself up onto the ilu and sitting as comfortably as you could behind her.

She reached behind her back, taking your hands and guiding them around her slender waist. “You’re going to want to hang on tight for this,” she said, you being unable to respond because of the closeness. She took your silence as an ‘i’m ready.’ and you both took off into the sea, another ilu trailing closely behind.

“That was painful to watch, dude.” Lo’ak chimed in behind Ao’nung, slapping his back.

He turned around, eyes shooting daggers into Lo’ak’s soul. He merely shrugged and trudged away in the water, unfazed by the frog’s hostility.

“That’s it, just lean into it,” she offered gentle encouragement and reassurance, her hands pressing firmly on your back to fix your posture as you sat on the ilu. You relaxed under her expert guidance, feeling more confident with each passing moment.

“You got it. Now try going for a spin,” she clapped, an exuberant smile on her face.

You inhaled, here goes nothing. You urged the creature to go, and you took off into the water. Fighting the pressure of the water pushing against your body you leaned forward as Veyä instructed, and you felt the pressure flow around your head, making it much easier for you to see.

You took the time to admire the beauty of the underwater terrain before resurfacing, shaking the water out your hair. The urge to cough appeared in your chest, followed by a sharp pain as Veyä swam to you on her ilu.

You ducked your head behind the head of your ilu; out of her line of sight, coughing uncontrollably. You could taste the unmistakable metallic tang of blood when you closed your mouth, making your heart stop momentarily out of fear.

There was a small dissipating amount of your blood on the surface of the water, the redness contrasting greatly with the deep blue colour of the sea, the sight making your heart race.

“Y/N? Is something the matter?” Veyä asked you. You forced a thin lipped smile, shaking your head.

“No, I was just clearing my throat,” you swallowed, feeling the warm liquid disappear down your throat. Fear gnawed at your heart, but you dismissed it and started a casual conversation with Veyä, asking about what she liked to do in her free time.

The next day, during the point when it was always the hottest, Kiri led you to a little island where your brothers and the three amigos waited.

“Oh wow, how nice of you to finally join us, Y/N!” Lo’ak marvelled in mock surprise, squatting on the rough rocky floor. “We’ve been waiting for like an hour.”

Neteyam flicked his forehead, muttering something along the lines of “you seemed to really enjoy that hour, alone with your girlfriend” before Lo’ak hushed him quickly.

You gave an apologetic look to Tsireya and Rotxo. “Sorry, I was spending time with a friend and I lost track of time,” you said softly, Tsireya and Rotxo assuring you it was no big deal.

Ao’nung snorted next to them, whether he was annoyed or amused you couldn’t decipher. “Yeah right, a ‘friend’” he put his hands up in quotation marks, making you wonder where he learned that from (there were certainly no quotation marks in na’vi).

Anyhow, you gave him your best stfu glare before sitting down in the only vacant spot, which conveniently was right next to Ao’nung.

You felt the warmth of the rock on your legs as Tsireya started to explain how to best breathe, making you feel a little ridiculous as if you hadn’t even been born yet.

Nonetheless, you did as she said.

Inhale through the nose, inflate the stomach, hold, and let go.

“pfft,” the frog watched you, his eyes judging your every move. You took a deep breath in, a fiery flame lighting up in your abdomen as you remembered what Veyä had said to you previously that day.

You blow a breath out before tilting your head in his direction condescendingly. “Ao’nung,” you sigh, giving him a look of sympathy.

“I know that everything I do is captivating, but I’m not sure that I’m ready for a stalker just yet,” you smile sinisterly, watching his nonexistent eyebrows rise, your response unexpected.

The rest of the group ignored you both, either sighing, smiling brightly (Tsireya) or rolling their eyes, not wanting to get involved in your antics. “There they go again,” Neteyam huffed, crossing his arms.

“Captivating? That’s a really strange way to pronounce vomit-inducing,” he lifted his chin up, leaning back to allow his arms to support his upper body.

“Mmm okay, so what? I can’t breathe right or something?” you gave him an eye roll, straightening your back. “Your words, not mine, forest imp.”

“Then teach me, you intolerable shit piñata,” you said, the last words leaving your mouth in english.

Kiri and Lo’ak covered their mouths to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter, your older brother shaking his head but unable to stop the small smirk that crept up onto his face.

Tsireya and Rotxo shrugged, not really caring what you meant. But Ao’nung? Boy, was he dumbfounded.

“What?”

“I said, you’re an intolerable shit piñata.”

“...What is s- ..shi…shit?” he sputtered, struggling to make the word sound how you said it. “You should be more concerned about what a piñata is,” you smiled grimly, taking in a deep breath, imagining an Ao’nung shaped pinata filled with….you know.

“Tell me what it means, Y/N,” he urged you, the smallest hint of desperation in his voice. Your lips parted at hearing him call you your name for once. It was always forest imp or some other crude amalgamate of sloppily stuck together words.

“Well if you’re so desperate,” you turned your body towards him, a fake smile plastered on your face. “Teach me how to do this properly, and then I’ll tell you what it means.”

He paused as if to consider, before giving you a slight nod.

You readied yourself, taking in a deep breath and closing your eyes. The air flowed through your airway, resting in your lungs. “No,” you felt a warm hand press on your stomach, and your breath hitched.

His touch was gentle, yet firm, and the warmth of his palm seeped into your skin, spreading a comforting yet alien sensation throughout your body.

“Try again,” he said softly, the sound of his voice like this running a shiver down your spine. You tried not to make it obvious you were flustered, pursing your lips together.

You inhaled again, your shoulders rising with the inflation of your chest. His hands lifted up from your stomach, one of his fingers grazing your top before they landed on your shoulders.

“Don’t move your shoulders,” his voice was tender, a big difference from his usual sharp tone. “Try again, inflate the stomach and not the chest,” he instructed.

His hands felt like cushy pads on your shoulders, and you struggled to not melt into the strangely comfortable contact. You did as he instructed, feeling your stomach get bigger as you inhaled.

“Good, now hold it for as long as you can,” he said, his hands still on your shoulders for unexplainable reasons.

Neteyam and Lo’ak glowered at your position, the metkayinan boy staring deeply at your face as you kept your eyes shut. “Who does that guy think he is?” Lo’ak hissed silently.

“He’s getting so touchy with her all of a sudden. In front of us, too,” Neteyam agreed, though he had an inkling that Ao’nung knew they were imagining his sudden, violent death.

Kiri sat there unbothered, choosing not to pay any mind to you both and instead imagining the hundred other things she could be doing.

“Lo’ak, focus,” Tsireya clapped her hands in front of Lo’ak to get his attention. “Right, sorry,” he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, continuing with the breathing exercise.

You felt your lungs burning, finally exhaling to relieve the pain, your eyes adjusting to the light when you finally opened them. “That was….” Ao’nung paused, taking his hands off your shoulders.

They still felt warm.

“It was alright,” he said nonchalantly. “You need more practice though,” he stood up, walking to the shore of the tiny island, clicking to summon his ilu with you looking at him in confusion.

“Well? Are you going to come along or are you just going to stand there and look dumb?”

You quickly got up, hurrying to try and summon an ilu by making similar clicking noises, Ao’nung laughing at your attempt. An ilu got your point, in the end.

He took you to a spot closer to Awa’atlu, a shell in his hands as he floated in front of you in the water.

“I’m going to let this shell sink, and you’re going to take it from the bottom of the sea floor and bring it back up to me,” he explained.

You nodded, not thinking much of the activity. He smirked, dropping the shell into the sea with a plop!

“Okay, go fetch.”

Your eyes narrowed, realising that this wasn’t really an activity suited for two na’vi, but rather a na’vi and their 'companion'.

“You never wanted to help me did you?” you groaned, about to swim away from the assface. The sudden tug of your hand in his stopped you.

He gave you an eye roll. “This is a normal practice, calm down. Adults use it to train younger children. But in your case, you haven’t even been born yet,” he joked, amused by your scowl as you settled down, returning to your former position and shaking his hand off yours.

After submerging his head briefly in the water, he suggested, “On second thought, perhaps we should find a shallower area. This might be too deep for you.”

“I can do it,” you said confidently. You wanted to prove to him you were not to be underestimated.

“Are you sure? It's pretty far.” he says, the tiniest pinch of concern leaving his lips, but you were too focused on taking a deep breath in to notice. Without answering him, you dive into the water, the coolness enveloping you.

You search with your eyes for the shell, using your arms to propel you deeper into the water. And there it is, resting on the bottom of the sea floor, the purple shell glistening in all its glory, practically whispering into your ear for you to save it.

As you descended, you felt the pressure building in your ears, equalising it with a quick pinch of your nose. You made a grab for the purple shell, but as you got closer, you realised that it was just out of reach. You kicked your legs harshly against the water and reached out again, but your lungs started to burn, your vision blurring.

Despite your body's signals screaming at you to resurface, you fought to stay down, desperate to retrieve the shell. You tried again, grasping at empty water, your movements becoming sluggish and your arms feeling heavier by the second.

You felt your consciousness starting to fade, but you pushed on stubbornly, determined to succeed. Eventually, though, your body succumbed to the lack of air, and you passed out in the water, sinking to the bottom, the shell just out of reach.

“Where is she?” Ao’nung muttered to himself, deciding to submerge his head in the water again.

His eyes widened in a panic when he couldn’t see you swimming up to him and without a second thought, he dove down to find you. His eyes landed upon your unconscious body, and he quickly scooped you up in his arms, bringing you up to the surface.

BONUS (wonder what Veyä told reader that spurred her to continue her daily dose of insulting ao'nung instead of ignoring him?):

“Veyä, good morning. Was there a specific reason you called me over here?” you gave her a small smile, sitting on the sand next to her.

“Not really, just wanted to clear up something.” she chuckled a little, head turning to look at you. “Tsireya called me over yesterday to help you with the ilu because she said and I quote, ‘my brother needs to stop being a coward’”

Huh? Huh??????

“Wait so– The sudden intimacy and the kissing the back of my hand thing, that was to make Ao’nung feel jealous?” you asked her, shell shocked.

“Not really, I do that to almost every pretty girl I see,” she winked at you, taking pleasure in seeing your ears flush purple.

“He’s a lucky man, that one.” Veyä stood up, offering you her hand.

“What? We’re not together. We won’t ever be together. Ever. Yuck. I don’t know why everyone keeps thinking that,” you took her hand, pulling yourself up.

“Well then, you might be surprised by what Eywa has planned out for the two of you.”

P.S I’M EYWA

i wanted to get this out asap so i don’t lose my relevance 💔 and because i wanted to. thank u guys so much for all the love you showed part 1, i hope that this part is just as satisfactory 💗💗💗💗💗 i really did want to make Veyä a more rounded out character rather than just a temporary plot device, but i decided it wouldn’t mesh well with what i had planned for the rest of the story. I hope she made u giggle in your heart at the very least!

Taglist: @eywas-heir @elegantkidfansoul @yeosxxx @whoreforpomegranates @fanboyluvr @thecrazyswamp @shkudss @stvrligghtt @ratchetprime211 @dearstell @littlecrisisworld @itssomeonereading @goodiesinthecloset21 @ilovejakesullysdick @larkkyoris @opalescentblog @lovedbychoi @plzfeedmebread @holysaladapricothero

note: usernames in red are the ones I couldn't tag, so sorry 😭

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wonik1ss · 1 year ago

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My Gamer Girl — Hanni

pairing : non-idol!hanni x reader

song rec : boombox - laura marano

summary : hanni doesn’t seem to like you until she plays a game with you

“Are you fucking joshing me right now Hanni Pham”

“If you don’t take that whole sentence back I’m canceling this live”

“She’s literally the angel of twitch how could you not like her?”

“I never said I didn’t like her! You’re gonna get me cancelled Minji!”

“GOOD”

Right now Hanni Pham otherwise known as DannyPhantom was streaming with her bff Minji. They were playing a nice and slow Minecraft building challenge when someone in Hanni’s chat asked about Minji’s opinions on Y/n otherwise known as ‘Angelfacedbaby’.

Hanni scoffed and stupidly Minji asked why and Hanni answered. ‘Nothing she’s just a little to perky for me’.

“To late I already see the comments coming”

y/n’sbbygirl : I know your not talking

minjieatmeplease : oooo girl.. you best be jokin

phammyhanni : I think I’ve been… stabbed…

“Ok guys stop being dramatic!”

“For all Y/n stan’s I’ll end my stream here”. Just as Hanni was about to try to stop Minji she was gone. Hanni sighed and turned to her camera.

“Guess that’s the end of todays stream by phantoms…!”. As Hanni shut off her stream she sighed. What was the hype with this Y/n girl. She saw a few clips of her playing and she saw nothing interesting. She really was just was another faceless twitch streamer.

Later… As Hanni was scrolling through tiktok she got an insta message. Without reading it she tapped it and her eyes went wide.

angledfacesbaby : Hi! A lot of my fans have been asking us to collab. I totally understand if you don’t want to but I think it would be fun! Please dm me back if you think so too ^^

dannyphantom : Hi! That sounds great! Do you have a date in mind?

As Hanni turned off her phone she threw her head back. How did she go from basically trash talking the girl; to meeting her next saturday at six to play bed wars?

Hanni scanned her set up one more time before she started her stream and did her intro.

“Afternoon Phantoms! today we have a special guest!”

“Hi I’m Y/n!”

Oh fuck.. Why did you sound like a fucking angel. Hanni shook her head and cracked her knuckles trying to shake away the thought.

“Didn’t know we were going to war..”. You joked Hanni’s eyes went wide.

“What?”

“I heard you crack your knuckles”

“Your watching my stream?”

“Yup! I like you headset!”. Hanni started to blush. As you went on to talk to your fans Hanni opened up your stream. She.. was.. fucked. Hanni would never say this out loud but you looked ethereal. You had clear glasses on just like Hanni, your smile was faint but gorgeous, and your lips were too.. Did you always have your face cam on?

Hanni blinked twice before she looked at her screen to see the game was starting.

“Good luck!”

“You too!”

As the game went on it was safe to say Hanni was a simp for you. Hanni wasn’t just playing bad she was fucking horrid. In the first ten minutes you destroyed her bed and she just smiled? Anytime Minji even dared to say she was; going to Hanni’s island she would get shot with arrows. But you were an expectation?

Your laughs were like a drug to Hanni. She just wanted more, so she just played dumb. Her chat could tell seeing as they were flaming her from the start.

beatdeeznuts : oh mah gad she down bad

hanniator : STAND UP HANNI PHAM!

minjiscreams : I TOLD YOU BITCH

Hanni rolled her eyes at Minji’s comment; and as soon as she looked up the game was over and you had won. Hanni was shocked but smiling.

“Another round?”

“Nah I don’t wanna embarrass your infront of your fans again..”.Hanni bit her lip and smiled at her screen you taking over most of it. You both did your outro’s and then you FaceTimed Hanni.

“I hope your opinion of me changed”

“What..?”

“I saw your live.. I hope you like me now”

“Oh I definitely do”. You tilted your head at the girl as you giggled. The thing was Hanni wasn’t joking, she wanted to be your gamer girl. Your one and only gamer girl.

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop idol x reader #kpop imagines #kpopidol #kpop gg #kpop smau #kpop girls #reader x idol #reader insert #hanni pham #newjeans hanni #hanni x reader

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julianalvarez9 · 2 years ago

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meant to be / martin ødegaard

requested: yes

wc: 1.1k words

summary: you're an aspiring actress being interviewed by jimmy fallon at the tonight show. you can't possibly imagine where tonight would take you, though.

author's note: sooo my first request for martin 🥹 i'm was actually really excited to start writing for him, he's just the cutest little guy isn't he ☹️ hope you like it!!!

"so, y/n, how is it that you're married?" the interviewer asked, jokingly tone heard through his voice. "stop!" you giggle, repositioning yourself on the sofa to keep comfortable. you had done a lot of interviews over the past few months, but still being an aspiring actress, sometimes, the nerves got to you. especially on shows like the one you were at currently, where you knew that it was watched by millions.

you weren't mad at the topic being brought up, but you were surprised that he had done enough searching before interviewing you to find the video he was alluding to. the fact that you had married on a holiday with your family when you were just a kid was spilled by you as a joke, while filming a video of 2 lies and 1 truth with florence pugh, your co-star. ever since then, it had become almost a meme to try and find the kid your younger self fell in love with during the family vacation.

"your turn now!" your co-lead yells, excited about how her inevitable win. it had been fun until now, your chemistry clearly showing on camera, and you were quite entertained about the whole challenge. but being a deeply competitive person, you knew you had to win this round to even have a chance of taking the lead on the score. "okay so, this one's hard," you earned mischievously, before listing the options. "i went skydiving during the summer, i married young, or i have two older brothers," you sentenced, trying to keep your face hard as stone to avoid giving away what the truth was.

"you went skydiving!" florence assured, so sure about her answer that she was squealing, thinking she had won the round, and consequently, the game. "no! i'm actually afraid of heights," you laughed, and her face fell when she realized she had lost. "it's quite a tricky one, but i'm married," you laughed, and her eyes widened in surprise.

"not really married, though, that's why i said it was a tricky one," you laughed, and continued to explain. "one summer i went on a cruise with my family and fell in love with this one kid. we jokingly got married. i think my mom even has a picture!" you laughed, and florence furrowed her eyebrows immediately, pouting at your cheating. "yeah but you're not really married, dummy, that's cheating!".

"we have some news! your mom found the picture and she kindly sent it to us!".

your face turned bright red when the audience started cheering, and you turned around to see the picture showing in the screens behind you. two little boys were seen, holding hands under a tree. you didn't remember it clearly enough to recognise where you were, but you remember that the cruise had stopped once on the coast before returning back home, and you guessed that's where the picture was taken. "that's so embarrassing! i had never seen it" you commented truthfully. "i hope he doesn't recognize himself," you laughed while blushing, and tried to fan air into your face to make your cheeks calm down. the entire studio was cheering, and jimmy was pleased to see your reaction and how excited the whole crowd was about his discovery. "you didn't get to him yet?" he asked curiously, and you shaked your head in negative.

meanwhile, internet was going crazy about it. the search had started when you joked about it months ago, but now, with photographic evidence, it didn't took long until someone recognised who the little kid by your side was.

the interview was about to come to an end, but minutes before, jimmy clapped his hands excitedly. "we have a surprise for you, y/n!," he squealed, and the crowd let out a "oooh" in anticipation. "oh my god!" you exclaimed, while smiling widely, "i really like surprises". his eyes glinted mischievously, "well, we hope you like this one! we've found your husband with the internet's help!". the sound in the studio was deafening, cheers and screams filling your ears, but the only thought that you could form was a simple question. what? it couldn't be.

jimmy went on, this time, explaining to the camera and the viewers. "on the line is martin ødegaard, arsenal's captain, welcome!".

after what felt like too long, but probably, was only a couple of seconds, he answered a shy "hey", thick english accent lacing through his deep voice. "so, martin, is it really you?" the interviewer pushed, and you were glad that the focus had turned from you, because you still were in shock about it. you never even considered that the little five year old guy would ever find you, let alone, be someone in the public eye as you were. it seemed unreal, and you still were having problems believing it.

"i guess so," he laughs, and you are one hundred percent sure that you look like a tomato now, after hearing the beautiful sound heard through the line. "my mum always watches your show, and she told me she recognised me in the picture you showed earlier," he explained, and after jimmy showed the picture again, a few tweets were also shown on the screen; various fans pointing the similarity between the little kid in the photo and what you could guess was a picture of martin as a kid.

you were taken back to reality from watching the screen showing the tweets by his sweet voice alluding at you. "how's my wife doing? haven't seen her in so long," martin joked, and the whole crowd yelled in delight. you laughed, while trying to shake off the feelings erupting in your stomach after being called his wife. "it's been like 20 years, no?," you asked, already knowing the answer. "yeah, i think so".

you didn't want to think too much about it: you knew it was only a joke. but 20 years is too much time, and he could be actually married and with a family of his own. you shifted uncomfortably in your seat at the thought, and it was like the interviewer had read your mind. "martin, are you actually married? kids?".

"apart from y/n, no," he joked, and the public laughed. "i'm focusing on football currently," he pointed out, and a few pictures of him wearing a red jersey and celebrating appeared on the screen behind you. so he was really arsenal's captain, wasn't he? "that's great! y/n, do you like football?".

"yeah, my dad's actually a diehard arsenal fan," you said, matter of factly, remembering how your weekends went when you were a kid, seated at the sofa with your dad, while cheering on his favorite red team. it really seemed too good to be true. "you were really meant to be, weren't you?," quipped jimmy, buzzing at the thought of actually being a matchmaker between the two of you.

"i guess so," you smiled.

#football imagine #football x y/n #football x reader #football x you #martin ødegaard x reader #martin ødegaard x you #martin ødegaard imagine

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toska-writes · 2 years ago

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“Back into Place”

Summary: A quite night full of fun sparring and wrestling activities a certain commander comes to teach their young padawan a thing or two.

Pairing: Wolffe x g!n padawan reader (if You don’t know by now Platonic!!)

Warning: None really. Not proof read 100%. Massive big brother vibes I can’t-

Word count: 1680

Notes: clearly I’ve never wrestled before but it was really fun to write! It you want to suggest an idea or pairing please please please do!

“Oh come on don’t give up on me yet” Ahsoka loomed just over your head. Currently shoving your face into the training mat that desperately needed to be washed.

“I’m not out yet.” You breathed out, trying someway to loosen the torgutas grip around you.

You shuffled a little bit under her before trying to swing a leg around her own.

The clones watching cheered loudly, the high celling of the training room enhanced the noise even more.

Your brothers were different when you went against them previously. Sure they were bigger in size but knowing each of them well gave you hints of where to strike first.

Wrestling matches have become the hot topic for those who found downtime and a training mat.

Fives was tough enough- distracted easily with quick moves, sure he was fast but if you could anticipate his next move it went smoother. Comet was the wild card of the group, him being young you expected him to strike quickly but he was more calculated. The only way you got him down was the moves that he couldn’t register quick enough.

Ashoka was calm and closed off, nothing of what she did at the start of the match gave away what she planned. You couldn’t calculate or anticipate her next move, the force couldn’t even help you either.

She knew what she was doing, keeping you in the dark like that was how she got to you so quickly.

Another attempt you finally flipped from the awkward position on your side to your stomach.

She pushed up giving a gap between the two of you, this was the split second you need to flip once again and use your hip to extend into her.

She fell not expecting the new contact, you were on her in a second pinning her legs with your own and her chest with your hands.

Fives flew to the floor with the two of you getting a better look, clearly loving the action he was seeing.

Ahsoka squired from where she was pinned under you, for a moment you thought she’d break through once again but Rex called out to stop the match.

“Sorry Soka, Y/N got you in that one.” Rex held out a hand for the both of you to take and pulling you up.

You laughed at Ahsokas fake pout. “Hey I’m sure you’ll get me in the next one.”

“I’ll keep you to that.” She grabbed your shoulder, breaths coming in as deep as yours.

Boost gripped your free shoulder. “Commander I think we found you a new opponent, one of the men.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, it became a running joke in your battalion that beating you in a silly wrestling match was what they really trained for on Kamino. Sure some clones have but it’s always a fun challenge for all.

“Oh yea?” You questioned.

Before the soldier in front of you could get his second sentence out the training room doors opened.

“Somebody commed?” Wolffe questioned looking around the room. “This better be worth my time.”

You rolled your eyes at the man that entered, you could hear the light tone in his voice which made you relax a little.

“We just need someone to put the commander back into place.” Boost joked looking down at you slinging more of his weight into you.

You rolled your eyes again as a smiled grew on your own face.

“Is that so?” Wolffe smirked himself already unclipping the armor that hung off of him.

You didn’t want to say you were scared, but seeming Wolffe loom in front of you now you started to sweat.

You were too proud to back down now in front of all your friends, but in your head you already knew who you would bet on to win.

“You can skip this fight commander. If your not ready yet.” Wolffe quipped sizing you up from the other side of the mat.

“I think I’ll try my hand at it.” You stared right back at him, trying to do that death stare he always had when about to fight clankers, oh maker that was the face of nightmares

You looked over at Ahsoka as she stood next to Fives, clearly the man was betting on who would win. Ahsoka flashed you a quick shrug pretty much saying ‘yeah your on your own’

Rex’s hand came between you. He looked from one to the other. You saw Wolffe flash a cocky smile at you, trying any way he can to get under your skin.

Focus, you had to focus.

“Ready.” Rex announced “Set, Fight.” His arm flashed back to his side as he got out of the way.

Cheering ensued but all you focused on was Wolffe. What did you know about Wolffe. Calculated, strong, well trained, Tactical, scrappy, patient.

The first moment the two of you stared down the other, Wolffe hopped back and forth on his feet pretty much taunting you to make the first strike.

He knew you would, Wolffe fought beside you for too long to know that when facing an enemy it was easier for you to control the first move leading to controlling the out come of the fight.

He would never let that happen this time.

You lunge at him, the blacks that were draped over him weren’t the best fabric to try and grab onto. Your hands slipped from his torso while trying to get one of his legs out from under him.

Wolffe having no problem himself also went for your legs after you made the first contact. His grip was better than your own.

You stepped around his hands once, now on your knees. You swatted his hands away now once again putting your head down and lunging for him with any contact you could muster

Wolffe couldn’t blink before your were trying at him again. He knew you were fast but was still mildly surprised. The one mistake he did see though was your momentum.

He maneuvered to the side at the last posssible second trapping your upper body between his left arm and his own. He let out a gruff laugh trying to pin you into place.

You squirmed trying to break his iron hold but he, let’s face it was really strong. Your free hand wrapped around his back while you tried to extend your legs to get the commander onto his back.

Wolffe having the upper hand now and mapping all the possible moves you were most likely to try next took it upon himself to bring you to the ground himself.

You stayed on your back now still caught in his arms, you flipped once to your side so Rex couldn’t call the fight over yet.

You had to have another trick up your sleeve. What would Wolffe try next? Knowing him he’s trying to wait you out, until you tire yourself for him.

You froze for a second, without seeing his face his presence in the force wavered for a second in confusion.

“Giving up commander, I thought you were better than this.” His breath betrayed from his voice how this fight wore him. Even if it was the slightest difference.

You started to move again instantly, trying to take the surprise route. Before he knew what happened you were out of his grip now closing the gap between him and the floor for him.

You struggled for a second before pinning on of his arms down.

Cheers from the brothers all around you filled your ears, victory was so close maybes you could pull through.

Wolffe flashed a smirk at you bringing your attention back to him. “You know your masters told me.” He breathed. What was he on about.

You struggled trying to get him off his side. “That pride and lust for victory is something you need to watch.”

His distraction worked. In a moment you felt the ground go out from under you, soon met with the heavy weight of the trooper now really pinning you down.

You knew this is where he wanted you, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head and the plan he created for this flashed across him. It was hopeless now.

You squirmed for what felt like forever, the commander now toying with you. He gave another laugh.

Rex waved his hands in the air calling to stop the fight.

The weight was lifted off your chest as you sucked in the cold air above you.

Wolffe rolled to the side now sitting above you. Some of his brothers taping him on the shoulder.

“You had me worried there for a second cyare.” He taunted in an unusually light voice. You twisted from the spot on the ground to look at him.

“Oh sureeee.” You laughed “I’ll need a rematch ori’vod.” He pulled you up from the mat so you stood pressed against him.

He playfully put you into a headlock ruffling your hair. “Of course you do. We’ll see how that goes” The cares seemed to slip off of his face, just for a moment surrounded by his brothers and padawan he cared about a lot more than he wished to admit.

The spectators gathered around now. The chatter was light and sweet. “I lost a few credits to Jeese here but I thought you had it.” Ahsoka came beside you while still in the grasp of Wolffe.

“Glad to see who’s Jeese’s loyal too.” You joked flashing a smile at the trooper.

“Had to make the credits somehow.” He defended “I wouldn’t mind loosing a few credit to Soka here if it means you beating Wolffe.”

Wolffe let a deep laugh from beside you. “You both can keep dreaming.”

You rolled your eyes once again looking up at Wolffe, the once in a lifetime smile decorated his face. Maybe getting beaten into the floor wasn’t so bad if it made you vod look like that.

“Remind me to show you a few tricks tomorrow at training.” Wolffe said to you. “Maybe next time you’ll actually have a shot.”

You laughed squishing in closer to his side. Maybe next time you would.

#star wars clone wars #clone wars #the clone boys #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #commander wolffe #wolffe x reader #wolffe pack #wolffe x you #clone trooper wolffe #toska-writes #reader insert

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

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Hiii! Could you write a fic where Dipper challenges Wendy to a wrestling match, and loses miserably lol. While she’s sitting on him, he’s sore loser, so she tickles him to get him to shut up. If you could have her give him a raspberry or two, that would be great too! Ty!

It's been a hot second since I've written anything Gravity Falls. Kinda straying away from this fandom, I hope this doesn't suck! Enjoy!

Lee: Dipper

Ler: Wendy

Summary: After Dipper looses miserably in a wrestling match against Wendy, he decides to be a sore loser. Wendy teaches him some good sportsmanship.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

"C'mon Wendy, get off!"

Dipper shoves at his older friend, who's currently pinning his arms down on her bed. They had been watching a survival show, and he had bet Wendy that he could beat her in a wrestling match. Needless to say, he's five dollars poorer.

"Then quit acting like I cheated. I won, fair and square. Now say it." She smirked down at him, sitting on his waist and pinning his arms down with one hand.

She had known she would win, easiest five bucks ever. All he has to do is say the sentence. A simple 'You're stronger than me, oh great warrior', as agreed upon before they wrestled. But he wouldn't, the little snot.

"No, you so cheated! It's your bed, you probably knew an extra bouncy spot or something to throw me off!" He's honestly just grasping at straws. There was no heat behind anything he says, he was just being a bad sport on purpose.

Wendy, being the "responsible teen" she isn't, felt it was her job to fix that attitude. Adjusting her grip, she places a hand on his stomach, smirking. "Dude, I'm giving you one more chance. Say it or suffer the consequences."

Realization dawned on him in that moment. He *could* say the phrase. It would certainly be quicker. Then again, did he really want the fun to stop? And getting tickled isn't the worst consequence in the world...

"Make me, cheater!" A smile worked its way onto his face. He has an awful poker face. Wendy quickly realized what he wanted. If her friend wants to get the snot tickled out of him, who is she to say no?

She chuckles, shaking her head. "Fine. You asked for it, dude." Her fingers dig into his belly, scribbling across the sensitive skin. Squeaky, almost childish laughter poured from his mouth.

"W-Wehehehendy!" He squirmed and wriggled at the tickling. He may have wanted it, but that doesn't mean he has to act like it. He didn't make any real efforts to get away. He's enjoying this.

It's a pretty cute sight. Wendy quietly giggled along with him, his laughter contagious. "Wow, almost forgot how ticklish you are. It's kinda adorable."

Curious at what other kind of reaction she could get, she lifted his shirt. He squeaked as he felt the cool air of the room on his bare skin. He giggles in anticipation, eyeing her hands with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. That was gonna be bad.

She scratched around his belly button, occasionally dipping her finger inside to scratch at the ticklish interior. He squealed, twisting and turning as his laughter doubled. He tugged at his arms, trying to break her grip on his arms. He failed.

"NOHOHO! NOHOT THEHEHRE!" Wendy chuckled, getting an idea. Raspberries drive her little brother up the wall. She wondered how they'd work on Dipper. Only one way to find out...

Taking a deep breath, she blew a massive raspberry right on his belly button. Dipper shrieked, tossing his head back and bucking his hips. It was both horrible and amazing, though he couldn't tell you how. It just was.

"Wohow, man. You've got some good pipes, huh? Let's see what happens if I do this..." With an evil chuckle, she leaned down, giving him multiple raspberries in the same spot while her hand danced along his ribs.

Dipper lost his mind, squirming and bucking wildly. It was overwhelming in the best way. He couldn't think, save for "oh my gosh it tickles it tickles it TICKLES!" He just tossed his head back, unable to do anything other than laugh and squeal like a deranged piglet.

Soon, his laughter took on a wheezing edge, tears of mirth sliding down the sides of his eyes. Wendy took that as her sign to give him a break and tone it down.

"Woah, remember to breathe, man. Don't wanna kill you. Stan would make me finance the funeral, and I'm broke enough as is." She chuckled, rubbing his belly to try and dull the sensations. Dipper still giggled like a schoolgirl, trying and failing to regain his composure.

After a few seconds of giggling and soothing rubs, Dipper got ahold of himself. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back. "Jeez.. that was just cruel, Wendy."

She smirking, drumming her fingers on his belly. "Who said I was done? You still have something to tell me, sore loser." She began tickling him again, much slower than before. She slowly moved across his midsection, gently fluttering her fingers against his sides, belly, ribs and navel.

He giggled like crazy, groaning as he squirmed weakly. He was tired, and the tickling was wearing him down quickly. "F-fihihine! Yohohu're strohonger than mehehe, oh greheheheat waharriohohor!"

The second he finished the sentence, her fingers lifted off him. She released his arms, laying down beside him on the bed. He pulls his shirt back down, hugging his midsection.

"You're, like, adorkably ticklish. How are you still alive?" He just groaned, lightly kicking the teen. Wendy laughted, nudging him. She could tell he was tired, and that something calm would probably be best. "Hey dude, you maybe wanna watch a movie? It's a Saturday, and I've got nothing better to do."

"...yeah, sure. Wanna turn it on to the crappy horror movie channel?" Dipper turned to face her, a small smile and blush still on his face. She nodded, grabbing the remote and turning on the Geavify Falls Extra Scary Movies channel.

They spent the next few hours poking fun at the awful movies, Dipper passing out after the third film. All in all, ot a bad day for the duo.

#gravity falls tickle #lee!dipper #ticklish!dipper #ler!wendy #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #gf tickle #gf dipper #gf wendy #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #gravity falls

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happiness-of-the-pursuit · 11 months ago

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2023 Fic Round Up (Part 1: Fic List)

I have been tagged in about a million different round ups of sorts, so here's Part 1: A Comprehensive 2023 Fic List sorted by month posted (if a multichap, I listed it the first month it posted), featuring the major details and a single-sentence summary/quote (so a fun challenge for me).

I'll post Part 2: Favorite Quotes and Part 3: Channeling Nora Holleran to Bring You My AO3 Data over the next two days (for the data I want to wait til the last possible day).

Without further ado, here is my 2023 Fic List:

January:

Nothing, I was still a lurker.

February:

Prince Henry and FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz Answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions (T, 2.4K, YouTube Script Fic)

10 Things Alex Claremont-Diaz Can’t Live Without (T, 3K, YouTube Script Fic)

10 Things HRH Prince Henry Can’t Live Without (T, 2.5K, YouTube Script Fic)

March:

Prince Henry and FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz Take a Couples Quiz (T, 5K, YouTube Script Fic)

The Super Six Take a Lie Detector Test | Vanity Fair (M, 7K, YouTube Script Fic)

Baby's First Pride (E, 10K, WIP Multi-Chap)

Post-canon, canon-compliant (ignoring bonus chapter) look at the Super Six celebrating their first pride after the emails—I want to come back and finish this (I got interrupted by Life) but my writing has evolved a lot since March and I'm daunted by all the editing I'd have to do, lol

ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ COMMUNES WITH HIS ANCESTORS WHILE EATING SPICY WINGS | Hot Ones (T, 3K, YouTube Script Fic)

April-June

Trying to survive the end of the school year as a teacher before I left my job :)

July

PRINCE HENRY SENTENCES US TO THE DUNGEONS WHILE EATING SPICY WINGS | Hot Ones (M, 3K, YouTube Script Fic)

August

FirstPrince Sings Queen, Lil Nas X, and Taylor Swift in a Game of Song Association | ELLE (T, 2.5K, YouTube Script Fic)

Claremont 2008 (M, 26K, Complete Multi-Chap, Canon Divergence)

A world where Ellen gets elected in 2008 instead of 2016, and the friends-to-lovers path that puts Henry on. If you want to relive the early 2010s, enjoy epistolary fics, or want a glimpse of a world where Alex & Henry go to college together, you might like this.

September

How well you play...that's up to you (M, 4K, FirstPrince Week)

Grey's Anatomy-Inspired AU, where Alex & Henry are both surgical residents—currently a one-shot, but I plan on writing a multi-chap prequel for this at some point.

Keep this Love in a Photograph (T, 2.6K, FirstPrince Week)

Post-Canon: Henry finds Alex's old photo album and they take a stroll down memory lane.

The Starwand (T, 1.7K, FirstPrince Week)

Three vignettes from Alex's life (two featuring Henry) where a sparkler makes an appearance—both a kid fic of Alex and Alex with his kids.

Somebody Call 911 (M, 2.4K, FirstPrince Week)

College AU where Alex is sneaking around with Henry behind his roommate's back—until it all goes to shit.

October

Sets on the Beach (M, 4K, FirstPrince Week)

Crack Treated Seriously, Alex and Henry are on rival queer beach volleyball teams.

Water over Blood (G, 3K, FirstPrince Week)

Post-Canon 5+1 of five times Henry's niece loved Alex, and one time she loved Henry

L(ate) S(leepy) A(morous) T(exting) (M, 1K, FirstPrince Week)

Text-fic of a missing moment from the book, because I am convinced that Alex did, in fact, study for the LSAT (it's just more realistic if we're to believe he scored well enough to get into NYU)

November

Freaky Friday (I woke up in my enemy's body) (M, 9K, Halloween, Huh?)

Canon Divergence, Freaky Friday-Inspired Body Swap AU, Crack Treated Seriously: Between Cakegate and Alex's visit to London, the boys swap bodies and proceed to learn a lot about each other. And themselves.

December

Alex Claremont-Díaz Answers Your Questions | Actually Me |GQ (M, 2K, YouTube Script Fic)

Super Six and the Siren's Call (T, 111K Total, Posting Bi-weekly)

The Percy Jackson AU, co-written with @read-and-write- and @inexplicablymine. Quests and Greek References abound! Check out more @auntiepezzasupdates

(Dil)Do It Yourself (E, 16.7K, New Traditions Advent Calendar)

Alex attends a DIY Dildo Workshop for the holidays, where he meets Henry, who's helping to lead the workshop—and eventually, helps Alex in other ways. The tags will tell you all that you need to know.

Thanks to @rockyroadkylers @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @kiwiana-writes @welcometololaland and anyone else who tagged me that I missed! I was waiting to post all my fics for December before I did this :) Since I'm pretty late, I'll tag @ssmtskw @matherines @affectionatelyrs and an open tag to anyone who's made it this far and wants to do this!

#rwrb fanfic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb #fanfiction #rwrb fandom #fic list #year in review #happinessofthepursuit writes

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yeehawbvby · 3 months ago

Text

It should’ve been me. | Piers x OC Maxine*

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Max loses her virginity to Nessa, both due to their mutual yearn for intimacy, and in an attempt to wipe her feelings for Piers from her mind.

After hearing about it, Piers reminds her why he’s so hard to shake in the first place.

Author’s note: This is part of a series of one-shots! This one in particular does need context, so please read them in order here.

<- the link won’t stay for some reason and I’m doing this on mobile so I can’t seem to fix it rn. Please see my SWSH masterlist on my pinned post for the rest of this series. :’)

Give it some love on ao3!

Between Piers totally not telling Max that he loved her, and all of the times they’d sucked each other’s faces off since then, Max was beginning to feel hopeless. She needed a way to distract herself — to move on, to be able to still have her fun with him without the romantic feelings attached. Bonus points if her solution would get her to stop wishing they could just fuck nasty any time he merely looked at her a certain way.

That’s how Max found herself between her friend Nessa’s sheets (well, technically on Nessa’s fluffy living room rug) just a few weeks after her and Piers’ Halloween escapades.

Nessa was having troubles of her own, in a grueling will they-won’t they loop with Sonia. She had some experience, but none with women, and Max had no experience at all; so after a few hours of laughing, venting, and even flirting a little as the idea slowly crept into both of their minds, they decided to just go for it.

When Piers got the text that his roommate was staying out for the night, he thought nothing of it. It wouldn’t have been the first time she stayed at a friend’s place, and he’d known Nessa since they were kids in the gym challenge. He had nothing to worry about…

Until the next day, when Max plopped down cross-legged onto his bed and broke the news: “I lost my virginity last night.”

She held up a fist for him to bump, a smug and shit-eating smile painted on her face. It faltered when Piers didn’t return the gesture right away, instead staring at her slack-jawed in awe.

Noticing that, he kicked into autopilot, touching his knuckles to hers.

Say something, idiot. “Uh,“ he finally went on, “wow.”

Max snorted. “Not gonna lie, I thought there would be more fanfare than that.”

Stop being weird, “No, I’m just— Nessa, huh?” Max nodded too enthusiastically for his liking. “So are you two like…”

She raised her eyebrows slightly, then shook her head when she caught his drift. “She needed a distraction from some romantic squabbles,” so did I, “and I was kinda curious,” at least that’s not a lie, “so we figured we’d try it out. For funsies.”

Slowly nodding, Piers zoned out on Max’s shoulder for a moment. Then, feeling hopeful that sex with Nessa wasn’t all it was cracked up to be for her, he asked, “So. How was it?” He wiggled his thick brows, trying to play it cool as he leaned back on his palms.

Max covered the lower half of her face with her sweater, swaying side-to-side to stim a little while she thought up an answer.

While she still had feelings for Piers, the previous evening’s romp had done exactly what she needed it to do; now her mind was split between him and Nessa, with Nessa taking precedence.

Her brain flickered back to her friend’s slim and toned body, her expressive eyebrows, her dark and hungry gaze. The silkiness of her skin, the softness of her lips, her tangy-sweet taste, her blissful sounds…

And of course, the way Nessa very kindly popped a few of her press-on nails off, so as to not hurt Max when she tended to her in return.

“And they say chivalry’s dead,” Max had jested just before Nessa slipped a finger inside her.

Max punctuated the sentence with a shy moan, and Nessa was so mesmerized by the idea of making a woman produce that noise that she couldn’t find a witty response to quip back. It was entirely out of character, but Max was too zooted off of her touch to notice or care.

After receiving a second finger, Max’s back arched and she compulsively threaded a palm through Nessa’s hair, unsure of where else to grip onto. The carpet wasn’t enough.

“Hoooly shit,” the gym leader whispered, resting her cheek against Max’s thigh. Watching her with those bright, oceanic eyes; her plump lips forming into a gentle smile before she gave up all restraint, parting them against Max’s slit to allow room for a languid, world-shattering stroke of her tongue…

Max took a deep breath, grounding herself in the present. Couldn’t get stuck daydreaming — at least, not now.

“It was really nice,” she settled, hiding herself further to cover her warm cheeks.

Shit, Piers thought to himself. He was happy that Max was happy, but there was a dense pit in his stomach telling him that her response was the worst thing that could’ve come out of her mouth.

That it should’ve been him making her blush and fluster like this.

So he did what he does best: he performed a little. Hammed up the good vibes to avoid a situation in which he was acting so strange or looked so solemn that Max noticed, or worse, asked him about it.

“Aw,” he cooed, teasingly, “don’t tell me you caught feelings from a one night stand.” Please say no…

Max rolled her eyes, smiling. She dropped her collar in favor of meekly shoving his shoulder as she responded, “No way! I’m just…” she paused, then thought aloud, “What’s the pussy version of ‘dicknotized?’” She giggled mid-sentence, realizing how dumb that sounded.

Piers joined in, his nose scrunching. At least her silliness could distract him from the emotional ache. “Fuck if I know,” he mumbled. “Pussytized, I guess?”

“Coochietized!”

“Nooo,” he feigned disappointment, pointing a finger as if scolding a pokemon for being naughty.

Max was quick to lunge at the digit and lightly chomp down, playing along. Unfortunately, Piers’ maybe probably perverted ass could only wonder what it would feel like if she’d sucked on it instead.

He then thought to himself that maybe he should take a page out of her book and go get laid. Or would it be Nessa’s book, since she was the one — as far as he knew — looking for a distraction..?

Whatever.

As he wiped his recently bitten finger against Max’s sleeved arm, he chuckled, “Alright, weirdo.” He picked up the notebook and pen beside him and nodded at her, “Get outta here, I have work to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumped, a knee cracking as she untangled her legs and got up. “Ough,” she reacted under her breath, rubbing her kneecap.

Piers snorted and called her a grandma; before he could even finish the word, Max was already telling him to can it.

When she got to the door, she bid her farewell with a simple “Later.”

Her roommate grunted back, his focus plastered to the empty page in his lap. He didn’t actually have work to do, at least not for now, but maybe he’d do it anyway. He just needed to ignore that their whole conversation happened, and then he’d be fine, yeah?

He sighed, laying back with his head and mane draped off the side of the mattress. Pressed the notebook to his forehead and shut his eyes. Tried to the best of his ability to avoid thinking about his love and one of his closest friends having sex... Opened his eyes with an annoyed growl when he inevitably failed because he was trying so hard to not let it happen.

He couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for Nessa in particular, getting to have such intimacy with the person who he thought was the cutest girl in the fucking world.

It should’ve been me, Piers thought a second time.

He sat back up and began chewing his pen’s cap. He wanted to know what it felt like for both of them, actually — not because of Nessa, though. Sure, she was objectively stunning, but he was more so curious about what it was like to experience all of that with someone else. To get off without doing the work himself. To feel and kiss and taste someone’s bare skin, and get that in return…

God fucking damnit, he thought again, It really should’ve been me.

Piers spent several hours pacing, changing positions on his bed, aimlessly strumming his guitar, and staring blankly at the walls and ceiling of his room.

Nothing he could do would distract him from the matter at hand. He didn’t want to play games or watch TV, didn’t feel like going outside, and couldn’t focus on reading. Didn’t have anyone to confide in, since he hadn’t told anyone about his love for his friend. He refused to.

Somewhere amidst his wallowing, Piers discovered that — in a dark, hidden corner of his mind — his jealousy morphed into possessiveness.

Max wasn’t his, by any means. She was her own person. She could do what she wanted — who she wanted.

But in a weird way, he felt like she was his. They were each other’s best friends, first kisses, first awkward make outs and teeth-bumps and dry humps. He was her first everything…

Well, except for this. And that sucked.

Piers wanted to remind her of that. Give her a quick jumpstart, a little razzle dazzle. Like a “Hey, don’t forget about me” sorta thing.

The more he thought this way, the stupider he felt. But the heart wants what it wants, or whatever, and Arc’s sake he wanted her with every ounce of his being, so fuck logic.

Some faint lip popping sounds and even fainter footsteps nearby indicated that Max had left her room. The well-rounded trainer had a ghost-type preference, but she might as well have been a ghost herself; her consistent tiptoeing made those creaky old Spikemuth floorboards sound like they’d barely been worn in.

Piers let a few beats pass before getting up to follow his friend, meeting her in the kitchen when he realized she wasn’t going out. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish, but he got through a lot of life by winging it, so there he was.

Max grunted and nodded once in greeting as she grabbed various greens from the fridge, placing them next to her recently retrieved mozzarella, balsamic vinegar, and loaf of bread. Her long tresses were loose and tangled behind her, her tall and fuzzy socks fell uneven on her legs, and she seemed groggy. She must’ve been napping peacefully while Piers all but lost his mind over her just a room away.

Rather than continuing to scrutinize Max, he made himself look busy with the electric kettle.

Maybe that would be a good thing, actually; maybe some tea would calm him the fuck down…

He turned on the kettle.

“Yo,” he finally mumbled, perusing their tea bags. As if he had much of a choice in his selection. They only kept black and green around.

Max began assembling her snack, unceremoniously dropping two slices of bread down onto her plate before twist-tying the loaf’s plastic casing shut.

“So, uh,” her friend muttered as she changed tasks and he finally began to prepare a mug, “if I kissed you right now, would you be opposed to it?”

Max almost dropped the bag of spinach in her hands. When she chanced a peek at Piers, eyes wide and lips parted.

Her whole plan was to move on from him, but as soon as she heard those words, her stomach tumbled and her skin tingled and she felt flustered and frazzled and more than anything she felt so eager.

Because of that reaction, she took a few short moments to answer. Obviously, she wouldn’t have been opposed… but was that a good idea, now that she has some semblance of freedom from her deep-seeded affections?

While avoidance seemed to be the wisest play here, Max realized she probably couldn’t live without feeling Piers’ lips on hers every so often. She wasn’t sure how it would work when one of them eventually had an exclusive romantic partner, but they’d both cross that road when they got there.

So she spoke, “No,” averting her gaze so as to not give too many hints as to what was going through her mind.

Piers simply hummed a response. “Hm.” No elaboration, no quips back, nothing.

After taking the chance to observe him again — he was acting so weird, maybe something about his songwriting today was frustrating him? — Max decided she wanted some tea as well. Hot tea wasn’t a wonderful pairing for her cold sandwich though…

She opened the fridge back up and grabbed an unfinished bottle of sweet tea that she’d bought from a Pokemart the other day. After a few swigs, she was reminded why she’d never finished it. She chanced a new brand since they had been out of the one she regulared, but it was almost acrid, with more of a chemically sweet flavor than a sugary, tea-like one.

Amidst her sipping, she thought to herself that maybe Piers seemed off because he felt lonely, and maybe he was jealous that she got to pop her cherry and he didn’t… then she thought, Does that metaphor work for penis-havers?

Or maybe, she swiftly moved on, he was worried that she wouldn’t want to kiss him again after having slept with Nessa. Maybe he was just as reluctant for their unspoken contract to be rendered null as she was.

Maybe it was both.

Max screwed the cap back on that wretched bottle and popped it back in the fridge, wondering if Piers needed some reassurance. Maybe that’s what this was?

Amidst her attempt to bump the door shut with her hip, and before she could offer Piers the words she wanted to say, she was swiveled around by two large hands, too dumbfounded to speak while her bum and back closed the appliance.

Before she could question anything, Piers’ mouth was crashing into hers with a mind-numbing kiss; and before Max could wonder why he crouched to match her height rather than just bending his neck to meet her halfway, he scooped his palms behind her thighs and lifted her, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck and legs around his hips for stability while she grew airborne.

The breath left her lungs with a hushed whine as Piers pressed himself to her, effectively pinning her to the fridge.

Nessa no longer existed.

All Max knew in that moment was the silkiness of Piers’ skin and the softness of Piers’ lips and his lithe body which had so much hidden strength, and—

Piers breathed audibly almost a hum before pausing, letting his parted lips linger against Max’s own with a featherlight touch. After a moment of shifting their mouths and heaving each other’s air, Max grew greedy, craning her neck forward to take what she wanted.

He widened the gap with a smirk, then faked her out, leaning in to lightly lick her bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth. Hearing the pitiful gasp that jolted past Max’s tongue, and ignoring how the sound made his heart sing, Piers kissed her again, hard and frantic.

Max sighed wistfully through her nose as she returned the gesture. She subconsciously tightened her thighs around Piers’ waist while her fists gripped strands of his bicolored hair close to his nape.

Confident she wouldn’t slip with her legs all but digging holes into his sides, Piers let his right hand move up; shifting Max’s sweater in its path, peppering gooserene bumps along her skin as his nails grazed it. Feeling how her body reacted to his touch, a thought invaded Piers’ mind.

He boldly felt the impulse to vocalize it.

“Did Nessa do this to you?”

The question went straight to Max’s pussy.

“What?” she breathed — almost moaned. Almost.

“She kiss you like this?” Piers murmured against her lips, wrapping his bare arm around her bare lower back. “Make your skin prickle like this?” he added, squeezing her opposite oblique in his fist.

Max’s back instinctively arched, both from the feeling and his words. Eyes glazed over with want, she kept her vision on the lower half of his face, too cowardly to look him in the eye.

Her cheeks and ears were growing redder, Piers observed. Natural, considering how personal those questions were, he thought.

Surely it had nothing to do with him asking them, his voice husky and low in a way that melted Max into a puddle. Never.

Max shook her head slowly. Nobody could hold a candle to Piers. Her body had never reacted so strongly to another person as it had to him. Maybe it never would.

In that moment, she was convinced it definitely never would.

“Good,” he whispered, resuming his kisses with the corners of his lips quirked up.

Why is that good? Max wondered. Why did it matter?

Was he just being a little shit? Was he teasing her?

Tangling his tongue around hers, Piers shifted his hips — whether it was on purpose or not was a mystery — and his crotch pressed hers in such a way that she had to swallow back a moan.

It didn’t matter why he thought that was a good thing, she decided. He could have thought anything he wanted as long as he didn’t ever stop whatever this was.

Part of her wondered correctly if he’d felt a sense of competition with Nessa now. Like they were competing for Max’s body, in one way or another.

The thought itself formed a whimper in Max’s throat, and unbeknownst to Piers, she was legitimately seconds away from throwing their pact out the window.

Like, she was going to do it.

She was going to ask him if he was jealous. If he felt like he needed to prove something, if that’s why his answer was just “Good.”

She was going to ask Piers if he wanted to try to one-up Nessa, if he would do the honors of blowing her fucking mind, body and soul. If she could compare them, erm, for science, or something.

But when she parted her lips to speak, Piers eased her down, gave her one last peck, and fucking thanked her.

“Thanks, bruv,” he smiled as he scruffed her hair.

The questions died in her throat.

Dumbly, Max stood against the fridge trying to gather her bearings.

Feeling much better now that all of that was out of his system, Piers poured the boiled water into his mug and walked off, jostling the green tea bag so as to help the flavor distribute.

Max eyeballed her unmade sandwich. Her head was spinning. She wasn’t hungry anymore, but maybe food would distract her from the absolute monsoon between her legs…

She heard Marnie’s little footsteps pad down the hallway and towards her. She needed to focus, lest the little lady ask her why she’s being weird.

So, with a sigh, Max resumed, praying to Arceus she wouldn’t chop a finger off while daydreaming about what could have been.

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nthee · 2 years ago

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love triangles [1]

summary: what happens when two people fall for you at the same time? rivalry, that's what. even the closest of friendships and relationships aren't safe from it.

characters: floyd and jade, riddle and ace

general notes: no gender mentioned (refers to mc as "you" and "prefect"), rivalry, jealousy, a bit of self-deprication in the first part of this post (one sentence only)

author's note: very much inspired by @/kaiijo but i wanted to see some of my own pairings here so i can also get rid of writer's block. i could only do two pairs for now but i have plans on doing the other characters aswell! (please like and reblog, i appreciate it so much <333)

floyd leech vs jade leech

“Page 172, I believe.” Jade quickly scans on his own textbook, nodding when he confirmed it.

You grimaced, sighing as you looked back at your own textbook. “Sorry, Jade. I'm probably weighing you down with this help you're offering.”

“It's no problem, Prefect. I insisted, afterall.”

“Does this come with a price?” you questioned with a laugh, tapping the end of your pencil to your chin rhythmically.

He shook his head. “No. Not this time. My service comes for free.”

Jade scoots over to you afterward with his book in hand. He tucks the dark, stray hair he has behind his ear. “Now, let's start ov—”

“Ah~? Shrimpy! Oh, and Jade!”

Well, twins always find their ways back together... even if the other grimaces at the idea, especially during moments like these.

Floyd makes himself at home beside you, slamming his textbook in a haphazardly manner. “Watcha doin’?” he leans over to check out you and Jade's textbooks.

Jade cleared his throat, doing the same. At that moment, you could only yell in your head about personal space, as the twins pressed harder against your sides. “Well, Floyd, I believe we're... busy, at the moment.”

“Aw, that's no fun, Jade,” he replied, though by now you noticed the... dangerous gleam in their eyes as they spoke to each other, along with the venom in their tones and voices. “Professor Beakfish told me to find some people I can study with. That's fine with you if I join in on this study session, right~?”

It's crazy to believe; Floyd and Jade are almost polar opposites when it comes to personality. But the way Jade sneered and didn't hide his feelings on the matter? It made sense that they're not as different as everyone thought.

Though, that face seemed to mist away as it was replaced with a smile instead. “Of course, Floyd.”

“Ah, you're so kind Jade!” Floyd clapped his hands together, earning some glances from the other students in the library. “I'll be working with Shrimpy and my twin~” he recited in a sing-song manner.

Gulping, you realized just how much hazard this group session was doomed to have.

riddle rosehearts vs ace trappola

You don't have the most keen instincts of course, but you would still notice little things here and there.

And what you've noticed is the Housewarden of Heartslabyul trying to win you over, and his freshman member actively doing the same but failing; Miserably.

Riddle would be a lot moodier when around Ace, that much anyone would know (and everyone pressumed it was normal because well, it's Ace). But only a few would know why.

“Woah! You actually baked one?” you exclaimed, carefully holding the plate of strawberry tart in your palms. You rotated it around, inspecting every little detail.

“Yes, I followed the recipe exactly as Trey gave it.” Riddle sighs a bit. “It was a challenge, but I can reassure you this tart won't taste like the tart I made back then.”

You shiver slightly at the thought of his oyster sauce-tart mishap. “Well, thank you for the tart, and for err... following the recipe, Riddle,” you lift the fork up from the side of the plate, glancing over at him. “Come on, let's eat it together.”

“There's no need, Prefect!”

Another voice was heard, and you see Riddle take a deep breath with a menacing look on his face.

Ace walks over with a plate of, you guessed it, tarts. “Hey, isn't this a coincidence... I made tart too so you don't have to share!”

He urges the plate towards his Housewarden, who glares at him. Still, Ace remains smiling, quietly insisting on taking the plate.

Riddle lets out a sigh in defeat, taking the plate. “You didn't have to, Ace.” he says with gritted teeth.

“Oh, but it's no biggie, housewarden.”

You blink several times, gaze switching back and forth between the two.

“Go ahead, you two eat!” Ace looks over at you and silently waves, walking away afterwards.

“Troublesome, he is,” Riddle commented, already a fork in his hand as he brought the tart to his mouth to taste.

Was it spicy or was he getting red from anger? You couldn't have known as Riddle tried to swallow the bite of tart down. I guess that was respectful, but honestly, you'd rather him spit it out instead of him dealing with it; it looked like it was a terrible tasting tart with that reaction.

“THAT MEDDLER!”

You already knew: Ace deliberately made the tart ugly tasting. He could be laughing to himself by now, hiding.

You sighed, now left alone as the red-haired boy stomped away, yelling at his students to find Ace.

Oh well. You eat the tart Riddle made you. “Riddle! Excellent tart by the way!”

He glances towards you for a moment, face softening and cheeks flushed. “I'm... glad.”

And there he goes back into his search for Ace.

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#twisted wonderland #twst #twstnexus #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twst headcanons #twst imagines #floyd leech #jade leech #riddle rosehearts #ace trappola #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #cw: rivalry #cw: jealousy #⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡ | by nthee.

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chicgeekgirl89 · 1 year ago

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Fandom: 911 Lone Star Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Iris Blake, Nancy Gillian, Tommy Vega, Judd Ryder, Marjan Marwani, Paul Strickland, Mateo Chavez Summary: When the crew of the super yacht Firebug finds themselves in need of a new chef, stew Iris Blake is quick to provide them with a solution: her ex, Carlos Reyes. Second stew T.K. Strand is prepared to share his cabin with their new chef, but he is not prepared for how quickly Carlos Reyes heats things up in the galley. Will their boatmance set sail? Or will it sink to the bottom of the Caribbean Sea? A/N: I have loved Below Deck in all its iterations since the day it first aired, so as I was thinking about a fun summer fic, a yachting au came to mind. This is my first (technically, sort of, mostly *cough cough*) au, and it was a HUGE challenge. I'm not sure I've gotten every detail of yachting life correct, but hopefully it's close enough for a good time! Read on AO3

Chapter 1: On Top

“T.K., T.K. Nancy. What is your location?”

“Busted,” Mateo says from where he’s laid out, one arm thrown up over his eyes to block out the sun.

“What do you mean busted? My shit is cleaned and polished and ready for charter,” T.K. says, kicking him in the leg. “You’re the one who’s slacking off.”

He reaches for his radio without getting up from his reclined position in his lounger. “Nancy, Nancy, T.K. I’m on the sundeck.”

“Copy that. On my way.”

“You’d better leave before she gets here,” T.K. tells him. “She’ll rat you out to Judd.”

“Nah,” Mateo says, wiggling a little bit so he’s more comfortable. “I think she likes me.”

T.K. wrinkles his nose. “Doesn’t she have a girlfriend at home?”

“Maybe.” Mateo shrugs. “But the heart wants what it wants. And what happens on charter stays on charter.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” T.K. tells him. “Please don’t go having a boatmance with my chief stew. That’s going to make things all kinds of awkward when she dumps your ass.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna be dumping my ass,” Mateo says, clearly offended. “She’s gonna get one taste of the Chavez and—“

“I would’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Nancy says as she strides onto the sundeck, clipboard in hand.

“Hey Nance,” Mateo says, trying to cover up how flustered he is.

“I just passed by Judd. He mentioned you had a jet ski to clean,” she says pointedly.

“Oh um, yeah, yes. I’ll just go do that…right now,” Mateo says, scrambling to his feet and heading back to work as T.K. chuckles.

The new deckhand likes to talk big and it’s pretty hilarious. He’s as green as they come, but he’s a quick learner and T.K. knows Judd has been pleased with his progress.

“I vacuumed the main salon, did the beds and the bath in the master, and cleaned and restocked the bar,” T.K. says. “Iris is finishing up in laundry and then she’ll be done.”

“What did I do to deserve having the most perfect co-second stews in the world?” Nancy says, feigning tears as she plops down into the chair Mateo’s just vacated. “I didn’t come to ask about that though. Are you cool if the new chef bunks with you?”

“Oh we got someone?” T.K. asks. That last he’d heard Captain Tommy had still been calling around.

“Yeah Iris’ friend that she mentioned during our tip meeting,” Nancy says.

Right. The tip meeting.

He’d been sandwiched between Judd and Nancy on the sofa in the main salon, a glass of sparkling cider in his hand as they all toasted the massive tip their previous charter had left for them. It was their biggest so far of the season and for good reason. They’d worked their asses off.

“Okay so as you know, unfortunately Chef Pearce is no longer able to finish the charter season with us,” Tommy had said as she passed out fat envelopes of cash to each of them.

“And good riddance,” Nancy mumbled under her breath.

Pearce had made all their lives a living hell with his fastidiousness and inability to be flexible with their charter guests’ whims. When Nancy had brought back a steak that their primary guest had deemed too rare it had been the last straw for him and he’d immediately packed all his things and left the next morning without a goodbye to anyone.

“So,” Tommy said, giving Nancy a look that said she agreed with her but wasn’t going to badmouth any former staff, “we are currently looking. It’s a pretty big vacancy to fill and we need someone asap.”

“I have a friend who could probably do it,” Iris had immediately piped up. “Well, technically he’s my ex, but he’s also a friend. I’ve known him since elementary school. One time in third grade, I punched Jimmy Echolls in the face and he—“

“Iris,” Tommy said gently, guiding her back to the moment at hand.

“Right, sorry. His name is Carlos and he’s a chef. A really good one.”

“Give me his contact information and I’ll reach out,” Tommy said.

That had been two days ago and the last T.K. had heard about it. Thank god they’d had an extra day in between groups so they hadn’t had to explain to any guests that their dinner choices were boxed mac and cheese or Chinese take-out. The crew had been taking it in turns to make dinner for themselves so they wouldn’t starve, but nobody had the skills necessary to serve five star meals to guests shelling out over a hundred thousand dollars for a vacation.

“Seriously, you’re going to make me bunk with another temperamental chef?” T.K. sighs. “Pearce made me clean the grout in our bathroom with a toothbrush.”

“Judd and Mateo are bunked together,” Nancy says. “I don’t want to move them because Judd’s a good influence on the greenie. Marjan and Paul refuse to be separated from what they have started referring to as their “bestie cave.” And I’m certainly not giving up Iris. She doesn’t snore or leave the toilet seat up. So that leaves you.”

“This is really unfair,” T.K. grumbles. “I feel like you’re taking advantage of my easy going nature.”

“Oh I for sure am.” She gives him a pat on the leg as she gets up. “Gotta go. Next guests want an 80’s themed dance party so I gotta call the provisioner. Get ready for some glow in the dark body paint. New chef’ll be here in like an hour so if you have any weird sex stuff lying around go take care of it now.”

“I want a new chief stew!” T.K. yells as she heads back inside.

She turns around and flips him the bird before the sliding doors close behind her.

He’d known he’d end up being the one sharing and he doesn’t really begrudge Nancy’s decision. It doesn’t make sense to move everyone around when they’re already comfortably settled in their rooms. Plus it’s not like he’s going to force Iris to shack up with her ex. It’s just been nice to have the room to himself after dealing with Pearce for a month.

He groans and hoists himself up from the chair, grabbing his towel to carefully wipe away the ring of condensation his sparkling water has left on the side table. Judd is a pretty kind and understanding bosun, but he’ll rip you a new one if he catches you dirtying up the boat after the deck crew has already cleaned things off for a new charter.

He takes the stairs carefully down to the galley and swings by laundry on his way to his cabin. Iris is in there with her headphones on, bopping away to something he can’t hear as she irons one of Tommy’s white shirts. He taps her on the shoulder and instinctively ducks out of the way as she whips around, arms flailing defensively. “You scared the shit out of me!” she says loudly as she rips out one ear bud.

“Sorry. I came to see if you need any help.”

“Nah, just finishing up Captain’s stuff and then I’m done,” she tells him.

“I heard your ex is going to be my new roommate,” T.K. says. “Anything I should know?”

“About Carlos?” Iris shrugs. “He’s a guy. He’s nice. Good chef.”

T.K. waits but Iris doesn’t say more. “That’s it?” he says.

She looks at him with her big, wide eyes. “What more do you want? He’ll be good at the job. Oh and he likes his room really clean. So maybe like, pick up your towels and stuff.”

She gives him a smile and then sticks the earbud back in, a clear dismissal.

T.K. rolls his eyes and trudges to his cabin saying hello to their lead deck hand, Paul, as he passes by.

He spends some time making sure the place looks decent. He’d switched to the bottom bunk and started using the top as extra storage the minute Pearce walked out, so he takes all the clean clothes he left up there and shoves them into drawers or under his bed, and then checks to make sure he hasn’t left out anything sensitive in the bathroom.

His phone buzzes with a text from his dad, and he sits down for a few minutes to answer it. Yes, he’s doing fine. Yes, Tommy’s a great captain. No, he doesn’t need a meeting right now. Yes, he’ll be around if his dad flies in to see him for a weekend next month. It’s standard father/son stuff, but it’s a little suffocating, and not for the first time T.K. feels glad that he’s finally out from under his dad’s shadow a little bit.

Owen Strand had been the captain of the FireBug until about six months ago, when he’d been offered the chance to captain a much bigger boat out in the Mediterranean. He’d wanted T.K. to come with him, had basically assumed it was happening until T.K. had informed him that he wasn’t ready to leave the Bahamas or the FireBug or the family he’d made onboard. Crews like this one don’t come along every day. Judd is a competent and kind bosun. Paul, Marjan, and Mateo are hard working deckies, and fun to be around. Nancy is the chillest chief stew he’s ever worked with. Iris is a sweetheart, if a little blunt, and Tommy has turned out to be a skilled captain, rounding out the team in a way that just seems to work.

T.K. loves it here. He feels free. Safe. Loved. Which is a pretty big change from how his life used to be.

Another glance at his phone shows him the time. He needs to get back to work, there’s only an hour or so until the guests arrive. He takes a few minutes to change out of his sweat stained red t-shirt, the Firebug’s name emblazoned in white on the chest and the sleeve along with a distinctive curl of flame, into his more fancy looking white shirt and black shorts, before heading to the main salon to check it over one more time. Heaven only knows somebody has probably tracked something across the carpet by now.

He’s walking past the galley when he hears a softly startled, “Oh fuck,” and then a loud crash.

Figuring Paul has gotten into another fight with the juicer, he stops and enters the galley doorway, a sassy bit of teasing ready on his tongue. Only he doesn’t find Paul or anyone else from onboard the boat.

Instead he comes face to face with the most gorgeous ass he’s ever seen in his entire life. Literally, this ass is a thing of beauty. It looks like it’s been sculpted out of marble by a master craftsman. This ass is life changing.

And then the rest of the human it’s connected to stands up and T.K. feels like he’s been hit by a rogue wave. If he thought the ass was life-changing, he doesn’t even have words for the full man who stands before him.

Eyes, dark and soft, and hair so curly that T.K.’s fingers immediately itch to run through it. Even through the man’s dark blue button down and chinos T.K. can tell that he’s got a great body. The kind of body that has, in the past, caused T.K. to make some very stupid, but very fun, decisions.

His gaydar is practically screaming at him and it takes him too long to realize that he’s staring and that this strange god of a man is talking to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” T.K. says quickly.

“Sorry about that,” the man says. “I didn’t realize the shelf was loose.”

“Yeah. Yeah that one’s a little faulty. Judd keeps fixing it and it just keeps coming out again,” T.K. says automatically. “Are you…you must be the new chef?”

“Yes, hi, sorry, Carlos. Carlos Reyes,” the man says, holding out a hand.

T.K. shakes it and feels like his knees might give out. Holy hell he can’t remember the last time he felt this instantly attracted to someone. “I’m T.K. Strand,” he manages. “Second stew. Well, co-second stew. Iris is the other one. Which, you already know because you and Iris are…well you…”

He is blowing this so freaking bad right now. He spots a large rolling suitcase in front of the fridge and clears his throat to try again. “Did you come straight here before unpacking your stuff?”

“Yeah I went up and met the captain and I was on my way to the cabin, but I saw the galley and got distracted,” Carlos says sheepishly.

Kind of like how T.K. had been on his way to the main salon and now can’t find a single reason to care about whether or not the throw pillows have been karate chopped into perfection. “I get that. Professional hazard.”

“Yeah something like that,” Carlos says, flashing him a smile that threatens to bowl him over.

He’s Iris’ ex, he’s Iris’ ex, he’s Iris’ ex. T.K repeats it to himself sternly. That makes him off limits. Completely. Nothing more than a fantasy for T.K. to have when he’s alone.

And he will be having that fantasy.

Probably a lot.

He realizes he’s gone awkwardly silent again and searches for something to say that won’t sound weird or horny. “We’re sharing a cabin. I can show you.”

“Oh yeah, thanks, that would be great,” Carlos says, grabbing his suitcase and following T.K. down the hall.

The cabin is tiny. Just two bunks, a teeny wardrobe and a couple drawers each, and their bathroom with an awkwardly small shower. T.K. takes a quick glance at Carlos and wonders how such a large man is going to fit, and then quickly shoves it away. He can’t be thinking about his new roommate naked, soapy, water sluicing down his body…

“I left you the top bunk. Is that okay?” T.K. asks, hoping to god his voice sounds normal.

If it was anybody else he wouldn’t even ask, he’d just pull the longevity card because like hell is he undoing his whole bed, but something about this man has grabbed hold of him and he finds he would literally go dive into the ocean if it would make Carlos happy.

“That’s fine,” Carlos says. “I like it on top.”

T.K.’s knees go weak and he immediately breaks out in a sweat even though the A/C is on full blast. Thank god Carlos has turned around is starting to pull things out of his suitcase, so he doesn’t see T.K.’s complete loss of motor function.

“When you’re ready I can introduce you to everyone else,” T.K. says when he finally recovers.

“Yeah give me like ten minutes, I just need to change,” Carlos says.

T.K. makes a hasty exit and goes down the hall to sit at the table in the crew mess while he waits. The last thing he needs is to see Carlos naked. His brain is already on overdrive, if he gets any more input he’s going to need an extremely cold shower, and there’s no time for that.

Carlos emerges almost exactly ten minutes later, now dressed in his chef’s coat. Somehow it makes him look even hotter, all professional and buttoned up and T.K. nearly swallows his own tongue trying not to say something stupid. They head up the stairs and through the main salon to the aft deck where Paul, Marjan, Mateo, and Judd are doing some last minute polishing of the railings so they gleam beneath the Caribbean sunlight.

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally back. Grab a bucket and start scrubbing,” Paul teases as they walk out through the automatic doors.

“You think I want a cushy job like this? Please. Interior is where the fun is. Vomit. People’s dirty underwear. It’s like an unending hazardous situation,” T.K. teases right back.

He sees the look of curiosity on Carlos’ face and fills him in. “I used to be a deckie,” he says. “Made the change to interior about a year ago. It’s a better fit.”

“What he means is that it’s easier for him to charm all the guests,” Marjan says, wiping a hand across her forehead. Her makeup is impeccable and she looks like a movie star even in the deck crew’s bright red shirts.

“I didn’t see you complaining when our tips were almost double last charter,” T.K. tells her.

“Pretty sure that was because of the good time I showed them on the water toys,” Mateo says.

“Mateo you couldn’t even get the jet ski started this morning,” Judd says with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t think you were the reason we got a good tip.”

“Anyway,” T.K. says, breaking up the teasing, “This is Carlos. The new chef.”

“Hey Carlos. I’m Judd. Bosun,” Judd says, sticking out a massive hand to shake Carlos’.

“Paul.”

“Marjan.”

“Mateo.”

The rest of the team chimes in and shakes hands as well. “Nice to meet you all,” Carlos says. “I’m excited to be here.”

“We’re glad to have you,” Paul says. “These people have been making me pull double duty on the deck and in the kitchen so we don’t starve.”

“You made one meal,” Marjan says, smacking at him with her towel.

“I made chili!” Paul says. “That’s so much work it’s basically three meals!”

“Wow, thanks for rolling out the red carpet and making a good first impression guys,” T.K. says, glancing at Carlos to gauge his reaction to the team shenanigans.

Carlos chuckles. “Chili is a lot of work, and I’m sure it was delicious.” He looks down at his watch. “I’m really sorry to cut it short, but I think I’ve got my work cut out for me in the galley.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let us keep you,” Judd says, waving them off.

“They seem nice,” Carlos observes once they’re back in the cool air conditioning of the interior.

“This team is solid,” T.K. tells him, feeling himself puff up with pride. “Judd has been with the boat since day one. The rest of us have been here at least a couple years. It’s family.”

He’s about to open his mouth to ask Carlos a little more about himself when there’s a yelp and a body comes hurtling toward them at light speed. Iris throws herself at Carlos, wrapping him up in an aggressive hug that almost takes them both to the floor. “You’re here!” she yells, glee evident in every line of her body.

Despite his initial shock Carlos immediately softens, his face going tender and warm. His hand cradles the back of Iris’ head and he practically cuddles her right there in the salon, making T.K. feel like he’s awkwardly intruded on a private moment. “Hey chica,” Carlos says, his voice full of something so tender that it sends a jolt of jealousy through T.K. Whatever happened between him and Iris, it doesn’t seem like Carlos is over it.

He pulls back after a minute, cupping Iris’ face in his hands as he studies it closely. “How are you? You’re good?”

“Oh my god, you’re such a worrier. Yes. I’m good,” she says with a laugh.

“And Michelle?”

T.K.’s memory vaguely supplies that Michelle is Iris’ older sister. “Yeah she’s good too. Chief stew on a boat in Italy right now,” Iris says. She sends a glance at T.K., her eyes sparkling. “I see you met T.K. already. He’s your roommate you know.”

Something odd flashes across Carlos’ face. “Yeah I know,” he says, looking almost embarrassed.

T.K. desperately wants to know what’s going on. He feels like he’s missed out on a private joke, but at that moment Nancy strides into the salon. “Okay enough chatting people we have guests coming onboard in—” she checks her watch, “—less than half an hour.” She stops when she sees Carlos. “Oh hi. You the new chef?”

He shakes her hand. “Yeah, Carlos.”

“Thank god. Nancy. Chief stew. We should talk.”

“Yes,” Carlos says. “I didn’t see the preference sheets for the guests in the galley. Do you have them?”

She holds up a stack of papers. “On my way to post them now. Want to come with and we’ll figure out what kind of fancy ass food these people want?”

“Definitely,” Carlos says.

“And you two can start making drinks and getting cold towels ready,” Nancy calls over her shoulder.

“Already done!” T.K. and Iris chime together.

Nancy turns and walks the last few steps to the doorway backward, pointing at them and then clasping her hands over her heart. “And that’s why you two are my favorites.”

“So?” Iris says as she and T.K. step behind the bar to finish setting up the cocktails. “He’s hot right? I told you.”

“Actually you didn’t,” T.K. says mildly. She could not have said less about it in fact.

“I didn’t?” She scrunches up her nose and thinks for a second, then shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Whatever. He is though, right? Very hot?”

“I’m going to be honest here and say I think it’s kind of weird that you talk about your ex like this,” T.K. says, pouring champagne carefully into glasses.

“What does him being my ex have to do with it?” she scoffs. “He’s objectively hot. You have to see it.”

T.K. is going to admit to no such thing. And he knows if stalls long enough Iris will move on. Her attention span tends to be on the short side.

“God, why do they make these fucking skorts so short?” she asks seconds later, yanking at the black fabric covering her thighs. “It’s sexist. And misogynistic.”

“Aren’t those kind of the same thing?”

She glares at him. “You can mansplain sexism to me when you have a skirt the size of a postage stamp riding up your ass. Okay? Okay.”

She grabs the tray of champagne glasses from him and whisks them away without another word. He huffs out a laugh and opens the fridge to take out the towels and stack them up on a second tray as Tommy’s voice comes over the radio announcing that the guests will be arriving in less than five minutes and to please get to the aft deck.

Everyone looks fresh and ready in their whites and Tommy gives him a nod as he joins the line-up, tucking in at the end next to Iris. Seconds later another body slides into the open space on his left and he looks up to find Carlos. The other man gives him a quick smile, a trace of nerves hiding behind it. T.K. feels the overwhelming urge to reach over and squeeze his hand in reassurance. Thank god he’s occupied with holding the towel tray because he’s not sure he could stop himself otherwise.

And then he’d have to throw himself overboard, swim to a deserted island, and start a new life with nothing but a volleyball for company.

“There they are,” Judd says half a second later, nodding toward the dock where a group of impeccably dressed men and women are walking toward the Firebug.

“They look rich,” Mateo says.

“They always look rich,” Marjan tells him with a roll of her eyes. “Only rich people can afford chartered yacht vacations.”

“Yeah but there’s a difference between looking rich and being rich,” Mateo says.

T.K. has to agree with him. People who are rich tend to have high expectations, but are usually pretty nice and leave big tips. People who look rich…that’s a crapshoot. And they usually end up being assholes.

T.K. hopes it’s the former this time.

There are greetings and handshakes all around and then Nancy takes them off to tour the boat as T.K. and Iris wash the champagne glasses and throw the towels in the laundry before heading down to help put away the luggage the deck crew has hauled onboard.

Then it’s a whirlwind of drinks and snacks and cleaning (there’s always something to be cleaned) as they set sail away from the dock, the white prow of the Firebug gleaming as it cuts through the cerulean blue of the ocean.

T.K. doesn’t get more than a glimpse of Carlos again until dinner. When Nancy calls him over the radio to come for service he walks into the galley and stops dead in his tracks. The guests asked for a sushi spread but what he sees is…unbelievable. It should have been physically impossible for Carlos to produce this much food at this level of quality in the few hours he’s been on board.

“Holy shit. This is gorgeous.” The words are out of T.K.’s mouth before he means them to be.

“Thanks,” Carlos says, slightly flushed from the heat of his work. He’s pouring heavy cream into a bowl, probably working on dessert already.

“No seriously this is…how did you do all of this so fast?” T.K. asks.

He’s worked on boats for years. He’s seen impressive food before. Michelin star worthy meals. But this tops all of it.

Carlos shrugs and starts whisking, the muscles of his upper arm flexing back forth in an impressive display. “It’s my job,” he says simply. “I put the crew dinner out too. Make sure you get some.”

Nancy and Iris still haven’t arrived, so T.K. sneaks over to the crew mess and finds Paul devouring an equally impressive spread of sushi. “Save some for the rest of us,” T.K. says, snagging a California roll and shoving it whole into his mouth.

“It’s so good though,” Paul groans. “I thought Pearce was good, even if he was a son of a bitch, but damn. This new guy….”

T.K. agrees. The California roll is the best he’s ever had in his life and he stands there at the table devouring a few more mouthfuls before Nancy and Iris sweep in and force him back to work.

Dinner service goes shockingly smoothly. No one yells. No one sulks in passive aggressive silence. Carlos and Nancy communicate perfectly, food goes out on time, the wine flows, the guests are thrilled, it’s literally the best night they’ve had on the boat in weeks.

Tommy comes down halfway through, a soft smile on her face when she sees how easily Carlos has slipped into the role of chef. He smiles and laughs as he cooks, chatting away easily with the captain as if they’re old friends. There’s a sense of relief flooding through the boat. Carlos is a good fit. Thank god.

T.K. and Iris run down in between courses to turndown the cabins (thank god these guests seem pretty neat and tidy) and then Iris heads to bed as soon as dinner service is done so she can get up early to run breakfast. The meal has created about a thousand dishes and Nancy starts to help, but T.K. shoos her away. He’s on lates tonight, staying up to make sure the guests have any late night drinks or snacks they need, but she should get some sleep.

Carlos is wiping down counters. His chef’s coat is partially unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to expose his incredibly muscular forearms. The second T.K. sees them he repeats his mantra from earlier: He’s Iris’ ex, He’s Iris ex, He’s Iris’ ex…

Maybe if T.K. keeps reminding himself of that, his stupid heart will stop trying to leap out of his chest at the sight of this beautiful man.

“Oh thanks,” Carlos says, relief on his face when he sees T.K. roll up his own sleeves and start scrubbing away at the rest of the dishes. “I thought I was going to be here all night.”

“Happy to help,” T.K. says lightly.

“So how long have you been on the Firebug?” Carlos asks.

“Like, three years now?” T.K. says as he carefully sets some glassware to the side. “My dad used to be captain.”

“Oh cool,” Carlos replies. “Where is he now?”

“Boat in the Mediterranean. It’s a bigger vessel. They have good wine over there.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” T.K. hesitates and then asks because he has to know. “So you’re from Austin? You and Iris grew up together?”

“Yeah the Blakes lived down the street,” Carlos says. “My sisters and I were always over at their house. They had a dog and a trampoline. We did not.”

“I see the appeal.”

“So three years here, where before that?”

T.K.’s stomach lurches. Before is hard to talk about. Before was full of pills and booze and shame and it’s something the crew all knows about, but it’s not a story that everyone can accept. The thought of this perfect looking man getting weird over it forces T.K. to hold back. “New York,” he says softly. “Manhattan. I lived there with my mom when I was a kid.”

“I’ve always wanted to go to New York.” Carlos sets a pan back into its place. “I have to know. Are the bagels actually that good? I mean…they’re really just regular bagels, right? Bagels aren’t even that great to begin with.”

“I’ll have you know that New York bagels are legendary,” T.K. tells him immediately. “There will be no bagel slander on this boat.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Carlos says with a laugh, holding up his hands. “I take it back.”

“You’d better,” T.K. says, also laughing. This guy is fun. Why the hell did Iris break up with him?

Carlos finishes what he’s doing and comes to dry the dishes T.K. has washed, but T.K. waves him off. “Head to bed,” he advises. “I know how much travel days suck and you’ve got to be up early for breakfast.”

“Thanks,” Carlos says, fatigue creeping in at the edges of him. “See you in the morning.”

T.K. puts away the last of the dishes and then heads up to check on the guests. He’s shocked to find Mateo hosing down the teak and not another person in sight. “They went to bed like ten minutes ago,” he says with a shrug. “Easiest night ever right?”

“Yeah seriously,” T.K. says. “You on anchor watch?”

“Yep,” Mateo pops the “p.” “All night long baby.”

“Don’t let us blow into a rock.”

“Ha ha.”

T.K. bids him goodnight and then heads toward his cabin. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s that Carlos brought up New York and now T.K.’s memories of that time are swirling around in his head. Maybe he’s distracted by the fact that these are the easiest guests he’s ever had in his entire life. Whatever the reason is, he forgets that Chef Carlos Reyes is his new roommate until he opens the door and sees him standing there.

In nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.

Holy.

Fuck.

It’s just a reality of boat life that you see people naked or nearly naked on a regular basis. Quarters are tight and honestly, after so much time together, it literally doesn’t even matter. T.K.’s seen pretty much everyone’s butts and boobs and dicks onboard at this point and it doesn’t even phase him anymore.

But the sight of Carlos, hair still wet, the entire room damp from the steam of his shower and smelling like sandalwood and pine, feels so intimate that it nearly sends T.K. to his knees.

And he’s pretty sure he would do just about anything Carlos wanted once he was down there.

T.K. was right. The man has muscles. So. Many. Muscles. He’s an Adonis. A god. He can’t possibly be real.

He’s like T.K.’s dream guy wrapped up in neon yellow caution tape that screams OFF LIMITS.

Oh god.

He’s not going to make it through this charter season.

Hell.

He’s not going to make it through tonight.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” Carlos asks as he continues threading his chef’s coat onto a hanger.

Something flashes across his face. If T.K. didn’t know better he’d almost think it was something smug. Like he’s seen T.K. ogling him and possibly, maybe, is standing in their room mostly naked on purpose.

“No,” T.K. says quickly, squeezing in and shutting the door behind him.

Bad idea. Oh god. This space is so small. He’s practically chest to naked chest with Carlos and he can’t breathe or think and if he doesn’t do something right now he’s not going to be able to stop himself from reaching out and touching those washboard abs…

“Are you done in the bathroom?” he manages to squeak out.

“Yes,” Carlos says, that smug-ish look still on his face. “All yours.”

“Thanks.”

T.K. practically runs inside and locks the door behind him, collapsing onto the toilet lid.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

#Tarlos #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Tarlos Fic #T.K. Strand #Carlos Reyes #Yachting AU #Come Sail Away #Fluff #Meet Cute

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