#one direction fake texts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aewon · 7 days ago

Text

all night, in love — YJW

pairing- jungwon x fmr genre: fluff, e2l, fake dating ⚠️: kissing, cursing, slight slight very tiny angst (practically nonexistent) wc: 3k

You hate Yang Jungwon, and he hates you too.

The reason? You ACCIDENTALLY tripped him in front of his crush in 9th grade. You never knew someone could hold such a grudge for something that wasn’t on purpose.

Ever since that day, Jungwon has made it his life mission to make you miserable.

He doesn’t do anything physical, he just makes annoying, mean jabs at you whenever he can, which you don’t hesitate to fire back.

What you never expected was for him to come up to you, asking for a favor.

“A favor? Why would I ever want to help you?” You scoff at his audacity, turning away from him on the bench you’re currently occupying.

He doesn’t go away, instead sitting next to you on the other side, facing you.

“Please, I’ll do anything!” When you look at him, he’s pouting, something that’s never been directed toward you.

He almost looks…cute?

“Anything?” You ask, not concealing the smirk gracing your face.

“… As long as it’s nothing super crazy, yes.”

You ponder for a moment, what could you possibly need from Yang Jungwon.

“I’ll help you, but I’m not telling you what you’re doing until after we’re done! So what exactly is it that you need?”

Jungwon suddenly looks away from you, biting his lip as if he’s afraid to say it.

“Well? We don’t have all day.”

He looks down at the ground, twiddling his thumbs before finally speaking, “I need you to date me.”

You almost spit out the sip of coffee you just took.

“What?”

“Look, you know Yoona, right?”

You nod, having met the girl before in science class.

“I have a huge crush on her but she never notices any of my attempts to talk to her or engage so I figured if I’m dating someone, that’ll make her notice. Everyone knows we don’t like each other so it’ll make a huge spectacle.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his rhetoric.

“Everyone knows we don’t like each other, so they’ll definitely believe we just started dating? That makes no sense, Jungwon. Come on, you’re smarter than that.”

“We can say it was all a ruse! We just didn’t want people knowing how much we like each other so we pretended to have a fued instead.”

“Still doesn’t make sense. Our friends and peers aren’t stupid, they’ll see right through us.”

“Not if we’re convincing! We’re talking right now, right? Not arguing. We’ll just tell everyone we decided to come clean. Please do this for me, you know I’d never bother you with something like this otherwise.”

That is true, and although you can’t ever imagine yourself liking someone like Jungwon, it’s fake.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Jungwon, for the first time, gives you a genuine smile. One that’s not devolving into a sneer or fake.

“So, what do we do now?” He asks.

“Do you have any boundaries you don’t want crossed?”

He shakes his head, “I want this to be believable.”

Without warning, you tug him forward by his shirt, planting your lips on his.

You don’t open your eyes to see if he’s shocked or not, but soon you feel his lips moving with yours.

His large hand travels to cup the side of your face.

You don’t know how long you’re kissing for, or rather making out at this point, but you’re interrupted by the bell ringing.

As you pull away, Jungwon looks as if he’s in a daze.

Your eyes look around the courtyard and multiple people are staring at you, looking away quickly when they realize they’ve been caught.

“Bye boyfriend, I’ll see you later.” You wink, getting up from the bench and leaving to go to class.

The end of the school day comes quicker than not, and you wait outside for your friend Ningning so you can drive her home.

A hand comes to rest on your waist, and you turn to find Jungwon standing beside you.

“I figured I’d get your number now so none of our friends suspect us.”

You nod, taking his phone and putting your number in, texting yourself quickly.

You save his number in your own phone as “wonnie ❤️” while he saves yours as “babe 🩷.”

“You drive Ningning to school right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ll start driving the both of you, just text me your address and I’ll pick you up first tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, we should also figure out some kind of timeline for this relationship. When do we wanna say this started?”

Jungwon ponders for a moment, “A few months ago? Not too specific but not suspicious either. We could say after a while the dislike toward one another became tired and we decided to be friends which then developed into a relationship.”

“And why did we hide it?”

“Because we were embarrassed.” He shrugs and you nod along.

“Sounds good, we can figure out details later.”

Out in the parking lot, his group of friends are all staring at you. “I should get home,” Jungwon says, “we’re all hanging at my place and I know they’re dying to ask me about us.”

“Call me tonight?”

He nods, wrapping you up in a hug, pulling away to kiss your lips.

You can’t help but like the feeling of his lips on yours, or maybe it’s because you haven’t felt the kiss of someone in so long.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re obsessed with my lips. You like kissing me.” Jungwon smirks at your reddening cheeks.

“Please, it’s just been a while. The feeling is nice is all,” you respond, pushing him lightly.

He raises his hands in surrender before walking away, toward his friends whose eyes are on him like a hawk.

“What the actual fuck is going on!” You hear Ningning from a mile away as she quickly approaches you, “Why the hell did I have to find out from Minji that you and Jungwon are dating?”

“I’ll explain in the car.”

Ningning doesn’t hesitate to ask a million and one questions about your newfound relationship, and you answer to the best of your abilities without making too many plot holes.

You tell her about the new arrangement with Jungwon picking you both up which she agrees to easily.

After dropping her off, you make your way home to relax and de-stress.

You shower before changing into more comfortable clothes.

Your parents won’t be home for a while so you sit on the couch, watching Netflix with an after school snack.

You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch because when you open your eyes, you’re in your room and not on the couch.

You check for your phone, finding it on the nightstand beside you.

The time reads 8:00pm and you sigh. Now you’ll be up all night.

Your phone begins to ring, Jungwon’s name popping up.

“Hello,” you say, grogginess evident in your voice.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I just woke up. I fell asleep after school, my dad must’ve moved me from the couch to my bed.”

“Okay, good. Did Ningning bombard you with questions? Because my friends did.”

“She absolutely did. I stuck with our plan and tried to avoid any personal questions.”

“Speaking of, I figured we should learn more about each other if we’re gonna make this work.”

You agree and begin asking each other questions.

Favorite color, hobbies, family info, things that a couple should know about one another.

You learn that you and Jungwon actually have a lot in common. You both love action movies, dogs, cats, food of course among other things.

It feels very normal talking to him like this, and not arguing or making jabs at each other.

It feels like you’ve been on the phone forever, checking the time as it reads 10:00pm.

“We’ve been on the phone for 2 hours. It’s crazy how quickly time passes.”

You hum, feeling yourself start to get tired again.

“Are you sleepy?” Jungwon asks, and you hum once more.

“Then we should cut this call here, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The only response Jungwon gets is your quiet breathing on the other end, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He smiles on his end, ending the call before going to sleep himself.

The next morning, Jungwon texts you that he’ll be there to pick you up at 7:15, then you’ll swing by Ningning’s.

You get ready quietly, deciding to dress up a bit.

When Jungwon arrives, you get in the passenger's side of his car, wishing him good morning.

“Morning,” he says before kissing your cheek.

You smile, side eyeing him slightly, “You know you don’t have to kiss me when we’re not around others.”

You see his cheeks flush pink, “I know, but I figured it’s better to be as natural as possible.”

“Ah, okay. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just like kissing me,” you say, throwing his words from yesterday back at him.

“Pft!”

You playfully argue all the way to Ningning’s house.

When she gets in the car, she greets you and Jungwon like this is a normal occurrence.

You talk with Ningning the rest of the way to school, with Jungwon chiming in every once in a while.

When you arrive, Ningning leaves first, needing to see a teacher before class.

You and Jungwon get out, and he takes your hand in his larger one while he carries both your bag and his.

“Who knew you were such a sweetheart?” You laugh as he glares at you halfheartedly.

The cafeteria is where students wait for class to start if they’re at school early, so you and Jungwon find a quiet corner to occupy.

His friends come in and make their way to you.

They all greet you, albeit hesitantly as if this is all still one big prank.

You realize you’ve never taken the time to get to know any of them either, just associating them with Jungwon.

They’re actually very funny, making you laugh freely.

When the bell rings, everyone disperses.

Jungwon kisses you goodbye before handing you your bag and making his way to class while you do the same.

In class, you’re just doing self work, but people still talk quietly.

“Hey, Y/N,” a voice says from beside you.

You look up to see Yoona, the girl Jungwon was talking about.

“Hey Yoona, what’s up?” You whisper, trying not to draw any attention.

“I just wanted to ask you… since when have you and Jungwon been dating?”

She’s asking, that must mean she’s at least somewhat interested, right? This could be good for Jungwon.

“A few months. We just didn’t tell anyone cause we were kinda embarrassed.”

“Ah, I see. Good for you.”

You thank her and she goes back to her work while you do the same.

During lunch, which you unfortunately don’t share with Jungwon, you text him about Yoona.

“That’s cool, our plan must be working 😈,” he responds.

You eat with Ningning, gossiping as you always do.

Later on, Ningning texts you to tell you she won’t need a ride home. She has a project to work on with a classmate so they’re going to her house.

That leaves you and Jungwon alone in his car at the end of the day.

“Do you wanna come over?” He asks.

“Sure.”

The drive to his home is quiet, but he stops at the coffee shop to get you both something.

Your large caramel macchiato is delicious and you promise to pay Jungwon back but he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing’s too much for my girl.”

You don’t know why your heart beats so fast when he says that.

Arriving at his home, you leave your backpack in his car. He invites you inside and a white ball of fluff greets you eagerly.

It’s a dog and it sniffs you before jumping on your legs.

“This is Maeum,” Jungwon says, picking up the dog. “He likes meeting new people.”

“Hi Maeum!” You take the dog into your arms and he nuzzles into you immediately.

After he’s been put down, Jungwon takes you to his room.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He asks, and you agree.

He lets you choose and you pick a recently released action film.

As you lay on his bed, Jungwon puts his arm around you, pulling you close.

The sunlight from outside shines into the room, illuminating it in a beautiful glow.

As Jungwon seems to be entirely grossed in the movie, you take the opportunity to look at him.

His dark hair is fluffy, his bangs laying on his forehead.

His jaw is sharp even as he’s relaxed and his eyes are big and wide, watching the screen intently.

You admire his face, his nose is long and big, something you’ve always found attractive.

His lips are plump and so, so kissable as you already know.

You can’t help it, you take his face into your hand, turning it towards you.

“What?” He asks, staring into your eyes.

You lean forward, connecting your lips with his.

He responds immediately, pressing harder.

You move before you even realize it, swinging your leg over his lap to straddle him.

You’re making out eagerly, running your hands through his hair while his hands travel down your back to eventually rest on your thighs.

His tongue meets yours as it gets hotter inside the room.

You don’t know how long you spend there, your body pressed against his.

By the time you separate, both your lips and his are red and swollen.

Jungwon’s eyes are narrowed as they stare at you.

“What?”

“You must really like me or something,” he says, giggling as you hit his chest before moving to get off him.

“No,” he stops you, “stay here.”

You end up laying on top of him.

It’s quiet and he’s playing with your hair, gently, trying not to disturb you.

Time passes and before you know it, it’s 8:00 pm.

“I have to go home,” you tell Jungwon, who whines in protest.

“Don’t want you to go.”

“I know, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungwon concedes, and you both get up so he can drive you home.

The drive is quick and he’s bidding you goodbye, not before giving you a kiss.

After doing your night routine, you lay in bed, thoughts full of Jungwon.

It’s only been two days since your plan started but you feel different.

You feel happier, happier than you already were.

Is it because of Jungwon? You feel like the answer is obvious but you’re too afraid to admit it.

The next couple of days follow the same routine. You and Jungwon meet in the morning and hang out after school.

He takes you out for ice cream and coffee, takes you to the local park to have a picnic and more.

This fake relationship starts to feel more and more real everyday.

“Heeseung is hosting a party tomorrow, do you wanna go?” Jungwon asks, watching the tv while you pay attention to your phone.

You look up, “Sure.”

Jungwon hums in acknowledgment, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

You unknowingly lean into his chest.

The next day, Saturday, you do nothing until it’s time to get ready for the party.

You find a pretty dress in your closet, one that’s not too revealing but just enough.

You text Jungwon a picture.

y/n: what do you think :p

wonnie ❤️: you look beautiful 🥰 i’ll be there in 5

In the car, you and Jungwon agree to stick together and send a text if you get separated.

The party is already thriving by the time you arrive.

You and Jungwon hold hands, walking through and greeting people.

You find the other guys in the kitchen, pouring drinks.

They greet you cheerfully, handing you a drink of something. You don’t know what it is, but it tastes good so you don’t complain.

You and Jungwon make your way to the dance floor, where your bodies are pressed against one another tightly.

After some time, you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ll stand outside?” Jungwon asks but you shake your head.

“I’ll be fine.”

Heeseung directs you to the bathroom upstairs.

You pass by people on your way there.

The light isn’t on and you knock, no one answers.

Once you deem it safe, you enter.

You lock the door and do your business.

After washing your hands, you make your way back downstairs.

Before you re-enter the living room, you hear two voices that sound familiar.

You choose to ignore it, wanting to find Jungwon.

You search for him for 5 minutes before giving up.

Making your way to the backyard, it’s empty, to your relief.

You sit on the outside table, breathing in the fresh air.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” Jungwon says from behind you.

“I was looking for you too but I got impatient after 5 minutes.” You laugh as he takes a seat beside you.

“Yoona came up to me,” he says.

“Oh? What’d she have to say?”

Jungwon takes a deep breath in, “She confessed to me.”

Oh.

“Oh? That’s…great, no? This is what you wanted. That means we can end this whole thing and—”

“I rejected her,” Jungwon says firmly.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “But the whole plan was to get her to fall for you, I don’t understand?”

“I rejected her because I realized that I really like you. I know it’s only been a couple of days but you’re nothing like I thought you were. We feuded because I was being petty. I never took the time to really get to know you. You’re…amazing, to put it lightly. You’re smart and kind, funny, we have so much in common and at this point I don’t see myself with anyone except you.”

You reel in Jungwon’s confession. Here you thought he was going to break everything off.

“Jungwon, I like you too, a lot.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, “You do?”

“Yeah, I’ve realized how sweet and kind you are. The thought of you being with Yoona made me crazy but I didn’t want to get hurt by rejection.”

“Well you don’t have to worry. You have me, no matter what.”

He kisses you, fiery and passionately.

The next day as you walk hand in hand with Jungwon around town, you think you’ve hit the jackpot.

477 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 2 months ago

Note

hii i love your writing !! so i saw your comment on said it a million times, only stay with you one more night where you said that rafe is catching feelings only to fuck it up all over when he ignores her in public and i was wondering if you could write a second part where that happens ?

hiiii! thank you sm for the compliment and for the request 🫂 Hope you enjoy ❤️

been busy digging out her grave - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

working at lila’s restaurant was something you usually tried to avoid, but since she was short-staffed today and needed your help, you figured why not? it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. plus, you owed her a favor. so, there you were, tying your apron on in front of the mirror in the back, trying to pep talk yourself into surviving a day dealing with kooks and tourists.

the air inside always smelt of fried food and coffee, the kind that clung to your clothes no matter how many showers you’d take. you slid out from the back, letting the swing door creak behind you as you moved to the counter, mentally preparing yourself to smile at whatever entitled ass came through the door.

it wasn’t until about halfway through your shift, wiping down the counter and refilling coffee cups, that you noticed them. and by them, you mean him. rafe.

you stopped dead in your tracks for a second, the plates hot in your hands. your breath caught in your throat like you’d swallowed an entire lemon. he strolled in with his pack of kook friends like they owned the place—probably felt like they did too. topper, kelce, and a couple of girls whose names you couldn’t be bothered to remember followed him, laughing loudly, taking up space in that obnoxious way only people like them could.

he didn’t even glance in your direction as they settled into one of the corner booths. not even a look of recognition, but you’d told him you were working here for the day.

just last night, he had you pinned against his bed again, telling you, again, how much he wanted you to stay, whispering that shit in your ear.

now? he acted like you were invisible. un-fucking-believable. one minute he was texting you at 2 a.m., asking you to come over, and the next, he was pretending like you didn’t exist. all because he didn’t want his perfect little kook world knowing he was messing around with a pogue. and that was okay before. until he started asking you to stay, and you did.

apparently, you were a fucking idiot because here you were, pissed off that he couldn’t even look you in the eye.

you grabbed the menus, biting back the urge to roll your eyes, and walked over to their table. “here are your menus,” you said flatly, shoving one in each of their faces without the fake cheer you’d reserved for the tourists.

the girls barely acknowledged you, too busy giggling at something topper said. kelce glanced up briefly, offering a half-assed smirk, while rafe kept his eyes locked on the table, fingers playing with the edge of his napkin like he hadn’t spent the last few nights wrapped up in you.

you caught one of the girls whispering something under her breath. “didn’t know they let just anyone work here.”

her name was sloan or something equally forgettable, always draped on topper’s arm like a chanel bag. she didn’t know you, but she knew enough about you to judge. she was wearing sunglasses indoors, for fuck’s sake. the other girl snorted, and you felt your fingers tighten around the pen.

breathe.

you had half a mind to snap back. if you were outside, on the street or at a party, you would’ve ripped into them without hesitation. you’d read them for filth in a way they wouldn’t forget. but here? in the middle of the restaurant? lila didn’t need you starting shit, and you didn’t need to lose a good payment over some entitled brats.

rafe said nothing. just sat there, tapping his fingers on the table as if you weren’t even standing right there.

you forced a smile. "you guys ready to order?"

and there it was.

he finally looked at you, but it wasn’t how you wanted him to. his eyes slid over you like you were a stranger — not like the girl he’d kissed breathless hours ago, or the one he had been whispering 'stay' to. he looked at you like you were just…some waitress.

“coffee. black.” his tone was curt, clipped, like he couldn’t stand to speak to you.

you fought the urge to throw the fucking pot at his head.

“coming right up,” you chirped, giving them your best fake grin before spinning away and stalking back to the counter.

you busied yourself with the coffee, pouring it so forcefully you nearly overflowed the cup. unreal. he had the nerve to sit here, in your space, with his little kook posse, pretending like he wasn’t the same guy begging you to stay wrapped up in his sheets. and for what? to keep up his dumb little façade?

you used to be able to ignore it, pretend it didn’t matter because you didn’t care. you were just having fun, right? it was never supposed to be more than that. except, somewhere along the line, it did become more. he’d made it more, pulling you in deeper with every touch, every late-night call. and now, standing here in this sticky-ass diner, staring at his stupid, perfect face as he chatted up some girl who probably didn’t even know your name? it made you want to set the entire place on fire while they were still inside.

you slammed the coffee cup down a little harder than necessary when you returned to their table. “anything else?” you asked sweetly, practically daring him to say something. but of course, he didn’t. just took the cup without even looking at you. typical.

“uh, yeah, can we get some pancakes?” kelce piped up, completely oblivious to the tension radiating off you. “and bacon. like, extra crispy?”

“sure,” you bit out, scribbling it down before turning away. you made your way back behind the counter, slamming the order slip onto the kitchen window with a little more force than needed.

“everything okay, sweetheart?” lila, the owner, called from the back. she was probably picking up on your mood from the way you were practically shaking in irritation. “you look like you’re about to spit in someone’s food.”

you glanced back at the corner booth where rafe sat, laughing now at something topper said. “nope,” you lied through gritted teeth. “just having a great time.”

“mm-hmm,” lila hummed, giving you a skeptical look before disappearing into the back.

you busied yourself by wiping down the counter—again. anything to keep yourself from glaring over there and blowing your cover. because he wasn’t worth it, right? he wasn’t worth losing your cool over in front of a bunch of stuck-up kooks. he was just some guy.

except, some guy didn’t have you falling asleep in his arms one night, then acting like you were nothing the next. ugh. you clenched the rag tighter, scrubbing hard at a nonexistent stain on the counter, gritting your teeth as his laugh rang out again.

he knew exactly what he was doing. sitting there, ignoring you, acting like you didn’t matter—like you hadn’t been sprawled out on his bed while he kissed his name into your skin.

“girl, you’re gonna break the counter.”

the sound of a familiar voice snapped you out of your spiraling.

you looked up to see your friend phoebe leaning against the entrance, one eyebrow raised. she must’ve popped in on her break or something. great timing. you shot her a look.

“don’t even start,” you muttered, tossing the rag down with a little too much force.

she peeked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, a scoff escaping her lips. “oh, them,” she said, voice dripping with disdain. “what, rafe can’t keep it in his pants for a whole day?”

“he can’t keep his ego in check.” you crossed your arms, eyes moving over to the corner before you could stop yourself. he still wasn’t looking at you. the way he leaned back in the booth, one arm slung over the backrest, talking to the girl next to him—like he didn’t have a care in the world. like you didn’t exist.

phoebe followed your gaze, her expression turning incredulous. “are you serious right now?” she asked, lowering her voice. “what happened to just hooking up for fun? ‘don’t care what he does when ’m not around,’” she mocked lightly, using your own words against you.

“yeah, well, that was before he started acting like a complete dick,” you shot back, cheeks flushing.

“started?” she snorted, “he’s always been a dick. so have you. you gonna be okay, or am i about to see you dump coffee in his lap?”

the thought was tempting. really tempting. but you forced yourself to shake your head. “’m fine. he’s just… being rafe.” you hated how flat the words sounded. like an excuse. like you were giving him a free pass to treat you like this.

phoebe didn’t look convinced. “uh-huh. well, if you need a distraction, ’m here. want me to spill something on topper’s head? just say the word.”

god, you needed her right now. “as tempting as that sounds, lila would probably kill me. then i’d really owe her more than a shift.”

she shrugged. “worth it. but fine, i’ll behave.” she straightened, sending you a knowing look. “but seriously, babe. don’t let him get to you. rafe cameron’s just a bored little rich boy playing games.”

you knew she was right. of course she was right. but that didn’t stop that feeling from creeping up in your chest. like you’d expected better, even though you knew you shouldn’t have. because this was still rafe. and rafe was never going to be anything but a complication.

“i just…thought maybe…” you trailed off, words sticking in your throat. thought maybe what? that he’d change? that he’d stop being a total asshole just because you were starting to want more?

“yeah, well, stop thinking,” phoebe said bluntly. “he’s not worth it and he’s sucking the personality out of’ya.”

you swallowed hard, nodding. she was right. he wasn’t. and you needed to remember that. but just as you were about to say something, movement caught your eye.

rafe was standing now, making his way to the counter, his long stride unhurried as if he had all the time in the world.

phoebe stiffened beside you, “you want me to stay?”

“no.” you forced the word out, squaring your shoulders. “i got this.”

“okay.” she gave you one last look before slipping out the door, leaving you alone behind the counter just as rafe stopped in front of you. he stood there, all six feet of arrogance staring down at you with that expression that made your skin crawl.

“can i help you?” you asked, voice dripping with forced politeness. you met his eyes, refusing to back down, even as your heart hammered against your ribs.

he moved, leaning forward just enough to close some of the distance between you. “need the bill,” he said flatly, like he wasn’t currently tearing your already frayed nerves to shreds.

that’s it? the bill?

you’re just the waitress now. wow. this was rafe. rafe, who couldn’t even look at you, who couldn’t acknowledge what the hell was happening between you beyond those late-night calls and tangled sheets.

“of course,” you said sweetly, forcing a smile even though you wanted to scream. “i’ll be right back.” you turned away without another word, fighting the urge to hurl the fucking notepad at his head. you busied yourself at the register, punching in numbers with way more strength than necessary, imagining it was his face.

once you were done, you looked up to see his back was to you as he fished out his wallet, sliding his card into the reader. you kept your face neutral, biting back the million things you wanted to scream at him. the receipt printed out, and he leaned down, scribbling something quickly before straightening up.

and just as you thought he’d turn and leave like nothing had happened; he did something that made you freeze in place. he dropped a couple of crisp bills onto the counter—more than a couple, actually—and then slid the check over to your side without a word.

what the hell?

you blinked, staring at the pile of cash. that was way more than the standard 20%. fuck, it was enough to cover your rent for the next month, let alone one meal’s worth of shitty coffee and bacon.

“what the fuck is this, country club?” you blurted out. he stilled, eyes snapping up to yours, that mask of indifference slipping just the tiniest bit. “what, trying to buy me off now? think i’ll just smile and say ‘thank you, sir’ because you threw a couple hundred my way?”

“stop,” he muttered, eyes darting around like he was worried someone might hear. “it’s just—”

“no, you don’t get to ‘just’ me,” you hissed over the counter, “you don’t get to pull this shit like you’re being generous.” you shoved the bills back toward him, nostrils flaring. “take your fucking money. i don’t want it.”

but he didn’t move. just stood there, jaw clenched, blue eyes boring into yours. “it’s not—” he cut himself off, scrubbing a hand down his face, looking almost frustrated. “it’s not like that. ’m just trying to—”

“trying to what?” you shot back, “make yourself feel better? or make me shut up and go along with this bullshit like a good little pogue?” the last word dripped with contempt.

he flinched, the reaction so quick you almost missed it. almost. “’m just giving you a tip. it’s what you want, right?” his tone turned biting, “for your work, I mean.”

your mouth dropped open, stunned. “wow. you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you shoved the wad of cash back at him with a force that sent the bills scattering across the counter. “keep it. use it to buy yourself some decency, because clearly, you’re running low.”

his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pick up the money. just stood there, jaw ticking, like he couldn’t decide whether to fight back or walk away. it made you want to scream. you wanted to claw at that cold, emotionless shell of his until something—anything—broke through.

“you’re overreacting,” he muttered. and that was it. just those three stupid, dismissive words.

overreacting? after everything?

“get out,” you said flatly, hands shaking. “get the hell out.”

without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the restaurant, leaving the crumpled bills scattered across the counter like the mess of your emotions. the door swung shut behind him, the bell chiming softly. you stood there, chest heaving, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack your chest right open. and for a second, you almost reached out, almost scooped up the cash just to throw it at his retreating back. but you didn’t.

instead, you swiped the bills off the counter, crumpling them up into a tight fist and then, with a furious exhale, you chucked the whole wad into the trash can.

because if rafe thought he could buy your silence, your compliance, you, with a handful of cash, then he didn’t know a fucking thing about you at all.

704 notes · View notes

ice-cream-writes-stuff · 2 months ago

Text

ErROr

Love and Deepspace Various! / Reader

《File welcomes you! Enter! ... Good Luck.》

Huming to the soft music playing in the cafe, you gently stir the brew. The smell of fresh bread and sweet syrups always lingering in the air.

You were glad for the calm evening, the morning rush had gone by rather quickly. Each order different than the last, yet you and youe colleuges made it through the first shift.

"Excuse me?" A polite voice pipes up. Giving the costumer your attention, your eyes widen at the familiar heroine hunter.

"Hello again! What can I get you Miss MC?"

You playfully smile, as the brunette beauty grins back at you.

"My usual, please."

"Alright, unicorn hair and a dish rag, comin' up!" You state innocently as her eyes widen. Her laughter lighting on the cafè as you turn away to the coffee cups.

Not seeing her lean her palm against her chin, eyeing the curve of your shoulder blades as stretch a arm up to the higher shelves.

'I wish I was that cup~!' She screamed iternally. This little haven of her's being the few solaces in her stressful life. Bringing out her phone, texting her friend, using every bit of sensabilty to not take photos of you.

You swoon openly, heart-eyed and face warm as you recount your feelings. Though, you knew telling the male of who your affections were for wouldn't make him bat an eye, (since he loved MC), it weirded you out at his strange behavior. Eyes slightly cold as his frown deepens into a pout.

You ignore it, knowing you had no chance with the love intrest. (At least you could swoon about the other male leads since they didn't know it was them you were talking about.)

"Hm? You okay?" You pause your rant, eyeing the blonde.

"...No."

"O-oh.." You head slightly lowered, toying with the holding trey. "A-ahm.. I'll just, get your order, Xavier." The friendly tone dying in your throat as you walk away. Frowning, know you shouldn't be pushing your luck. You'd at least hoped to be on friendly terms! You knew he wasn't as cold as he presented himself! But.. That was reserved for the MC only.

While wandering back to the kitchen, the blonde runs his fingers through his locks. Upset for being the cause of loosing your enthusiasm.

Jelousy spiking up quietly in his heart when recalling MC proudly showing off your number in her phone. Or hearing your sweet words of praise directed to someone else.

He'd have to find away to get it.

Sitting on the bar-stool, you eye the giant glass shard stuck in your leg. Trying to fake the pain, you were honestly nonchalant at the at the injury.

It couldn't really do damage.

Sweating slightly, you smiled nervously at the doctor.

Zayne carefully lifts your leg close to him, tenderly gripping your skin as he eyes injury.

"Okay... One, two... THREE." He stated, pulling out the glass stuck in your thigh. You blink, nothing, no scream, no blood... Nothing.

"...." The doctor blinks at you in disbelief. Shakily placing the shard down on the bar-counter.

"...Y.. Your body still must be in shock." The male rationalized, fingers digging into the flesh of your leg.

"O-oh... Y-yeah..." You hear the jingle of the cafè's door opening. Alerting the two of you as Zayne's body cages around you.

The painter eagerly pushes you down on one of the dressing room chairs. Smirking as MC walks into one the dressing rooms.

"You know... I think this color would look wonderfully on you." He spoke casually, sliding up closer to you. Holding up a shimmering blue dress with bits of jewels threaded into the seam.

You thought it looked really familiar to certain outfit of his-

"Huh.. I don't think it's my size though." You shrug, "the last outfit you handed me was a bit tight. I couldn't even pull the ziper up for the back."

You recall a few moments earlier, when MC eagerly wanted to take a selfie with you in that piece. Rafeyal immediately forwning and trying to push between you. To the point his hands pushing at your back away from the female Hunter.

Not seeing the grin he shot her when he carresed your naked lower spine.

"Though, I really wish you'd acompany me and Miss Bodygaurd to the exhibit."

"Oh? That's really nice of you to offer, but I-... Well.." You let a silly smile overtake your face. Dreamily sighing as you glace away, your heart couldn't take his pout.

"I.. uhm.. Got a date?"

Seeing that familiar smirk, you got another case of butterflies. Swallowing down your swooning, you notice a customer calling you over.

Passing by the male, you use all of your will power to ignore him. Eyes shinning with utter affection, you direct those feelings away. Greeting the costumer that called you eagerly.

Feelings still rampanging over your heart, you do your best to pay attention to the order.

Heading back to the counter, your co-worker writes down Sylus order as you start perparing the coffee.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to add on to my order. But may I have two smaller drinks with the order."

"Of course!" You pipe up, not daring to meet his gaze as you shake the syrup canister.

"Thank you, (Y/N)..."

He sounded out the name cheekily, with you heart fluttering about. You don't see that your name-tag was no longer on your shirt.

Instead, hidden within his coats pockets for safe-keeping.

[Hiya! I wrote this as a idea I had awhile ago! It was originally in the concept as a full fledege idea. But I scrapped it, sorry! Enjoy! Thanks for reading, if you wanna know more. Send in a ask!]

460 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 10 months ago

Text

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible addresses in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

gothicgaycowboy · 3 months ago

Text

accidentally breaking aegon’s nose by riding his face too hard

I was finally able to write something short and sweet aren’t you proud of me 🤭? as always this is my modern aegon who’s parents are rhaenyra and alicent, hope you enjoy it<3 (1.2k words)

You’d think by now you would know how to sit on your boyfriend’s face, but to be fair it wasn’t really your fault.

Aegon had been working you up all day knowing you would be too busy with work to get a moment away. From texting you every dirty thing he wanted to do to you, to sending you pictures of him laying in your bed with his half-hard cock telling you how much he missed you. You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He’d always had a high libido but he wasn't usually such a tease about it.

Whatever it was though, it worked on you. You had gotten almost no work done, way too distracted by the spam of dirty messages. Just when you thought he was giving you a break, a familiar vibration pulsed from your phone. At that point you knew the drill, make sure no one was around before clicking on the notification.

Aeggs: he's so lonely without you :(

Accompanying the text was a photo of him; naked thighs spread wide, shirt unbuttoned revealing the chain that dangled around his neck, hand squeezing around the tip of his pink leaking cock as it dripped down his pale fingers.

At that moment you craved nothing more than to lick his hand clean, and suck the rest of his cum out of his beautiful cock. Your thighs squeezed together so hard you were sure they would be sore the next day.

You couldn’t take it anymore, so you may or may not have deceived your boss into thinking you were too ill to continue working. Faking being sick is something that everyone has done at some point in their lives—maybe not to go home and fuck their slutty boyfriends but still.

He didn’t even get a word in before you directed him. “Bed, now.”

He may not have been known as the smartest of all his brothers but he could follow orders like no other. By the time your clothes hit the floor Aegon was already laid bare before you. The sight he’d been teasing you with all day, finally within your reach.

“Don’t make me wait for it, baby,” a cocky smile graced your boyfriend’s pink lips. The fucking nerve of him.

“Me, make you wait? Me, tease you? Oh you’re gonna get it now.” You crawled over his body placing your legs on either side of his neck. “Put your hands where I can see them. You’re not allowed to touch me for that shit you pulled earlier, but I’m going to enjoy myself.”

He nodded obediently to your demands, clearly eager to get to work on your ‘punishment’. Without another word you plopped yourself down onto his waiting mouth, tugging his silver hair into your hands like a lead.

His tongue found its way to your clit quicker than it ever had before, causing you to jump with surprise. No matter how many times you two had sex you were always shocked by how fucking good he was at it. “Fuuck, Aegon,” Despite being in control this time you couldn’t help the submissive whines that spilled out of you.

The movements of Aegon’s mouth became more intense as his confidence tended to boost when you made ‘pretty noises’ for him—his words, not yours. His tongue expertly created a pattern of movements through your lips, dipping back and forth from your aching clit to your desperate hole, occasionally sucking at your bud until you could feel your pulse running through it.

He was like a man starved despite the fact that you had just done this very thing the night prior.

“You like that baby?” His question was mumbled against your pussy.

You sighed out of your nose just as upset as you were turned on that he was still so pleased to have you denying him any affection after the stunt he pulled today. “No talking.” Your tone was as harsh as you tugged harder at his locks until his face was completely flush to your cunt.

Still he persisted at his usual strenuous pace. You wanted to cry from pleasure, toes curling on both sides of your boyfriends head. Your hips began to rock at their own speed, meeting his mouth with equal eagerness.

“Yes just like that,” The vibrations of Aegons moans against you soaking core making it impossible to hold off your impending orgasm much longer. You were already so close and it felt like it had just started. Honestly it was a wonder to you how you managed to last even this long with how pent up you were all day.

“I’m gonna come, fuck,” Aegon let out a clear groan of encouragement underneath you. Unconsciously your pelvis began grinding harder against the Targaryen’s face, his nose bumping against your clit when it wasn’t being sucked between his lips. Your back arched as you visualized your peak coming to an end.

Harder.

Faster.

Pelvis meeting skull in a storm of passion.

Without meaning to, you slipped higher up your boyfriend’s face while grinding against him, desperate to reach your end. That’s when you felt it.

Crack.

You broke his fucking nose.

You acted swiftly, pulling yourself off him and making sure he was at least still alive. You gently tugged his face in your hands to gaze in your direction, getting a better look to assess the damage. “Fuck baby are you okay? I’m so sorry, oh shit—” his nose was leaning to the left side of his face with dark streams of blood leaking out of each nostril.

His eyes welled up slightly with tears in his waterline. “Why’d you stop?” Was the first thing out of his mouth.

You were completely blown away by his seeming lack of concern for his own safety. “You’re fucking joking right? Aegon, I broke your nose!”

“Yeah but you were almost done anyway.” He defended, looking more upset that you didn’t come than his bloodied nose.

A smile grew across your lips. How could one person manage to be so frustrating yet so cute at the same time? Your thumbs rubbed softly at the sides of his injured face. “You really are something you know that?” You laughed.

“Thank you.” He grinned before wincing at the pain of moving his face.

“We have to get you to the ER.” You moved away from him, running around the room to pick up both your clothes and dress yourself.

“But you haven’t even—” you cut him off before he could finish his stupid sentence.

“My orgasm is not nearly as important as making sure I didn’t permanently fuck up your nose. Get dressed, please, I’m going to get you an ice pack for that.” You pointed to the centre of his face.

He made a pouty noise but complied nonetheless, tugging some tissues out from the bedside table to absorb the blood running down his face.

You walked to the freezer, pulling out the cold compress. When you made your way back into the room you found a fully dressed Aegon who looked like the cat who ate the canary. You stood in front of him pushing the compress delicately against his nose. “What’s got you so excited all of a sudden?”

He smirk became wider. “Just thinking about how proud my mums will be when I tell them how I broke my nose.”

Your cheeks heated at his words. The image of his mothers mortified faces as he explains to them in detail how his injuries were caused entering your mind. “You’re not funny.”

“Oh I’m quite serious, they’ll be happier than when they found out I actually managed to get into a university without bribing anyone.”

You found out just how genuine he was being a couple days later when he dialed them up on speaker phone for you to hear.

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii fanfic #modern aegon #modern!aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen blurb #aegon imagine #hotd smut #house of the dragon smut #cjs.drabbles #cjs.library

737 notes · View notes

harrywavycurly · 2 years ago

Text

Hello and welcome to the oh so wonderful world of Texting Boyfriend Harry Styles✨

Summary: You’ve known the international pop star since the One Direction days, but only the past year and a half have you been able to call him your boyfriend. This series is all about what life is like being a normal person who just so happens to be dating the one and only Harry Edward Styles. This texting series will show that every relationship has it’s highs and it’s lows so buckle up because dating Harry isn’t always easy, but damn does he love you. 🪩✨

A/N: I have done social media stories for Harry before but this is the first texting series so hope y’all enjoy✨

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!reader

Tag List: Open

Requests: Here

Instagrams: Here

Conversations: Here

Extras: Here

*this is mainly a texting series and you’ll find everything in the correct order below*

Part 1: That’s Odd

Part 2: You Home?

Part 3: Fruits

Part 4: Remember When…

Part 5: Vacation

Part 6: Missing You

Part 7: Slippers

Part 8: Deserve it

Part 9: Boring

Part 10: Randy

Part 11: Housewives

Part 12: Nightstand

Part 13: Golf Puns

Part 14: Coffee Shops

Part 15: Important

Part 16: Golf Things

#texting Harry styles #harry styles social media au #Harry styles fake texts #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fake social media #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #Harry styles #solo harry #my little lanky baby #one direction fanfiction #one direction fake texts

387 notes · View notes

gguk-n · 22 days ago

Text

Chapter 3- Caught in the Act

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- If you asked Zak Brown, he would advice never to store confidential contracts on the cloud. If you asked Lando, he would tell you to not fall in love with your fake fiance. If you asked Y/N, she would tell you to never date a famous person even if it's not real.

While Lando was being coached by his best friend to confess his love to his fake fiance; Zak's cloud was being hacked in hopes of finding some dirt on McLaren or their CEO to black mail but they didn't expect to hit the jackpot. Their contract was valid for 3-4 more months and the plan was to slowly ease Y/N out of Lando's life and say that things didn't work out because of their busy schedule.

What no one anticipated was they would wake up on Saturday morning to both their face plastered all over the news with the contract they had signed. The media was calling them all sorts of things from trying to fool them to trying to fool an entire country. There were people who had tracked her down and were now waiting outside Y/N's house in hopes of talking to her or at her work. She had to take leave from work since her professors were speaking ill of her. She couldn't imagine having to go back for her PHD programme. The worst were the fans; the name calling, the hate; it was all directed towards her as if McLaren were saint's in all of this. Lando also bore the brunt of a major chunk of the hate.

Zak just texted them telling them not to talk to anyone and to stay hidden till it all died out. Y/N wouldn't even talk to Lando at this point because she was so angry and hurt and didn't want to direct her anger towards him when it wasn't even his fault. She was sat bawling her eyes out at all the mean things the people were saying about her. It made her life extremely difficult, something she hadn't imagined happening.

Lando was a mess; McLaren told the media that Lando wouldn't be answering any question other than the race and if they asked any personal questions, he just walked away; adding fuel to the fire. The drivers were also gossiping among themselves. "No wonder she suddenly showed up. It was all a rouse" George whispered. "I mean I get why McLaren would do that, with Lando's antics" Alex reasoned. But as soon as they would spot Lando, they would stop whispering. "If you guys are gonna talk about my relationship" he said in animated quotation marks, "do it in front of me. I'll answer all your questions" he huffed and walked away, clearly hurt by his friends. Racing while it felt like his world was falling apart was proving to be very difficult. All his calls and messages to Y/N would fall on deaf ears and it was messing with him even more. He just needed to know that she was okay. He didn't give a rat's ass about how he was.

"Lando, I think, soon the media will get something else to talk about. You should just focus on your racing" Zak reasoned with Lando who wanted to put out a statement saying it was all their idea. "None of this would've happened had you not saved the damn contract on your cloud" Lando sighed angrily. "I don't understand how could you let something like that happen" he shouted walking away. The environment in the McLaren garage was tense to say the least.

Lando had hoped that things would quite down by now. The original timeline for his contract was also up but there was no shutting up about the fake relationship. Lando won his maiden win and yet the only thing they could talk about was Y/N. Part of Lando missed her, he had really hope to be able to share this moment with her. When he got out of the car, a big part of him wished she was there so he could run to her, hold her and maybe celebrate this win with her.

So, later that night, he did call her and she answered, her voice hoarse. "Congratulations Lando" she crocked. "Were you crying?" Lando asked worried. "Yeah, I'm just so happy you won" she said clearing her throat. Lando found himself smiling for the first time in a long time. "How have you been?" he asked her softly. "Same old same old. I thought things would quite down by now but they haven't." Y/N mumbled. "I'm sorry" Lando apologised. "It's a good thing I'm busy with research for my PHD. I have no clue how I would deal with people in my class" she sighed. "I'm so sorry Y/N. It's all my fault" Lando began before Y/N cut him off. "It's no one's fault. Things like this happen. I'm just glad they didn't rebuke my visa for this" she laughed trying to lighten the mood. 'I miss you' was stuck in both their throats as they continued to talk for a couple more minutes. "I think we should cut the call" Y/N suggested. "Oh" Lando replied. "I think it would be easier for the both of us if we stopped contacting each other. It was a hassle explaining the whole thing to my parents and my relatives. I just don't have it in me honestly" Y/N breathed out shakily. "I'll fix this" Lando tried to reason. "Don't Lando. I think this was it for us. I wish you the best. Take care" Y/N said it like it was their last time talking. "Please" Lando begged but Y/N cut the call; "But I love you" Lando whispered into his phone.

As the time went on and as the championship picked up, Lando's heart was in unrest. He felt like he had wronged the person who he loved and he couldn't live knowing that. So, he decided to sit down one day and film a video. He had seen the stuff people were saying about him and Y/N and he felt like it had been months; people should've moved on by now but if they couldn't he would make sure that they wouldn't be able to say shit about Y/N anymore.

The video began with Lando in his Monaco apartment; "Hi guys. Lando here" he began. He took a deep breath before speaking; "I would like to address my whole relationship with Y/N in his video. Part of me had hoped that it wouldn't come to his but here we are. Y/N and I did begin this relationship in a contract but it was the team's and my decision to do so. She was just a random person we ran into who ended up helping us. So, the whole gold digger narrative you all are spinning is a load of bull. I know I shouldn't've done that but I had no other option to clear up my image because that's what the team and sponsors wanted. Part of me had hoped that after the championship had started picking up steam you guys would have something better to talk about but hating on us for the decisions we made is too much. If you would like to hate on me or send me a ton of hate, be my guest but please leave Y/N out of this. She is innocent and doesn't deserve this. I would appreciate it if you would stop sending hate to the woman I actually loved. And to Y/N, if you're even watching, had we met in a different situation, I would've actually married you since I really do love you" Lando finished the video and after he was happy with it he uploaded it to his channel. He knew his PR team would give him shit but he didn't give a fuck. He just wanted Y/N to be safe.

The internet was in an uproar after Lando's public declaration of love. Some were calling it cliche and the others were swooning over Lando for taking a stand. People weren't very happy with McLaren and how they had handled the whole situation. Lando was being bombarded by calls from McLaren and they were angry at him for what he did. "Lando are you crazy? The sponsors won't stop calling. Why would you say that?" Zak shouted. "Because lying was what got us here. So, I cleared the air" Lando stated. "You are unbelievable and so difficult. I don't know why I tried so hard to keep you" Zak mumbled which Lando heard and it stung.

Y/N was on vacation with Becky who had taken her away since all she did was stay coup-ed up at home since the whole incident. Y/N woke up to a text from her mum; 'you'll want to see this. It's Lando' it read. Y/N quickly loaded the video and before she knew it, she was crying. She couldn't believe that Lando loved her. The craziest part of the video was the love confession honestly. She quickly called him and a groggy voice answered. "Y/N, is everything okay?" Lando asked worried. "Yes. Do you mean it?" she asked. "Mean what?" Lando asked confused. "What you said in the video about being in love with me?" she pleaded. "Yes. Every word. I've been in love with you for months and I couldn't tell you and it was killing me. It's fine if you don't feel the same. I just needed to let it out" Lando rambled. "I love you too you muppet" she laughed as tears were rolling down her face. "You mean it?" Lando asked pinching himself. "Yes. I love you so much Lando Norris" she said, by now Becky was also up due to all the commotion. "Are you free tonight?" Lando asked. "Ahh, I'm on vacation right now" she said slowly. "Let me know when you're back, I'll pick you up at the airport" Lando said, "I love you Y/N Y/L/N" Lando stated. "I love you too" Y/N replied before ending the call to explain everything to Becky.

True to his words Lando had come to the airport to pick her up, As soon as he spotted her, he ran to her at full speed almost knocking her down as he wrapped his arms around her waist raising her in the process to spin around for a while. "I missed you" he whispered putting her down with his head nuzzled in her neck. "I missed you too" she whispered running a hand through the back of his hair. "You made me dizzy" she whined as he pulled away to look at her. "Sorry" Lando smiled sheepishly. "About that date?" he asked. "Give me some time to shower and than I'm all yours" she beamed.

The two of them headed home. They went on that much needed date; at home with pizza and shitty rom-coms. They giggled as the pair on the screen kissed. When Lando turned to look at her and held her face like it was the most precious thing. "Can I kiss you?" he mumbled, eyes flickering to her lips. She nodded and Lando closed the distance between them, the kiss was sweet and needy; they had so many emotions running through them and some how this kiss was exactly what they needed.

"What about McLaren?" she asked a couple days later. "I'll tell them we're really dating but now I really wanna just protect you. I won't let anything happen to you." he stated. "I know" she hummed in agreement kissing his lips.

After spending the whole of summer break together, Lando came out to announce that he was actually dating Y/N. The team took it as well as you expect them to. The fans were going wild since this was truly out of a book. The other drivers were quite supportive and even apologised for their previous discretion.

With Y/N on his side, Lando felt like he could take on the world; good or bad. And Y/N was happy she agreed to fake date Lando since she got a real boyfriend out of this.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

350 notes · View notes

wherebrkenheartsgo · 9 months ago

Text

Status: Ongoing

Tag List: Open

Story Type: Established Relationship

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this texting series and it may be a Harry series but you’ll see a certain Irish man a few times as well because I can’t write Harry without mentioning Niall✨

*this is mainly a texting series but you’ll find everything below*

Instagrams: Coming Soon✨

Conversations: Coming Soon✨

Everything Else: Here

Part 1: That’s Odd

45 notes · View notes

harrrystyles-writing · 19 days ago

Text

Yes Sir! Capítulo 30

Personagens: Professor! Harry x Estudante!Aurora. (Aurora tem 24 anos e Harry tem 35)

Aviso: O capítulo será todo dedicado a nossa querida Aurora porque ela merece, afinal é o aniversário da nossa protagonista 💗

NotaAutora: Perdão pela demora e Aproveitem o capítulo e não se esqueçam de comentar💗

AURORA

Acordei com o som insistente do interfone, como se o próprio aparelho estivesse determinado a me lembrar que, mesmo no meu aniversário, eu não teria sossego. Passei a mão no rosto, tentando afastar o sono e o humor de quem só queria hibernar na cama pelo menos até o meio-dia. Levantei, arrastando os pés até o interfone, já pensando em quem teria coragem de interromper meu dia tão cedo.

— Senhorita Aurora, há um entregador aqui — disse o porteiro, sua voz calma, rotineira. — Parece uma entrega especial de uma padaria.

— Eu não pedi nada.

— Ele disse que o pedido já foi pago! Quer que eu o mande subir?

— Ok! Pode deixar. — murmurei, ainda perplexa.

Quando abri a porta e recebi a embalagem nas mãos, meu coração acelerou, era padaria de Boston, Sweet Sunrise Bakery.

Minha padaria favorita.

A embalagem tinha aquele tom pálido de creme com bordas douradas, que sempre pareciam um detalhe caprichado demais para um café da manhã. Mas foi só abrir a tampa para encontrar os itens cuidadosamente dispostos: o croissant de chocolate com amêndoas, pãozinhos frescos e a pequena garrafa de café aromático que eu costumava pedir quando eu ia lá.

Era tudo o que eu gostava.

Sem pensar, peguei o celular e digitei uma mensagem para Gabriel.

"Você me mandou um café da manhã da Sweet Sunrise? Muito obrigado!"

A resposta veio rápida.

"Não fui eu, mas fico feliz! Feliz aniversário! Aproveite."

Senti um frio estranho na barriga, se não era Gabriel, quem era?

"Vocês mandaram café da manhã para mim? "

Mandei para Georgia e a resposta veio logo em seguida.

"Não! Você recebeu algo especial é?"

"Nada de mais, bjs"

Isso era realmente estranho, vasculhei a embalagem a procura de alguma pista, então um bilhete dobrado me aguardava, a caligrafia era pequena e cuidadosa, com as mãos trêmulas, desdobrei o papel.

"Espero que ainda se lembre da promessa. Feliz aniversário, docinho."

"Docinho."

Docinho?!

Apenas uma pessoa no mundo me chamava assim.

Por um instante, quase pude ouvir a voz dele, sussurrando.

Mas não… ele jamais faria isso.

Ele não podia…

Não! Não!

Como ele ousava?

Parte de mim queria jogar tudo fora, fazer a raiva valer alguma coisa, mas a outra parte de mim queria olhar para cada pedaço daquela surpresa, o café, o croissant, os pãezinhos e saborear-los agradecida, eu não sabia dizer se estava mais confusa, irritada ou pior ainda esperançosa.

Porque, no fundo, uma parte de mim talvez, só talvez quisesse que ele cumprisse aquela promessa, mas promessas são só palavras vazias.

Eu fiquei ali, encarando o bilhete e sentindo o estômago apertar de angústia e saudade, tentando decidir se deveria ignorar aquilo ou me deixar sentir, mesmo que por um segundo, fechei os olhos, respirando fundo, o aroma do café trouxe uma pontada cruel de nostalgia, mesmo relutante, dei uma mordida pequena quase automática no croissant, mas o sabor trazia mais do que eu estava disposta a sentir, lembrei de todas as manhãs em que Harry sorria para mim, assim que eu acordava dizendo que passou na minha padaria favorita perto da casa dele, então aquele cheirinho delicioso de croissant surgia, enquanto o me olhava daquele jeito, como se eu fosse a pessoa mais importante do mundo, ele sempre sabia como me deixar feliz, de algum jeito ele também sabia como me fazer sentir segura.

Uma lágrima escapou antes que eu pudesse conter. Passei a mão rapidamente pelo rosto, tentando afastar esse momento de fraqueza. Eu não podia me deixar levar, não agora. Olhei para a comida à minha frente, respirei fundo, e antes que mudasse de ideia, joguei tudo no lixo.

Eu precisava focar em mim, no meu aniversário, eu tinha que dar um jeito no meu apartamento, ele estava infestado com coisas de bebês, caixas, sacolas, pilhas de roupas espalhadas. Meu peito se apertou ao olhar para aquilo tudo, era difícil admitir que me peguei sorrindo algumas vezes ao pegar aquelas roupinhas tão pequenas e me imaginar cuidando de uma vida que, querendo ou não, estava crescendo dentro de mim. Fui pegando as coisas aos poucos, empilhando tudo nos braços levando até o quarto de hóspedes, jogando as roupas de bebê, o berço, cada pedacinho de esperança que minha mãe havia trazido, eu não queria aceitar que a cada dia esse bebê era mais real, não queria sentir a felicidade de ser mãe.

O som do interfone me trouxe de volta.

— Senhorita Aurora, chegaram alguns presentes para a senhorita. São... são muitos — O porteiro, tinha um tom quase divertido na voz. — Onde quer que eu os deixe?

Presentes?

— Pode mandar subir, deixe na porta, por favor.

Quando abri, uma fileira de caixas, pacotes e balões esperava por mim, envolto em papel colorido, com fitas e laços, em cima de cada caixa, havia um bilhete pequeno.

É sério que ele iria insistir nisso?

Peguei o primeiro bilhete que vi.

"Você merece todas as coisas boas que esse mundo tem a oferecer."

Por que ele tava fazendo isso comigo?

Ele sabia o quanto eu nunca me achei boa o bastante para qualquer coisa.

Meu olhar se fixou no próximo bilhete.

"Você merece tudo o que pensa que não merece, Aurora."

Meu coração batia mais forte, um desejo de rasgar cada pedaço daquele papel.

Eu o odiava por me fazer sentir isso.

Peguei o próximo:

"Sempre levarei você no meu coração, docinho."

E mais outro:

"Seja muito feliz! Eu sempre estarei torcendo por você."

Minhas mãos tremiam.

O último bilhete que consegui ler dizia:

"Obrigado por fazer meu mundo melhor."

Aquele foi o golpe final.

Meus ombros cederam, e as lágrimas desciam incontroláveis, por mais que eu tentasse negar, ele me conhecia melhor do que ninguém, sabia que as palavras quebrariam minhas defesas mesmo com todo o ódio que eu tentava manter. Limpei as lágrimas com pressa, recusando-me a ceder a esse sentimento. Peguei cada caixa, cada balão, empurrei tudo para dentro do quarto de hóspedes junto com as coisas do bebê, tranquei-a, por um instante, fechei os olhos, desejando que nada daquilo fosse real.

...

O vapor preenchia o banheiro enquanto eu me deixava relaxar na água morna. Fechei os olhos e respirei fundo, como se cada gota pudesse lavar o peso do que eu tinha sentido mais cedo, por um instante eu podia simplesmente... não pensar.

Não havia bilhetes.

Não havia saudades.

Apenas eu, a água quente, e o som suave da água caindo.

Saí do banho sentindo-me um pouco mais leve, como se tivesse deixado as emoções da manhã escorrerem pelo ralo.

Escolhi uma legging afinal minhas calças jeans já não me serviam mais, uma blusa longa e um casaco, agradecia de estar começando o inverno assim era muito mais fácil me esconder nas roupas, pentei o cabelo deixando-o solto, passei um toque de maquiagem sutil para cobrir o inchaço ao redor dos olhos, hoje eu queria estar linda para mim mesma, e talvez um pouco para Gabriel também, afinal ele me chamou para um almoço especial de aniversário.

Quando a campainha tocou, abri a porta, e lá estava ele, com aquele sorriso que me fazia esquecer todo o caos, Gabriel vestia um moletom azul marinho e calça jeans. Ele me olhou de cima a baixo e vi seu sorriso se alargar.

— Uau, Aurora, você está linda. — Deixou um rápido selinho em meus lábios.

— Obrigada, vamos?

— Claro.

Tranquei a porta atrás de mim, entrelaçando meu braço no dele enquanto caminhávamos para o carro, eu não sabia ao certo o que Gabriel tinha planejado para o nosso almoço, mas o lugar que Gabriel escolheu era aconchegante e charmoso, um pequeno bistrô com luzes suaves e mesas de madeira, decorado com um estilo simples, mas acolhedor. Não era sofisticado, mas tinha um calor especial, Gabriel abriu a porta para mim, me guiando para uma mesa perto da janela, ele puxou a cadeira para mim, o que me fez sorrir de leve, assim que ele ocupou seu lugar à minha frente, notei seu olhar penetrante, enquanto corria os olhos pelo cardápio.

— Confia em mim? — Ele fechou o menu de repente, me surpreendendo. — Posso escolher para nós dois? Prometo que vai ser bom.

— Tudo bem, eu vou confiar, então.

— Vou fazer valer a confiança, eu prometo.

— Murmurou, antes de chamar o garçom e fazer o pedido, em voz baixa, sem revelar nada a mim.

Pouco depois, o garçom voltou com dois pratos com aromas deliciosos, meu prato era risoto de cogumelos cremoso, perfumado com ervas frescas, parecia delicioso, Gabriel me ofereceu o primeiro pedaço, ele pegou o garfo, trazendo um pedaço da comida até minha boca, hesitei mas aceitei, nossos olhares se cruzaram enquanto ele me servia, por um instante, eu me senti estranha mas não de um jeito ruim era como se ele realmente me achasse especial, que me fez esquecer quem eu era ou o que eu costumava pensar sobre o amor.

— E então?

— Gabi… isso é incrível!

— Fico feliz que tenha gostado, eu pensei que você merecia algo especial. — Ele desviou o olhar por um instante, antes de completar. — Não é nada muito elaborado, mas…

— Mas nada, está perfeito.— Não consegui evitar de sorrir.

Entre conversas e risadas, ele continuava a me oferecer pedaços, eu também oferecia a ele, eu nunca tinha percebido como o simples ato de dividir a comida podia ser tão… íntimo.

— Espero que o casal esteja aproveitando o almoço. — O Garçom que nos atendeu apareceu em nossa mesa.

— Estamos, sim! Obrigado. — Pude ver o rosto corado de Gabriel ao responder.

Quando o garçom se afastou, Gabriel voltou a atenção para mim, com aquele sorriso travesso.

— O que foi? — perguntei, sem conseguir evitar o riso.

— Nada — ele disse, ainda sorrindo. — Só acho engraçado que tenhamos mesmo cara de casal.

— Acho que o fato de ficarmos dando comida na boca um do outro pode ter ter dado essa impressão.— falei, rindo.

— Talvez... Ás vezes… não sei, às vezes penso em você como… você sabe, minha namorada.

Meu coração acelerou, o sorriso desaparecendo aos poucos, aquela confissão, por mais sutil que fosse, despertou uma sensação que eu tentava sufocar.

— Gabi, eu… eu realmente gosto do que temos agora. É simples, está bom assim… não está?

Houve um breve silêncio Gabriel baixou o olhar, a mão deslizando levemente sobre o garfo, como se procurasse as palavras certas.

— Claro… claro, desculpa, não queria te pressionar, só foi um comentário bobo.

— Está tudo bem, de verdade. — Coloquei minha mão sobre a dele, sentindo seu corpo relaxar sob meu toque. — Eu só… preciso de mais um pouco de tempo, entende? Mas quero que você saiba que eu estou curtindo muito estar com você, muito mesmo. — Olhei em seus olhos com toda a sinceridade que podia reunir.

— Aurora, eu espero o tempo que precisar.

Meu almoço de aniversário foi perfeito, embora o medo que se instalou quando ele falou sobre o namoro, mas todo resto estava simplesmente incrível, Gabriel sabia como me fazer sentir especial, assim que chegamos ao meu prédio, a tranquilidade que eu sentia desmoronou.

— Ah, senhorita Aurora! — o porteiro me chamou assim que entrei no saguão. — Chegou mais alguns presentes para a senhorita. Um total de treze, na verdade.

Senti meu estômago se apertar

— Treze presentes? — Gabriel perguntou, claramente intrigado. — Uau!

— Teve mais pela manhã. — O porteiro comentou e eu quis socá-lo por isso.

— Alguém está realmente se esforçando. —Gabriel forçou uma risada.

— É... parece que alguém resolveu exagerar — Suspirei, tentando parecer indiferente.

Com a ajuda de Gabriel e do porteiro, fomos empilhando os presentes em meus braços. Gabriel pegou alguns também, mas pude sentir a curiosidade crescendo nele a cada segundo.

— Aurora, quem... quem enviou tudo isso? — Ele tentou manter o tom casual, logo que entramos no elevador.

— Eu... — Hesitei, tentando encontrar uma resposta que não levantasse mais suspeitas. — Minha família, minha mãe gosta de exagerar nessas coisas de aniversário.

Ele riu, embora a expressão em seu rosto continuasse desconfiada, ao chegar à porta do meu apartamento, ele colocou os últimos presentes no chão e olhou para mim, ainda curioso.

— Bem, sua família realmente sabe como fazer você se sentir especial.

— É, eles são assim. — Menti.

O olhar dele passeou pelos presentes em cima da mesa, percebi que ele tentou pegar um dos bilhetes presos aos pacotes.

Antes que ele pudesse pegar puxei mais perto, pegando o bilhete junto.

Eu sabia que, se deixasse ele ver algum dos bilhetes, tudo ficaria mais complicado, precisava de uma desculpa.

— Então... — disse, virando-me para ele. — Eu preciso me arrumar para o jantar com minha família. Sabe como é.

Gabriel sorriu, ligeiramente desapontado, talvez por sentir que eu estava tentando encerrar o encontro de maneira bruta, mas eu não podia lidar com isso com ele aqui.

— Claro, claro... Não quero atrapalhar. — Ele deu um sorriso um pouco tímido. — A gente se vê depois.

Assenti, sentindo um aperto no peito ao vê-lo assim.

— Com certeza, vou deixar a chave reserva com você, quando chegar, eu quero encontrar uma comemoração digna, hein? — brinquei, tentando aliviar o clima e espantar a tensão do momento assim que dei a chave a ele.

— Pode deixar, vou fazer com que seja o aniversário mais inesquecível de todos.— Ele se inclinou deixando um beijo em meus lábios.

Logo que Gabriel saiu, suspirei, exausta me virei para a pilha de presentes, reuni os pacotes, caminhei até o quarto de hóspedes, nem se quer me dando o trabalho de ler esses bilhetes idiotas desta vez. Fui colocando cada presente novo naquela pilha, um por um, ignorando-os, quando finalmente empurrei a última caixa para dentro, fechei a porta e travei,

então percebi o bilhete que eu tinha tirado da vista de Gabriel, ainda estava entre meus dedos, com um suspiro, passei o polegar sobre o papel, sentindo o papel meio amassado antes de abri-lo.

"1 presente para cada ano que você iluminou o mundo, você continua sendo importante para mim."

Fechei os olhos, tentando controlar a onda de raiva que subia no peito, mas era impossível.

— Importante? Tão importante que ele nem se quer sabe quantos anos estou fazendo! São 24 anos! Porra! Eu estou fazendo 24 anos, seu idiota! — Gritei jogando o pequeno papel longe.

...

Me olhava no espelho dando uma última conferida no meu look de aniversário, escolhi um vestido vermelho de manga longa, justo o suficiente para parecer elegante, mas discreto o bastante para disfarçar a barriga. Adicionei uma meia-calça preta para o frio, botas marrons escuras e um casaco de lã que caia até a altura dos joelhos, brincos dourados e o batom vermelho era a última camada de confiança que coloquei para encarar o jantar.

Georgia surgiu à porta, observando-me com seu sorriso de canto cheio de ironia.

— Você tá pronta, aniversariante? — perguntou, mas seu olhos logo foram para celular ao meu lado. — Quem tá te mandando mensagem? A Lily?

— Não, é... um cara que eu tô saindo. — Dou de ombros, tentando parecer casual. — Lembra do cara da loja de móveis? Então, ele meio que era da minha sala, uma longa história.

— O cara da loja? Olha só! Finalmente você tá saindo com alguém! — Ela sorriu parecia genuinamente feliz. — Quero saber todos os detalhes.

— Eu vou, depois, mas, ó, não vai contando pro papai, tá? Você sabe como ele é.

— Seu segredo está seguro comigo. — Ela balançou a cabeça, concordando.

Minha mãe apareceu à porta, chamando nossa atenção com um sorriso acolhedor.

— Meninas, está na hora. Vamos?

Georgia e eu trocamos um último olhar antes de segui-la.

O restaurante escolhido pelo meu pai era um dos mais renomados da cidade, até meio óbvio, localizado no topo de um prédio com uma vista de tirar o fôlego.

Nós nos acomodamos em uma mesa reservada para a noite, com vista direta para as ruas movimentadas lá embaixo. O garçom apareceu rapidamente, deixando um cardápio luxuoso em nossas mãos. Georgia, ao meu lado, admirava o ambiente, enquanto meu pai, já analisava o cardápio com olhar meticuloso.

Escolhemos pratos dignos de um restaurante Michelin. Para começar, vieiras grelhadas com emulsão de limão siciliano e lâminas de trufas. O aroma era delicado, o sabor impecável, mas o silêncio em nossa mesa era constrangedor.

— Estive conversando com o reitor sobre o seu progresso na faculdade. — Meu pai lançou um olhar para mim. — Ele me disse que suas notas estão subindo novamente, já estava na hora.

Não era um elogio, exatamente, mas também não era uma crítica, então decido aceitar.

— Obrigada.

Por um momento, acho que vi um resquício de orgulho nos olhos dele, mas foi rapidamente substituído por sua expressão usual, rígida.

— Isso é ótimo, Aurora, estou feliz por você estar conseguindo conciliar tudo. — Minha mãe tinha um sorriso caloroso .

— Tenho tido ajuda para estudar… isso tem feito muita diferença.

— O reitor mencionou algo curioso, parece que há rumores sobre um professor da sua universidade envolvido com uma aluna.— Suspirou recostando-se na cadeira com uma expressão pensativa. — Por acaso você está ciente dos boatos?

Por um instante, senti minha espinha congelar.

— Um professor com uma aluna? — Minha mãe, ergueu as sobrancelhas, horrorizada. — Que absurdo! Não consigo imaginar um comportamento mais inadequado.

— Ah, pai, boatos assim surgem o tempo todo... é provável que alguém tenha exagerado só para causar um pouco de drama, sabe como é. — Ri, tentando parecer despreocupada. — As pessoas adoram uma fofoca. — Acrescentei, torcendo para que ele se contentasse com a resposta.

O garçom acabou aparecendo no momento certo, interrompendo a conversa ao anunciar o próximo prato: um filé de wagyu, perfeitamente selado e acompanhado de purê de batatas trufado e vegetais assados em manteiga de ervas.

— Que tal falarmos de outro assunto? — Georgia sugeriu

— Isso! — Concordei.

— Já contou ao pai da criança, sobre sua gravidez? Ou vai preferir que eu interfira?

A comida pareceu ficar ainda mais difícil de engolir.

Meu pai estava realmente determinado a estragar meu jantar.

— Vou contar, pai, eu só preciso de mais tempo. — Tentei manter o controle, mas o peso de suas palavras me deixa desconfortável.

Ele respirou fundo, cruzando os braços sobre a mesa, sem desviar o olhar.

— É bom mesmo que conte logo, porque se acha que vou deixar o sujeito que engravidou a minha filha sair ileso, está muito enganada ou você resolve isso logo ou eu vou ir até onde for necessário para encontrar esse rapaz, se precisar, vou atrás dele até no inferno.

Um silêncio tenso pairou sobre a mesa, enquanto tentava conter a lágrimas.

— Lion, é o aniversário dela, hoje não é o momento para isso, por favor. — Minha mãe colocou a mão encima da dele suplicando.

— Tudo bem. — Cedeu mesmo com o olhar rígido. — Falamos disto depois.

O jantar terminou com direito a um pequeno bolo de chocolate e um parabéns dos funcionários do restaurante e alguns presentes caros demais para apenas uma universitária, depois eles me levam de volta ao apartamento, ao chegarmos à porta, minha mãe segurou minhas mãos.

— Querida, desculpe pelo seu pai, você sabe como ele é.

— Tudo bem. — Menti.

— Nós precisamos voltar ainda hoje, mas prometemos voltar em breve, afinal, logo teremos nosso primeiro netinho. — Sua mão acariciou minha barriga.

— Cuida de você, tá? E qualquer coisa, me liga. — Georgia me abraçou.

— Cuide-se, Aurora. — Meu pai me deu um abraço breve.

Fiquei parada ali, vendo-os ir embora, suspirando aliviada por finalmente ter acabado, entrei no prédio, acenei para o porteiro com um sorriso leve. No elevador, tentei espantar o peso do dia, pelo menos nas próximas horas, teria uma chance de me divertir e me sentir uma universitária comum, como nos velhos tempos. Assim que girei a chave e entrei no apartamento, fui recebida por uma explosão de cores e energia, balões em tons pastel e prateado estavam espalhados pelo chão e presos nas paredes, uma faixa de “Feliz Aniversário” enfeitava a entrada da sala, enquanto serpentinas coloridas desciam do teto, e um arranjo de flores vibrantes ocupava a mesa de centro. As luzes estavam baixas, com algumas lâmpadas decorativas criando um brilho aconchegante e acolhedor.Rostos familiares me esperavam, Gabriel estava no balcão da cozinha, rindo de algo que Josh dizia, enquanto Lily veio correndo ao meu encontro.

— Parabéns! Amiga. —Ela me deu um abraço apertado. — Gostou? — Perguntou, com um brilho no olhar.

— Sim! Ficou tudo tão incrível, eu amei.

— Então, vamos aproveitar. — Me puxou para o meio da sala.

A música começou a tocar mais alto, preenchendo o ambiente com uma batida animada, um cheiro delicioso de pizza se misturava ao perfume doce das flores, no balcão da cozinha estava o tradicional “drink especial” da Lily, com um toque de frutas frescas e guarda-chuvinhas coloridos. Minha casa parecia outra, cheia de vida e energia, era como se cada detalhe tivesse sido pensado para me fazer sentir especial e eu mal conseguia parar de sorrir.

Eu não esperava tanta gente, mas havia algo nessa bagunça animada que me fazia sentir viva. Meu aniversário estava acontecendo ali, naquele momento, eu não queria pensar em nada que pudesse me puxar para baixo. Passei um bom tempo aproveitando a festa. Dancei com meus amigos, ri com eles, comemos e jogamos, eu realmente estava aproveitando e por algumas horas esqueci de todas as coisas que me atormentavam.

— Ei, Aurora. — Senti uma mão pousar suavemente na minha cintura.

Me virei e dei de cara com Gabriel, que estava ainda mais bonito do que eu me lembrava. Talvez fosse o efeito dos hormônios, ou talvez fosse só o fato de eu estar realmente afim dele naquele momento, mas, com aquele sorriso suave e encantador, ele conseguiu desarmar qualquer resistência minha.

— Posso roubar a aniversariante por um tempo? — ele perguntou, antes que eu pudesse protestar, já segurando minha mão com delicadeza.

— Claro eu sou toda sua.

Meu coração acelerou enquanto ele me guiava pela sala, nos afastando do resto da festa até entramos no meu quarto

— Estava te esperando a noite toda, sabia?

— E o que você faria se eu dissesse que eu também estava esperando por isso? — Respondi, me aproximando um pouco mais.

Ele riu, senti minha respiração falhar quando ele segurou meu rosto com as mãos, deslizando os dedos em minha pele.

— Aurora... — ele sussurrou, o olhar intenso, como se estivesse gravando cada detalhe de mim. — Tenho algo pra você.

Ele se afastou, tirando uma caixinha de veludo do bolso, ele abriu-a lentamente, revelando um colar delicado com um pingente de coração prateado, eu mal conseguia acreditar na perfeição do presente, ele era tão atencioso.

— É lindo.

— Agora você vai carregar um pedacinho de mim, onde quer que vá.

Enquanto ele se inclinava para colocar o colar, senti a respiração prender quando seus dedos roçaram a pele do meu pescoço, seu toque deixou um rastro de calor que parecia irradiar por todo o meu corpo.

— Gabriel… nem sei como agradecer. — Sussurrei, a voz um pouco trêmula, sentindo o metal frio sob os dedos.

— Você sabe o quanto eu gosto de você, não sabe? Isso aqui é real para mim.

Essas palavras me acertaram em cheio, tudo o que pude fazer foi assentir, sentindo o coração disparado, eu queria responder, mas eu não sabia o que dizer então me inclinei sentindo aqueles lábios macios mais uma vez, aos poucos, o beijo ficou mais intenso, eu mal conseguia respirar, mas também não queria parar, Gabriel foi me guiando entre o beijo ate me deitar na cama, senti o colchão macio nas costas enquanto ele se posicionava sobre mim.

Eu estava me perdendo completamente nele, as mãos dele desceu para minha cintura tentando explorar meu corpo, senti um frio na barriga, uma mistura de medo e ansiedade, sem saber o que fazer, tomei a mão dele e a direcionei delicadamente para o meu seio direito.

— Aqui. — murmurei, enquanto acariciava sua palma, guiando-a apalpar ainda mais firme, tentando esconder a insegurança que sentia.

A cada movimento, eu sentia um arrepio diferente, uma parte de mim ainda estava tensa, com receio de que ele descobrisse, mas sensações que ele me proporcionava me deixava sem fôlego fazendo esquecer rapidamente qualquer coisa, eu podia sentir ele entre minha pernas, duro, se movendo contra mim e agora eu desejava que o momento nunca terminasse.

Os lábios dele deslizaram pelo meu pescoço, um suspiro escapou de meus lábios antes que eu pudesse me conter, eu mal conseguia processar a intensidade do que estava sentindo, eu precisava de mais.

Eu queria ele.

Eu precisava dele.

Mas então, a porta entreabriu com um ruído leve e ouvimos uma risada suave.

— Nossa… Me desculpem , volto depois. — Era Lily, cobrindo os olhos com um sorriso brincalhão que mal conseguia disfarçar.

— Isso! — Falei frustada, mas Gabriel riu, saindo de cima de mim.

— Tudo bem, acho melhor voltarmos para a festa.— Ele afastou uma mecha do meu cabelo, me encarando por mais um segundo, antes de me ajudar a levantar.

Eu e Gabriel trocamos um olhar, entre sorrisos e respirações ofegantes, a essa altura Lily já tinha nos deixados nós a sós de novo.

— Depois a gente continua. — Ele sussurrou com um sorriso malicioso. — Mas você pode ir na frente eu vou precisar de mais alguns minutos.

— Tudo bem. — Eu ri, olhando para o enorme problema que estava entre suas pernas.

Ainda sentia o gosto do beijo e o calor do toque dele, quando passei pela porta ajeitando minha roupa. Voltei para a sala, onde a música ainda pulsava e a animação se espalhava pelo apartamento.

— Desculpa mesmo atrapalhar vocês, mas o vizinho do 206 apareceu e tava meio irritado, ele reclamou do barulho.

— Talvez a gente deva dar uma desacelerada. — Não queria que a festa fosse interrompida, mas também não queria causar mais problemas. — Eu vou lá pedir desculpas.

— Não demora.

O corredor agora parecia mais silencioso, eu estava prestes a bater na porta do senhor Hippie quando meu corpo congelou, como se um imã me prendesse ali, imóvel, por um segundo, quase acreditei que fosse um sonho ou pior, um pesadelo.

Ele estava ali, de pé, como uma miragem de algo que eu não sabia se queria ou odiava.

Não deveria, não poderia ser ele... não hoje, não no dia que eu passei tanto tempo tentando esquecer.

Eu respirei fundo, tentando encontrar alguma força para me mover, mas tudo o que saiu foi uma voz fraca e trêmula.

— Você... O que você está fazendo aqui? Eu disse para nunca mais aparecer.

Ele desviou o olhar, como se fosse incapaz de me encarar. Mas então, seus olhos encontraram os meus, profundos e inabaláveis, senti que o chão estava sumindo sob meus pés.

— Eu não vim aqui pra me desculpar, Aurora, eu não vim pra pedir perdão ou pra dizer que sinto sua falta. Você já sabe disso.

Ela sabia exatamente o que estava fazendo comigo. Eu queria odiá-lo por estar ali, por fazer meu coração bater mais rápido.

— Então por que veio? Porquê enviou aqueles presentes? E aliás, você me enviou vinte e três presentes, Harry, mas eu completei vinte e quatro anos. Você nem sequer se deu ao trabalho de lembrar quantos anos eu tenho e ainda diz que sou importante para você?

Ele sorriu, sua mão foi até o bolso e de lá tirou uma pequena caixinha.

— Este era o último presente, eu ia deixar na sua porta e ir embora, mas, por algum motivo, você apareceu.

Olhei para a caixinha nas mãos dele, uma onda de emoções esmagou o pouco de controle que eu ainda tinha.

— Por que não mandou junto com os outros? Por que precisa transformar isso num espetáculo?

— Porque... Esse é especial.

As palavras dele me atingiram com força, meu peito se apertou, a dor era quase insuportável.

— Eu... eu não entendo você, Harry. — Minha garganta apertada de dor. — O que espera que eu faça com tudo isso?

— Aurora, eu só queria que você fosse feliz hoje. Que, por um dia, você se sentisse especial, porque você é. Mesmo que a gente... Mesmo que tudo tenha sido tão complicado. Eu só queria fazer isso por você.

— E eu deveria ser grata por isso? — A cada palavra, sentia o gosto amargo da exaustão. — Por você entrar e sair da minha vida quando quer, por me deixar aos pedaços e depois voltar com esses gestos vazios? Eu não aguento mais isso, Harry. — Ele tentou dar outro passo, mas levantei a mão, parando-o. — Por que você continua fazendo isso? Eu já deixei claro que não quero você na minha vida. Por que insiste em cumprir essa promessa idiota, uma promessa que eu nunca te pedi para fazer? Eu não quero isso! Eu não quero mais nada com você. — Ele ficou em silêncio, me observando. — Por que você não consegue me deixar ir? — Continuei, a voz quase um sussurro. — Era só fingir que nada aconteceu. Por que tem que complicar tudo? Por que não pode simplesmente me deixar em paz?

— Aurora, eu realmente não esperava te encontrar aqui. Eu... eu só vim pra deixar o presente e ir embora. Não era minha intenção trazer mais dor pra você. — Sua se tornou um sussurro. — Tudo o que eu fiz foi porque queria te ver sorrir, mesmo que de longe. Eu sei que você tem motivos pra me odiar, sei que tudo o que fiz até agora só te magoou, eu sei o que isso custou pra você e pra mim também, mas eu nunca quis te ver assim, nunca quis que você sofresse. Hoje, eu só queria sentir que fiz algo bom por você, Aurora. Mesmo que você nunca me perdoe, só hoje... será que a gente pode esquecer tudo? Só por um instante? Porque, mesmo que você me odeie amanhã, eu não quero que seu aniversário termine assim, com tanta mágoa entre nós.

De repente, ele deu um passo à frente, antes que eu pudesse reagir, seus braços me envolveram, puxando-me para o seu peito, no instante em que Harry me puxou para aquele abraço, senti meu mundo parar. O calor do corpo dele contra o meu era como uma âncora, me mantendo firme quando tudo dentro de mim parecia estar prestes a desmoronar. Ele estava tão perto que eu conseguia sentir seu coração batendo rápido, cada pulsação ressoando dentro de mim, sua mão subiu até minha nuca, os dedos deslizando com uma ternura que doía, que me lembrava do quanto eu queria, desesperadamente, ficar ali.

Como eu poderia admitir que toda vez que toda vez que ele me abraçava tudo que eu queria era que ele nunca mais me soltasse.

Fechei os olhos, odiando a mim mesma por querer tanto aquele toque, por ainda amar alguém que tantas vezes me feriu, que tantas vezes me fez duvidar de mim mesma, mas eu não queria que ele me soltasse, eu me afundei naquele abraço, na familiaridade do seu perfume, na respiração que eu conhecia tão bem, eu queria que aquele momento durasse para sempre.

Sua mão subiu, deslizando até segurar meu rosto, eu não sabia ao certo se ele estava me segurando ou se era eu que precisava dele para não me desfazer ali mesmo, senti a testa dele se encostar na minha, os olhos fechados, as respirações em sincronia, eu sabia que, por mais que tentasse, não conseguiria desviar daquele momento. Minha garganta apertou, as palavras começaram a se formar antes que eu pudesse contê-las, cada sílaba carregando um pouco da verdade que estava sufocada dentro de mim.

— Harry... eu queria... eu queria te contar... Eu... Eu estou...

Como eu poderia dizer?

Como encontrar coragem para confessar algo que poderia mudar tudo entre nós?

Antes que eu me decidisse, senti uma lágrima escorrer pelo meu rosto, se misturando ao toque dele.

Uma parte de mim queria que ele entendesse, que ele percebesse o que eu carregava dentro de mim, que eu ainda tinha uma parte dele comigo, uma parte que, por mais que eu tentasse, não conseguia renunciar, mas eu tinha medo.

— Eu estou grata! Por isso… por tudo, Harry. — Era o máximo que eu consegui dizer.

Ele ergueu a mão, com um carinho quase insuportável, limpou minha lágrima com o polegar.

— Não era para você chorar, Aurora. — Sua voz estava suave, ele me segurou ainda mais firme. — Eu só queria que você tivesse um dia inesquecível, como eu prometi que faria.

Suas palavras me atravessaram, por um momento, senti uma felicidade estranha e dolorosa.

Ele ainda se importava, de alguma forma, ele ainda se importava.

— Mas eu estou feliz. — murmurei, sem saber se dizia aquilo para ele ou para mim mesma. — Hoje, aqui... Com você, eu estou feliz.

E era verdade.

Naquele abraço, naquele instante, eu conseguia acreditar nisso.

Ele ficou em silêncio por um tempo, eu senti o rosto dele se inclinar até nossos narizes se tocarem, eu sabia que aquele momento estava prestes a terminar, a dor disso era quase insuportável.

Harry inspirou fundo e me afastou um pouco, apenas o suficiente para olhar nos meus olhos.

— Eu preciso ir…

Eu queria pedir para ele ficar, queria dizer que poderíamos fazer dar certo, que talvez fosse possível, mas sabia que as palavras não viriam. Ele se afastou devagar, ainda segurando minha mão, como se também não quisesse deixar aquele instante se dissipar. Por um segundo, nossos dedos ficaram entrelaçados, ele me olhou uma última vez, seus olhos me segurando por mais um momento, então, ele soltou minha mão deixando a pequena caixa, se virou e foi embora.

Fiquei ali, sozinha, vendo-o desaparecer no corredor, com o vazio que me rasgava por dentro, um presente frio na minha mão e minha alma em pedaços

Obrigado por ler até aqui 💗 O feedback através de um comentário é muito apreciado!

Esta ansiosa (o) para o próximo?

22 notes · View notes

stevesjockstrap · 1 year ago

Text

Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?

Based on this post

Or, Steve invites Craigslist!Eddie to Thanksgiving as his fake boyfriend for entertainment and drama purposes

Rated: T? Always with the swearing idk | read on ao3

ETA a/n: shout out to @rocknrollsalad for a direct quote in here and putting up with me and @machtaholic for encouraging this 🖤

“Are you serious?”

Steve sighed. “Yes, Robbie. You know how much my parents have been on me since they’re losing what little power they have left. This is going to be awesome.”

She was pacing around their living room, making him anxious. “But why are you going to take this stranger from Craigslist? Why can’t you find someone you know? Argyle would do it. What if this guy doesn’t show, or he comes and steals something?”

“If he doesn’t show I’m in the same boat anyhow, but hey, there’s a thought. You think I can pay him more to steal something from my parents? I’d love to see that.”

“Steve!” She rounded on him, eyes wide. “You’re paying him? You didn’t tell me that!”

“For fuck’s sake, Rob. He didn’t ask for money, the post actually said he would do it just for food. But the guy’s driving half an hour and I’m willing to bet my family is worse than he’s expecting. Sit down, you’re making me dizzy. Read this and tell me this isn’t exactly what I need.” He scrolled on his phone and handed it to her.

Her shoulders relaxed as she read on, laughing finally, “You’re not going to make him propose or fight your dad on the front lawn, right?”

“Maybe for Christmas,” he smirked.

His parent’s house was always so cold and empty. It was his childhood home but he had never really felt any attachment to it. His apartment with Robin was small and cluttered but cozy, and full of memories of them and their friends. They had done a Friendsgiving the previous weekend that had been a dangerously good time. (The smoke detector had only gone off three times, a new record.)

Running his hand through his hair again, he looked at the clock. Would Eddie show? He checked his phone again, knowing there were no missed texts because he had just looked thirty seconds ago. Why was he more nervous about meeting him than introducing him to his family? They’d had one phone call and some texts, mostly arranging the time and place and Steve already apologizing for his family.

Eddie had laughed, “It’s okay, Steve. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse.”

He went to the bathroom, just to kill time.

And of course the doorbell rang.

He quickly washed and dried his hands, sparing a second to pull his hair into a less raked-through mess.

Quickening his pace when he saw his mom still holding the door open, not allowing whoever was on the stoop in, he craned his neck to see out the door.

Oh fuck.

“If you’d just go get him, ma’am, we could clear this all up,” Eddie was saying. The words were polite but there was an edge to them, just the tinge of a sneer on his lips. It was perfect.

“He’s mine,” he heard himself say. His mom whipped around, eyes crazed and mouth open. “Uh- I mean,” his eyes returned to Eddie standing on his doorstep. Taking in the long thick wavy hair, big brown eyes, his lips pulled into a toothy grin now. He’d clearly attempted to dress up, grey slacks and a black button down, paired with heavy combat boots. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal tattoos up his forearms and the backs of his hands. There were more tattoos on his neck, and Steve’s eyes glued themselves to the ring through his lip. Guh. “He’s, uh, here for me.”

“Hi Steve,” he watched the lips form. “Was just meeting your lovely mother.” Again there was nothing wrong with the words themselves, nothing anyone could pinpoint or take offense to. But that slithery way he said it with a razor sharp sting, Steve was impressed. He was clearly an expert at this.

Steve tried to school his own expression and voice. “My apologies. Mom, this is Eddie, my boyfriend.”

There was a long silence where he thought his mom was going to combust. She opened and closed her mouth several times, her eyebrows furrowed. He’d never seen her speechless before.

Eddie sent him a smirk and he almost matched it but his mom looked at him finally and stammered, “Y-your, ah, I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and pulled in a steadying breath. When she opened them she asked, “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes ma’am,” Eddie answered from almost behind her now as she turned to question Steve.

“And why is it you didn’t tell us he was coming? Why is he ringing the doorbell like a stranger?”

“I, um, well I did think he’d text when he got here or something…” Steve started, meeting Eddie’s eyes over her shoulder.

“What, and miss out on this warm welcome?” Eddie winked at him but quickly settled his face when his mom turned to him. Doing the exact thing he’d hoped for, Mrs. Harrington remembering she’s leaving a guest out on her doorstep.

Steve delighted in the fact that this was going to be a chess match and his mother was already several moves behind.

Her eyes narrowed and she held a hand out to welcome Eddie in, walking them all into the foyer. “Well, don’t let me stop you, go ahead and greet your boyfriend, Steven.”

It was a challenge, he knew, but they hadn’t discussed this. Eddie was on the ball, however. He continued his momentum to slide a hand under Steve’s suit jacket to settle on his ribs and the other he brought up to cup his face, leaning in and angling their heads together. Steve tried to relax and closed his eyes. Eddie pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but from where his mom was standing she wouldn’t be able to tell.

“Hey, baby. Missed you,” he breathed when he pulled away. Steve was halfway to believing this himself.

“Yeah,” he sighed stupidly.

Eddie pulled his hands away and he almost reached back for them before stopping himself with a shake. He found he’d only gone a foot away when he opened his eyes though. Oh he was in trouble.

His mother cleared her throat from behind Eddie like she hadn’t put them up to this. Steve reached out for his hand and held onto it.

“Okay so I’m going to go introduce him to everyone else,” he said quickly and walked further into the house. Holding his hand.

They made their way through the dining room, Steve taking more and more pleasure with each stilted interaction Eddie weaved through with his family members.

His dad was propped in the living room with his uncle and Steve could feel his eyes on him as they made their way around. He knew his mother had ran to tell him all about it but he wouldn’t take being ignored well. It was making his skin crawl but he knew it would further piss off his dad so he kept it up.

After everyone else had been formally introduced to Eddie and Steve had gulped half a glass of wine, he felt almost ready to go deal with him. He took Eddie’s hand again and turned, but navigated them to the sliding glass door and outside instead.

It was chilly, late November in Indiana, but it felt amazing after the stuffiness of the house.

Steve remembered he still had Eddie’s hand in his and he quickly dropped it. “Uh, you smoke?”

Eddie grinned, all teeth and tongue as he held a battered pack of Newports out to him. “Not usually, really, but it makes for a good prop. Sorry they’re shit.”

“Holy shit. You’re amazing. I mean- perfect, I mean- fuck.” Steve laughed and shook his head. “The on-the-spot fact checking of my aunt’s political shit was next level. You could do this year round and make a killing, man.” He did pull a cigarette out of the pack and Eddie leaned into him, clicking the lighter for him, meeting his eyes as Steve sucked in.

“I don’t-“

The door slid open behind them and Mr. Harrington walked out.

“Looks like you and your date are avoiding me, Steven,” he said. Steve watched as he gave Eddie a very slow up and down look.

“No, dad. Just needed a break. It’s warm in there.” He made his face remain neutral. It’s not like anyone was cooking anything, his mom always got their big family meals catered.

His dad narrowed his eyes at him as he held eye contact, taking a drag from his bummed cigarette.

“Where is Robin today?”

He sighed. “With her family, dad. And for the last time, I’m not dating Robin. She’s a lesbian. This is Eddie, by the way. My date? He’s my boyfriend.”

When Steve had tried to come out as bisexual to his parents, his dad especially had made it clear that he did not accept that about his only child. As the years went on and he hadn’t spoken much about this part of his life, it seemed his dad had hoped it just went away.

Mr. Harrington scoffed, “I don’t understand why you want to throw your life away, Steven. I thought we’d raised you better-“ Eddie made a noise next to him and Steve knew he couldn’t look at him or he’d burst out laughing.

“Save it, dad. Believe it or not I love my life. Which is something I’d never thought I would be able to say. Can you even say that?”

His dad shook his head disappointedly and walked back inside.

“Excellent job. I don’t think you need me here after all,” Eddie joked.

Steve propped himself against the wall of the house, deeply tired from having to defend his choices to his dad for the umpteenth time.

“Maybe not need. But it’s been really fun having you here. Usually dinner conversation is about how big of a disappointment I am. Oh, I guess I didn’t give you that backstory. I’m graduating with my masters in psychology in the spring, and I’ve been early accepted into a PhD program. And there’s no money in helping people,” he chuckled. “So.” He scuffed out the butt with his heel and left it on his dad’s pristine patio.

“Steve. That’s amazing! Congratulations.” Eddie seemed genuinely excited for him and it brought a small smile to his face. “You look like you could really use a hug, man. Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” If he let himself hold on for a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, Eddie allowed it.

Dinner was quiet. His uncle asked Eddie what he did for work and he enthusiastically explained he was a line cook and worked nights at a bar. Steve surreptitiously looked around to take in everyone’s expressions and quickly covered his mouth with his napkin. He actually enjoyed himself during a holiday dinner for the first time he could remember.

Eddie at one point threw an arm around the back of his chair and he leaned in a bit into him, catching the disapproving stares they got from the corner of his eye.

Pie was passed around and by then Steve had had another glass of wine or two. He reached over to thumb the whipped cream from the side of Eddie’s lip without thinking, before popping the thumb into his own mouth. Eddie’s eyes widened and it was on the tip of his tongue to apologize but he caught himself.

“Thanks, babe,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

After saying their awkward goodbyes to everyone, Steve walked Eddie to his van. He looked down at his feet, fiddling with his keys.

“Hey, um, this may be out of left field and let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Eddie waited for Steve to nod. “Do you want to come to my uncle’s with me tomorrow night? It’s just the two of us and he always volunteers to work the holiday. But we do a thing, you know. A-and he’s always bugging me to bring someone.”

Steve blinked. “Would it have to be a fake date? I’m not as skilled at that as you are.”

“No, I mean, it wouldn’t- god I suck. I’m actually asking, like for real. If that’s okay? Just be you. And I’ll just be me.”

“That’s very okay. I’d really like that.” He couldn’t hold back his smile. Taking the chance, he leaned in, Eddie meeting him in the middle to finally press their lips together.

#mine #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre Steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Steve x Eddie #Steve/eddie

2K notes · View notes

cl6teen · 11 months ago

Text

affection, ln4 ❀ chapter ii. the need to know

masterlist || chapter i || chapter iii

summary: [4.5k words] drunken nights spent in lando’s townhouse are an ode to your friendship, and maybe just a little bit more.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

contains: lando and reader are in denial, self friendzoning, lots of reminiscing and fluff, lando taking care of reader, very lazy smut, one night stands, oblivious flirting, talks of sex, intoxication, unprotected sex, pull and pray.

note: not proofread, this can be read as a stand-alone or as part of my affection series, however this is not a required read for said series. (sorry for such a long wait! exams were rough and this was difficult to write for some reason)

❀ silverstone ❀

The overarching sounds of EDM and conversation ring through Lando’s ears in a destructive harmony that’s sure to hit him tomorrow morning in the form of a stupid migraine. Still, he pushes through the sea of bodies crowding around, trying to huddle in close enough to him to hopefully snag a photo of ‘Silverstone’s P2 driver’. It has a nice ring to it, since you said that with Max in this competition, P2 is the new P1, so he should be nothing more proud of his performance.

Prideful he was, enough to confidently down shots with today’s true winner, forgetting how the Dutchman always lets as loose as he can during these after parties. And while they didn’t seem to hit whilst manning the dj turn-tables for the last hour or so, the newfound alcohol in his system was certainly making itself known now.

His hands run through brown tufts of hair as he scans the club entrance for you, “Y/n?”

“Over here.”

You’ve sat yourself in an armchair close to the women’s washroom, where you nurse a half-full lukewarm bottle of water in your hands before taking yet another prolonged sip.

“You look like shit.” He chuckles, leaning down to fix the strands of your hair that stray from the rest.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes playfully, a laugh escapes you both, “you’re not one to talk, either.”

Fair point, he shrugs. With tousled hair that manages to go in every direction except for what it was originally in, sunglasses threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose, and the faint red lipstick marks stained on his unbuttoned white collar, Lando looks far from put together. He’s impossible, how can he have the nerve to talk to how you look on a night out while he was so quick to leave you with Oscar (who you had no problems being with—he just didn’t seem to be the party type) after receiving a shameless once over from a leggy blonde passing your group by upon arrival.

“So, where’s tonight’s girl?” He stares when you passively fold your arms into each other and question, completely unaware of how the movement pushes your chest together. He clicks his tongue, stop looking, Lando.

“Hell if I know.” He sighs in fake disappointment, in hopes of cutting that conversation off as quickly as it was introduced, “you’re staying at mine tonight.”

Okay, you nod. You don’t question it—you never do. Instead you sit quietly and watch him swipe around on his phone, no doubt shooting Max (Fewtrell) a quick text to let him know you were both leaving before calling up an Uber Black. Was this normal? To go home with Lando after a long night out? To you, the answer was always yes—hell, if you need him, say the word and he’s on the way, isn’t that what friends were for?

But other people can’t fathom the idea, they look at the two of you with doubtful eyes after explaining that although you can’t seem to go anywhere without one another, Lando’s just a friend. You sigh in exasperation at the thought, Lando Norris isn’t dateable; at least, not to you. He texts you about the girls he’s on dates with and nitpicks about how their breath smells, or how they had food in their teeth, or the potent perfume they drench themselves in to the point of inducing headaches in people they pass by. He’s whiney, and picky, and—

Lando’s fingers snap in your face and bring you out of your stupor, “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

“Nothing.” Your little jump earns you a perplexed look from Lando, who can only stare you down, “nothing, just want to get some rest.”

“The car is here, but it’s a little walk across the street.” He notices the heels toppled over each other next to the chair—you truly are a mess. “Do you have your purse?” You nod, flimsily holding the bag up for him to see.

Lando is no Superman, he knows that well after an ambitious jump off a bunk bed and straight into an ER visit and a three month cast at the age of ten; but now he feels like he’s got the power to do it all, looping the straps of your heels on a finger and hoisting you into his arms bridal style. It’s far from a pretty sight, but it still manages to grab the attention of partygoers nearby, who point and whisper and gush at the scene in front of them. “People will see, Lando.” You look up at him through dark lashes in an unfamiliar way that gets his gears turning—more than anything, he just wants to get you to this car.

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” He smiles nervously, letting you burrow your head into the crook of his neck to hide from the nipping British breezes outside. It's probably anything but okay; pictures might make their way around, and make both his life and your own a pain in the ass, but he can’t rain it on you like that.

The subtle aroma of your perfume invades his senses, and all of a sudden he’s become so hyper aware of his touch on your skin, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest—he shakes his head.

In Lando’s mind, you’re but one thing to him; a friend—one he intends to keep like that.

—

Silent car rides in the backseat have never been Lando’s thing, not when he’s drunk, not when he can’t use his phone because he has to watch you. He’s not complaining, really—but there’s a fleeting moment of relief when forty minutes later, the two of you find way to the steps of his townhome, and he's fumbling around in his pockets for the keys while you stay huddled close to him to keep warm despite already sporting his jacket.

He’s profane as he fiddles with the door handle. You’re lucky he’s sweet enough to give you his clothing, because even though he practically threw it at you after listening to your nonstop whines about the cold, and how he ‘wasn’t even fazed by it’, he is actually freezing now.

“Tonight was…”

Rough, Fun, you both say in tandem; Lando’s enthusiasm is unsurprising, he finds himself at home in these situations. Work hard, play harder, he would say—it makes sense, his job is high stakes, stressful, the media is a pain in the ass; you would look forward to the fun bit too.

However, you’re not Lando, you don’t vacation in Ibiza or party with Max Verstappen on weekends—you travel to Thailand and read on rafts, but your best friend making podium during a home race is more than enough reason to show face for the night, so you make your peace with it and thank whoever that you’re home now.

“I need to change out of this,” you refer to the dress you’ve spent the entire after party readjusting and pulling down only to tug back up. “Lend me a shirt?”

“Did you really need to ask?” He speaks from a hunched over position while clumsily taking off his shoes. “You know where my room is.”

It’s a painfully familiar place; Lando’s never around enough to change it up anyway. When was the last time you were here? Maybe two years ago, during summer break, your memory is too foggy, but not to the point where you can forget your first time visiting. You and Lando were nineteen and twenty, and he wanted to use his well earned ‘Y/n’s daddy’ funded bonus on something practical. A house was not what you had in mind, but twenty five year old Carlos had a bottle of wine and a pipe dream of a three person housewarming party (one your father wasn’t too stoked to hear about, no doubt). It ended just as expected, wine drunk and full on that no bake cookie dough, albeit against the wishes of the drivers’ nutritionists, and you somehow bundled up in Lando’s brand new King bed while the other two found their comforts in plastic wrapped couches tucked away in the living room.

The only thing different in Lando’s bedroom are the bedsheets (thankfully), and frames full of podiums that showcase just how far he's come.

The smile you fight while reminiscing falters when you reach to tug at your zipper and fail. For what you spent on it, the list of inconveniences following your dress just seems to grow.

“Lan!” An exasperated huff escapes you, “could you come in for a moment?”

“My zipper, it’s stuck and I can't get it.” You want to cringe at your words, it’s a cliche—one of the many the universe seems to put you two in. Turning away from him, you move your hair out the way to expose your back, “do you mind?”

His fingers feel warm on your back, it’s a foreign feeling that creeps over the expanse of your nerves and has your breath hitched uncomfortably in the back of your throat. Something is just…different—maybe the alcohol, but you’ve been drunk around Lando one too many times and never has it ended like this, with his fingers nervously fiddling with the metal zipper, tugging at your dress material while gently trying to yank it down.

“Lando, that hurts.” you breathe for the first time in what feels like ages.

He kisses his teeth in frustration, placing a firm hand on your waist to keep you from squirming around, “You need to stay still.” The thickness of his accent becomes more apparent with each word.

You feel so weak, letting just a simple touch bully you into submission, silently you nod. The zipper's journey down is agonizing and slow, for both of you; at this moment, Lando wants nothing more than to leave the room, yet his feet seem glued to the ground he stands on. It’s dimly lit, but you can still feel eyes burning holes into your bare skin, up from the nape of your neck and down to the top of your hips that the lace material underneath clings to.

He watches the thin straps of your dress struggle to stay atop your shoulders and fall down your arms, further exposing the skin of your back—he sees a tattoo, one that he convinced you to get in Vegas last year, it looks good, better than he thought it would.

“—did you hear me? Are you done?”

He should leave.

“Yeah, yup. I just got it down,” and as quick as he came, it feels like Lando’s miles away, “I’m gonna go now, just…grab whatever shirt you would like.”

–

“Hey.” You say quietly, padding your way to the kitchen island.

Okay. Things seem a lot more normal between you two. Maybe all that was needed to fix whatever tension between you both was a fresh change of clothes and some bright lighting.

“You hungry?” He prompts, leaning against quartz counters with the world famous boyish smile signature to Lando himself. “I can make us a little snack before bed, just to lighten the hangover you’ll probably get tomorrow.”

You hum sweetly, the time reads 1:53 am—it’s earlier than you thought, time always blurs together when you’re drunk. “Could you get me a glass of water please?”

“Here you are, missy.”

You scrunch your nose up at his tone, “any name but that.” He laughs obnoxiously, proud of how he manages to get under your skin in a way only he can.

The sizzling sounds of grilled cheese on the pan accompanied by the dull hum of a faulty ceiling light are the only ones in the kitchen (you’re constantly telling him to get it fixed, but Lando never seems to follow up on your suggestions, opting for the answer of ‘I don’t even live here like that anymore’). Sipping from your glass, the lipstick stain on his collar catches your eye again—you’re curious, why didn’t he just go home with her?

“So what happened with the girl?”

“What?” He turns to look at you, brows furrowed into a knot. It’s not until you make a little gesture to the base of your neck that he looks down at his own to see what you mean. “Oh, her, what was her name again…Abby, Aria—no, Amy. She was too…onto me, only talked about racing and the other drivers. Don’t get me wrong I like, love, racing, but I want to have a natural conversation.” he searches for the right comparison, “like how you and me flow.”

You and me.

Empathetic, you sigh into your hands, Lando is simple, adjacently, he likes things that are simple; routine and normal, like you two. “Lando, if you keep comparing girls to me you’re going to chase them away.” You think his attitude will be his undoing, but he says if it hasn’t happened now there’s no chance of it happening ever. “Even worse, they’ll think I'm your girlfriend.”

He shrugs calmly, so normal about the entire idea, “Max says they already think that.”

“Yeah well,” you huff out in mild annoyance, stuttering over your words at the thought of Lando discussing your relationship status with someone. “Max doesn’t know everything.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t date you in a million years,” mouthing off, he turns to look at you with a sour face, “too snobby.”

“You talk like you’re not daddy’s money too.” The reaction of your middle finger poking out is almost reflexive. “You’re not my type anyway.”

“That’s a lie. You thought I was cute when I first met you.” It is a lie, a painfully bad one at that—Lando has always been a cutie; though, his constant need to annoy you in some way seemed to drown that aspect of himself out.

“And then your personality came to light.”

The witted banter between you always comes naturally—he would poke and prod at your last fiber of patience with him until you finally find yourself giving your attention to his words and firing something back that would be surefire dig deep had it not been aimed at somebody like Lando.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t think I’m hot.” Sniggering, he shoots you a teasing wink, “don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.”

“I know that, everyone thinks I’m hot.”

He scoffs to himself, he says you’re a narcissist, you say it’s not narcissistic if it’s true.

The spurt of banter is short lived, and soon enough you’re back to hearing the hum of the kitchen lights. It’s peaceful enough, better than the crescendo of club music from an hour ago.

But you’re inebriated—and needing to talk to keep yourself from falling asleep while waiting on Lando, you start, “Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“You and me,” you repeat his words from earlier, but they’re not laced with the cool and calm confidence Lando had—instead, they’re shaky. You’re unsure if you want to know the answer to your own question.

“Like…dating?” The pitch of his accent goes higher in confusion.

“Uhm, not dating per say…” you down your saliva to slow yourself before continuing, with the liquid courage flowing through your veins, the mental filter that once barricaded stupid nonsense from revealing itself is nowhere to be seen; which sucks because you could really use it right now.

“Do you mean hooking up?” Lando takes the meek stare you give as a yes, and your sudden shyness has him wanting to press you for more, “Have you?”

Have you thought about it? Screwing Lando Norris? Embarrassingly so, you’ve always wanted to sleep with an F1 driver (to know what makes these girls so insane for them, that’s what you tell yourself), but you prefer to keep those fantasies in your head, locked away in an untouchable space where nobody can reach. Still, it would be a lie to say it hadn’t crossed your mind—even if you harbor no romantic feelings towards him, people don’t usually mind sleeping with someone they find physically attractive.

“And what if I have?” You probe, arms folding into each other as you watch Lando watch you out of the corner of his eyes.

You’ll put him into a lot of trouble soon enough, and he dreads the day you do. “You’re funny.”

“So it never crossed your mind?”

Of course it has, look at you—unbelievably pretty even while piss-drunk and dressed in an old wrinkled t-shirt riding up your thighs. Though, he would never tell you that to your face; it would do him more worse than good. Lando might not love you in that sense, but he is a single man with an appreciative eye; he thinks many of the other drivers on the grid can attest to the fact that you’re stunning, some even going as far as using him as a means of snagging your number. He does you the favor of turning them down in your stead, though, because you would never get with any of them—he’s sure of it.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

“Every guy has thought about hooking up with his best female friend, at least once.” He shrugs, not seeming to care about the way your mouth hangs open at his nonchalant vulgarity. Lando doesn’t actually know if it’s the truth, but he sure as hell feels that way about you, wrong or not. You don’t notice, but he’s already turned the stove burner off before facing you with a jerkish smirk, “what, did you want to try tonight?”

“Jesus, goodnight.” You shove at his left shoulder and try to make a b-line back to his bedroom, only to be held back by Lando's outstretched arm that wraps itself around your shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he’s quick to plead, and he’s equally as quick to overlook the plans of goosebumps that settle across your body at his touch. “What I said was a dick move, I admit it.” Through a fanned breath, he heaves out, “but seriously, hm? What’s got you thinking about all that?”

What has got you thinking about all of this? The shots of Patron making its home in the pits of your stomach mixed with rumors that never seem to die down, maybe. There should be a warning sign, Patron & gossip: can lead to shamelessly flirting and innocently talking about topics like hookups and sex—with Lando Norris no less.

And Lando…

He’s better than this, he knows he’s better than this, letting your suggestions lurch him into a debauched daydream of the two of you coming to a head in the bedroom of his home, skin hot from fleeting touches instead of warm alcohol, hands grabbing underneath the shirt hung over your body and finally being able to do what no other man could—

“It’s not going to happen.”

—do for you.

You bring him out of his thoughts when you quickly dismiss the entire idea (disappointingly so), “I brought it up because I’m…bored, and drunk.” the tone of your voice goes high enough to pan your mumbled words out as a question, even you sound unconvinced of yourself.

Lando recognizes your doubts just as you do. “You suuuure about that?” He says in a way that has you giggling schoolgirlishly into his arms and makes this a little more not-so-awkward. “You know you don’t need to lie to me.”

While there's probably some truth to his reassuring words, he’s being bad, he wants this—maybe even more than you do, you can tell. It makes you a bit more still, knowing that he’s also, to some extent, got a hard on for you in a one-off sense. Meanwhile, Lando’s mind is going a mile a minute (it’s characteristic of someone who actually goes a mile a minute for a living), carefully observing your expressions to see what it is you’re thinking—to some degree he is a gentleman, if you say the words, he’ll forget anything was ever mentioned.

But boy does he want it.

Glassy eyes seem to pierce yours for what seems like an eternity, “Lando…” You hope your voice is calmer than how you feel, but it’s not promising; the world around you feels standstill—like you can’t even breathe for air.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He mumbles, eyes softening at how your body relaxes into his own. The two of you dance around the point of no return, still, magnetically you gravitate towards it. You want to embrace it tonight, and worry about the mess brewing tomorrow.

“Fucking hell.” He curses in the endearing way only a Brit can, arm circling the small of your back and lips ghosting against your own, “it’s just a one time thing.”

“Just this once…”

Just this once is what you tell yourselves when his lips catch your own, tongue languidly breaching your mouth whilst pulling you closer into him as you fall into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s just this once that he’ll push away plates and keys to pick you up and sit you on the kitchen counters for you to entangle your fingers within his curls, moaning for more as he kisses his way around your neck.

It’s just this once you’ll sleep with him.

—

Lando, like with everything else, is a massive tease. You should complain, but the feeling of warm hands hiking up your t-shirt short circuits your nerves and limits whatever capability you have to bite back, so you take it all; the ghostly touches, trailing kisses along your jaw, and hands wandering from the crux of your neck down to your entrance.

It aches so unfamiliarly, cotton panties are tugged haphazardly to the side and your pussy is wet and overstimulated.

Yes, that’s the word you’ve been looking for. It’s all so overstimulating, the fading pulsations of your last orgasm brought on from having two thick fingers scissoring out of you, the puffiness of your nipples still sensitive from Lando’s ongoing oral fixation, and the feeling of his dick messily slotting itself between folds and up against your clit, it’s all just so much.

“Lando…” You whine, “c’mon.”

He mocks you with a haughty smile, repeating his name shamelessly in a pitch much higher than your own. There’s little to be embarrassed about, yet you feel so exposed, in both a literal and figurative sense. He’s drawn two orgasms out of you with such ease, like your body is as simple to navigate as a track, all without even fucking you properly. Somewhere deep down you’re grateful he’s so observant; it’s a wildly different experience than what you’re used to in every way possible.

“Did you want me to do something? You need to use your words.” He feigns ignorance, like he doesn’t feel the clinging drag of your naked hips against his crotch. Right now, there is nothing nice about Lando—he’s brought you to the edge and left you to plead for him to dig his hands into the meat of your thighs and finally fuck you as promised.

And with eyes barred shut, you do ask for it, muttering a quaint just put it in with a hushed whimper that shoots straight through him, fueling some kind of excessive desire to give it to you straight.

“Lan!” Your instincts to twitch take hold of you when you feel the tip inch into you, stretching you out more than anything else.

“Relax.” He soothes not only you, lazily thumbing your clit to distract your body from the unnerving stretch of him bottoming out, but also himself; there’s a prayer he’s mumbling at the back of his mind, asking for strength to keep him from succumbing to the biting grip your walls welcome him with, he could cum on entry alone. “That feel good?”

It feels great, but you can’t find the words to talk, so you opt for the drawn out whine that amplifies to a full moan when he finds his rhythm. You guess Lando fucks like he races, wild but calculated, hard and fast. His thrusts push you up closer to the headboard, and you think you see stars with each one. Lando’s dilated eyes are focused on the way your boobs move in tandem with his hips, which roll into your own unforgivingly.

If this is what he gets when he does well, he needs to get those wins and that championship, as soon as possible.

“Just like that, Lan.” You exhale out, fingers darting to grapple at his wild brown tufts, “I want more of you. Need it.”

To hear you say you need him, it makes him somewhat insane. His body is eager to close in on your own, lips ghosting over your jaw and inching closer to your ear as a hand gently finds its way to your neck.

“You feel so perfect.” He’s so breathless, practically whining into your ears about just how good you feel, It doesn’t reach you, you’re too focused on feeling every inch of dick buried into you. It feels like he’s mushing up your insides, hitting spongy walls that desperately cling to him. Every thrust is harder than his last, and the way the trimmed hair resting above his base brushes against your clit provides all the extra stimulation that has your head lazily rolling to the side.

You’re not sure when you cum, but you do. It’s wet and his name is hot on your tongue, as if you’re cheering him on to fuck you through your orgasm, and who is he to deny you? Lando’s undoubtedly happy to see the pleasure he’s giving you, his eyes blowing wide at the feeling of his lower abdomen growing soaked by your arousal.

“Look at you,” he marvels, prideful and horny, “ever done that before?”

You haven’t—it freaks you out, yet despite all of your hurried apologies and groans of embarrassment, Lando finds himself dipping his head into the crux of your neck to suppress a groan. You’re so pretty it hurts him, his hips bore deeper into yours, hoping to get closer than humanly possible.

When he kisses you, your legs slither around his waist as if to cage him. You’ll be the death of him—the two of you are playing a dangerous game, and you both know it.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he smiles against your lips, and your body melts like putty, malleable enough for him to pry your legs from its digging into his back and push them closer towards you by your thighs.

His pace noticeably falters when you flutter around him. You’re muttering something about coming inside, pleading for it—but he pays you no mind; you’re intoxicated by the feeling of dopamine, and as much as he would love it, the feeling of stuffing you full, he’s a smarter man than that.

He cums with a guttural fuck, barely managing to rip himself away from your clutches and spill himself onto your stomach—and you just watch, doe eyed and jolted by the warm feeling on your skin. You both pant heavily against one another, until all you can hear is the noise of the London night leaking in from an ajar window.

“Hey.” He lazes out, rubbing circles on your thigh.

“Hi.”

“This can’t—” happen again, get out to anyone—there’s so much he could say, but you would rather not hear it. Not tonight.

“Yeah.”

❀❀

tags: @babyvinnie @leclercdream @im-an-overthinker@ririyulife @1655clean @sukisheadlights @harrysdimple05 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday

(if bolded i couldn’t tag you i’m so sorry!)

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you

1K notes · View notes