#I got to see the whole series on the big screen again thanks to my hometown theater

[nijaded88]

#I got to see the whole series on the big screen again thanks to my hometown theater #just saw the last one I’m sad it’s over again lol #twilight #breaking dawn part 2 #pnw #movie theater #film #cinema #twilight saga #breaking dawn #bella swan #edward cullen #bella and edward #forks #forks washington #forks core #forks aesthetic #forever twilight in forks

[theemporium]

[4.1k] as it would turn out, you were serious about your offer. and luke was serious about accepting. it was just going to take a while for his body to remember that this was a glorified business deal between friends and nothing more. and he was definitely okay with that. (smut)

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Stupidly, Luke didn’t think you were actually serious. 

In his head, the whole thing felt like a fever dream, starting from the moment he spilled his drink all over you leading to the moment you blatantly asked him if he wanted you to take his virginity. It felt like one of those weird dreams that made you wake up confused and bleary and unsure what year it even was, one of those dreams that linger in the back of your head for a few days before you eventually forgot about it.

Luke would have bet money on the whole thing being a weird dream that was haunting him if it weren’t for the fact he woke up one morning, a few days  after the party, with a message from you on his screen. 

cherry🍒: on a scale from one to ten, how likely are you to spill your drink on me again?

cherry🍒: also my place or yours? 

He stared at the messages for an embarrassingly long time, like he was staring at the proof the whole thing wasn’t some messed up dream in his head. Luke had spent the better part of the summer wondering what would have happened if he had asked for your number that night like Jack always teased him about, and now he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself with it being a reality. 

hockey boy: i cannot promise anything 

hockey boy: you are welcome to come to my place but jack will probably be here so…

hockey boy: he’s nosy 

hockey boy: and annoying 

Luke frowned at himself, finger hovering over the messages like he would have a chance to delete them before you saw them, all one after the other like he was twelve and didn’t care about double texting. Or quadruple texting. But before he could even try to hide his own embarrassment, you were typing again.

cherry🍒: my place it is then

cherry🍒: see you at seven ;)

He also didn’t care to admit how long he stared at that message before he dragged himself out of bed, trying to ignore the odd buzz itching under his skin. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and his head was already spinning.

Luke was thankful enough that it was still preseason, that there wasn’t a game he had to prepare for because he wasn’t even sure he could concentrate on anything but your messages. He had noted Jack giving him odd looks whilst they both got ready for training, giving him more space than usual as they moved around the flat (which was odd considering Jack was usually glued to his side and pissing him off whenever he got the chance). 

However, the overbearing older brother role didn’t completely disappear. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes, Jack.”

“You’re not sick or anything?”

“I’m literally fine.” 

“Because we can tell the trainers—”

“Oh my god, dude,” Luke groaned, sinking further into the passenger seat as he shot his brother a look. “I’m fine. Calm down. You sound like Quinn.” 

“Sorry for caring,” Jack retorted, his fingers tightening on the wheel before his shoulders sagged. “I’m your older brother and it’s your first year in the NHL. I just wanna make sure you’re doing alright, okay? The last thing I want is you having a shit rookie year.”

But the rest went unsaid. I don’t want you having a shit rookie year like I did.

Luke softened a little. “M’fine, promise. I’ll let you know when I need my big brother, okay?” 

Jack sighed, a small smile on his face. “Okay.”

“Now, can you please shut up so I can sleep until we reach the rink?” 

Jack snorted in response. 

Though the conversation seemed to settle the worries his older brother had, Luke knew the other boys on the team were giving him the same looks of concern. It wasn’t as though he was playing badly, it was just very clear to everyone on the team—players, coaches and trainers alike—that Luke was distracted. 

He had half the decency to be a little embarrassed when he overheard Jack reassure a few trainers that it was just rookie nerves. 

But he felt restless, like he couldn’t quite keep still or focus on one thing. He felt like there was a buzz resonating through his bones, making him painfully aware of his plans later tonight. It was like an anxiety settled at the pit of his stomach, constant and foreboding and eating away at him as the minutes slowly dragged on through the day. 

It was horrible and exhilirating in the weirdest possible way.

Luke had managed to make it through the rest of training, managed to avoid any stern talkings from the coach but unable to avoid the one from Nico in the locker room. It was sweet and awkward all at once, especially when the rest of the team were clearly listening in to make sure one of the new rookies were doing fine. The Devils were like a family and usually he would appreciate it. 

However, he wasn’t exactly going to dive into the fact he was unfocused because a pretty girl offered to take his virginity to his captain or the rest of the team. He didn’t even want to imagine how that would have played out. 

But it was sweet to know the team had his back, that they saw him as his own person rather than just Jack’s little brother who was tagging along.

…

Luke was relieved when you had mentioned him coming over to your place for your meeting later that day. Yet, what he failed to take into consideration was the fact his brother would still be a nosy shit on his whereabouts. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” 

Luke froze, keys gripped in his one hand and his phone in the other with your address already typed into Google Maps. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore his pounding heart as he turned to Jack with a (hopefully) nonchalant look on his face.

“Just going to hang out with some friends,” he replied vaguely with a shrug of his shoulders.

Jack paused, the spoonful of rice hovering just above his plate as he narrowed his eyes at Luke. “Is Nico hosting some rookie thing or something?”

“Uh no,” Luke cleared his throat.

Jack frowned. “Is there a team thing happening tonight that I forgot?” 

“No, uh,” Luke shuffled awkwardly, feeling like an interrogation spotlight was shining on him. “It’s nothing with the team.”

Jack raised his brows. “But you don’t have other friends outside the team.” 

Luke frowned. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t,” Jack retorted. “Unless you’re a part of a book club or something.” 

He shot his brother a confused look. “Why would that be the only reason I have friends outside of the team?”

“I don’t know, college and shit,” Jack answered like that explained something.

“You’re such a weirdo,” Luke grumbled before he turned on his heel, making his way towards the door again. 

“Are you at least gonna tell me when you’ll be back?” Jack called out to him, a hint of older brother overbearingness in his voice. 

“Not sure.” 

“I—” He heard Jack shuffle to stand up, his dinner now abandoned on the coffee table as he made his way over to Luke. The look of concern from earlier that morning was back on his face. “What dodgy shit are you up to that you can’t just tell me?” 

“Jack,” Luke groaned, his voice tilting towards whiny as he let out a huff of annoyance. “I’m just going out to see a friend. Nothing dodgy, I promise.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first, just letting a slow smile spread across his face.

He frowned. “What?” 

“Friend, singular,” Jack pointed out before he let out a bark of laughter, playfully punching his little brother’s arm. “Aw, little Lukey is sneaking out to hook up with a girl!”

His cheeks burned. “Shut up.”

“Fucking finally, I thought you were going celibate for your rookie year or something!” Jack continued to tease him. “Who is it? Do I know her? Oh my god, is it the girl from the party? Do you have a secret girlfriend?”

“I am leaving now!” Luke shoved him away, making a beeline for the door as Jack continued to cackle behind him. 

“Do I need to give you a curfew?” 

“Fuck off!” 

He could still hear Jack laughing when he slammed the door shut behind him.

His body felt like it was on autopilot once he got behind the wheel. He followed the instructions spoken through his GPS, kept his concentration on the road—on the journey—rather than the destination. He tried to pretend like he was just going to hang out at a friend’s, that he was back in Michigan going to one of his teammate’s houses he didn’t live with. 

It was fine. 

Everything was fine.

Except for the fact that once he reached your door, closed fist hovering over the wood, he felt like his body was buzzing too fast to keep up with and all the pent up anxiety over the day was about to make him explode. 

He didn’t even realise he had knocked until the door swung open and you stood on the other side, grinning at him like it was a normal Sunday evening. You were dressed cosy, casual even. Just a pair of leggings, a baggy shirt and some fluffy socks that had—ironically enough—cherries printed on them.

“You’re early,” you noted. 

Luke’s stomach dropped a little. “Oh shit, I’m sorry—”

“I like my men eager, you’re fine,” you said as you waved him off, unaware of the fact your words just made his body feel like it was on fire for a whole other reason as you grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. 

His eyes wandered over your apartment, taking in the small knick knacks that decorated the place. It was smaller than his and Jack’s apartment, but it felt more homely. His place had a habit of looking a little clinical, like a showroom they had moved into rather than an actual home. But between training and travelling and not really caring, neither he nor Jack had bothered to change it. 

But, looking around at the small details of your apartment as you led him towards your living room couch, Luke found it endearing that he could see small insights into your personality.

“You still like Coke, right?” 

His eyes snapped back to you, a light blush on his cheeks when he found you staring at him with intent. “Uh yeah, Coke is good.” 

He settled down on the seat, awkwardly perched on the edge whilst you curled up in the sport next to him with your feet tucked underneath him. He tried to swallow the ball in the back of his throat, eyes wandering over the room once again before they landed back on you. 

“Your place is really nice—”

“Tell me about hockey.” 

Luke blinked. And then blinked one more time before he remembered to speak.

“What?”

“Tell me about hockey,” you repeated. 

“You want to know about hockey?” He questioned, his brows furrowed together and suddenly the panic he felt moments ago was overwhelmed by his confusion. 

“Well, no, I don’t really know anything about it,” you admitted with a shrug. “But you’re so tense over there like you’re about to enter the Hunger Games or something, I thought talking about something you enjoy would help you relax.” 

Something in his chest stirred at your confession. “Oh.” 

“Just relax,” you said as you lightly pushed him back until he was no longer sat on the edge of the couch. However, Luke’s body didn’t seem to catch the hint, something that was very clear with how tense he still looked sitting next to you. “We aren’t going to do anything tonight,” you assured him, your hand dropping to his forearm to give it a small squeeze. 

He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed. “We aren’t?”

You shook your head, a soft but cheeky smile on your lips. “You need to build up your confidence a little, to really feel comfortable with everything. There’s more to sex than just sleeping with someone.”

He blinked. “There is?”

“Yes,” you laughed, but it wasn’t directed at him. He didn’t feel dumb for asking you questions. “So just take a breath and relax. Now, hockey—what’s the big deal?” 

Luke couldn’t help but snort. “The big deal?”

“Yeah, why do you like it?” You asked. “I mean, you love it enough to make it your job.” 

Luke smiled and there was something less heavy in his laugh—but hockey always tended to have that power over him. He knew hockey. He lived for hockey. It was as calming as it was exhilarating. It was what his whole world revolved around since the day he was born. 

“I come from a big hockey family,” Luke told you. “I could skate before I could properly walk, to be honest. It’s just something that’s always…been there. I couldn’t imagine my life without it.” 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

Luke raised his brows in surprise. “No, I just do it to torture myself.”

“Okay, smart-ass,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, and he tried not to think about how endearing the action was. “I mean, you said it’s been in your life forever. Do you enjoy it or is it just familiar?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before he answered.

“I love it,” he replied honestly, sinking a little further into the couch as he turned his head to look at you. “It was always there but I also always sought it out, you know? I wanted hockey as much as hockey wanted me.” 

“Lucky thing you were good enough to go pro, huh?” You remarked, a teasing glint in your words. 

Luke’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, lucky me.”

“So, do you, like, fight people and shit?” 

He snorted, the noise a little surprising but welcomed nonetheless. “Yeah, sometimes.” 

“Damn, the two hockey videos I watched before you came weren’t lying then,” you mused. 

And, fuck, his chest was doing that funny-tightening thing again. 

“You watched some videos before I came?”

“Colour me curious,” you answered with a casual shrug of your shoulders.

He swallowed. “Did you like what you saw?” 

Your lips pulled upwards into a smirk. “Flirting with me now, Hughes?” 

In an instant, Luke’s cheeks instantly burned a red shade with a mix of embarrassment and self-consciousness washing over him. “I’m sorry about that—”

“I never said I didn’t like it,” you interrupted, watching as his eyes widened a little in surprise. But the colour remained on his cheeks. It was cute, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a shy guy, Luke, I’ve seen the way you are on the ice. You just need to bring that confidence off the ice too,” you told him, shuffling a little closer to him until your knee was almost brushing his thigh. “Think of this…what we are doing…as your training.” 

“My training?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded as your palm landed on his thigh, right above his knee. He was so painfully aware of your hand, of the way your touch felt like it was burning through the fabric of his sweatpants to touch his skin. “Gonna help you go pro.” 

His eyes darted down to your hand before it snapped back to your face. “Cherry—” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He blinked. “You’re asking me?” 

“It’s sexy to ask,” you told him, your thumb lightly rubbing a small line just above his knee. You shifted a bit closer, watching the way his eyelids fluttered slightly. “Consent is really, really sexy.” 

“Really sexy,” he repeated, eyes locked in on your lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” You asked again, squeezing his leg a little to emphasise your need for him to verbally answer. 

“Yeah,” he managed to mutter out, a slight crack in his voice but you didn’t seem to care as you closed the distance between you.

Your palm was soft and warm against his cheek, guiding his head until you pressed your lips against his. It was a soft kiss, almost sweet in a way. And maybe something about the tenderness of it all washed away the unease in his chest, that lingering anxiety that he had been smothered in since he woke up. It was like the kiss washed away the lingering concerns in his head, the ones that told him this was some twisted dream or malicious ploy.

You just wanted to help, you wanted him relaxed when he was with you. 

And Luke had half the mind to trust you would do just that after the initial kiss. 

Your thumb slightly swept along the high of his cheekbone, soft and reassuring as he sunk further into the kiss. He seemed happy to let you take control, to let you decide how fast or passionate it was. He seemed happy to just follow. 

“Better than hockey training?” You murmured against his lips between kisses, the light smacking noises a vague echo in his ear but he didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

“Mhm,” he hummed as he ducked his head back down, eager to press his lips against yours again. 

“Impatient,” you teased but didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. “Feeling confident already, Hughes?” 

Luke could feel your smile against his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Good,” you stated simply and before he got the chance to realise what you were doing, before his brain had even fully processed you had asked him a question, your leg was thrown over his body and you were straddling his lap.

Luke pulled back a little, looking up at you with his cheeks flushed. “Oh.” 

“Remember, this is just your training,” you reassured the boy, though it was hard for him to focus on the words coming out of your mouth when your lips were red and kiss-swollen and probably a mirror image of his own. “Just practise, yeah?”

“Just practise,” he confirmed with a nod. 

“So practise,” you told him as you reached for his hands where they awkwardly hung at his side. You gripped his wrists, giving them a small squeeze before you rested them on your waist.

He swallowed. “Oh.” 

You raised your brows. “This good?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Luke,” you prompted until his glossy eyes found yours. “We can stop any time you want. Just say the word, okay?” 

“I don’t wanna stop,” he reassured you, his hands giving a testing squeeze on your waist. “Not right now, at least. Promise.” 

And when you smiled at him, he could have sworn his heart was about to beat right out of his chest. 

His chest was thudding with each racing beat, blood roaring in his ears and butterflies exploding in his fucking chest when you leaned down to kiss him again. It’s like his brain was locked in on you at this very moment, not a care or concept for the world beyond this apartment. It was just about you, you, you.

And then your hands were pushing through his hair, fingers tangled in his curls as you tugged his head back until the column of his neck was exposed to you. 

Luke was almost embarrassed of the whimpering noise that left his lips when you tugged on his curls, a dull but desirable pain coursing through his whole body before your lips explored his neck. His breathing was heavy, borderline panting as your teeth scraped along the sensitive spot just below his ear. And, fuck, he felt like his whole body was on fire. 

“Hmmm, pretty noises,” you murmured against his neck, wet and sloppy open-mouthed kisses pressed against his skin as his body squirmed beneath you. “You gonna keep making them for me, baby?”

He nodded.

“Yeah?” You nipped his skin lightly, almost teasingly, as his hips bucked up on instinct. “Keep moaning f’me, baby, let’s see what you like.”

His grip on your waist only tightened as you continued to explore his body, as you tried to find the spots that had him whining and panting beneath you. And just when Luke thought he had a hold on himself, when he could handle the way your hands felt in his hair and your lips on his neck, your hips slowly rolled down against his and he could feel a rush of pleasure race down his spine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked out between broken moans, head thrown back against the back of the couch and eyes clenched shut. “Please. More.”

“You want more?” Your warm breath fanned against his cheek as you lifted your head, hooded eyes watching the way his face scrunched up in pleasure as you continued to rock against him. “Keep making those pretty noises, baby.” 

The whimper he let out made his cheeks and neck burn bright red. 

“Look at you,” you mused, the bulge in his sweatpants pressed against you as you continued to grind down on his lap. “Doing so well for me, telling me what you want.”

And it was too much. 

The constant stream of praise leaving your lips, the way your face was inches away from him—even if his eyes were shut—with your breath hot against his cheek. The way your hips rocked against his hard cock, the way it was straining beneath the boxers he was wearing. The way your fingers gave another experimental tug on his curls and he saw white. 

His grip on your waist was almost bruising with how tight it was, the way he held onto you as his hips bucked to meet your thrusts, the way your name left his lips on a loop as a hot flush of pleasure washed over his body, as you guided him through it. 

And once his brain had caught up—once he was sure his heart wasn’t going to jump out of his chest—he was painfully aware of the sticky mess in his sweatpants. 

“Oh my god,” he muttered, his whole body burning with embarrassment as he looked up at you. “I am so sorry—” 

“For what?” 

“I—” His eyes fell shut, his body wanting nothing more than to curl in on himself. “I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.” 

You frowned. “What was? The fact you came?” 

His stomach twisted a little.

“Luke,” you murmured, and he could feel your hands cupping his warm cheeks but he didn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet. “If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have been grinding on your dick like that.” 

He finally looked at you, but the hot shame remained. “You didn’t even…” 

“Get off?” You supplied and he looked sheepish as he nodded. “I can still enjoy something and find it hot without getting off, Hughes.”

His brows furrowed together. “I thought the whole point was that you were teaching me how to make you feel good. For womankind.” 

You snorted, grinning down at the boy. “That doesn’t mean you can’t get off too.”

Luke’s lips parted with a silent ‘oh’.

“I’ll grab you some sweatpants to change into,” you told him as you shifted off his lap, looking down at his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. “You’re a good student, Hughes.”

He raised his brows. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you grinned back at him, and his chest did that funny thing again. “And I wasn’t lying. You make pretty noises. I like my boys vocal.” 

And Luke was thankful you disappeared down the corridor after that, saving him from even attempting to come up with a response. 

And he was shocked that once he cleaned up as best he could in your bathroom, you patted the spot next to you on the couch and told him to choose a movie whilst you ordered in some food. 

It was almost laughable to think about how anxious he had been all day, only to lead up to him sharing a pizza with you with some old Jim Carey comedy playing in the background like you two really were just friends. Like you were just hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. Like you hadn’t just made him come in his pants like he was some wound up teenage boy. 

It made his head spin, in a good way. 

And when he was dragging his feet through the front door of his apartment a little after midnight, there was a voice in the back of his head that was telling him this was risky, that he shouldn’t have felt so giddy or jovial after he had seen you. 

You were just training him, helping him. You were just his friend. 

But, for right now, Luke was happy to ignore the logical voice in the back of his head and instead focus on the fact that maybe—just fucking maybe—you were right and this whole virginity thing was far more bigged up in his head than he realised. 

You were his friend. And he knew you were just his friend. 

Who cares if his body took a little longer to remember than his brain did?

.

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

[99hook]

Barely Breathing | Three

The aftermath of Tyler cheating

Warnings: angst, smut

A/N: third and final part to this series with @madhatterbri. y/n gets her revenge but probably not how you would expect

Tyler basically moved back in at his parent’s house after the breakup. He still had his penthouse but he didn’t want to be alone in it.

All of the reminders of you would haunt him if he went back. The dresser drawers that were cleared out of all of your stuff you took when you left and the photos of the two of you decorating the living room was something he just didn’t think he could handle right now.

He sent you text message after text message begging for a chance to explain everything but he assumed you must have blocked his number when days went by without a single reply.

It wasn’t until one night as he was sitting outside with his dad puffing on a cigar and having a glass of whiskey that his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he had to take a double look at the screen when he saw your name floating on it.

“Y/n wants to talk tonight.” He says, looking over at Taz with wide, hopeful eyes.

“I told you to give her some time to blow off steam. Still don’t agree with what you did, but I’m glad she’s giving you a shot to explain your stupid actions.”

Taz had been hard on him about the whole ordeal. He had no idea that Tyler cheated on you until he confessed it the night he showed up drunk at his door.

He didn’t scold him that night, because it was obvious that Tyler wasn’t in his right mind, but the next day and every time you came up in conversation, he made it a point to tell him that he made a big mistake.

“Yeah.” He sighs as he puffs on the cigar, exhaling some smoke above his head. “I’m gonna regret that for the rest of my life, honestly. I’m just glad she’s even talking to me again.”

“You should.” Taz adds, sipping on his glass. “Know what else you should do?”

“What?”

“Take your ass home and put on some new clothes. Shower, shave, fix yourself up. You’ve been moping around in the same clothes for days and I haven’t seen your hair wet since you got here, so I’m pretty sure you ain’t had a shower either.”

“I took one yesterday.” Tyler attested. “But yeah, I need to change. Guess i’m gonna go.”

He put the cigar out and finished the last bit of whiskey in his glass before he got up from the chair. Just before he was about to leave, his dad stopped him.

“Son, listen to me. If she gives you another shot, you better not blow it this time. You got a good girl who loves you and treats you good. Start acting like it.”

What Tyler didn’t know, was that good girl that left his house that night was nothing close to the girl who was stepping back in.

You had been completely broken down by what he did. It haunted you every single night. You went through all stages of mourning it felt like, but landed firmly on one that felt way better than sitting around crying over him.

You were angry. The more you thought about it, the more rage made home inside of you. The years you spent together and all the things you went through being completely disregarded for some girl he couldn’t keep his hands off of made you despise him even more than anything else anymore.

You just wanted him to feel the same pain you had to suffer through, and no matter how many texts he sends saying that he misses you and he’s just so damn sorry, you knew he wasn’t the level of sorry that he should be.

Tyler took his time getting ready. He had butterflies in his stomach for the first time in a long time. He kept glancing at the clock but time was going by so slow, he was just anticipating when you’d be knocking at that door.

He picked up a bouquet of roses on the way back. He didn’t know if you’d accept them but he felt like it was the very least he could do to thank you for giving him a chance to talk to you.

He was nervously messing with his hair when he heard the faint knocks at the door, and had to take a deep breath before he opened it.

Seeing you again was something that made his heart feel like it was getting squeezed by stone hands in his chest. You looked good. You didn’t look like you were going through a breakup by any means. He wondered if you had to take your time getting ready to hide what you really had been feeling like or if you were really just fine like you seem.

“Hey” he breathes out as he opens the door. You send him a barely there smile and step in. You spot the roses on the kitchen island and roll your eyes before he sees it.

“Those for me?” You asked, feigning a smile.

“Yeah, they are.” He walks over to the bouquet and passes them to you, thankful and relieved when you take them from his hand.

“My way of saying thank you for giving me a chance to explain things.” He says.

You set the bouquet down and shake your head.

“I’m not here to talk about what happened.” You tell him.

“You’re not?” I thought you-“

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips and instantly felt his hands on your hips, pulling you into him as close as you could possibly get.

When the initial shock wore off, he kissed you back with a newfound intention that suddenly hit him.

You stepped out of your shoes and made quick work of getting his shirt off, only breaking the kiss to pull it off before you locked your lips with his again.

It was painful to think about another woman kissing him like this, but you had to force those thoughts away before you ruined everything for yourself.

Running your nails down his abs made you wonder if her nails traced the same path. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair didn’t feel as soft between your fingers when you knew another set of hands had been in them too.

It solidified everything for you. You knew you’d never be able to forgive and sure as hell not forget.

Tyler’s lips trailed from your jaw to your neck as he unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your arms. He leaned back to look at you, his eyes filled with pure, undeniable admiration but yours were just dull, the life completely sucked out of them.

He was so caught up in the moment that he wouldn’t have been able to tell that you were just a shell of who you used to be standing before him.

He leaned down and wrapped his arms underneath you, swiftly picking you up and carrying you into the bedroom. Feeling the bed beneath your bare back as he gently laid you down was a strange feeling. You never expected to be in that bed again after that night.

He peppered some kisses to your collarbone as he slid your pants down, along with your underwear, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable underneath him.

“You are so gorgeous.” He whispered in pure awe. It had only been a couple days but he thought he’d never get to see you like this again.

You grabbed his arms and pulled him down to you, his eyes adverting from your body to your eyes in an instant. You could practically read his mind. Every thought he was having and every feeling rushing through him.

You hated that you still loved him, because you could see full well that he was probably falling even harder in love with you in that moment, and maybe if you didn’t love him, it wouldn’t hurt you.

It was just another thing to force out of your mind as you grabbed his length in your hand and guided it to your entrance. He swallowed harshly before he pulled back some.

“Wait” He says, sliding his tongue over his lips. “Are you sure you want to do this like this? I don’t want you still be mad at me after we’re done. I would rather talk about everything first and then, if you want to, we can do this.”

“I’m not mad anymore, just fuck me please.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything more when you pulled him down by his chain, locking your lips with his again. He melted into you at that moment, his fingers sifting gently through your hair as his lips moved with yours in perfect harmony.

You felt him push into you and let a soft moan slip out, wrapping your legs around his waist to push him in deeper.

His hand found yours and he intertwined your fingers together, softly holding it above your head as he slowly thrusted into you.

It was too soft and sweet for you, though. The way he was peppering kisses to each inch of your face and the slow, languid movements. That’s not what you needed, so you reversed the roles and ended up on top of him, pinning his hands above his head as you took full control.

His lips lingered over your neck, he wanted to catch your kiss but you didn’t let him.

He was taken back but pleased with the sudden dominance, he didn’t object to it. His eyes stayed trained on you as he watched you take every inch of him, doing your best not to collapse down on top of him when he started arching his hips high off the bed.

You screwed your eyes shut so you didn’t have to watch him. It was a harder task than you expected it to be. Hearing the sounds of his low groans and heavy sighs, the occasional whisper of your name leaving his lips, it was pulling at your heart strings and that was the last thing you needed.

You made the mistake of letting go of one of his hands, and he immediately brought it to the back of your neck to bring you down to his lips. You tasted whiskey and fresh mint on your tongue, the kiss so filled with passion and desire that it made your head spin.

You broke away and straightened up on top of him, letting his other hand go and you allowed it to grab your hip, guiding you.

His lips parted and you felt him twitch inside of you, already knowing what was coming so you picked up the pace to get him there faster. You didn’t care enough about yourself.

He surprised you when he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and placing soft, sloppy kisses to your neck as he thrusted up into you.

“I love you so much, yn” He whispers against your skin. Words that didn’t mean anything anymore.

His hips stuttered and you quickly got off of him, not trying to risk anything under the circumstances. He must have expected you to catch his release but you didn’t, and instead let it drench the bedsheets while you slid off the bed and found your clothes scattered on the floor.

He watched you for a moment before he got up and headed into the bathroom. When he came back, you were fully dressed and fixing your hair in the mirror.

“You’re not staying the night?” He asks with a small voice. You caught his expression in the reflection before you turned around to face him.

“Why would I do that?” You asked.

“I mean, I would love it if you did.” He says, starting to walk towards you, but you step closer to the door.

“No, Tyler. I’m not staying the night with you. I’m never coming back here again, either.”

“What?”

“I hope you enjoyed your last time ever fucking me. Hope that girl was worth it.” You forge a taunting smirk before you walked out the bedroom.

He was hot on your heels but you didn’t turn around until you reached the front door.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” He asks, his eyes filled with pain and despair, just how you wanted to leave him.

“Did you seriously expect anything else? You cheated on me, babe. You deserve everything you’re getting.” You shrug before you open the door and step out, making the man you once planned to marry just a boy from your past.

#hook aew #aew hook #aew hook x reader #tyler senerchia #aew hook angst

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Unexpectedly | Chapter 01

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Idol!Reader

Summary: When the company Y/N is signed with announces its closure, she feels as though her career as a soloist is over. So when KQ offers Y/N a contract, she jumps at the chance if it means she can work (and fall in love) with her best friend, Wooyoung.

Warnings: none for this chapter. Disclaimers and warnings for all the whole series are placed on masterlist post.

Word Count: 1,080

Screenshots: 12

Tag List: Open. To join - leave a comment on the masterlist post, send in an ask or fill out my permanent tag list form.

Unexpectedly Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Wooyoung's high-pitched cackle mixed with her mum's laughter fills Y/N’s ears as she enters the grounds of her mother's home. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head she grumbles to herself as she climbs the steps to the front door. 

"Aish, I should have known he’d get here before me. I bet he came straight here as soon as she invited him for dinner." 

She goes to reach for the door handle just as her phone begins to ring. Grumbling to herself again, she reaches inside her pocket and pulls out the ringing device. Seeing her manager’s name and number flashing on the screen, she quickly answers it. "Sang-U-nim, I just arrived at my eomma’s house."  

No matter the time or what she's doing, she always makes sure to answer his calls. He is more than just a manager to her. He has been by her side since the day she found out she would be debuting. He became her mentor, her work father. He has always been there to uplift her when she needed it and never let her ego grow too big. If she needed to hear something, he would be the one to tell her. He has become her closest confidant in the company, and she trusts his opinion and advice more than anyone else. 

"I won't keep you long," he assures her. "I just wanted to let you know that I asked around about Yoon Jun. He's the real deal. Hae-Joon worked with him back when they were both at SM Entertainment. She said he's a dedicated worker, takes excellent care of the talent under him, and is highly respected." 

"So, should I schedule a meeting with him?"  

"You should definitely make time to meet with him."  

"Will you come with me? I’ll let them know you and I are a packaged deal."  

"I didn't want to discuss this over the phone," he sighs. Y/N can sense the sadness in his voice. "I've decided it's time for me to take a step back from the entertainment industry. I want to prioritize spending more time with my family and being there for them."  

Though her heart breaks a little, she is happy for him. “That makes me a little sad but I’m happy for you, Han Sang-U-nim. Your beautiful wife and daughters need you much more than I do.” 

Y/N had met his family many times, even shared meals with them. She loves them just as much as she loves Sang-U. 

“You’ll be fine, kid.” 

“I know,” she smiles. 

“Whatever decision you make, just know you have my… our support. We’ll always be watching and cheering you on.” 

“Thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll always appreciate it and you.” 

“Good luck with everything,” he smiles and ends the call. 

After slipping her phone back into her pocket, she gently wipes away the tears that she hadn’t noticed until now. With a sigh, she steps into her mother's house. Taking off her coat, she hangs it on the coat rack and carefully places her shoes next to Wooyoung's.  

"Eomma!" she calls out as she enters the living room but finds it empty. Hearing her mother's response from the kitchen, she makes her way towards the sound.  

In the cozy kitchen, she finds Wooyoung wearing an apron, assisting her mother in chopping vegetables. "I got the stuff you asked me to bring," she informs her, placing the bag on the counter before embracing her mother tightly. "Is there anything I can help with?" she asks, moving to give Wooyoung a back hug. 

He stopped chopping up the vegetables and gently placed the knife on the counter before turning in her arms, hugging her tightly and placing a kiss to her forehead. It's been months since the childhood friends last saw each other in person. Being able to see him again brings her some relief from everything that's going on. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

“Can we talk later?” she asks him as he lets her go and nods his head. 

She smiles and starts helping get everything ready for dinner. 

After dinner, Y/N's mother settled on the sofa to catch her favorite shows before bedtime, as Wooyoung and Y/N took care of cleaning up the table and washing the dishes. The duo exchanged smiles and playful banter, making the task seem less like a chore.  

“What did you want to talk about?” Wooyoung eventually asks, placing the plates away in their designated space.  

"I got a message from someone at KQ," she tells him, her soapy hands placing a pot on the counter beside the sink as she washes the last of the dishes. 

"KQ?" Wooyoung questioned, his eyes widening in surprise, indicating he was unaware of it. "Who was it from?"  

"Yoon Jun," she answered, drying her hands with a clean dish towel. She grabbed her phone, opened the message, and showed it to him.  

He took her phone and read the message. "He's one of the new managers. Sannie mentioned he heard him talking about signing someone who wasn't a trainee. I'm assuming that's you. But you already have Sang-U. Won't he be following you wherever you go?" 

 Y/N shook her head. "Sang-U is stepping down. He wants to focus more on his family." 

Wooyoung nodded, understanding the situation. "I see. What are you going to do?” 

“I’ll probably message Yoon Jun back, make time to meet and see what him and KQ have to offer,” she shrugs, cleaning the last pot.  

“If you’re unsure, think about this,” he starts. “I’m there, we’ll get to see each other a lot more than we usually do. That’s the biggest pro if you move to KQ.” 

“And the con?” she questions, a soft smile on her face. 

“There are no con’s,” he says, putting away the last pot and turning back to face her. “There might be one con.” 

“What’s that?” she asks. 

“I’ll have to share you with more than just Yeosang,” he pouts. 

“Are you worried I'm going to end up loving them more than you?” 

“I’m more worried that one of them will fall in love with you and steal you from me,” he corrects her, still wearing a pout. 

“No one can steal me from you, Youngie. Many have tried and they’ve all failed,” she assures him. 

As they continued to clean up, their conversation shifted to lighter topics, reminiscing about their favorite moments from their trainee days and sharing dreams for the future. 

TAGGED: @rainydayteacups - @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @deltamoon666 - @scarfac3 -@skz1-4-3 - @soso59love-blog - @hrts4hanniehae - @pinkies-things

#unexpectedly smau #ateez #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x idol!reader #jung wooyoung x y/n #ateez wooyoung #ateez wooyoung x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x idol!reader #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x idol!reader #jung wooyoung smau #ateez smau #ateez fics #jung wooyoung fics #jung wooyoung x female reader #wooyoung x female reader #ateez x female reader #seo changbin x platonic reader #choi yeonjun x platonic reader #best friends to lovers #kpop smau #kpop fics #ateez texts

[allfoolsinluv]

Crave - Part One

Pairing: Eventual Joel Miller x f!babysitter!Reader x Tess Servopoulos; Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos Summary: Tess and Joel throw you for a bit of a loop when you come over to babysit. Word Count: 6.7k Rating: Explicit, 18+. Minors DNI. Warnings: oh boy here we go... modern AU (no apocalypse, Sarah's alive, Tess has a son + Ellie is her niece 😌) established relationship (Joel + Tess), age gap (reader's in her 20s, Joel & Tess are in their early/mid-40s), mutual pining, teasing + flirting, kind of unresolved sexual tension, food + alcohol mentions, imagined m/f/f threesome, dirty talk up the wazoo, unprotected p-in-v, switch!Joel vibes, dom!Tess vibes, f masturbation, use of a vibrator. i thiiiiink that's everything idk, lmk if i missed anything a/n: WELCOME TO MY BRAIN this is all i have been thinking about since Joel + Tess graced our screens last month <3 big thank you to @pedrito-friskito for enabling this nastiness and for reading this over for me 💗 and for helping me give this thing a title LOL, which is taken from the new paramore song of the same name. love u bby! dividers here.

main masterlist // series masterlist // taglist

You really shouldn’t be staring.

Tess is talking, something about new bedtimes and soccer practice in the morning. You’re half-paying attention, nodding along when appropriate, giving noncommittal yeahs and okays when you need to. But it’s so fucking hard to really focus on anything that she’s saying when she’s standing in front of you looking like that.

Her black dress hugs her body perfectly, accentuating her curves. The neckline dips just enough to tease her cleavage, and the little teardrop diamond necklace she’s wearing draws your eyes straight to it. She looks beautiful, and the only thing you can think about while you should be paying attention to her instructions for the evening, is just how badly you want to strip everything she’s wearing off of her.

“I think that’s everything,” she says, clapping her hands together. The sound pulls you from your reverie and you have to blink a few times to bring yourself back down to earth. When you meet her eyes, you find that she’s already looking at your face, a faint smirk on her lips and a slight raise to her brow. The way she’s looking at you makes your cheeks heat and you have to clear your throat before you can respond.

“Got it,” you say, your voice wavering a bit.

“Don’t be afraid to call or shoot one of us a text if you have any questions,” Tess adds. She approaches you, the sound of her heels against the kitchen tile echoing in your ears. She stops just in front of you, close enough for you to reach out and touch her if you wanted to. And oh, how you desperately wanted to. She beats you to it, though, reaching out to gently brush her hand over your shoulder and down your arm, giving your bicep a light squeeze. “Just in case, ya know?”

You freeze at the contact, your whole body going stiff. Your eyes drop to where Tess is still holding onto your arm. She squeezes you again, a bit harder this time, and you suck in a shaking breath. When you look back up at her, she’s got that same smirk on her face. It makes your heart pound and your stomach flutter. Unable to find your voice, all you can manage is a nod.

“I’m ready to go whenever you are, honey,” Joel says as he steps into the kitchen. Tess lets go of your arm and takes a step back from you, turning to look at her partner. The space between you two allows your body to relax somewhat, and you’re able to finally take in a normal breath. Your eyes flick over to Joel, and it’s like all of the air has been punched out of you again.

He looks incredible in his white button-up, black blazer, and dark-wash jeans. His dark curls are combed and slicked back, still damp from the shower. You can smell his cologne from where you’re standing, and the scent makes your mouth water.

God, you are so fucked.

Joel gives you a warm smile when he sees you. He says your name in greeting and asks, “How’ve you been? How’s school?”

You blink at him a few times while trying to force your brain back online. You’re so focused on pulling yourself together, you miss the knowing look Joel and Tess share with each other at how long it’s taking you to answer.

“Uh, good! I’ve been good, thanks,” you finally manage to respond with a nervous laugh. “School’s… alright, I guess. Keeping me busy. And stressed.”

“I’ll bet,” Joel says with a laugh. “But you’re managing it just fine, sweetheart.”

You can physically feel your knees go weak at the pet name. It takes everything in you not to collapse to the cool tile floor right then and there.

“Well, I think we better get going,” Tess says, taking a hold of Joel’s hand. “You and the kids should be all set for the evening. Remember, lights are out at ten. Everyone’s got some kind of practice early tomorrow morning. Oh, and if any of them give you trouble over that damn Switch, you can remind them that it goes in the trash if they don’t put it away when you tell them to.”

That gets you to chuckle, knowing how serious Tess is about that. There’ve been more fights between the kids over that thing in the three months since their Uncle Tommy bought it for them than there have been in the entire year you’ve been babysitting them.

“Got it,” you say with a giggle. You don’t catch the way Joel swallows at the sound or how Tess’ mouth forms a soft o.

The three of you stand in silence for a moment before Joel clears his throat and says, “Okay, then. Follow us out so you can lock up?”

You nod your head and follow them out of the kitchen and towards the front door in the living room. On the way to the door, Joel stops at the couch, bending over the side of it to place a kiss on the top of Sarah’s head.

“Bye, baby. Tess and I’ll see you later. Mind your sitter, understand?”

Sarah looks up from her book and gives her dad a smile. “I will, promise.”

“I know you will,” Joel grins. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Sarah looks over at Tess and gives her a wave. “Bye, Tess! Hope you guys have fun.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Tess smiles. She turns to the stairs and calls up, “Ellie! Micah! Joel and I are leaving!”

You can hear two sets of feet scrambling around on the second floor. A door opens, and another slams shut. Ellie and Micah are bounding the stairs a second later, squabbling the whole way over who was there first.

Joel rolls his eyes at them, but Tess lets out an amused chuckle.

"Bye, mom!" Micah says as he steps on the landing, running straight to Tess. He tackles her in a big hug, the force making her wobble a little in her heels.

You find yourself reaching out to steady her at the same time Joel does. Your hand grazes his at the small of her back. Quickly, you pull your hand away, shoving both of them into the back pocket of your jeans. You pretend not to notice the way his eyes follow your movements.

Tess leans down to press a kiss on her son's head. "Bye, kid. Behave, you hear me? No arguing over that Switch."

Micah sighs but nods his head as he pulls away. "Yes, mom."

"Good," she smiles. Tess turns her attention to her niece next. "And you, missy. I don't want any trouble from you over bedtime, understand?"

All three of the kids groan at the word bedtime. Their indignation makes you giggle—it's the same song and dance every time sports season comes back around.

"Bedtime?" Ellie complains. "Really? We're not babies anymore, ya know."

"Hey now," Joel says gruffly, his eyes narrowing at the young girl. "You watch your tone with your Aunt. And you know as well as I do that if we left you kids to your own devices, you'd be up all night and miss your practices in the morning."

Ellie looks like she's about to argue, her mouth opening with a retort on her tongue, but she thinks better of it. With a sigh, she nods her head. "Fair enough, I guess."

"Fair enough," Joel huffs under his breath, a small smile creeping up on his face. Ellie laughs and swats his hand away as he reaches out to ruffle her hair. They finish saying goodbyes, and after one last threat from Tess to the kids to behave, you’re following them to the door.

“We’ll text when we’re on the way back,” Tess says as she and Joel step outside. She stops on the front porch, turning back to look at you one last time. “Thanks again, sweetheart.”

How is it possible for a nickname to get you so damn flustered? First from Joel, now from Tess. You were honestly surprised you were still standing at this point.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” you manage to stammer out. “Hope you two have a nice evening.”

“We will,” Tess winks at you. Winks. The woman fucking winks, and you can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat. “Bye now.”

You watch them as they walk out to their car. Joel holds the door open for Tess, holding her hand as she steps inside. When he closes the door, he turns and catches your eye. He watches you for a moment, a knowing smirk on his face. You can’t handle the weight of his gaze anymore, quickly closing and locking the door before he can walk around to the driver’s side.

Once the lock is clicked into place, you rest your forehead against the cool wood of the door. Sarah’s gone back to her book, her attention far and away from you. Ellie and Micah have made their way back upstairs, the faint sounds of their arguing over who gets to play on the Switch next filling the house. You know you’ll have to go deal with that, but Jesus, do you need a minute. 

You shouldn’t want them as much as you do. But you can’t help it—the way they make you feel, the things you think about doing to them, the things you think about them doing to you. They’re happy and in love, and you’re just the girl who watches their kids. They don’t want you the same way that you want them. Right?

“You shoulda seen the way she was ogling me in the kitchen before you came in,” Tess sighs, reaching over the center console to grab Joel’s hand and pull it into her lap. “I don’t think she heard a single word I said. God, the look on her face was so fuckin’ cute.”

“She looked like she was gonna melt into the goddamn floor with the way you were holdin’ her arm. What was that all about?” Joel asks, giving Tess’ hand a squeeze. He chances a look over at her, just quick enough to catch her shrug.

“Wanted to see her get flustered.”

Joel chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ menace, you know that? You gotta stop teasing that poor girl.”

“I’m the one who needs to stop?” Tess scoffs. “Says the man who nearly sent her into cardiac arrest by callin’ her ‘sweetheart.’”

“Oh, please. That was nothin’ compared to the torture you were puttin’ her through.”

“I was not torturing her, Joel. You and I both know that I could put her through far worse than that.” Tess doesn’t miss the way Joel tries to subtly shift himself in the driver’s seat at her comment. She continues, “That was just a little bit of fun. You know she liked it. Bet it got her all wet, ruined her panties.”

“Jesus, Tess,” Joel groans, squeezing her hand tighter. “You can’t say shit like that to me when I’m drivin’.”

“Why?” She asks, untangling her hand from his. She reaches over the console and plants her hand on his thigh. She digs her nails into his skin over the denim, smirking at the way it makes him hiss. “Don’t you like thinking about how much the babysitter wants to fuck us? How we can make her forget her own name without even having to lay a finger on her pussy?”

As she speaks, her hand slowly moves up Joel’s leg, until she’s cupping his bulge in her palm. She gives him a rough squeeze as she asks, “Isn’t nice to be wanted just as badly as we want her?”

“You keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Joel says from behind gritted teeth.

Tess chuckles as she pulls her hand away. “Deny it all you want, Miller. I know you well enough by now to know you wanna fuck her just as much as I do.”

Joel doesn’t respond—can’t respond. He knows if he does, they’ll never make it to the fucking restaurant.

It’s nearly eleven when your phone buzzes with a text from Tess. Almost home, it says. 

You huff a small sigh as you start to pack up your bag. Luckily, the kids didn’t give you too much trouble over their bedtime, and they were all fast asleep within a half hour of going to lie down. After they’d gone to bed, you pulled out your laptop and barrage of different pens and notebooks to work on an essay for one of your classes. You hadn’t made much headway on it, your mind occupied elsewhere—like on Tess and Joel and what they were doing and if they were thinking about you too. 

You’ve just finished packing up the last of your pens when you hear the door unlock. The sound sends a flurry of nerves loose in your stomach. You'd practically made a fool of yourself before they left and then spent the whole night daydreaming about what it'd be like to share their bed—you don't know how you're gonna be able to face them now. Tess calls your name when she steps into the living room, prompting you to turn and face them.

They look just as good—if not better—than when they left. Tess’s hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders, no longer pinned back like it was earlier. Her lipstick has faded from her lips, only a hint of the red color there. Maybe it wore off as she drank from her wine glass at dinner. Your eyes briefly flick to Joel’s lips—maybe he kissed the color off of hers.

Joel's lost his blazer, the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up to his elbows, showing off his forearms. Your eyes follow the line of bare skin down to his hand. Fuck his hands are big. You can't stop the image that flashes across your mind, his hand around your throat while Tess lies between your legs. The imagined sight sends a small shiver down your spine. 

Joel says your name this time, the sound startling you and pulling you out of your head. You realize they've been talking to you, and you've just been standing there staring at them like an idiot. If your cheeks get any hotter, they're going to burst into flames.

"Sorry," you laugh nervously, wringing your hands together in front of you. "Um… what'd you say again?"

Tess chuckles as she glances over at Joel. He's got a small smirk on his face as he nods back in your direction. She turns to you again and replies, "I asked how everything went. Were the kids okay, they give you any trouble?"

Duh, you scold yourself. Of course they're asking about their kids that they're paying you to take care of.

"Oh! Yeah, no, they were fine," you say. "Ellie was a little resistant to bedtime, but all I had to do was hold the Switch over the trash can and she took off upstairs to her room. I checked on her about fifteen minutes after that and she was asleep."

"Little shit," Joel shakes his head with a chuckle. "Good call with the Switch and the trash, though, sweetheart. I might have to try that the next time they're screamin' their heads off over who gets to play it."

You laugh at that, rocking back and forth a bit on your heels to hide how much hearing him call you sweetheart gets to you. You need to get out of their house now.

"Well, I better get going," you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "I hope you two had a nice time out tonight."

"Thanks again for everything. We appreciate it," Tess says. She reaches into her bag for her wallet, pulling it out to pay you. As she's counting the cash, she asks, "How're you gettin' home? We didn't see your car out front. Someone picking you up?"

"Ah," you sigh. "My roommate dropped me off before her shift at work because my car's in the shop ‘til tomorrow afternoon. She's still working, though, so I was just gonna take an Uber home."

"Absolutely not," Tess says as she hands you the money. "You're not goin' out in an Uber this late at night by yourself. Joel will drive you home."

"No, no, it's fine," you say quickly. There is no way you would survive a car ride with Joel. "You guys just got home, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not askin'," Joel says, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're offering. And it's not up for debate. I'm drivin' you home."

You know you have no room to argue with them. This is happening—Joel is driving you home.

You’re fucked.

“O-okay,” you say shakily. “Thank you.”

After you grab your bag, Tess walks you and Joel out to the car. Her hand brushes yours as you walk side-by-side on the concrete path to the driveway, and you hope the chill of the night air helps explain away the shiver that goes down your spine at the feeling of her skin against yours.

“Thanks again for watching the kids,” Tess says when you reach the car. Before you can, she’s opening up the door for you, gesturing for you to enter the vehicle. You duck your head in thanks, sliding into the front seat and placing your bag down at your feet. She leans against the open door, her frame looming above yours. You have to look up to meet her eye, and seeing her look down at you makes you gulp.

“You have a good rest of your night, sweetheart,” she continues, nodding down at your bag. “Don’t work too hard. Relax, enjoy yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “I will. Thank you.”

Tess winks at you with a soft nod of her head. She and Joel say quick goodbyes before she’s shutting your door and heading back inside. As Joel turns on the car, you reach up to pull your seatbelt into place. You’re able to pull it out about an inch before it locks. You pull it a couple of times, trying to get it to unlock, but it won’t budge. You let it go with a huff, ready to give up on it.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Joel says. “Damn thing’s finicky as hell, been meaning to take it apart see what’s wrong with it for ages. Lemme help.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Joel’s reaching over the center to grab ahold of the seatbelt. His body leans over yours, your face leveled perfectly with his chest. Your senses are overwhelmed by him—the broadness of his body, his natural scent mixed with his cologne, the sound of his breathing in your ear. It all swirls together to steal the breath from your lungs. You feel dizzy, almost, completely surrounded by him.

You don’t know what he does to get the seatbelt to unlock, but he’s able to pull it out all the way. You expect him to hand it to you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he slowly leans back towards his seat, taking it with him. He uses both of his hands to adjust the seatbelt in place against your body, reaching down to buckle it in for you. The click of the buckle feels deafening in the quiet car.

“There you go,” Joel murmurs, still close enough to you that you can feel his breath against the side of your face.

With a shaking breath, you slowly turn your head to face him. He’s so fucking close, your lips a hairs-breadth away from his. It’d be so easy for you to just lean forward and close the distance between the two of you, to put your lips on his. You couldn’t do that, though.

Could you?

Joel makes the decision for you, closing the space between you and kissing you with fervor. The force of it makes you moan, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut as your hands reach up to tangle into his hair, gripping it and pulling him even closer to you. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating down your body and settling in your core.

He nips at your bottom lip, grabbing it between his teeth and pulling on it. The pain of his bite and the sharpness of the tug makes you whine. He soothes the ache with his tongue. Slowly, he plants one smaller, softer kiss on your lips before he pulls away. He plops back down into the driver’s seat, his eyes glassy as he looks at you. Your chest is heaving, your lungs not able to take in enough air. He says something to you, but the blood in your head is pounding so loud you can’t hear him.

Joel says your name once, twice, three times before the sound registers in your brain. You blink rapidly in an attempt to clear your head. When your eyes finally refocus, you’re mortified by what you see.

He looks normal. His hair isn’t messed up from your fingers, his lips aren’t shiny and kiss-swollen, he’s not panting for breath. It’s as if he didn’t just give you the best kiss of your life.

It hits you, then, that you fucking imagined the whole thing. Your eyes go wide at the realization, embarrassment shooting through you. You laugh nervously, avoiding his eyes.

“Sorry! I must have spaced out. It’s been a long day,” you attempt to deflect, your voice completely lacking the confidence you need to sell it. “What’d you say?”

“I asked for your address,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. God, he must think you’re an idiot. You wouldn’t be surprised if he and Tess found a new babysitter for the kids.

You rattle off the address of your apartment building and he types it into his phone. Once he knows where he’s going, he backs out of the driveway and takes off down the street.

The car ride to your apartment building is spent in silence. You’re too embarrassed to speak and Joel seems to sense your unease, respecting it enough to not try and force conversation. You’re grateful for that, knowing you’d only make an even bigger fool of yourself if you tried to talk to him right now. After about fifteen minutes, Joel’s pulling into the parking lot of your building.

Before you can thank him for the ride home, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. You watch him through the windshield as he jogs across the front of the car and to your door. He opens it and leans over you, leaving you to stare at him, dumbfounded.

“This is it, right?” he asks. When you nod your head yes, he continues, “Aren’t you gonna get out, then?”

Without a word, you unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag from the floor. Joel moves out of the way enough for you to comfortably step out of the car, but the front of your body brushes against him as you do. You step away from him as subtly as you can while he closes the door.

“C’mon,” he says, nodding towards your building. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You nod, shouldering your bag and heading in the direction of your apartment. The walk to your door is quick, thankfully. Under different circumstances, you’d be thrilled to be spending this much time alone with Joel. Right now, though, all you want is to go inside and be alone.

“This is me,” you say when you reach your apartment. You turn to Joel and plaster on what you hope to be a convincing smile. “Thanks again for the ride home.”

“Anytime,” he says with a soft grin. “You head on inside, now. Enjoy your night.”

Your smile morphs into something softer, more genuine, as you nod your head. “Okay, I will. Goodnight, Joel.”

“G’night, sweetheart.” 

He watches as you unlock the door with shaking hands, waits until you step inside, and give him a shy, parting smile. You don’t hear his retreating footsteps until after you click the lock into place. You drop your bag to the floor and turn to press your back against the cool wood of the door.

“Fuck,” you say out into your quiet apartment. For the first time all evening, you feel like you can breathe. Finally alone, you allow yourself to acknowledge how uncomfortably wet your panties have gotten. You’re gonna need to take care of that before you can focus on anything else.

Joel takes the stairs up to the second floor two at a time when he gets home. He’s anxious to get to Tess, having made the fifteen-minute ride home in less than ten. He’s hard in his jeans, practically bursting through the fly. He needs Tess, and he needs her now.

When he enters their shared bedroom, he finds her reclined on the bed, a book in her hands. She’s already changed out of her outfit from dinner, replacing her cocktail dress with a simple blue nightie. He couldn’t care less what she’s wearing right now, though—it’ll be on the floor in a matter of minutes.

Tess smirks when she gets a good look at Joel. His cheeks are flushed red, his pupils are blown wide, his chest is heaving. She slowly sets the book down on the bedside table and asks, “I take it dropping her off went fine.”

“Fine,” Joel grumbles as he approaches her, working at the buttons of his shirt. When it’s open, hanging unbuttoned off his shoulders, he grabs her ankle, pulling her down the bed to meet him at the edge. He grinds his hard cock against her clothed center, the twin groans echoing through the room. “Does this feel like it went fine to you?”

“Jesus, Joel,” Tess whimpers, shifting her hips to try and get more friction. “What the hell happened?”

“I’ll tell you what the hell happened,” Joel huffs. His hands find the hem of her nightie, roughly pulling it up and over her head. He drops it to the ground without ceremony and shrugs his own shirt off all the way. He takes a moment to admire Tess’ bare body underneath him, how beautiful she looks with her hair fanning out against the sheets, the way her chest heaves with each excited breath. 

He continues, looking back up at her eyes, “The fuckin’ seatbelt locked on her and she couldn’t get it out. Had to reach over and do it for her. Could feel her breathin’ on my skin. Took everything in me not to fuck her right there in the front seat. She spaced out, got that glassy look in her eyes, the same one you get when you come. Don’t know what she was thinkin’ about, but I could tell she wanted it just as bad as I did. Then I had to spend fifteen fuckin’ minutes in the car with her, alone, all while tryin’ not to finish in my pants like a goddamn teenager.”

“Fuck,” Tess breathes out. Her hands slide up Joel’s arms and over his shoulders before curling into his hair and tugging. He groans at the sensation, dropping his head to rest against hers. “Tell me what she looked like when you buckled her in.”

Joel continues to grind his hips down against Tess, uncaring of the mess she’s undoubtedly making on his pants. He’s relishing in the noises she’s making for him as she thinks of you. It makes him harder than it should, knowing his partner is getting off to the thought of another person. He answers her, “She looked so fuckin’ sweet. Her lips were parted, eyes blown wide. She was tremblin’, could it feel it when I situated the strap against her chest. Poor thing didn’t know what to do with herself.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tess whimpers. She bucks her hips up into his, whining at the friction. It’s good, but it’s not enough. “Need you, Joel. Want you to fuck me while you tell me how we’d fuck her if she were here.”

Joel practically growls at Tess’ request. He pulls away from her just long enough to get his jeans and boxers off and onto the floor. He’s back on her in a second, pushing one of her thighs down on the bed to spread her open for him.

“Filthy fuckin’ woman,” Joel grumbles as he runs the tip of his cock over Tess’ soaked pussy. He taps the tip against her clit a few times, smirking at the whine it draws out from her throat. “Need my cock while we talk about fuckin’ the babysitter, huh?”

It happens in the blink of an eye. One second, he’s hovering over her, teasing and taunting her. The next, Joel’s laying flat on his back, Tess straddling his hips. He barely has time to register the change in position before she’s sinking down on him all the way. The feeling of her warm, wet cunt wrapped so suddenly around his cock forces a shout from his mouth. She covers his mouth with one of her hands, looking down at him with a glare as her chest heaves.

“I said talk, Miller,” Tess says breathlessly, lifting up a little before sinking back down. The movement makes Joel groan, the sound vibrating against her hand and sending a shiver throughout her body. “Not tease. Now, you’re gonna shut up and listen while I tell you what we’d do if she were here.”

Joel nods his agreement, the fire in his eyes dimming and turning glassy now that Tess has taken over. Her movements start out slow, letting them both adjust to the feeling of his cock being inside of her. Joel groans against Tess’ hand and she smirks down at him, rolling her hips faster over him, moving in a way she knows is going to get both of them to the end quickly.

“I know you’re just dyin’ to find out what her pussy tastes like,” Tess moans. “I’d spread her open for you, have her back pressed tight up against my chest, put my legs over hers so she couldn’t shut ‘em.” 

She cuts herself off with a whimper as Joel’s hips buck up to meet the movements of her hips. They settle into a rhythm together, Joel fucking up into her every time she moves to sink down on him. She continues, “Let you bury your face in her sweet cunt while I play with her tits. You’re so good with your tongue, Joel, you’d make her come so hard.”

Joel lets out a muffled fuck, his eyes screwing shut as he imagines what Tess is describing to him. You, with your beautiful body on display for them, your legs spread open by Tess’, your pretty pussy wet and needy for his mouth. He wonders what kind of sounds you’d make—would you be loud, your moans rumbling out of your chest unabashedly? Or would you be quiet, soft whines and whimpers falling from your lips? He wouldn’t care—he’d want it all.

“I’d put her mouth to work next,” Tess says, breaking his attention from the fantasy. “Let her eat my pussy while you fuck her from behind. Would you like that? Do you wanna fuck her tight little pussy while she eats me out?”

Joel nods his head furiously in agreement. Yes, he very much wants that. He can see it so clearly in his mind—Tess writhing in pleasure while you lick at her cunt, your own moans vibrating through her while Joel takes your pussy hard and fast. He’d have the perfect view of your ass, able to see the way your skin ripples with the force of his thrusts. He could grab both of your cheeks in his hands, could smack them ‘til they were hot and burning. You’d take it all—you’d take everything from them. It’s that thought that brings Joel to his end.

His orgasm hits him like a storm, his hips stuttering against Tess’ as he moans brokenly behind her hand. His cock twitches inside of her, filling her up with the thick ropes of his come. She sighs at the feeling, moving faster to work him through it. She finally pulls her hand away from his mouth and he takes in a shuddering breath, watching with hooded eyes as she licks the pads of two of her fingers. Quickly, she brings them down to where she and Joel are joined, rubbing her clit in tight, wet circles. It only takes her a moment to come, too, the fluttering of her pussy around his over-sensitive cock pulling a hoarse shout from him.

Tess falls forward onto Joel’s chest when she’s come down from her high. He wraps his arms around her, holding her tightly against them as they both fight to catch their breaths. The weight of Tess’ body on top of his, the warm air of her breathing on his chest, helps to ground Joel back in reality. He can’t remember the last time he came that hard, and he almost feels guilty about the fact that it was because he was thinking about you.

He doesn’t feel guilty, though. Not when he knows talking about you got Tess off, too.

Tess pushes herself up on shaking arms and smiles down at Joel. “Told you so.”

Joel’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What?”

“In the car,” Tess says, her smile morphing into more of a smirk. “I said I knew you wanted to fuck her just as much as I did. The way you just came from me talkin’ about her proved me right.”

“Shut up,” Joel scoffs out with a laugh. He leans up to kiss her, entirely too soft and sweet for the way she’s still sitting on his softening cock, his come leaking out around the sides. She smiles against his lips, pulling away slightly to peck him a few times in rapid succession.

“Think she got off thinking about us tonight, too?” Tess asks against Joel’s lips.

He groans in response, his eyes falling shut. “You’re a fucking menace.”

You can hardly wait to lock yourself in your room after Joel brings you home to kick off your shorts and panties. You’re aching, desperate to make yourself come and hopefully clear some of the brain fog he and Tess have caused you this evening. You get comfortable in your bed, pull your vibrator out from your nightstand, and get to work.

Your orgasm comes easily. You’re already so close to the edge, all of your thoughts and fantasies of Joel and Tess—them together, separately, both with you and without you—blurring in your head as you work your vibrator over your clit. Within a matter of minutes, you’re coming, your back arching off of the bed and their names falling from your lips like a prayer.

You swirl your vibrator around your clit a few more times until the oversensitivity becomes too much. You click the toy off and toss it to the side. With a frustrated sigh, you bring your hands up to rub at your eyes. 

It’s nearly painful how badly you want Joel and Tess. You thought that, maybe, if you could make yourself come to the thought of them just once, you’d be able to clear your system. That you could go back to functioning around them like a normal person. The dull ache that still remains in your pussy, despite having come already and being too sensitive to try for another one, only serves to prove your theory wrong.

You haven’t cleared them from your system. In fact, it seems like you’ve only made your desire for them worse. You can’t stop thinking about them, what it’d be like for them to take you to bed. You don’t think they’d be slow or sweet—or at least Tess wouldn’t. No, she’d tease you, work you up and bring you just to the edge, over and over, but wouldn’t let you fall. She’d keep you hanging until you were begging for it. Only then would she let you come, maybe on her fingers, probably on her tongue.

Then there’s Joel. God, what would it be like to fuck him? Would he hold you close as he sunk into you? Or would he push your face down into the mattress and haul your ass up into the air so he could fuck you from behind? Your read on him wasn’t as solid as your read on Tess, but fuck, did you like to imagine him any way you could.

The thought of Joel fucking you from behind while your tongue is buried in Tess’ pussy springs to your mind. It sends a jolt of arousal through your body and makes your cunt throb. You let out a pitiful whimper as you look over at your vibrator. Fuck it, you think, reaching for the toy again and clicking it on.

You don’t even try to muffle the moan that tears from your throat when you press the toy against your clit. You work it over your sensitive bundle as you continue to imagine Joel’s cock pounding into you, your tongue working over Tess’ pussy sloppily. You can practically hear the sounds they’d make, Joel’s rough grunts and Tess’ low moans. You’d whimper into Tess, the vibration traveling through her body. She’d grab your head and hold you steady, grinding her pussy up into your eager mouth. Both of them would take and take and take from you—and you’d be all too happy to give.

You feel like you might pass out then and there when you come for a second time. Stars burst behind your eyelids as your cunt tightens and contracts around nothing. Your thighs clamp shut around your hand as you ride out the waves of pleasure. With shaking fingers, you turn off your vibrator and drop it onto the bed beneath you.

You barely register the sound of your phone dinging with a text notification over the rush of blood in your head. You ignore it until your breathing has gone back to normal and your body has stopped shaking. When you grab it and open up your text messages, you nearly drop the device on your face at seeing Tess’ name on your screen.

Hey sweetheart! Sorry to bug ya so late, but wanted to ask before I forgot. Joel and I both have to work late on Monday and the kids all have their different practices after school. If you’re free, can you get ‘em where they need to be, then hang out with them out at the house til one of us gets home? We’ll pay extra since it’s so last minute, just let us know 😘

Fuck. You can’t do it. Not so soon after tonight. You wouldn’t be able to survive it.

Your hands are moving over your keyboard, tapping out a response before your brain even has time to catch up.

“I don’t have to work late on Monday,” Joel murmurs. Tess scoffs and rolls her eyes at him.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have to know that. Go grab a beer with Tommy after work or something. It’s just to get her over here again.”

As much as Joel wants to have you join him and Tess in bed, he’s unsure of her plan to test the waters with you. It seems risky, like it could maybe back you into a corner that you don’t want to be in.

“We’ll both get her alone,” Tess had said after they’d cleaned up together. “Flirt a little, see how she reacts. Maybe we can each make a little move on her. If she seems into it, we’ll talk to her about joining us.”

“Think it’ll work?” Joel had asked skeptically.

Tess gave him a mischievous little smile. “It’ll work.”

Tess’ phone vibrates before he can respond. She quickly unlocks it, opening up the text notification from you. Joel gulps as he reads it, Tess’ face breaking out into a wide smile as she does.

Of course! It won’t be a problem at all. See you on Monday 😊

Joel rereads the text over and over and over again. It’s a simple response, nothing out of the ordinary for your exchanges with Tess. But it ignites a—perhaps unfounded—spark of hope in his belly.

Maybe this will work.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x you #joel miller x tess servopoulos #joel miller fanfiction #tess servopoulos fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[rhoorl]

Working Title | Chapter 20

Pairing: Dieter Bravo/OFC Series Rating: Mature, 18+ Word Count: 5.4k Series Masterlist | AO3 Chapter 20 Chapter Summary: The girls head to LA for the audition. Chapter Warnings: Brief alcohol mention. Swearing. Alternating POVs. Some angst, Body image issues. People being mean online. Allusions to Dieter's past. A/N: I can’t believe we’ve made it to the penultimate chapter of this series. This has been my first foray into fanfic writing and these two mean so much to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading and spending some time in this little world!

“Cheers,” Sam smiled clinking the neck of his beer with Dieter’s glass. 

The two made some small talk, mostly about the show and whether or not they thought it was actually going to be picked up or not.

“Do you have anything lined up after this is done?” He studied Dieter, who sat absentmindedly swirling his Old Fashioned in one hand.

“Nah, I haven’t come across anything that interests me. Might take some time off.”

“Must be nice,” Sam scoffed, wincing as he ran his hand through his hair. He hated it when his mouth worked faster than his brain. “Sorry, that probably sounded worse than I meant it. I just…I’m not in a position to take a lot of time off you know?”

Although he had been working for a while, Sam still hadn’t gotten his “big break” so every project felt really important to him.

“No man, it’s all good. I get it, I’ve been there. Hell…five years ago no one wanted to hire me. I’m just now starting to get people to somewhat take me seriously, again,” he chuckled to himself as his mind wandered to a dark place before quickly returning to the present. 

“Well, they can’t take your Oscar away huh?” Sam offered a small smile and cleared his throat to change the subject. “You thinking of going out to see the girls sometime in Toronto? I’m trying to plan a trip.”

“Yeah, I was …ah…actually thinking of maybe renting a house out there. You know, since I’ll have the time,” Dieter scratched the back of his head.

“No way! That’s an awesome idea! Belle must be so excited about it…” he scrunched his face and Dieter took a sip of his drink. “She knows right?”

“I haven’t told her yet, I kinda wanted it to be a surprise,” Dieter smiled softly.

“Oh well, I’m sure she’ll feel a whole lot better taking the job knowing you’ll be there,” Sam offered, taking a swig of his beer.

“She say anything to you?” 

“Not in so many words. But based on what Indy and I were talking about…you know…with she and I…I can only imagine the same applies to the two of you,” he set his beer down and looked Dieter in the eyes. “She’s fallen really hard, you know that right?”

Dieter chuckled, “Well however hard she’s fallen I’m like 10 times worse.”

Both of their phones buzzed at the same time as they both quickly lunged for their respective devices.

“Ah, well looks like they made it on the plane,” Sam smiled, tapping away.

Belle: Made it on the plane!

Dieter: I hope you have a safe flight. Try and sleep. You’ll be there when you wake up.

Belle: I wish I could sleep on planes. I’m checking what movies they have

Dieter: Do they have any of my stuff? That will make you fall asleep. 😜

Belle: No silly watching it would make me miss you too much.

Dieter: 💗

Belle: gotta go - they’re telling us to turn off the phones. I love you 😘

Dieter: Wait! Since I can’t hear you say goodnight, can I get a picture?

Belle smirked, feeling the warmth in her cheeks as she snapped a quick selfie.

Dieter: Good night beautiful. Tell me when you land. xo

Indy sported the biggest smile as she switched her phone to airplane mode. Glancing over she caught you staring at your lock screen — a selfie of you and Dieter from your hike around Waimea Canyon.

“Thanks for coming with me B,” she nudged your arm with her elbow, pulling you out of your daydream. 

“Of course, this is exciting. Are you getting nervous?”

“Nah, I got this,” she winked. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah babe, of course,” she turned her body towards you. “What’s up?”

“Have you and Sam talked about things? Like what’s going to happen next?”

Indy looked down, playing with the hem of her shirt with a small smile. “Yeah…we’ve talked about it. Truthfully it makes me a little scared. I really like him B and I…I don’t know what’s next for us. Sure he can come out and visit, but he needs to work too.”

“For what it’s worth, he really likes you too,” you covered her hand with yours, rubbing circles with your thumb. “And I think he’s a great guy so I’m rooting for you.”

She rested her head on your shoulder, “Thanks B. At first I thought this was going to be just some on-set fling or whatever but I can see this going somewhere,” she smirked as you looked at her with a silent squeal. 

“I knew it,” you winked.

“Try and get some sleep, ok? I know how you get,” she smirked as she rummaged through her bag to find the novelty sleeping mask you got her years ago. The “Sleeping Beauty” stitching, a nod to her Disney Princess past, was starting to fade. She put on her noise-canceling headphones and was asleep before the wheels left the tarmac, leaving you to sort out how to entertain yourself for the next five and a half hours. 

You aimlessly scrolled through the various television shows and documentaries given as in-flight entertainment options, unable to find something that grabbed your interest. Once the flight attendant delivered your ginger ale and pretzels, you decided to get serious about finding a movie. Doing some quick math, you figured you could probably watch at least two.

When you reached the “C’s” in the menu, your stomach did a little flip seeing the thumbnail for Cliff Beasts 6. You remember when the movie came out and how you had to drag Indy to go see it, tolerating all of the teasing because you just had to see the latest Dieter flick. You’ve endured so many different films and TV shows just to get a chance to watch him; Cliff Beasts 6 was no exception. His over-the-top, cartoonish accent made you laugh despite the absolute trainwreck of a plot. 

Seeing Dieter on the little screen mounted in the seatback in front of you gave you butterflies. The last couple of weeks were such a whirlwind. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever meet him in person let alone everything else that’s transpired. You felt like you were living in an alternate reality. 

With a smile now permanently affixed to your face, you watched and focused less on the movie and more on how quickly you’ve grown to love this man. His nervous energy, his smile, his laugh, his hair, of course. The way he knew how to strike that balance of gentle and comforting with a little edge that made you want to give him anything and everything. By this point, you were about halfway through the movie and your eyelids were starting to feel heavy.

The guys decided to call it a night after a couple of drinks due to Sam’s early call time (and the fact that he hadn’t read through his scenes yet). Dieter’s call time got pushed back, but he was desperate to return to his room to wallow and track Belle’s flight. 

Once in his suite, he made a beeline for the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water along with a box of cookies, and went to his room. Instead of sitting on his side, he settled into Belle’s side of the bed, traces of her perfume and shampoo still on the pillow. He searched for her flight on his phone and studied the route while eating a cookie, the crumbs falling on his shirt and onto the bed. 

The girls had a few couple hours until they were to land in Los Angeles and his mind was abuzz, flipping through various thoughts like a Rolodex. He hoped it was a smooth flight and wondered what Belle was doing, wishing she was able to get some sleep. He was curious about how the audition would go for Indy. He knew she was a lock for the role so he needed to stop thinking of “ifs” and start thinking of “whens.” 

Sleep was a lost cause so he grabbed the remote. He wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he knew she was safe on the ground. Flipping through the channels, he came across Alien and decided to stop and keep it on as background noise as he continued to do some research on his tablet. He found a couple of places in Toronto and fired off emails to Liz so she could investigate further. 

Time crawled by. Something else was on TV but Dieter didn’t pay it any mind. He was scrolling through photos on his phone, landing on a candid he took of Belle one morning. She looked so peaceful, a hint of a smile on her face as she lay on her side facing him, the sheet just barely covering her. 

He closed his eyes wishing she was next to him. He ran his hand over his face, his breath hitched just a bit smelling the smallest trace of her musk still on his fingers. It sent an electric pulse down his body, remembering how just a few hours ago her mouth was where his hand had drifted to. His slow strokes picked up as he replayed some of their more intimate moments in his head. It didn’t take long before he found his release, left panting as he reached for his phone. 

One more hour.

He cleaned himself up and stepped outside smiling as he looked across at the adjacent balcony, remembering that morning. He stared out into the darkness, hearing the rhythmic sounds of the waves crashing onto the beach below. It was lulling him to sleep, but before he closed his eyes he set an alarm on his phone.

You were woken up when the flight attendants made one last pass through the cabin before taking their seats for the approach to LAX. “Psst,” you gently shook Indy. 

She groaned, pulling off her sleeping mask with a pout. “I need the largest, most obnoxious coffee concoction when we land.”

“You got it,” you giggled. 

You reached for your phone, itching to be able to turn it off airplane mode so you could text Dieter. The moment the tires made contact with the tarmac, both you and Indy were furiously tapping away at your phones. You felt butterflies when a message came through before you could send one. 

Dieter: My bed felt empty 😞 Hope you were able to get some sleep. I miss you.

You grinned like an absolute idiot at your phone at the selfie he sent complete with his signature arched eyebrow and pursed lips. He was in bed underneath the covers. His broad shoulders took up the whole frame and his hair was as unruly as ever, but what stood out to you most was his sweet smile and gentle, but tired, eyes. 

Belle: Just landed 🙂 You’re still up?!

Dieter: I took a little power nap 😉 

Dieter: I wanted to make sure you got there ok. 

Beside you, Indy whispered into her phone to Sam using a baby voice. Normally this would have made you cringe, but seeing her this happy was actually really sweet. 

Belle: All good. Safe and sound 🙂 You should get some rest.

Dieter: For later tonight? 😏

Belle: lol whatever gets you to sleep a little

Dieter: Yes ma’am

Dieter: Keep me updated. Even if I fall back asleep it will be nice to wake up to your name on my phone. 

Belle: 😘

Belle: I’ll try not to bother you too much

Dieter: You’re never a bother sweetheart

Dieter breathed a sigh of relief knowing the girls made it safely. The anxiety of the last several hours coupled with the lack of sleep finally caught up to him and before he knew it, his eyes fluttered closed as his phone slipped from his hand and onto the carpet.

Getting off the plane through the airport and to the car service was a bit of a blur thanks to the small gaggle of paparazzi armed with cameras, cellphones, and ring lights. Seeing the paps at a place like LAX was pretty standard given all of the celebrities, but what was uncommon was for you and Indy to be the targets of their attention. Once they spotted you, they descended, shouting both of your names as Rhys tried his best to shield you while ushering you to the waiting car. They yelled all at once and you could only make out a phrase or two from each.

“Are you dating Dieter Bravo?”

“Did you and Dieter break up?”

“Belle, can you give us a smile?”

“What the fuck?” Indy huffed as she scooted into the back of the SUV behind you. 

“How’d they know my name?” Your face scrunched up as you looked out the back window.

“Someone must have tipped them off, I swear I didn’t set that up!” Rhys looked back from the front seat before turning around to furiously type on his phone. 

You and Indy exchanged a confused look. “I can see them knowing you Ind, but me?”

“Well, you are dating Dieter fucking Bravo…” she smirked, before switching to a more serious tone. “I’m sorry B, it sucks. It’s one thing if he were here with you; I know how unnerving this whole thing can be. But you rocked it! Your first paparazzi swarm!” She gave an encouraging smile, trying to make you laugh to get your mind off the path it would inevitably go down.

You sat a bit dumbfounded, trying to process. You are dating Dieter fucking Bravo. You are in love with him and he’s in love with you. But all of this kind of attention wasn't something you wanted. Your mind started to spiral thinking about what life would be like with Dieter outside of your little bubble. Whether going out on a date or taking a trip to the grocery store, he was recognizable and your life would always be on display for others to judge and scrutinize.

Deep in thought, you didn’t even register the SUV pulling up to Indy’s apartment. She quickly unlocked the door and ushered you all in, knowing there was limited time for her to take a quick shower and freshen up. Rhys stepped out to make a couple of phone calls while you laid out your kit on the vanity in her bedroom. Once you were all set up, you plopped on the bed and pulled out your phone. Even though you figured (and hoped) he was asleep, you decided to fire off a message to Dieter.

Belle: Sorry it’s been a bit chaotic but we’re at Indy’s now. Audition is at 9 so I’ll be kinda MIA - Rhys says I have some meetings today too. Hope you're getting some sleep 💕

A notification for Instagram popped up which you ignored, opting instead to clear out some emails. But then another notification came through, followed by another and another, and soon your phone started buzzing with texts and other alerts. As you opened Instagram Rhys sprinted into the room.

“Have you seen them?” He asked in a huff, rushing over to you.

“What? What happened? Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah, it’s just….the photos of you and Indy are starting to circulate.” He looked a bit worried and you weren’t quite sure why.

“Circulate?” You scoffed, trying to put on a calm exterior despite the anxiety brewing in your chest. You fidgeted with the sleeve of Dieter's sweatshirt you were still wearing.

“Just the typical accounts but some…others picked it up too,” his mouth twitched as he averted his eyes.

You furrowed your brows and Rhys opened his mouth to say more as the en suite bathroom door opened.

“I’m ready!” A bathrobe-clad Indy announced before her face dropped seeing Rhys stressed and you confused. “Wait. What happened? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, walking over to put his hands on Indy’s arms. “It’s just that the photos from the airport are starting to make their rounds.”

You can’t see the look on Rhys’ face but something in his voice tells you he’s trying to tell Indy something without tipping you off. 

“Have you seen anything?” Indy looked past Rhys, her eyes boring into you.

You shook your head, “No, what the fuck guys?! I literally just sat down. Is there something I should know?”

Rhys and Indy exchanged a look before she walked past him, coming to sit next to you on the bed. “Here let me take a look.” She unlocked her phone and started going through her tagged posts.

Indy had the best poker face but you knew her tells. To the untrained eye, they wouldn’t know the difference but decades of friendship made you all too aware of her microexpressions. The slight purse of her lips, an eyebrow twitch, or a shift in her posture – she was uneasy about something.

“You’re making me nervous, Ind.” Your mind started to race through all of the possibilities but had a sneaking suspicion that the reason both she and Rhys were acting weird was because your appearance was being scrutinized. And if that was the case it was honestly so unfair. You had just come off a red-eye and weren’t expecting to have a bunch of cameras shoved in your face. You tugged awkwardly at the hem of Dieter's sweatshirt as Indy kept scrolling.

Indy let out a frustrated sigh as she put down the phone. “I seriously don’t know what gets into people. They act like they know us, know our lives, and they don’t…” She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“What’re they saying Ind?” You say with a bit more bite than you intended. You appreciated her trying to shield and protect you from the online fodder but it was completely unrealistic to think you wouldn’t read stuff.

“Look for yourself,” she turned her body toward you, her eyes watching as you unlocked your phone and started scrolling. There was one thread of comments and replies that grabbed your attention.

>>Omg they look like a hot mess

>>They look pissed off

>>It’s early in the morning they’re probably not awake. Jeez give them a break. 

>>How do you look in the morning?

>>They look kinda sad

>>Oh that’s the girl Dieter is dating huh?

>>Do you think Dieter broke up with her? Is that why they’re back in LA?

>>They haven’t posted anything together ever at least Indy and Sam kinda soft launched

>>It’s probably not serious then. Remember his last chick? Dude wouldn’t shut up about her

>>He’s definitely still shooting. I saw a photo of him at a bar in Hawaii last night

>>The guy was probably hammered huh?

>>Oh no that was probably bad news

>>Wait is THAT who Dieter is dating now? Woof

>>Guy must be desperate

>>How do you go from a Victoria’s Secret model to that?

You skimmed through the rest of it as you felt your blood pressure spiking. People were throwing out wild, unfounded speculation and there was a small contingent doing a deep dive about you and your family and friends. Your mind goes into a tailspin as you read through more. You couldn’t make out the words, but you heard Indy next to you on the phone trying to get in touch with Sam, frustrated when she got his PA instead. 

Meanwhile, you felt that all-too-familiar pang in your gut. You experienced a taste of this when you and Dieter were first spotted in public, knowing that it wasn’t going to be the first or last time people would make comments about you. But something about this felt so unsettling and so invasive. You were a normal person trying to support her friend on what was essentially a job interview. It also made you uncomfortable that the focus was on you and not Indy – she’s the star of the show here not you. Why aren’t people coming up with theories about why she’s in LA when she should be on set in Hawaii too?

The conversations around Dieter were also surprising and a bit confusing. You were on what you thought was a Dieter fan account yet people were speculating about everything from the two of you breaking up to him cheating on you to you both getting secretly married. It hurt to see so many quick to paint him in a bad light – assuming that he had done something wrong.

Indy hung up the phone and you could feel her eyeballs on you but you just kept scrolling.

“What are you thinking B?” 

You shook your head, “This is all so confusing. How does us at the airport turn into all of this,” you waved your phone around.

“It, unfortunately, comes with the territor-”

“Can it Rhys!” Indy snapped. “That’s not helpful right now. Look, apparently Sam and Dee went to the hotel bar after we left, had a couple of drinks, and then went back to their rooms.”

“Wait, you don’t think he actually….”

“No, no not at all,” she squeezed your leg. “No. And it’s ridiculous the way these people spiral off the smallest thing…have you tried calling him?”

You shook your head, “I’m pretty sure he’s asleep. He had a later call time than Sam and sounded like he was up most of the night.” Your mind drifted to a negative place briefly before shutting down that train of thought.

“Well, just try, I’m sure Liz is lighting up his phone too.”

“She is. We’ve been texting,” Rhys chimed in.

You called Dieter a couple of times and it went to voicemail. After the third failed attempt to reach him, you took a deep breath, took off the sweatshirt, and looked at Indy, resolved to not let this derail an important day for her. “We need to get you ready.”

“O-ok, yeah, c’mon let’s go.”

Since it was part audition/part screen test, you were thankful to just have to do minimal makeup and a simple blowout, allowing you to go on autopilot and think. You suddenly felt like you were back in your apartment after you found out Ryan left. The thoughts of unworthiness were quick to make themselves known after they’d been dormant for weeks – the weeks you’ve known Dieter. You were happier, and stronger with him, and being apart only made you see how weak and fragile you were. 

You were annoyed at yourself that comments from people you didn’t know could affect you so much. But words hurt. And it doesn’t help that so many of them keyed in on parts of your body you were self-conscious about. But then there was another voice trying to push through to remind you that all of those things they called out were the things Dieter loved. He celebrated your body, eager to show you his appreciation as you became more comfortable with him.

Thoughts then traveled to Dieter, wondering what his state of mind would be like when he finally woke up and Liz brought him up to speed. You smiled a bit to yourself knowing that his first thoughts would probably be about you and wanting to check if you were ok. But you knew his next instinct would be to turn inward. He hadn’t shared everything, but there were demons from his past he still had to contend with every day. And you couldn’t help but think that seeing people attack you because of your relationship with him was going to send him down a self-loathing spiral. 

For a brief moment, your mind wandered to a territory that scared you – whether all of this was worth it. You continued to work in silence, catching Indy’s eyes in the mirror every so often. She acted like she was rereading her lines but you knew she was trying to gauge your feelings and meet you where you were.

“Ok, ready.” You set down the can of finishing spray and fluffed up her hair in the mirror. 

“Wanna talk about it?” She grabbed your hand, stopping you from quickly packing everything up.

“There’s nothing to talk about. C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

“Of course there’s stuff to talk about.”

“I’m. Fine.” You snapped, instantly regretting losing your temper. “Sorry Indy, I…it’s just the same old shit when it comes to,” you motioned up and down your body. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not a productive conversation.” 

She didn’t push it and just hugged you, figuring an embrace would tell you more than she could with words. Rhys interrupted your quiet moment urging you both to get a move on so you weren't late. Indy did one last sweep of her apartment, hoping it would be a long while before she saw it again.

Dieter tossed and turned all morning, his hands seeking Belle only to find an empty, cold space next to him in the bed. He was about to close his eyes again and will himself to sleep when the hotel phone came to life with a shrill ring. Covering his face with a pillow he reached for the phone and brought the receiver to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Well thank fuck you’re alive. Goddamit I’ve been calling you and texting you all morning. I was about to go get them to open the door if you didn’t pick up. Where have you been? Are you ok?”

This wasn’t the first time Liz had woken Dieter up and berated him, but something about her tone this time caught his attention. 

“Lizzie,” he cleared his throat, starting to sit up. “What’s wrong?”

“Were you asleep? You know you’re due on set in like half an hour, right?”

“I forgot to set an alarm…didn’t get much sleep last night. I wanted to make sure the girls got there ok. Are they ok? Did something happen?”

“Where’s your phone?” A slight hesitation in her voice.

“Uh, I thought it was right here…” Dieter felt around the bed before peeking over and seeing the phone face down on the floor. “Ah there it is, must have fallen….holy shit, what the hell happened?”

Dieter turned over his phone and was pretty sure he had a notification from every app. He saw a bunch of missed phone calls from Liz and Belle, hell even Sam and Meredith had rung him. His list of missed texts was from the same bunch with the addition of Danny, Indy, and even Rhys. 

“Goddamit Liz. Gimme the rundown. Are they ok?” Dieter swung his legs around, feeling dizzy as the adrenaline coursed through his veins.

“She’s fine Dee, they’re ok. The damn paps swarmed the girls as soon as they left the airport. Couple of the blogs caught it and it’s what you expect – people talking about her, how she looks, and trying to find out more about her and Indy. Luckily she’s a smart girl and has a lot of her shit locked down so there’s not a ton for people to find. But it’s only a matter of time before someone comes out of the woodwork wanting their 15 minutes.”

Dieter scoffed, knowing that all too well. When he was at rock bottom it felt like every person he’d ever met was willing to go to a gossip rag to talk about him. It was the usual suspects - jilted lovers, disgruntled past co-stars or assistants, all the way to his old dog’s vet. Anyone and everyone who wanted to give their two cents about Dieter found a way to get their story out. 

His annoyance turned into a feeling of helplessness. He knew how these comments would hurt Belle and with her so far away he couldn’t be there to comfort her. Hell, she wasn’t even gone for 12 hours. It was unfair that he couldn’t protect her from a life he’d unfortunately grown accustomed to. He worked a lot on himself to build back a fraction of the confidence he used to have. It still stung to see things written about him, so he could only imagine the negative headspace she was in because of this all.

“I need to call her.”

“That’s not it Dee,” Liz cut him off before taking a deep inhale. “They’re also talking about you. People have no idea that she’s there for Indy’s audition. They’re assuming both girls left set early due to an incident.”

“What incident?”

“Well, no theory has stuck yet, but it’s the greatest hits.”

Liz didn’t have to spell it out for Dieter to know that once again his past was coming around. He ran his free hand through his hair and then down his face as he tried to quell the frustration. It felt like no matter how much progress he made, people only thought of him as that womanizing, drug-fueled party animal from years ago.

“I need to call Belle.”

“They’re in meetings right now. I’ve kept in close contact with Rhys. He was there when they saw the photos and started reading through the comments.”

“How’d she take it?” 

“As best as you can imagine. Rhys said she kind of shut down on the drive over but turned it on once they got there and started meeting with everyone.”

Dieter’s heart sank, imagining the spiral she must be on as she tried to keep it together for Indy. All the studio execs probably had Google Alerts set for both of the girls as a precaution and as a means to suss out any potential liabilities and issues, so they no doubt knew about Belle and Dieter’s rumored, but very real, relationship. It pained him that he couldn’t be there to comfort her; maybe if he was with her the focus could have been on him instead. 

The smallest hint of a smile came across his face. He felt a combination of pride and awe in her strength – that she could compartmentalize all of these feelings and seemingly put on a brave face for Indy’s audition. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

“I need to talk to her….do you know how much longer they’ll be?” Dieter tried to sound even keel but he knew Liz could see right through it.

“I mean, they should probably be done soon. They have to get back to the airport, their flight leaves in a couple of hours.”

Dieter took a deep breath, trying to quell his anxiety. “Well, I’ll have my phone on me. Maybe if I can get downstairs Mere can get me ready and I can - ”

“Dee,” Liz cut him off. “Listen, I know your first instinct is to try and fix this, but she’s a big girl. Being with you isn’t going to be a cakewalk, you can’t shield her from this kind of stuff forever.” He stayed quiet for a moment, rubbing his temples. “What’s bothering you champ?”

“I…I just don’t want all of this to scare her off…like it’s going to be too much. That I'm too much. She didn’t ask for any of this, you know? What if she ends up deciding she’d rather not deal with it?”

“Dieter,” Liz paused, knowing she needed to be a bit more delicate than her normal tough love. “You love her right? And she loves you? Shit is going to be hard. I know it’s scary, but you have to just trust in each other. What do you want from her?”

“I don’t want anything from her. I…I just want everything with her.”

“Well, she’ll be back in…” Liz checked her watch, “eight hours. You can profess your ever-dying love then.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Thanks. Hey, did you see those emails I sent you?”

“Yup, we’re checking them out – I’ll make sure we check out potential security issues to see if anything is an immediate no.”

“Thanks, Lizzie. I should probably get downstairs. Hey, I’ll have my phone on me. Anything else happens…anything…you call me. I don’t give a shit if we’re filming, you call me.”

“You got it champ….it’s all going to be ok, Dee.”

Previous chapter / Final chapter

A/N: So I know I haven’t always been the best with updating, but the last chapter is written and it will come out on Feb. 26!

Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap / @maryfanson / @sunnywithachanceofjavi / @sin-djarin / @winchestergypsy90 / @for-a-longlongtime /@harriedandharassed / @titlee78 / @midnightraain / @poodlebae / @partyofone3413 / @guelyury / @weho2kcmo / @missladym1981 / @soapjay / @darkheartgatita

#dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #working title

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he had still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

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[irisintheafterglow]

More Than It Seams (Chapter 4)

summary: you're a hero costume tech working for one of the biggest fashion companies in quirk society, and the days until the most important fashion event of the year are dwindling fast. if you weren't stressed enough, a certain half-and-half hero keeps appearing with rips in his suit. (pro!todoroki x reader)

word count: 2.8k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of needles, probably inaccurate fashion design vocabulary, strangers to lovers, no specified pronouns for reader, mentions of food/eating, mention of character death/disappearance, descriptions of wounds and blood, grief with happy ending

note: second to last chapter let's gooooo !!! in theory this could be considered the "last chapter," but don't you wanna know how the ball goes??? and maybe shoto and reader have their first kiss ;). thank you for all the support you've given this series!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are appreciated :)

New Voicemail Message [11:32 A.M]

“Hey! Just checking in; I just finished the whole flame side and I’m about to start the shading for the ice side. If you’re able, I’d love for you to come see it and maybe I can buy you lunch this time. No pressure, just let me know. Alright, bye!” 

New Voicemail Message [5:36 P.M] 

“Hi, hi, hi. I picked up Soba takeout for dinner if you’re free. I have both of our usuals, and I can drop them at your agency too if you’re busy. Oh, also, the lady behind the counter was so confused that it was me by myself; you should’ve seen her face. Anyway, just wanna make sure you’re doing okay. Bye!” 

New Voicemail Message [8:24 P.M] 

“Hey Shoto, it’s me, again. I’m sorry for spamming you with voicemails and shit. I just, honestly? I’m kinda worried, haha. I know it’s dumb. Like, I know you can handle yourself and everything, but part of me still wants to make sure you’re good, you know? Just, uh, let me know. If–when you’re home. I miss your stupid voice. Okay, bye.” 

New Voicemail Message [11:56 P.M] 

“Hey. I’m aware that I keep bothering you. If I did something to make you upset, I’m really sorry…I’m about to go to bed, but I’ll see you tomorrow? Obviously, you can’t see it, but uh, I’m sticking my thumb up, haha. Call me when you can, please.”

[2] Missed Calls: Big D(esigner)🧵👑💖 

New Messages: Big D(esigner)🧵👑💖 

12:00 A.M hey  12:00 A.M idk if you’re awake 12:00 A.M but if you are 12:01 A.M please check the news 

The incessant buzzing phone in your hand woke you from your position on the couch. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you assume you passed out after eating a late dinner, waiting for Shoto to call. His food was in the fridge, untouched, while yours was only half-eaten, plastic bowls and utensils messily scattered across your coffee table. The notifications at the top of your phone made your heart drop into your stomach, and you prayed that the thought hiding in the back of your mind wasn’t true. 

You stood as the TV clicked on, only for your legs to give out beneath you as the reporter detailed where he was last seen, what he was wearing, possible suspects, and the statement from his manager. There was no substance in the public statement, only reassurances that efforts are being made to find him. You shut down the TV after they got into the part of the statement that sounded like a fucking eulogy, talking about how he was a loyal friend, devoted hero, and embodiment of a good person. You didn’t need to be told that. You’d seen it firsthand for the past two weeks. Anger, confusion, worry, and grief came in waves, crashing against each other as you curled into yourself. Your eyes welled to alleviate the burn after staring at the screen, your forehead throbbing from the flashing reds and whites of the “BREAKING NEWS” title screen. Your lungs and throat felt empty, consciousness detached from the body. 

No sobs rang out in the darkness of your apartment that night, and it terrified you how silent you were. There was no crying, no convulsing, no thrown objects across the room to create dents in the walls. It was just…silence. You couldn’t tell if you’d slept or not, hours passing as you stared wide-eyed at the ceiling after dragging yourself back onto the couch. It was an effort to breathe, to force yourself to inhale and exhale like it was opening and closing your fists. 

As sunlight permeated through the lightly swinging shades, your phone alarm went off. You stared at it, the musical sound seeming to be coming from underwater. The notifications at the top of your phone once you finally turned it off were like reading in a dream, with letters blurring and rearranging until you didn’t know what the original message was. Hey, thinking about you, they said. We understand if you can’t make it in today, they promised. Hello, you were one of the people last seen with Todoroki Shoto. Our news outlet would like to interview you. Fingers gripping the phone so hard you wanted to snap it, you slammed it onto the coffee table. Flashes of white-hot rage took over your body, directed at no one in particular. You pulled a pillow into your chest, fighting back the impulse to scream, scream, scream until either your voice or your lungs give out. 

“Hey.” It was your roommate, and she held her cat in her arms like a newborn baby. Your empty eyes stared back at them. “I won’t ask if you’re doing okay because that’s a bullshit question. I just wanted to tell you that I’m here for you if you need anything. Just call me, yeah?” You barely nod your assent, and her gentle fingers brush away the tears that had broken through your resolve. “I know it’s hard, and I know you’re grieving,” she said as she rose from the crouch she took to be eye-level with you. She takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. “But I also know that you’re one of the strongest people I know. We both know it’s Friday, and we both know those assholes in the commission aren’t going to postpone the one event that brings them money.” She doesn’t say it, but you know what she means. You need to get up and finish your pieces. “Do your best, okay?” 

Just do your best. 

It’s what you repeated to yourself as you struggled from the couch to your bedroom, then to the bathroom, then finally out the door and through the gate in your office. Your other designer, the one who had told you to check the news, runs over from his station. Shaking your head decisively before he could speak, you brush past him with an understanding hand on his shoulder. Your aching throat didn’t have the voice to give one last round of encouragement to your staff, but they looked to you anyway as you took your spot at the front of the room. 

“Just do your best,” you said before turning to the embroidery thread shelves and picking out the most vibrant shades of blue and light purple you could find. The rest of the office worked with a fervor you’d never seen before, and you gave them a sad smile whenever they’d glance up to check on you. All the other heroes’ ball looks were finalized, ready to be handed off to their stylists who would do the final dressing and accessorizing. Seven mannequins lined up in front of a window: Cellophane’s intricately beaded suit, Momo’s sweeping velvet ball gown, Deku’s sleek three-piece, Red Riot’s fiery matching set, Pinky’s princess-like mermaid dress, and Bakugo’s sheer-paneled, explosive applique-covered denim jacket. 

Everyone’s looks were finished, except one. His tailored leather pants were complete as well as the simple white button-up, and the silver pocket chain rested around the headless neck of the mannequin. All that was left to do was finish the design covering the back of the coat, which you worked on tirelessly far past when your staff had left the building. It should have been a day of celebration with champagne, balloons, and cake to commemorate another successful Hero Ball; but, 11:30 and 5:00 passed with no trace of him, and you couldn’t find it in your mind to participate in festivities. Whispered goodbyes and “see you tomorrow” floated around you, and it took more energy than it should have to smile and nod. 

Time ran away from you again, and the coat was finished at midnight on the dot, embellished with small buckles, two rows of buttons, shoulder pads, pockets, and the stunning ice and flame embroidery on the back panel. It truly was the greatest piece you had imagined and created, your quirk allowing the thread to almost act like paint as you added subtle nuance to the two opposing cranes. The fire crane rose from the bottom corner of one of the front panels, forming a circle with the ice crane that descended from the shoulder pad of the opposite front panel. Draping the finished piece on the mannequin and attaching the pocket chain for good measure, you stepped back with your hands on your hips to admire your work. He was gonna love it, when he saw it. If he saw it, the pessimistic demon in your mind whispered. With a deep breath that you didn’t know you needed, you turned to pack your stuff and head home. 

And that’s when something large slammed into M’s office window. 

The thud startled you, the dull noise of something hitting the glass bouncing off the empty cavern of the room. Your fingers wrapped around a pair of scissors as you approached the half-open door, cautiously guiding it open and squinting at the distorted figure behind the dark glass. Your eyes widened when you realized the object was huge, the size of at least two very tall people. One hand tightly gripping the scissors, the other slowly slid into your pocket to call the police when you heard a voice call from the other side. 

“Needle! Needle…wait, what? Needle, uh, sprouting from…Needle sprouting from thumb? Jesus, Todoroki, who would ever say such a thing–” You threw the window open, sending it flying upward as you took in the people set precariously on the ledge. You recognized one as Deku, the number one hero who sometimes visited your office to implement support tech into his costume. His gloved hand grabbed the edge of the window, easing him and the person he was carrying into M’s office and collapsing onto the couch. Deku quickly stood, closing the window and scanning the surroundings for threats. Your hand unconsciously rose to brush the matted red hair from the other person’s face, and the oxygen left your lungs as you zeroed in on the scar barely visible around the blood splattered on the person’s left eye.

Shoto. 

His body was in tatters, with scrapes and cuts and punctures covering his body like some zombie Halloween. The white of his hair was covered in so much blood that his entire head was red. His suit had burnt off on his fire side, and his ice side was nearly blue from discoloration. Your body moved on its own when you took in the most significant wound, a large gash cutting diagonally across his abdomen. Mind empty except for the battered man on M’s couch, you shoved your hands into the fabric scraps box and brought them back to Deku, who pressed them against Shoto’s gash to stop the bleeding. Fingers pressed under his chin, you felt a faint heartbeat and could see his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. He was dying, and you needed to do something to stop the blood loss. 

“I tried to get him to go to a hospital, but he said it wasn’t safe,” Deku said to you, eyes clouded with concern. “He was barely able to tell me your building’s address before he passed out. I trust his judgment, but I really need you to know that, if Todoroki doesn’t get stitches, he will die. Do you have some way of stitching this up?” The fabric in his hands was soaked a dark red and the realization of what Shoto wanted you to do hit you like a train. 

He wanted you to give him stitches. 

You’d never tried your quirk on any actual humans, only textiles. Your parents had suggested becoming a medic because of your quirk, but the idea of manipulating something to enter a human body was an idea that you couldn’t stomach. There were others with more efficient quirks who could do that, but none of them were with you now. An idea dawned on you, and you reminded yourself to applaud your planning skills later. 

“Deku?”

“Yeah?”

“I need the sutures from your toolbelt.” His eyes widened in understanding, and he frantically pushed aside objects in his belt to find the roll of medical-grade nylon you’d placed there as a part of upgrading his first-aid kit. “Sorry, I added…more items,” he muttered apologetically, finally handing you the unused spool and the box containing the sterilized needle. Like clockwork, you threaded the needle just as you had millions of times before. Averting your gaze as Shoto groaned in pain from Deku cleaning the wound with alcohol pads that you’d also put in his belt, your hand soon hovered over Shoto’s wound in preparation to close it. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the image of the sewing machine and instead opting for a simple knot at select intervals. Fighting down the bile in your throat as the needle pinched Shoto’s skin together, you shakily guided the thread through the skin layers and tied it into a tight knot. You felt Deku’s eyes watch you in amazement as you worked, delicately patching Shoto back together as you had with his suit the first day he’d walked through your elevator doors. Slowly but steadily, you moved your hand and the thread across the wound, sewing it shut like you’d attached his trenchcoat panels. They were, by no means, medical-grade stitches, but you believed they got the job done as the color slowly returned to Shoto’s face. When you finished stitching the large wound, you helped Deku wrap the lower half of his chest and his arms with gauze. With more scraps of fabric, you gently scrubbed off the blood and dirt, combing through his tangled hair with wet fingers. 

“Thank you, Deku,” you said quietly to him as you threw used fabric scraps into a trash bag. “For bringing Shoto to me. I was really worried.” 

“Of course,” he replied, smiling warmly. “I only wish that I’d met Todoroki’s partner under different circumstances.”

“Partner? I mean, yeah, we’re business partners, but–”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry, then. I, uh, meant romantically.” Your face began to burn from Deku’s assumption. “He just talked about you a lot, you know. How much he liked being around you, how you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. He told me about all your soba dates and how he didn’t want them to be considered dates since he wants to take you somewhere much nicer when you’re done with all the ball stuff, but I still think they’re dates.” Holy shit, Deku was rambling. “I teased him about it since I don’t think he’s ever been in love before, but–” 

“Midoriya, I implore you to stop talking.” You both gasped, turning to look at a barely-conscious Shoto, who was trying to sit up from the couch. 

“Todoroki, you’re awake! Wait, no, no–you can’t sit up yet,” Deku stutters out as he rushes over to carefully push Shoto’s shoulders back down, moving the hair from his forehead as his head falls back against the armrest. You feel out of your body again as you kneel next to him, fingers brushing his cheek in relief. “I’ll uh, give you two some space,” Deku declares as he scrambles to pick up the trash bags and exit M’s office, leaving you alone with Shoto. 

His gentle eyes find yours. “Hey, pretty.”

“Hi, handsome,” you whisper, reciprocating the weak smile he gives you as he takes in your exhausted face. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here? You needed a hospital. It wasn’t safe risking your life to come here, Sho,” the shortened version of his name slips from your mouth before you could stop it, but the even softer look he gives you sends any regret or embarrassment running. “What would you have done if I wasn’t in the office?”

“I just knew you would be.” 

“That’s a terrible plan.” 

“But it worked out.”

“That it did.” You press your lips to his forehead and relish in the way his eyes shut in contentment. “I finished your coat.”

“You did?” 

“I did, but you can’t see it right now. If you lift a single finger off that couch, I’m going to reopen your stitches.” He lets out a pained laugh, wincing at the pain shooting across his chest. A thoughtful look crosses his face again, and you adore the way you could see him working things out in his mind. What those things are, you’d never know, but his pure intellect was enough to admire. 

“Do you still plan on attending the ball tomorrow?”

“Not if you’re still hurt.”

“In that case, I am no longer hurt.” He smirks at you, with an immature, boyish, attractive smile. “And I still haven’t…chosen a plus one.” 

You feel your heart cease racing in your chest. “Yeah? And who’s the lucky winner?” Your voice shakes slightly as you attempt to relieve the tension with a joke. 

He looks at you again with that expression that makes you want to kiss him. 

“It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

As you finally drift off to sleep slumped against the couch, your face close enough to his to feel him breathe, you know in your mind that it’d always been him, too.

[1] Missed Call - Midoriya Izuku

New Voicemail Message [2:04 A.M]

"Hi Yaomomo! Hope you're doing well. I need a favor..."

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #todoroki x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x you #bnha #mha #shoto x you #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #mha hurt/comfort

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 15

summary: Chucho pulls out the photo albums and takes you down memory lane to show and tell you about Javier growing up.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, unprotected P in V (wrap it up!), cockwarming, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, getting caught (kinda), emotions, death of a parent/grief, past relationship trauma (Javier), PTSD, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional hurt/comfort, Chucho roasting Javier, horseback riding, feelings, Javier saying incredibly romantic things, some Reader background)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 22.9k

a/n: Hello there! I know this one is long, but I was determined to finish the ranch arc, so think of it as two chapters just squished together. It is an emotional journey of Javier having to deal with his past, so buckle up (maybe keep tissues nearby), and I hope you enjoy (it’s Javi and Cielito, so there’s, of course, humor threaded throughout)! Thank you to @juletheghoul for looking this over and always being by my side. I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

“I feel like a fucking teenager again,” Javier’s words were whispered into the warm summer air, his big hand holding yours tightly as he pulled you behind him, walking quietly around the side of his dad’s house to get to the front door.

“Sneaking girls back into the house after you fucked their brains out?” you asked just as quietly. “Must have been a frequent occurrence.”

“Not that frequent,” he answered, glancing at you over his shoulder with a smile—his hair was a mess, even after you used your fingers to try and fix it, his face still shiny with your slick, from when he bent you over some hay bales and ate you out.

That was the reason for the two of you being so covert—you both looked just fucked, and weren’t wanting to risk running into his father, trying to avoid the embarrassment of him finding out what the two of you had been up to in the hayloft.

God, the hayloft.

The sensation of Javi pressing his thumb into your ass while fucking you from behind had you ascending to another plane of existence, coming so hard you were pretty sure you lost consciousness for a few seconds.

“Sure, Javi,” you teased. “With the way you fuck, I’d be begging you to take me to the hayloft all the time,” you said with a wink.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

He preened at that, making you snort, his attention turning forward again as you made it to the front of the house, unable to help softly humming a song under your breath as he led you up the porch steps. Letting go of your hand, he went to peek through the living room window, his head moving to try and get a good visual before he was returning to you.

“What are you humming?” he asked in a whisper, an eyebrow raised.

“Mission Impossible theme,” you whispered back. “You know that Tom Cruise movie where he’s a spy, and then when he’s doing spy shit, that catchy as fuck music plays? I thought it fit the situation.”

He snorted.

“Fucking Tom Cruise,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, and it made you grin, his distaste for the actor always amusing you.

His focus went back to the situation at hand, seeing the shift on his face as he went into mission mode, his eyebrows pulling together.

It was adorable how serious he was being about the whole thing, just to make sure you weren’t put into an awkward spot with his dad.

“We gotta be quiet,” he said. “Pop’s not in the living room, thank fuck, so either kitchen or back of the house. We can slip right in unnoticed.”

“Okay,” you replied, nodding your head. “We’ve got this.”

He smiled, reaching to squeeze your arms with his hands.

“We do.” He nodded.

Following him to the front door, he slowly opened the screen, ensuring it didn’t squeal too loud, before looking through the door’s window to see that the coast was clear, having a better vantage point of the back hallway and dining room. You thanked the stars they kept the front door unlocked during the day, Javi turning the doorknob and carefully getting it opened. You moved past him as quickly and silently as possible to his bedroom nestled off the side of the entryway, hearing Javi gently close the doors, hot on your heels.

You’d just gotten his bedroom door open when an arm wrapped around your middle, and your feet left the ground as you were bodily moved into the room, hearing the sounds of footsteps nearby, Javi carefully closing the door behind you both to make sure it made no sound.

Muffled noises of the television coming to life in the living room had your heart pounding in your chest, eyes wide, now safely standing on your own again as Javi flicked on the light switch to illuminate the room.

“Did he see us?” you whispered, turning to face him.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Thank god,” you replied. “That was fucking close.”

He ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck, “Sorry,” he mumbled.

You pressed your palm to his cheek, his eyes meeting yours.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” you reassured with a warm smile. “Honestly, it makes me kinda horny being in here without your dad knowing.” That made his face light up. “What have you done to me? Letting you play with my ass, getting me to fuck in cars and haylofts, making me seriously consider letting you have your way with me right now. You’ve created a monster—a horny monster.”

He moved into your space, grabbing hold of your hips to pull you into him, his eyes on yours.

“Nothing monstrous about you, baby,” he rasped, smirking. “You’re sexy as hell—no me puedo controlar cuando estoy contigo; I can’t control myself when I’m with you.”

“Honestly, same. But we better learn some kind of control, or we’re gonna get caught,” you said, poking his chest.

“Never. Won’t let anything happen,” he promised, and from the way he was looking at you, you saw the truth in his words, your body feeling all warm and fuzzy. “I really wanna kiss you,” he continued. “Go take care of yourself in the bathroom, so I can wash my face.” Squeezing your ass to punctuate his sentence, making you giggle softly.

“Yes, Papí,” you teased, smiling.

He groaned, eyes closing for a moment.

“Gets me every fucking time,” he said, sounding pained.

“I know—now you know how I feel being called your good girl.”

He looked at you with darkened eyes.

“Goes straight to my dick,” he replied.

“Goes straight to my pussy.”

“Go clean up,” he said, lightly smacking your asscheek. “Wanna kiss you so fucking bad.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going.”

Stepping away from him, you made your way to the en suite, looking over at him before you went through the door, seeing him standing there, his eyes roving over your body appreciatively, the clear want in his gaze, and when they locked on your own they softened—the tender thoughts swirling around in his brain evident in those dark pools, making your chest go tight.

Sometimes it was too much, to have someone look at you with such apparent devotion, and you found yourself walking into the bathroom to escape the intensity, shutting the door behind you softly as you went about taking care of your needs. After washing your hands, you fixed your hair in the mirror, making sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life, and once satisfied, you went back into the bedroom, finding Javi hadn’t moved.

“It’s all yours,” you whispered, pointing through the door.

Long strides had him closing the distance quickly, his body practically pressed against yours when he stopped. Your eyes were on each others, feeling the tension, the want to touch one another, and the two of you fighting it, your fists clenched tight at your sides.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Please, don’t leave.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He smiled, nodding his head before slipping into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands down your dress, glancing around the room.

It felt like a time capsule of a younger Javi—the Fleetwood Mac and Farrah Fawcett posters telling you he enjoyed live music, pretty girls, and having fun. From what you could see, the only noticeable changes were the books added to his bookshelf over the years, showing him aging and maturing, going from reading fantastical adventures of hobbits and wizards to biographies of social justice warriors, which wasn’t a bad thing, but it made you feel like at some point he stopped seeing the magic in the world, and things became black and white.

You frowned as you gravitated towards one of the bedside tables, knowing it was the side he slept on, with the book resting on the tabletop and a pair of reading glasses beside it, both situated near an antique lamp.

Picking up the glasses, you looked at them for a moment, unaware your boyfriend had any issues with his sight. But, now that you were thinking about it, he did get squinty when reading things sometimes.

You smiled at learning something new about him, setting them down, your hand moving to pull open the drawer. Your eyes scanned over the treasures, finding an opened pack of cigarettes, an ashtray, an almost empty pack of nicotine gum, a bottle of ibuprofen, and something that had your eyebrows furrowing, reaching your hand inside to pull it out.

The red-beaded rosary slipped through your fingers as you held it up, the shiny silver cross dangling in front of your eyes as you gazed at it.

Javi had never led you to believe that he was a practicing catholic, or even a casual catholic. To be honest, he didn’t seem religious at all, but you knew he grew up going to Sunday mass with his parents. Finding the rosary beads was a surprise, for sure. The thing that confused you was there being no sign of tarnish—no sign that these had been sitting in a drawer for years, collecting dust as something from a past life.

The silver was shiny and clean as if it’d been lovingly cared for.

You heard the bathroom door open behind you, Javi’s cowboy boots click-clacking across the hardwood floor as he made his way toward you.

Turning on your heel, you faced him, your eyebrows still scrunched together, seeing his eyes move from your face to the rosary in your hand, his mouth turning down in a frown.

“How did you walk into the house so quietly?” you whispered. “Your boots are loud.”

Confusion came over his features like he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“I walk carefully…” he said slowly. “You’re not asking about that?” He pointed at what you were holding.

“Oh, yes. I’m very intrigued by this,” you said, holding it up. “I didn’t think you were religious?”

“I’m not,” he said with a shake of his head. He sighed, perching his hands on his hips, putting his weight to one side as he looked at you with a hardened expression, his jaw clenching, anger simmering in his tone when he spoke again. “Kinda stop believing all that shit when you’ve seen the things I’ve seen, and know firsthand just how fucked up the world is.”

His response had you taken aback, making you frown, and an uneasy feeling taking up space in your stomach at almost not recognizing him as your Javi—not with the hard look on his face like he was remembering all the horrible things he’d witnessed.

Was Colombia when Javi’s outlook on the world changed?

From this reaction, you were thinking that might be correct; it took everything in you not to go to him and smother him in kisses until he forgot, and to bring him back to you, but you could tell there was more he wanted to say.

He looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Those were my mom’s,” he softly said. “She, uh, gave them to me before she died.” He met your gaze again, seeing the open sadness in him. “Took them back with me to Colombia—the only thing I had of hers.” He had to take a deep breath. “She’d pray for me with them,” he continued. “Ask God to keep me safe while I was down there; bring me home to her, and when she was—” His eyes squeezed shut, clearing his throat to compose himself, his words coming out thicker when he spoke again, “When she was dying, she begged me to take them, that she didn’t need them anymore, and I needed protection: ‘Por protección y guía, Javiercito (For protection and guidance, Javier). Llévatelos por mí, por favor (Take them for me, please).’” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, meeting your eyes once more. “I think she hoped I’d pray for myself, but I couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t see the point of wasting my time praying to some invisible force that may or may not give a shit, and instead, I’d hold those”—He pointed at the rosary in your hand—“Talk to my mom, count the beads, and just talk—because I knew if she could listen, she would, and they made me feel like she was still here.”

They suddenly felt heavy in your hand, with all of their history and meaning—something precious, to be handled with care and not removed from their sacred space, and yet, here you were, disturbing their peace.

Your eyes had gotten misty, “I’m glad she gave them to you,” you said barely above a whisper. “That you had something of hers with you.”

You were frozen in place, unsure what to do next, the heaviness of it all keeping you still.

Do you put them away?

Do you hand them to Javi?

“Yeah,” he replied. “Me, too.”

He made the decision for you, moving closer to where you were standing, and carefully took the rosary from your hand, getting around you to put them away in the drawer, hearing as it quietly slid shut, the silence in the room deafening.

Guilt had your chest feeling tight over going through his things, having assumed that since earlier in the night, when he said nothing was off-limits in his room, he wouldn’t care. You didn’t mean to stumble upon something so personal, and you felt like shit that you’d intruded on his obvious grief.

“I’m so sorry, Javi,” you said gently. “Are you mad at me for snooping? I didn’t know it was your mom's. I wouldn’t have—”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted, his hands grabbing onto your waist and turning you to face him, his back to the side of the bed. He looked so sad with his rounded eyes and furrowed brow, his mouth dipped down in a frown.

“Are you upset? You look upset. Javi, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset.” He let out a long sigh, choosing to look at his feet instead of you, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips, taking his time to get his thoughts together.

“I’m happy,” he finally said. “I’m really fucking happy that we’re together—that I have you, but it fucking kills me that my mom will never get to meet you. Her last memory of me was this sad sack of shit workaholic, and she won’t know that I found happiness, that I found you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and it broke your heart. “I just really fucking wish she could’ve seen me like this, or at least passed with some kind of hope I’d be okay, instead of worried I’d work myself to fucking death.”

“Javi, baby”—you gently cupped his cheeks—“Look at me.”

His head came up, eyes shining with unshed tears, and it made your own burn.

“From all I’ve learned about your mom,” you said. “I think she would’ve always held out hope that when you finished your job, you’d find happiness.” A tear rolled down his cheek, Javi’s breath trembling. “Because she loved you so fucking much, she would have wanted what was best for you, even though she knew it would take time for you to get there.” Your thumbs stroked over his cheeks. “If you think what I’m saying isn’t true, look at your dad. He never lost hope. He’s so fucking hopeful he sees you married with kids in the future.” His eyes went a little wide. “A touchy subject,” you said quickly. “I know, but Javi, I would not be surprised if your dad has already started planning our wedding.” You smiled, and he chuckled, turning his head to kiss your palm.

“He probably has,” he said against your skin.

“So, what I’m trying to say is, I know it’s sad that I’ll never get to meet her, but she lives in your memory”—you tapped the side of his head—“and your dad’s, and I know she’d be so fucking happy and proud of the man you’ve become because you both have made her feel so alive to me, and present, that it’s almost like we’ve already met.”

More tears rolled down his cheeks, Javi smiling softly.

“She would’ve loved you, Cielito,” he said, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “Would’ve loved you so much—” The words were said into your lips, “She would’ve helped Pop plan our wedding.”

You giggled against his mouth, Javi kissing you harder, his fingers digging into the softness of your waist, pulling you into him.

“He’d definitely have it here,” you said between kisses.

“Probably”—kiss—“doesn’t matter to me” —kiss—”would marry you anywhere.”

You hummed in the back of your throat.

“Vegas?” you asked.

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Bahamas?”

Kiss.

“Yes.”

Kiss.

“Truckstop?”

His mouth left yours to look you in the eyes, his cheeks wet, seeing the truth as he spoke.

“Fucking anywhere you want—I’d even marry you at the rest stop off interstate thirty-five if you wanted.”

You laughed.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” you said, playfully slapping his chest. “There are some important items we must cross off our relationship checklist before we figure out our wedding location.”

Glancing away, he ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

“Yeah.”

“So, we’ll put a pin in this conversation for when the time comes because it’s definitely a when and not an if. I know that for sure.”

He met your gaze again, smiling as he crushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

Javier was tired.

Bone fucking tired.

He’d had to deal with a lot of shit tonight that he usually kept bottled up, or simply avoided, because it was all so fucking painful.

Since his mom’s passing, it’d always felt like there was a hole in his heart, this spot where the piece of her was ripped out. It was gaping at first, constantly aching, fueling his grief, and as the years went on, it became smaller and smaller until it was no longer noticeable, only making itself known when she came to mind.

Javier was a very flawed man, something he’d never deny, and he knew he was really fucking bad at coping with negative feelings, his first instinct being to either drink until he forgot, or find comfort in another person’s body to the point he was completely spent and unable to think.

It seemed he was falling into old habits, because as happy as Cielito’s words made him feel, his past was clawing at him from the inside, reopening old wounds and bringing them to the forefront of his brain—not only his mother’s death, but his time in Colombia, too, remembering the grief, the guilt, the anger, the pain, that hole in his chest agape and alive, Javier wanting to close it shut tight, so he didn’t have to feel anymore, desperately pressing his lips against Cielito’s to make himself forget.

A groan bubbled up in his throat as her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails scratching lovingly against his scalp, grounding him in her touch, each kiss soothing the hurt inside him and balming the pain.

Grabbing her hips, he moved her with him as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his lap and bunching her dress at her waist to have her straddle his thighs, kissing her like his life depended on it, and didn’t it? It sure as fuck felt like it, finding solace in her, losing himself in all of the sensations; his hands roaming all over her body—up the soft skin of her thighs and over her belly, along her back and sides, needing to touch her, and feel her solid and reassuring against him, delving his tongue between her lips, swallowing her moans as he mapped out every inch of her mouth.

All it took was the familiarity of her kiss and the comforting weight of her pressed against him, to have her overtaking his senses, eclipsing every thought in his mind until she was all that remained; feeling the hole shrink and the negative emotions dissipate, the ache in his chest turning into something warm, calm, peaceful—the happy contentedness relaxing him.

His dick was hardening in his jeans, his hands groping at her softness, grabbing handfuls of her ass before he was moving to palm her breast, feeling her nipple pebble under her bra as he nipped at her chin, trailing messy kisses along her jaw.

“Javi,” she gasped.

Sucking on her pulse point, she moaned, her fingers tightening in his hair to pull his head back.

“Javi,” she said again.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he looked up at her, seeing her kiss-swollen lips and pupils blown wide, her breaths coming out hard, all of it making his throbbing cock twitch.

“Yeah, baby?” he husked.

“Loving the impromptu makeout session, but are you okay?”

He could see the concern etched on her features, Javier frowning as he sighed.

Of course, she’d know something was wrong with him, his heart clenching that she cared about him so fucking much.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m sorry. I just,” he sighed again, looking away, his hands moving to grab onto her hips, squeezing her flesh. “You make me feel better,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “There’s a lot in my head I don’t want to think about.”

She made him look at her again.

“You just want to forget,” she said gently. “I get that.” Her fingers slid through the hair above his ears, smoothing it out and looking at him so tenderly his heart picked up in speed. “I could tell earlier you were dealing with some bad memories,” she continued, “and all I wanted to do was kiss you until they disappeared because I understand sometimes it’s better to let someone else make it all go away.” She cupped his cheeks, Javier loving the warmth of her palms on his face. “And Javi,” she said, “I’m more than happy to help make you feel better—I know you’d do the same for me.” Leaning in, she pecked the tip of his nose. “What do you need from me?” she asked when she pulled back, and he could see that she genuinely wanted to make him feel better, the look causing his throat to feel tight.

He trailed his hand up her chest and along her neck to gently hold her jaw, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Of course, you can kiss me.” Her face softened, rubbing her thumbs over his skin. “Anything else, babe?”

There was one thing that came to mind, feeling his cock hard and heavy between his legs, straining against his zipper. He knew they couldn’t fuck, not with his dad in the other room and his bed being so fucking squeaky, but there was something he thought would feel good.

“Can I put it in?”

“What about your dad? We’re the worst at being quiet.”

“I just want to feel you, need to feel you—no moving.”

“Oh!” she said, smiling. “That actually sounds nice. I’m a little sore from the hayloft, so full-on sex will have to wait a bit while I recover from the absolute dicking down you gave me, but warming your dick would be fine—just be gentle when you stick it in, yeah?”

“You’re okay with it?” he asked.

“Definitely, but let me lay down? I think you’d be more comfortable.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her, feeling so thankful that she was there with him.

He caressed her cheek when he broke the kiss.

“How the fuck did I get so lucky?” he asked.

It was a question he’d asked himself every day since they met, wondering how in the fucking world he’d lucked out. All of the choices he’d made in his life, the good and the bad, all led him to her. Sometimes it felt like their paths were meant to cross, that some invisible force in the universe was drawing them together and, for once, allowing him to have something good.

“I feel pretty lucky, too,” she said. “You’re wonderful.” She kissed him softly, Javier chasing her lips when she moved away and out of his lap, to stand in front of him. His mouth went dry when he realized what she was doing, watching with rapt attention, her hands untying her dress, before she was opening it, revealing her soft skin beneath. His fingers itched to touch her, clenching his fists tight, the fabric falling to the floor, and leaving her clad in only her bra and panties. Getting back onto the bed, the springs squeaked as she laid down beside him, opening her legs for him. She tugged on his arm. “Come here.”

Standing up from the mattress, he stood at the edge, taking in her body all spread out and looking inviting, seeing the noticeable wet spot on her panties that had his cock twitching. He leaned forward, rubbing his broad palms up her inner thighs until he was at her center, pulling her underwear to the side and finding her glistening and puffy, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, wanting to taste her again.

His eyes met hers, finding them half-lidded and dark. “Let me make sure you’re wet enough,” he rasped, sliding two fingers through her warm wetness. She gasped softly as he pressed a finger to her entrance, feeling her soaked. He pushed in, her eyes closing, lips parted in a quiet moan, her pussy practically sucking his digit in, finding she’d kept some of him inside.

Feeling his come so deep in her had his brain buzzing happily, his dick jerking in his pants.

“I think you’re good,” he said, pumping his finger languidly. “Want me inside?”

“Yes,” she breathed, pulling her lip between her teeth.

He wanted to make sure she didn’t have any discomfort, keeping her panties pulled away as he spread open the lips of her sex with his other hand, bending his head to spit on her clit, watching as it slowly dribbled down to her hole.

Sucking his finger clean, he groaned at the taste, never tiring of her on his tongue. He could spend hours with his face between her legs, and it wouldn’t be enough, always getting pussy drunk and not wanting to stop.

It only took seconds for him to work his pants open, almost impatient in how he wanted to feel her, pulling his hard cock out, wetting his fingers to get it nice and wet, his hand gliding easily from his saliva and precum as he pumped himself a few times.

Kneeling on the bed between her legs, he pulled her underwear to the side again, sliding his dick through her slit to gather the wetness before slowly pushing into her, watching his cock disappear, hearing her shaky sigh as he stretched her open.

He groaned as her warmth enveloped him, her tight walls pulling him deeper, welcoming him into her depths until he bottomed out. She pulled him down on top of her, ignoring the squeaks of the bedsprings when she kissed him hard, her hands moving to unbutton his shirt, fingers working quickly to get it open, Javier not breaking the kiss to shrug it off, tossing it somewhere behind him. She wrapped her arms around him to hug him close to her, feeling her so soft and warm beneath him, her cunt pulsing around him, tongue pressed into his mouth, sliding her fingers into his hair while the other rubbed his back.

Javier was in heaven.

It felt so fucking good to be inside her; he didn’t even want to move, was happy to stay like this for however long she’d let him, enjoying her mouth on his and her hands touching his body, the world falling away until it was just the two of them and nothing else mattered.

There were many words that came to mind to describe the woman beneath him—smart, funny, and caring, to name a few, but the one that always stood out to him was warm. She was like the sun, bright and radiating warmth, Javier feeling it deep in his soul, the comfort she brought him, evaporating all the negativity and sadness, replacing it with contentment and a strong feeling of being loved.

He still wasn’t used to someone choosing to love him—he wasn’t used to someone wanting to love him, either. It was almost overwhelming knowing there was someone who loved him despite his flaws, who looked at his brokenness and cherished each and every crack and without meaning to, filling some, repairing little pieces of himself with her love and compassion.

She made him a better man; she made him want to be a better man.

Here she was, gifting him with her warmth once more, letting him bask in it, feeling it with her body pressed so tight to his, fitting snugly inside her, and just from the way she was taking care of him, how she wanted to take care of him, warming parts of him she couldn’t even physically touch.

Her nails were lightly scratching against his scalp, making tingles shiver down his spine, losing himself in the feeling of all of her. Soft sounds and panted breaths filled the room as their tongues tangled, melting into each other, feeling her so wet and tight around him, his cock throbbing.

Every minute was working him up, all of the emotions making the pressure build inside him, winding him tighter. Needing to catch their breaths, his lips trailed along her jaw, and down her neck, sitting up enough to tug down the cup of her bra. He palmed her breast in his hand, tweaking the hard bud, the fluttering of her pussy making him swallow hard, and focus hard on not coming. His head dipped down, pulling her nipple into his mouth, making her moan a little louder, and clench up, Javier gasping at the sharp spike of heat in his belly.

He harshly tugged down the other bra cup, his lips engulfing her hardened peak, licking and sucking, his cock getting wetter from her waves of arousal coating him. Holding himself up on his elbows, his big hands squeezed her tits, laving, and nibbling, moving from one to the other, her fingers gripping his hair tight while she tried to keep quiet, the sounds shooting straight to his dick.

Hearing her soft mewls, feeling how wet she was, it was building him up, pushing him closer and closer to his breaking point, until she clenched up hard around him, Javier gasping again at almost coming, her hips squirming beneath him to try and chase some friction.

His head came up, knowing he sounded wrecked, “Fuck, baby,” he said. “Need me to make you come?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Okay—‘m not gonna last.”

She made him look at her, seeing her eyes glazed over.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked.

He smiled, “Yeah, Cielito. Feel fucking good.”

That made her grin, her eyes going darker.

“In that case,” she said in a sultry tone. “Please make me come, then fill me up, Papí.”

A groan rumbled from his chest, his cock jerking hard at her words. He moved to work his hand between their bodies, staying deep inside her, while his thumb easily slid over her clit, circling it the way he knew she liked, watching her mouth fall open and eyes close, softly moaning. She clenched around him again, Javier hissing, her thighs starting to shake as her pussy pulsed.

“I can feel you, baby,” he husked lowly. “Know you’re close.” She clenched again, and his eyes closed with a grunt. “You—” He swallowed hard, almost at the end of his rope. “You gonna be a good girl and come for me? Soak my dick, so I can fill you up? You want me to stuff you full, Cielito?”

It didn’t take much more to have her coming with a shuddering moan, her body seizing up below him and squeezing his dick like a vise, her release spilling around him. Feeling her get wetter and tighter, her pussy spasming, it had him falling with her, his cock thickening, his balls tightening up. He buried his face in her neck as he came undone, white-hot pleasure exploding in his system, moaning into her skin, spilling deep inside her and filling her to the point it was leaking out where they were joined.

He felt fucking incredible, his body going boneless on top of her, panting ragged breaths into her skin. His head was empty—zero thoughts. He moved his arms to hug her close, practically purring when her fingers found their way into his hair, stroking her nails along his scalp.

Fuck, it felt so good.

“How you feeling, babe?” she whispered after a minute.

It took him a second to respond.

“Amazing,” he finally slurred, the word muffled against her neck.

“Yeah? How are the thoughts?”

“Gone,” he answered, sighing happily. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Javi. I’m happy to help.”

Lifting his head, he looked her in the eyes, seeing her warm smile.

“Thank you,” he said again, kissing her.

“You’re welcome,” she murmured into his lips.

“Thank you for putting up with my bullshit.”

That had her lightly tugging his hair to make him look at her.

She’d narrowed her eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

“It’s not bullshit, Javier,” she whispered harshly. “You were dealt a really shitty hand in life. I don’t even know half of the stuff you went through in South America, but I see the look in your eyes when it’s brought up—I can tell it was fucking traumatizing. Add in all the other shit you’ve had to deal with, and it’s a lot—it’s a lot to go through alone. I know you keep it bottled up. I know you choose to cope in your own ways, and if there’s a way for me to help you feel better, I’m going to do it.” Her eyes softened. “It’s not bullshit to me—it’s you dealing with your pain, and Javi,” she pressed her hand to his cheek. “I just want to help you heal, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

His eyes were burning, his throat going tight, having to swallow around the lump that’d formed.

“Thank you,” he choked out, leaning in to kiss her.

He held her so close, every press of his lips against hers making his brain chant, I love you, I love you, I love you… Hoping she could feel the words, imbuing in each kiss without saying it out loud that he’d never felt safer, he’d never felt more cared for or loved than when he was with her, and wherever she was, that was where he was meant to be because she was home—she felt like forever to him.

He was kissing you with such intensity, such passion, and there wasn’t even any tongue, just hard presses of his lips against yours like he wanted you to feel him, molding his mouth to yours, feeling the emotion and how much he needed the closeness. You returned the same energy, your fingers gripping his hair, wanting him to know that you cared just as much and that what you said was true; you’d always be there for him.

Knocking on the bedroom door had you both jumping in your skins, Javi’s mouth leaving yours so quickly like he’d been burned, your wide eyes matching his.

“You kids want some pie and ice cream?” Chucho asked on the other side of the door.

Your luck was bound to run out with the two of you having the tendency to get carried away and forget about everything around you, and now you were practically naked with Javi’s dick inside you, and his dad was asking if you both wanted dessert.

“The door’s locked,” Javi whispered.

That was a relief, but you were still mortified, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole—your cheeks heating and palms beginning to sweat.

Your mind was racing.

Had he heard you? Did he know what you’d been up to?

How would you look that sweet old man in the eyes, knowing Javi made you come while he’d been in the other room?

This was worse than if he’d found you guys sneaking in. At least then, he wouldn’t have heard anything. You covered your face with your hands, wanting to disappear, feeling annoyed when your stomach growled because now that you were thinking about food, you did have the post-sex munchies.

“Great,” you grumbled softly. “Tell him we’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He sounded incredibly apologetic.

“Just tell him we need a minute,” you replied.

“Yeah, Pop!” Javi called. “Give us a minute.”

“Take your time, Mijo. I’ll see you in the kitchen.” There was the sound of retreating footsteps.

“Oh my god,” you said quietly, moving your hands to look at him. Javi’s lips were red and shiny from all the kissing, seeing the guilt on his face. “Do you think he heard us?”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, letting out a long sigh. “With how fucking loud he keeps the TV up, I don’t think he heard anything—probably saw the bedroom light was on under the door or something.”

“Are you just saying that, or are you being honest?” you asked.

He grimaced, “Both…”

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You looked at him again, “Baby, can you pull out? I need to clean myself up.”

“Fuck, right,” he said, sighing again as he pushed his fingers through his hair, not meeting your eyes. He started moving, hissing out shit as he pulled his softened cock from between your legs, his face screwing up in pain from the oversensitivity. The bed squeaked from his movements to get up, him looking at you with big eyes, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m gonna get you a washcloth. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You sighed, “It’s okay, Javi—a washcloth would be wonderful. Thank you.”

He nodded, his steps loud as he headed towards the bathroom, stopping to grab his shirt off the floor and get it on, him disappearing into the other room, hearing the faucet turn on while you carefully got up. You could see through the crack in the door, him at the sink, turning your focus on getting your dress back on, bending down to pick it up, quickly putting it back on your body, using the dresser’s mirror across from the bed to make sure it looked okay, and ignoring the noticeable slickness between your legs.

The cloth was warm when he brought it to you, seeing that he’d already cleaned himself up and got his clothes back in order. His hair was a bit mussed, worry etched on his face as he watched you.

Using the towel, you got yourself clean, the room unnaturally quiet, trying to psych yourself up for the awkward interaction you’d be having soon. Javi put his hand out for the dirtied washcloth, and you shook your head.

“I can put it in the hamper,” you said. “Gotta go to the bathroom anyway.”

Heading for the smaller room, you heard him sigh.

After taking care of yourself, you found Javi sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

Frowning, you briskly walked over to him, smoothing his hair back when you stood in front of him, your chest tight with worry.

“Javi, what’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“I fucked up, and you’re mad at me,” he said into his hands.

Where was this coming from?

“I’m not mad at you…” you replied slowly. “And you didn’t fuck up.”

His hands fell away, looking upset.

“You’re not mad?” He had a look of disbelief on his face. “You should be fucking angry.”

Oh. Oh no. You had a feeling this insecurity was because if he’d been in the same situation with his ex—Lorraine—she would’ve been livid, and it suddenly felt like there was a stone in your belly, all knotted up because he was assuming you were going to lash out at him.

What the fuck did she do to him?

“Why would I be mad at you?” you asked softly. “I’m mortified, embarrassed, and feel so fucking anxious about facing your dad, but I’m not upset with you. You can’t help your emotions, and I offered to help make you feel better—I was a very willing participant.” You stroked your fingers through his thick brown strands. “Not mad at you—just embarrassed we got caught. So, don’t beat yourself up, babe, we’re golden, and now we get to go have awkward dessert with your dad, but hey, at least we’re doing it together,” you said, giving him a reassuring smile.

He smiled crookedly, making you take a step back as he stood up, his arms wrapping around you to hug you close.

“I’m glad you’re not mad,” he whispered against your hair.

Your face was pressed into his chest, hugging him back.

“To be honest, it’d take a lot to make me mad at you. Sure, little things bother me—”

That had him pulling back quickly to meet your eyes.

“What bothers you?” he asked.

“Oh, like not putting the toilet seat down, leaving your dirty clothes on the floor, not refilling the Brita water jug. Um.” You thought for a second. “I think that’s it.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said.

You smiled, “Nothing to be sorry about. You were single for a long fucking time, and now you’re with a woman constantly who likes to keep things tidy and doesn’t like falling into the toilet in the middle of the night.”

“I’ll do better,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

“That’s all I can ask.” When you separated, you looked him in the eyes. “Now do me. What do I do that bothers you?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “You’re perfect.”

Your eyes narrowed, poking him in the chest, “And you’re a lying liar who lies. Spill, this is a safe space. I won’t be mad. We’re having an open dialogue.”

“Shit,” he said, looking away.

You could tell he was warring with himself, so you rubbed your hands over his arms.

“It’s seriously okay,” you said gently. “Just tell me.”

He met your eyes.

“You know how you ask me to lock up your apartment before bed?”

“Yes..?”

“It, uh, bothers me that you check when I’m done.”

It had never occurred to you how that would look, your fears of being a single woman and living alone making you somewhat paranoid about everything being locked up tight.

“Oh. Oh my god, that’s so rude of me! I just have to make sure the sticks—“

“The sticks are in the windows and sliding door,” he finished. “I know. I’ve watched you go through your nightly routine.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He smiled, “Nothing to be sorry about.”

“What else? Lay it on me.”

“Uh, when you ask me to get something from your junk drawer in the kitchen.”

“I won’t ask you to get things. Noted.”

“No, asking me to get things is fine. I want you to ask me for help, but, baby, you have three junk drawers in the kitchen, and whenever I look, what you want is never in the first one I fucking check.”

“Project this weekend is organizing the junk drawers. On it. You’re doing so good.” You grinned. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, speaking of asking for help—ask me for help.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to find your ass climbing on the kitchen counter to get something from the top shelf. I’m there, ask me. Let me help you—let me help with stuff around the apartment, too, like cleaning.”

“You're a guest.”

“I’m your boyfriend who spends more time at yours than here, and you should trust me to help you with your chores. I want to help. Please fucking teach me how to water your plants.”

“You want to water my plants?”

His big hands were rubbing along the skin of your upper arms.

“Yeah, baby. I should know how to tend to them.”

“That is the sweetest fucking thing anyone has ever said. You deserve the sloppiest blow job.”

He chuckled, kissing you quickly.

“You’re on a roll,” you said. “What else?”

“Nothing else. You’re fucking perfect.”

“I think we’ve just established I’m anything but.”

“Sure, doesn’t mean you’re not perfect to me.” The truth shining in his eyes had you suddenly feeling all gooey. “You ready to head out there?” he asked, squeezing your arms. “I don’t think he’ll be too bad—he likes you.”

“Well, I hope he still likes me and doesn’t think I’m some loose woman leading his precious only son astray.”

He snorted, smirking, “He doesn’t think that. It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” you sighed.

Kissing you gently, he said, “It will be. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him, but nerves had your stomach in knots.

Chucho had his back to you both when you entered the kitchen, a wall cabinet open as he grabbed bowls, closing it to move and pull out forks from a nearby drawer. The oven was on, the pie missing from the counter, smelling the appley-goodness of it being warmed.

The timer went off, watching as the older man grabbed oven mitts from the countertop, pulling the apple pie out, and set it on top of the stove.

He finally noticed you two, a smile turning up on his lips.

“There you are,” he said, taking off the mitts. “Thought you got lost on your way to the kitchen.”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry), Pop. Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Nonsense,” his dad replied, waving away Javi’s apology. He smiled knowingly, his eyes bright. “I’m sorry for interrupting the intimate tour of your bedroom—” Javi groaned, making Chucho grin wider. “Thought you both might like some pie and ice cream after spending so much time touring the ranch,” he teased.

Oh god, he knew, and he looked fucking tickled by the whole thing.

All the blood rushed to your face, it getting hot and wanting to hide, so you shoved it into Javi’s arm, feeling so embarrassed.

“No la avergüences, por favor (Don’t embarrass her, please),” Javi said, his other hand coming to rest at the back of your head. “Sabes que es mi culpa (You know it’s my fault). Te puedes burlar de me, pero de ella no (You can make fun of me but not her).”

“Lo siento, I’m sorry, Mija,” Chucho said apologetically. “It’s all in good fun. Javi hasn’t snuck a girl into the house since he was in high school, thinking we couldn’t hear the footsteps on the floorboards or his bed squeaking—Mijo, those old springs are so loud, you can hear them out on the pasture.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Javi sighed.

“Sí, I am, but they are very loud,” he pointed out.

“I get it, Pop,” Javi said, sounding tired. “You clocked us at the front door.”

“Sure, the front door,” Chucho said, hearing him smiling. “This pie you made smells increíble, Mija.” He was changing the subject, and you’d never felt more thankful. “I don’t know if Javi has told you, but I love a bowl of ice cream after dinner.”

You finally moved your head to look at him, seeing the warm smile on his face.

“He hasn’t told me that,” you replied.

“Mi Antonia would always make sure there was something sweet for us to have. My favorite was her flan—haven’t found another that compares,” he said sadly. “When she’d make it, I’d get a stern talking to that I was to share and not allowed to eat the entire thing myself.” He chuckled. “When Javi was a little guy, he’d help his mamá make one for Día del Padre (Fathers’ day)—it’s what she always made me since he was born.” He had a fond expression on his face. “Now, I treat myself to a bowl of vanilla ice cream, it’s not the same, but I enjoy it. Sometimes,” he said conspiratorially, “I’ll do something different and get Neapolitan.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

Chucho Peña was an adorable man, and from a simple conversation about his preferred dessert choices, he had you relaxing, making all of the embarrassment and mortification vanish.

“Neapolitan is fun!” you said. “I’m a pralines and cream girl.”

The older man grinned.

“Javi loves pralines and cream!” he said. “When he was muy pequeño (very little), we’d take him to the ice cream shop downtown, and all of the other niños (children) were getting the sweet bubble gum or cotton candy, always sugary stuff, and here was our little Javi wanting pralines and cream. One time, a boy in line behind us heard Javi’s order and told him it was an old man's ice cream—that it was the flavor his grandpa got, and Javi looked him right in the eyes and said, ‘Because your abuelo has taste, unlike you,’ and I laughed so hard, mi amor had to make sure I didn’t choke,” he said, laughing.

You’d joined him in the merriment, delighted by a tiny Javi who knew what he liked and wouldn’t let anyone say anything bad about it.

“I’m excited to have some of this pie, Mija,” Chucho said. “Did you want me to cut it, or would you prefer?”

“You go right ahead.”

“Do you both want some?” he asked, moving to grab a pie knife from a drawer.

“I’d love a piece,” you answered.

“Mijo?” The pie had cooled enough that Chucho was holding the tin, looking at his son before he was about to make a cut.

“Sí, por favor (Yes, please),” Javi replied.

His dad nodded, starting to make slices.

“Ice cream, also?” he asked.

“Sounds good to me,” you said.

“Mijo, will you get it out of the freezer?”

He was placing pie into each of the bowls.

“Yeah, Pop,” Javi replied, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out the quart, knowing exactly where the scoop was and taking it upon himself to serve up the ice cream.

Minutes later, the three of you were sitting at the dining room table, digging into your bowls, Chucho telling you repeatedly how good the pie was, making you so happy.

“Did you like the calves?” The older Peña asked you.

You nodded as you swallowed a bite. “I did,'' you answered, smiling at him. “I’m still trying to figure out a way to take Daphne and Velma home with me.”

“Daphne and Velma?” Chucho asked, looking confused.

“The calves in the barn,” Javi clarified, scraping his fork around the edge of his bowl to get the last remnants of his pie and ice cream. “She named them.”

They were baby cows that Javi had basically raised from birth, the two acting like big, excited puppies around him, and that you joked were his children.

“Daphne and Velma,” his dad said before forking more dessert into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He smiled after swallowing. “Which is which?” he asked.

“The red one is Daphne,” you replied. “And the black one is Velma—like the Scooby-Doo characters.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “What’s Scooby-Doo?”

“El dibujo animado con el perro (The cartoon with the dog),” Javi said. “They solve mysteries.”

“Ah, sí. ¿El perro habla (The dog speaks)?”

“Mas o menos (Kind of),” Javi answered, setting his fork down in his empty bowl. “Perro marrón (brown dog) with four humans and a van.”

“The mystery machine,” you added.

“I think I know the one,” Chucho said. “I like the names.” He took another bite, speaking again when he swallowed, turning his attention to you. “But we usually don’t name the cattle… It’s not good to become attached,” he said, frowning. “They only stay until they can be sold.”

You were well aware that Daphne and Velma would one day leave the ranch, but they were so cute they needed names.

“Pop.” Chucho looked at his son, Javi starting to talk in rapid Spanish that you were having trouble making out. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to piece together what he was saying, knowing it had something to do with cows.

“No sé (I don’t know)…” His dad drew out the words. “¿Quien pagará por ellas (Who will pay for them?)” He started talking quickly, your brows in your hairline since you now had some idea what the discussion was about.

Javi had a serious look on his face next to you as he replied to his father’s questions, Chucho laughing at one of his answers, also hearing mentions of work, and his dad saying something that made him smile. You grabbed Javi’s arm to get his attention, his eyes meeting yours and immediately softening.

“What are you doing?” you asked. “You’re not buying, Daphne and Velma, right?”

How much did cows even cost?

“No,” he answered.

“Thank goodness.” You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Don’t need you buying cows because I named them.”

“Pop is gifting them to us,” he said with a grin.

“I’m sorry?”

“Can’t sell my bovine nietas (grandchildren),” Chucho chuckled.

You looked at the older man.

“What?” you asked.

“They’ll live here at the ranch,” he said, smiling. He pointed his fork at his son, “Javi said he’d pay for their upkeep.”

Your attention turned back to your boyfriend.

“You don’t need to do this,” you said quickly. “You don’t need to spend money—I know that they’re meant to be sold, and yeah, they’re adorable, and there’s a bond between the three of you, but I don’t want something I did to have the ranch losing income.” You worried your lip between your teeth.

“Cielito,” he said softly, reaching to grab your hand on the table beside him. “Don’t worry. I want to do this, and Pop can use them when they’re older to teach other calves how to graze.” He shrugged.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, and we can visit our hijas (daughters) whenever.” He smiled, eyes sparkling.

“Our bovine children,” you said, smiling back.

“Our bovine children,” he replied with a nod, leaning over the corner of the table, you meeting him for a tender kiss.

After everyone’s bowls were empty and put into the sink, Chucho ushered the two of you into the living room, where you were met with a handful of photo albums sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Pop,” Javi groaned, standing just inside the room, one hand on his hip, the other pressed to his brow as his dad led you to sit on the couch next to him. “¡Esto es embarazoso (This is embarrassing)!”

“¡Deja de ser un aguafiestas (Stop being a buzzkill)!” Chucho replied. “I think she’d love to see your pictures. Right, Mija?” He glanced at you with a smile.

“Oh, I’d very much love to see pictures of Javi,” you answered with a grin.

“See?” Chucho said to Javi.

Your boyfriend let out a long, drawn-out sigh, both of his palms now on his hips, looking at you both with a grumpy expression.

“Fine,” he huffed.

He walked over to sit on your other side, Chucho seeming to look for a specific album and pulling it out. All the albums were big and could easily fit four photos per page, most of them full and thick—there had to be hundreds of pictures in the five albums. The one Chucho grabbed was old, the red leather cover showing wear around the edges, and bound with string.

“This was the one from when Antonia was pregnant to when he was born,” his dad said, opening to the first page and handing it over to you.

Setting it in your lap, your eyes scanned over the photos. They were all in black and white, showing Javi’s mother in her early twenties, making out the features he got from her—eyes, nose, chin—her hair went down past her shoulders in sophisticated waves, and you were sure it’d match the color of Javi’s.

Antonia and young Chucho looked so happy, turning the pages and seeing her belly start to grow under her pretty dresses.

“Javier was our miracle,” Chucho said softly as you looked at photos of her sitting on a picnic blanket, the baby bump really showing under her dress. “We had tried for years,” he continued, “and thought that it wasn’t God’s plan for us to be parents. Boy, were we surprised when she fell pregnant and so happy,” he chuckled. Their happiness was evident in the pictures, and it made you smile. “We were excited and nervous about being parents, but I think every new parent feels like that—hoping that you’ll do a good job and wanting your baby to be healthy and happy.” Chucho seemed to take pictures any chance he had, documenting the growth of her stomach, putting the nursery together in the small apartment they shared before moving to the ranch, and family get-togethers they attended.

That seemed to be a big thing—the family getting together and celebrating holidays, birthdays, or just wanting to hang out and see one another, Chucho pointing out who people were, seeing both sets of Javi’s grandparents, his tíos, tías, and cousins.

“As the pregnancy went on, it got harder for her.” Flipping through the pages, you saw, as her belly grew, the toll it was having on her—looking exhausted and not smiling as much. It had your face falling, suddenly feeling sad for what his mother had gone through. “Mi Antonia was the strongest woman I knew, and she’d wanted a baby for so long, she was determined to bring him into the world, and I did whatever I could to make her comfortable.” You could tell it was close to her due date; the majority of the pictures with her in bed, the tiredness showing on her face, her smiles forced. It was toward the back of the album, and it went from a photo of her about to pop to suddenly a picture of a tiny swaddled baby with a head full of dark hair lying in a hospital bassinet, time clearly passing between both photos. “The birth was the worst for her.” Sadness could be heard in Chucho’s voice. “Back in those days, fathers weren’t allowed in the delivery room, but I wasn’t going to let mi amor go through it alone.” You could hear him getting choked up, seeing out of the corner of your eye him removing his glasses to wipe at his eyes. “I forced my way in with her, held her hand through the hours of agony. Mi Antonia was strong and a fighter—fiery—she got through it and gifted us with a healthy baby boy. Javier was our blessing—our firstborn and our last, and I’m so thankful to mi vida for bringing him into this world.” He leaned behind you to clap a hand onto Javi’s back. “Thankful to have such a wonderful son.”

Javi sucked in a breath beside you, turning your head to see his eyes red-rimmed. Without a second thought, you laid the album down, twisting in your seat to pull him in for a hug, holding him close. His arms went around your middle, crushing you against him, hearing a sniffle in your ear as you rubbed your hand in circles on his back.

“Your mom was so amazing,” you whispered. “So fucking amazing, and I wish I could thank her for having you and loving you so goddamn much.”

His body shook against yours, feeling wetness on your skin, Chucho sniffling behind you.

“Lo siento, Mijo (I’m sorry, my son),” the elder Peña said. “You were expecting me to embarrass you, not make you cry—the embarrassing pictures are in the next album.”

Javi rested his forehead against your shoulder. “¿Por qué estás haciendo esto (Why are you doing this)?” he groaned.

“Es mi trabajo como tu padre (It’s my job as your father).” You could hear Chucho smiling. “I promise the pictures are cute—she’ll love them.”

Javi loosened his hold on you, sitting back in his seat with a frown on his wet face, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears.

“You feeling okay?” you asked him, his eyes meeting yours. “I don’t need to look at the pictures if you don’t want me to.”

He sighed loudly. “No, it’s okay,” he said.

You pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly.

After the kiss, your attention moved back to the album, turning to the next and final page, which had a clipping from the newspaper announcing his birth.

Mr. and Mrs. Jesús Peña have announced the birth of a son, Javier Jesús Peña López, at 4:19 AM on Dec. 13 in Laredo Mercy Hospital.

Carefully closing the album, Chucho took it and handed you the next, it starting with Javi as a newborn. It must have been days after the birth because Antonia looked much better, smiling happily as she held her baby son at home.

Like with the pregnancy, his dad documented how he grew each month and all of the family gatherings, everyone visibly ecstatic by the new addition and wanting to hold him, Javi so clearly loved.

You saw him slowly get bigger and start to move, first crawling, then walking; photos of him in his high chair, playing with toys, bathtimes, and being held by his parents, always a smile on his little face that got toothier as time went on.

Your favorites were the ones of Antonia and him, seeing the love on her face—you saw it on Chucho’s, too, but Javi’s mother always looked at him with such happy adoration like she almost wanted to pinch herself that he was real.

You knew Javi had grown up helping his mom in the kitchen, and from the photos, she began cooking with him practically from birth, starting with him wrapped to her front.

Looking at a picture where he had to be almost a year old, you smiled, seeing Antonia with her hair up in a tight bun, using what you thought was a colorful wrap to have him sitting comfortably on her back, his chubby little legs at her sides, Javi chewing happily on a long carrot, while his mother chopped vegetables on the counter, smiling over her shoulder at the camera.

“She never wanted to put him down,” Chucho said, glancing over to see him smiling. “I’d tell her I would watch him while she cooked, but she’d always insist.” His voice went a little higher when he spoke again, “‘No, mi amor, déjamelo que me trae suerte,’ ‘No, my love, leave him. He brings me luck.’” He chuckled. “I’d always tell her she didn’t need luck, which would make her laugh, her saying, ‘Si, siempre la comida me sale más rica.’”

“The food always turns out better,” Javi said the words softly beside you, turning your head toward him. He had a look on his face like he was remembering fond memories, his lips turned up and eyes crinkling at the edges. He met your gaze, “She’d, uh.” You saw him swallow. “She’d always tell me that when I was in the kitchen with her; ’Eres mi buena suerte, Javiercito—siempre la comida me sale más rica cuando estás aquí.’ ‘You’re my good luck, Javier—the food always turns out better when you’re here.’”

“And she was right,” you said, smiling, reaching to stroke his cheek. “You’re definitely good luck—haven’t burnt a single thing since you started helping me cook.”

He kissed your palm, keeping his eyes on you.

“You don’t need my luck,” he said.

“I always need you, Javi.”

He smiled, leaning in to kiss you.

Going through the pictures again, you quickly got to his first birthday with the traditional baby destroying a small cake, frosting gripped tight in his tiny fists, and smeared all over his face.

There were more parties, holidays, and food, and Javi was always on his feet and running around laughing with his cousins or playing with his parents.

His second birthday had him tearing open presents and more fascinated with the wrapping paper than his gifts, Javi having the time of his life playing in it.

There was a sudden influx of pictures where two-year-old Javi only wore his diaper, many of him mid-stripping out of whatever he was wearing.

“This is so fucking embarrassing,” he breathed.

“His streaking phase,” Chucho chuckled. “We’d dress him, look away for a second, and next thing we knew, he was taking off his clothes. It went on for so long, we thought he was going to grow up to be one of those nudists.”

“He basically did…” you said under your breath. Glancing over at your boyfriend, you smiled. “So, I see this is how you’ve always been—just hate clothes.”

His dad laughed, Javi’s cheeks pinking up.

“They’re so… tight,” he replied, sighing.

“Mhmm, gonna have to find you a nudist colony, babe,” you said, turning back to the album.

He was three when they moved to the ranch, and he got his first pony. The photo was black and white, but you were told she was copper-colored and her name was Caballito.

There were pictures of little Javi with little calves, holding a bucket almost the same size as him helping his dad work.

His first time at the beach, wearing a little hat and splashing excitedly in the ocean, clearly loving the water.

You finally saw him dressed in full cowboy attire when he was five—the hat, jeans, boots, flannel, standing on one of the metal fences that surrounded a paddock, and more pictures of him riding his horse that had grown just like him.

Another album was opened; turning the pages and seeing him age, always smiling and laughing, looking to be a very happy child.

There was one where his dark hair was trimmed into a bowl cut, and he was wearing two shoes, clearly, on the wrong feet, his expressive eyes looking up at the camera confused.

Chucho chuckled, pointing at it. “I remember this one. Antonia had said, ‘Javiercito, tus zapatos están puesto los pies equivocados,’ telling him his shoes were on the wrong feet, and he looked up at her frowning, saying in his little voice, ‘Ellos son los únicos pies que tengo,’ ‘They’re the only feet I have.’” He laughed, you joining him.

“Javi really says the darndest things,” you giggled. “I see he’s always been sassy.”

“Oh, yes. Fiery like su mama (his mom),” he chuckled. “Never knew what was going to come out of his mouth.”

School portraits made their way into the album, finding out that Javi enjoyed playing soccer and swimming at the local pool, one with him at the pool’s edge with a bright dimpled smile, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.

Looking over at Javi, you grinned.

“You were so adorable—you’re still adorable, but look at what a fucking cutie you were!” you said, pointing at a picture. You moved your hand to rub his thigh. “You still doing okay?”

He had a small smile on his face.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Just fucking hating that you’re going to see me as an awkward teenager.”

“I’ll still think you’re adorable.”

“I was all knees and elbows.”

“A cutie that was all knees and elbows,” you corrected.

That made his smile get a little bigger.

“I hope you’ll think so.”

Flipping through more pages, he was getting older and lankier the taller he got.

You stopped on a photo that was clearly from 1969. He would’ve been ten, little Javi sitting crisscross in front of the family’s old black and white console television, him staring intently as man took his first steps on the moon.

“He’d begged us to let him stay up to watch,” Chucho said fondly. “It wasn’t too late, so we let him. He said he wanted to be an astronaut after that, and for a time, he was obsessed with airplanes and rockets.”

Continuing to flip through pages, you finally got to the end, and it was time for the next photo album.

“I’m amazed there aren’t more with all of the pictures you take,” you said to Chucho.

“Oh, I have a few boxes full of loose ones,” he replied. “Antonia and I only put our favorites in the albums. Otherwise, we would’ve had enough to fill a library,” he chuckled.

“I don’t doubt that,” you giggled. “I love how much you’ve captured Javi growing up and getting to see so many happy moments. It’s just very lovely.”

“Thank you, Mija. Children grow up so fast. It’s nice having something to look back on—love seeing his smiles,” he said.

“It’s a good smile.” You looked at Javi. “I love seeing his smiles, too.” That had him giving you a quick kiss.

Through the photographs, you saw that your boyfriend loved water—a happy baby taking baths, playing in the ocean, and swimming in pools. It shouldn’t have shocked you so much to learn that Javier Peña was a swimmer—a competitive swimmer, with the speedos and everything.

He was, in fact, all knees and elbows in his teens and still adorable.

You saw his first swim meets and starting to win medals in middle school, his parents always standing with him as he held them up, both looking so proud of their son.

Him going into high school and joining the swim team, and also playing soccer.

The photos were now in color, seeing him in his swimming gear, standing at the top of a podium with a gold medal, looking excited.

“How in all of the time we’ve been together have you never told me that you were a swimmer?” you asked Javi. “And a good one.” You pointed at the picture.

He had a sheepish smile on his face, “You know I like to swim.”

He’d mentioned liking swimming, but that was in reference to going to the beach, which you had in common, liking to swim in the ocean.

“Yes, you like to swim, but Javier, you were winning gold medals—you more than like it.”

“Oh, Javi was an amazing swimmer,” Chucho added, your attention turning to him. He looked so proud. “It got him a full ride into college—probably could’ve done it professionally, maybe even made it to the Olympics.”

This was news to you, trying to keep the shock off your face. You looked back at your boyfriend.

“I cannot believe you are downplaying this,” you said.

“It was high school,” he said, shrugging.

“And college—possibly the Olympics.”

He grimaced, “Shit happens. It’s not that big of a deal. I can take you to the pool sometime to swim with me, or fuck, we could go to the beach—do a weekend there.”

You could tell he was uncomfortable, trying to get you to move off the subject, and it had you wondering why. Dropping it because you didn’t want him feeling like that, you smiled as you said, “A weekend beach trip sounds amazing.”

Javi visibly relaxed, smiling back at you. “We’ll plan something,” he said, leaning in to kiss you.

There were more swimming competitions, soccer games, holidays, family get-togethers, him at the ranch with his parents, and getting his driver’s license.

His first truck was old and probably more rust than metal, making you smirk when you saw the picture of him with it, pointing to the photo and nudging him with your shoulder, “The truck from your teens. Sure you put on some mileage,” you teased, wagging your eyebrows, knowing that his truck was one of the places he’d fuck in.

His cheeks flushed, seeing him swallow hard.

“Yeah. Drove it into the ground,” he replied thickly.

You couldn’t get over all the pictures of him standing at the top of podiums, always followed by a shot of him and his parents looking incredibly proud.

Chucho and Antonia had visibly aged along with Javi, both in their late 30s to early 40s in these pictures, their faces featuring more laugh lines, but their smiles were just as bright as at the start of her pregnancy—both looking over the moon about their son.

Your fingers touched the photo of the three of them, seeing the love, feeling the love.

“I can see how proud you two are of him—I’ve seen it in all of the pictures, and I love how you are always there, just so active in his life. God, look at you both.”

“We’ve always been proud of Javi,” Chucho said. “He’s always been a good kid, even if some of his choices have been… questionable. He’s always had good intentions, and we’re really proud of who he’s become.”

Javi’s hand gripped onto your thigh, it probably being a lot to hear his dad say that, so you leaned towards him to press your body into his.

“I’m sure your parents are really proud of you, too, Mija,” Chucho continued.

His words felt like a gut punch, having to take a deep breath.

“Not… really…” you said slowly.

“What?” Chucho and Javi asked at the same time.

“Well, I come from a family of doctors,” you replied, looking between them. “A line of them on my dad’s side, and it was expected that as his child, I do the same. So, when I told them I wanted to be a nurse, it didn’t go over well.” You shrugged.

“Why wouldn’t they want you to become a nurse?” Chucho asked, looking confused. “You help people!”

“In their minds, it’s not good enough—which is fucked up, I know. They want us to have the fancy title and degree, the prestige, and all that bullshit to continue the family legacy.” You couldn’t keep the anger out of your tone, your family’s views on your career a sore spot you hated ruminating on. You glanced between both men, “They had money set aside for me to go to medical school, my younger brother, too, and they refused to pay for my nursing degree but paid everything for him to go to an ivy league school. So, yeah.” You slowly let out a breath, looking away from them. “They are not proud of me, one bit. I am a disgrace to the family name as far as they’re concerned.”

“What the fuck,” Javi seethed.

“¡Que gente tan presumida (What pretentious people)!” Chucho said. “No offense, Mija.” He patted your leg.

You snorted, meeting his eyes. “None taken—presumida means pretentious?” you asked.

“Sí,” he replied.

“Then yes—they’re very pretentious.”

The sincerity was clear as he spoke again, “And they’re wrong. Very wrong. They should be proud of you. They’re your parents and raised you to be this amazing person. I don’t understand how they can’t be.” It felt hard to swallow with the lump in your throat.

“I sure as fuck don’t understand,” Javi added, sounding mad. You rubbed his thigh, turning to look at him and seeing his face pinched in anger.

“It’s okay, babe,” you said softly.

He shook his head, “It’s not,” he said. “You’re fucking incredible and doing good work—they should be proud of you no matter what fucking degree you do or don’t have.”

You sighed, “In a perfect world, they would be, yet, it is not a perfect world, and honestly, I’m so over it—this is why I only visit them once a year,” you awkwardly laughed.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, looking you in the eyes, his tone going softer, “No offense, Cielito, but fuck them. I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re the most amazing woman on the entire fucking planet, and they don’t deserve you.” Your eyes were getting watery, trying to hold back the tears. “Fuck. Them. I will tell you every goddamn day how proud I am of you because you’re perfect to me.”

He crashed his mouth against yours, kissing you so passionately you didn’t even care his dad was next to you on the couch, Javi making sure you felt the truth of his words with his lips pressed to yours.

You couldn’t recall the last time someone told you they were proud of you, especially your parents.

Once you’d set your sights on nursing in high school, they’d done everything possible to get you to change your mind, even going so far as to belittle you and withhold your college fund. You’d paid for school with scholarships and working at a little diner near campus, living as frugally as possible to graduate with zero debt.

Your experience was a stark contrast to your brother’s, but he’d practically been put upon a pedestal from the moment he was born. Though you were the oldest, he was their first son; he’d continue the family name and wanted to follow in your father’s footsteps.

Your parents were proud of him, that you knew for sure because they made sure you were well aware.

And now you couldn’t recall the last time someone told you they were proud of you, and hearing Javi say it had you struggling to hold the tears at bay.

You loved the work you did, you loved your job, and never once had you regretted deciding to do it for a living.

Your lungs were beginning to ache for oxygen, hearing Chucho sigh wistfully on your other side, “Awe, young love,” he said.

Breaking the kiss, you couldn’t help your giggle as you rested your forehead against Javi’s, him groaning out Pop.

“Lo siento, Mijo,” his dad said, patting Javi on the back. “You just remind me of when I was with tu mamá and how I was always stealing kisses—could never get enough. ‘¿Un beso, por favor (One kiss, please)?’ I’d ask, and she’d laugh, always replying, ‘Nunca es solo uno,’ ‘It’s never just one,’ and it wasn’t,” he chuckled.

You gave Javi a quick kiss.

“Sorry, babe,” you said, his eyes opening to meet yours. “You take after your dad—one is never enough.”

He frowned, “It’s not,” he replied. “Need more.” He kissed you again, making you laugh into it.

When you finally separated, Chucho patted your leg again, “Mija?” he said to get your attention, turning your head to look at him. “I know we’ve only just met tonight, but I can tell you”—He put his hand to his chest—“con todo mi corazón (with my whole heart) that I’m very proud of you.” Your breath caught in your throat, feeling the telltale sign tears were imminent. “You treat people with kindness and care, and I can tell from how you look at my son how much you like him,” he said with a knowing smile. “I agree with Javi, you are amazing, and if your own papá won’t be proud of you, you’ve got me now.”

“Can I hug you?” you asked softly.

“Of course,” he answered.

Leaning into him, Chucho wrapped his arms around your shoulders and hugged you tight.

When did your dad hug you last?

And why did his hugs never feel this nice?

It only lasted seconds, and you cherished every one of them, wiping away your unshed tears with your fingers.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Any time, Mija,” he replied, squeezing your shoulder.

Javi had been in your life for only two weeks, yet it felt like you’d known him forever; something about him feeling so familiar, so comforting, like your very soul recognized his and immediately welcomed him to fill the space in your heart—It feeling so right to keep him there, knowing deep down that it was where he was meant to be.

And now there was his dad, this sweet older man who, in one night, felt more like a father to you than your own had since the day you were born.

These two men had known you for such little time and had shown you more care than your actual family, and you were so thankful to have them both.

Warmth was radiating in your chest, feeling so happy, so loved, you couldn’t think about it too much, or you’d start crying, so you focused back on the photo album sitting in your lap.

“Well, enough about me,” you said, wiping at your eyes. “Let’s get back to the pictures.”

Javi’s hand stroked your thigh as you turned the page to find his senior portrait, his hair over the tips of his ears, wearing a black suit, a big beaming grin on his face.

That was another thing you loved as you’d gone through the pictures, seeing that from a baby, he was always smiling, and moving into his teens looked to be a goofball—always laughing with his friends and cousins, making silly faces at the camera, and just having fun.

You’d even lost count of how many times you spotted that dimple of his.

His shoulders got broader, but he was still all lanky and growing into himself.

There were photos of him dressed up for dances, wearing his letterman jacket, working with his dad on the ranch, and more swim meets.

“I noticed there aren’t any more pictures of him playing soccer,” you said, turning another page to see him folding tamales at a table with his tía María, Chucho’s older sister, his mom in the background at the stove.

“Oh,” Chucho chuckled. “He hated running, and I’m sorry, Mijo,” he said, leaning forward to look at Javi. “He wasn’t very good.”

A laugh slipped from your mouth, quickly composing yourself.

Your boyfriend sighed loudly next to you, “I still fucking hate running.”

“I’m surprised he’s still in such great shape,” Chucho said, “with how much he hates exercise.”

“He definitely gets his cardio,” you mumbled.

“What was that, Mija?”

“That everybody hates cardio,” you answered quickly.

Javi snorted.

“Anyways,” you said, flipping through more pages and looking at all the photos until you stopped on one. “Oh! You went to prom with Anna! From the farmers market!”

She looked almost the same.

“Anna’s bakery has great pan dulce,” Chucho said.

You paused, suddenly putting a lot of things together—her familiarity with Javi, them going to prom together, her mentioning the lookout, him saying he got caught fucking at the lookout.

Gasping, you looked at your boyfriend. “With Anna?” you whispered.

Confusion came over his face.

“With Anna, what?”

“The lookout.”

His eyes widened, clearing his throat as he looked away, mumbling, “Yeah.”

You found this hilarious and couldn’t believe you hadn’t put two and two together sooner.

There were a lot of pictures of Javi smiling with friends, and finally, his graduation pictures in his cap and gown, his parents as always looking so happy.

The summer after high school, he spent his time at the swimming pool practicing, working on the ranch, and hanging out with his family.

It got to him starting college, more photos like the one of him and his mom he had in his bedroom of them standing in front of the Texas A&M sign, but with both of his parents, the beginnings of a mustache on his cute face.

You had not been prepared for college Javi, unable to stop the gasp that fell from your lips at the first collegiate swim meet picture—him standing with a bronze medal around his neck, his body filled out more with all of the lean muscle, and wearing the maroon speedo that hid nothing. The picture was old, but you were pretty sure you even saw abs.

Oh, he absolutely had to fight off all of the girls; there was no way he didn’t. You would’ve been all over him. Even though he was very good-looking then, you preferred him how he was now, loving that he was softer but still so strong.

There weren’t as many pictures as before with him being away from home. The majority were of him swimming or when Javi would return to the ranch for the holidays, his mustache grown in and having fun with his family. It looked like his parents did their best to attend all of his competitions that took place in Texas, Chucho telling you they were more than happy to make the drives to see him swim, and it made you smile at how much they cared.

His teammates snapped pictures during their training sessions, finding candids of Javi laughing and smiling through the pages.

On his school breaks, he’d work with his dad, seeing photos of him on a fully grown Caballito, her copper-colored hair practically glowing in the Texas sun. There was a cute picture of him and his mom in the kitchen, her laughing as he pulled something off of a high shelf for her.

His shoulders seemed to get broader, his mustache fuller, and his lips were always curled up.

He looked like he was having a great time in school, so focused on swimming and his academics, the letters showing he made honor roll put into the album, term after term, and winning more gold medals.

It got to his senior year seeing more competitions and holidays he spent at home with his parents.

Turning the page, you physically jolted, seeing a picture of Javi and a young Lorraine standing in the living room you were sitting in, him smiling boyishly and looking so happy, while her lips were closed, barely a smile on her perfectly done up face, the annoyance clear in her eyes that she wanted to be anywhere else.

“He brought her home on spring break,” Chucho said. Glancing at him, he was frowning. “She refused to eat the dinner Antonia had made—not a single bite. It really hurt mi amor.”

Anger was swirling in your belly at Lorraine’s audacity.

“Lorraine,” you spat out her name, “has zero fucking taste, and I would literally murder to be able to taste your wife’s food. Like, I’d happily go to prison for just one bite. Ugh, she makes me so mad.”

Javi’s arm went around you.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

You looked at him. “It’s not,” you said. “I would never fathom refusing food someone made for me, and your mom’s at that?! There’s a chance if we run into that dumb woman, I might actually fight her.”

Chucho chuckled beside you. “Me caí de lo mas bien tu novia, Mijo (I really like your girlfriend, my son). Cásate con ella, por favor (Marry her, please).”

“Sí, Pop,” Javi said.

“Quiero nietos (I want grandchildren),” Chucho added. “Nietos humanos (Human grandchildren).”

“Esperar sentado,” Javi said through his teeth.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

He sighed. “Literally? ‘Wait sitting,’ but it’s used like ‘Don’t hold your breath.’”

“Oh, okay.” You didn’t know why a wave of sadness washed over you. “Another way of saying, ‘Don’t get your hopes up.’”

“Yeah.”

Focusing back on the photos, the next was Javi with a gold medal around his neck, grinning with his arm over Lorraine’s shoulders, a small smile on her face.

You knew it was towards the end of the swimming season, there being many competitions both at his university and away at others.

His next medal was bronze, his smile much more subdued than the previous.

Another bronze, his smile not even reaching his eyes that weren’t as bright as usual, his girlfriend next to him looking mad.

There were more candids with his teammates, finding Lorraine popping up in some of them and Javi not smiling as much, his friends looking uncomfortable.

The following competition, your eyebrows furrowed, seeing his body glistening from clearly being in the water, but there was nothing around his neck, his teeth not showing as he barely smiled between his parents, who still looked proud of their son.

You didn’t come across any more photos of him with his teammates, the next showing that he was at an event to try and get a spot on the national team. Antonia and Chucho were there; it took place a couple of hours away from Laredo in San Antonio.

There was a photo of him and his mom before the competition, and something didn’t look right, your eyes taking in his face.

His smile was so small, his eyes dimmed, almost appearing nervous—which would make sense since this was the event that would determine if he’d go pro, but it was odd not seeing the same confidence from previous pictures and how unhappy he looked, it all making you frown.

He didn’t make the team.

His swimming career was over.

The photos of him afterward, the smile was forced, and you could see the defeat, the sadness, Lorraine looking irritated, and it had your stomach falling through the floor.

It was abrupt that the following photos were of his graduation, knowing at least a couple of months had passed, and it had your frown deepening that he hadn’t seen his parents in that time. There were pictures of the group of students in their caps and gowns, heads so tiny you couldn’t make out where Javi was, and one of him walking on the stage, it taken so far away you could barely tell it was him.

On the next page, you paused, sucking in a breath.

In all of the photos, you’d grown used to seeing this bright, happy boy, always smiling and laughing, clearly loving life.

In this photo, he was standing in his maroon cap and gown, Lorraine next to him dressed the same, his arm over her shoulder while she gave a polite smile, and Javi looked tired.

Not just tired, he looked depressed, defeated, hopeless; the happiness in his eyes faded away, his mouth set in a tight-lipped smile.

In the next picture, his parents were with them, looking visibly uncomfortable.

It could have been school, stress from his senior year, and not making the swim team catching up to him, but deep down, you knew the reason for how he looked, and your heart was beginning to shatter.

How hadn’t he seen the person Lorraine was from the beginning?

How had he missed the red flags?

You were looking at pictures and could spot them, so glaringly obvious; his parents were well aware, too.

The album came to a sudden stop, the remaining pages left blank; the reasoning went unspoken because you all knew what happened right after graduation and how things had turned out with Lorraine—him trying to end things and her claiming to be pregnant in order to keep him, her father forcing Javi to marry her, and him bolting the first chance he got when he found out there was no pregnancy.

Chucho carefully took the photo album from you and shut it, feeling like he was closing the last chapter of Javi’s life where there was happiness, him handing you the final one without a word, it not even half full.

Your hands were trembling, your guts churning because you didn’t know what you were about to see, and you were dreading what you’d find, having to take a second and inhale a deep breath.

It was like pulling off a bandaid, quickly opening it, your hand moving to your mouth as you gasped.

It was his DEA new recruit portrait taken after he completed basic training.

You barely recognized him.

It was his face, making out the shape of his jaw and nose and his familiar mustache, your brain telling you it was Javi, but his eyes were so tired, no more brightness shining in the dark pools, his mouth in a straight line, looking so drastically different from the happy boy you saw growing up that he could’ve been an entirely different person.

From the date on the photo, at least two years had passed since his college graduation, and it looked as though he hadn’t seen his parents in that time.

Tears were forming in your eyes, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to spill.

Earlier, you wondered when his world changed, when things became black and white for him, and he stopped seeing the magic in life. You assumed it was Colombia, and now you had an answer—it was before. He was broken before he even went—before he witnessed the horrors and went through unimaginable hell. You watched him dim, his brightness fade, Javi pushing down his happiness, hiding it away in order to survive.

From the following picture, you knew time had passed, him standing in a city that looked South American, assuming it was Colombia, aviators covering his eyes, his mouth frowning.

In the next photo, a man stood with him, smiling while Javi looked grumpy.

“Who’s he?” you asked.

“That’s Steve…” Javi said slowly. “Pop, where’d you get this photo?”

“Steve’s lovely wife, Connie sent them,” the older man answered. “She’d send them every year so we could see how you were doing.”

The next page showed what looked to be a Thanksgiving celebration, if the turkey was anything to go by, Javi sitting on a couch with a beer, frowning as he glared at the camera.

The photos covered holidays, birthdays, and candid shots you assumed Connie took.

They spanned years, watching Javi aging, hardening, lines getting prominent in his brow, and always looking so angry. By the twentieth photo of no smile in sight, you let the tears fall, the sob finally breaking free.

It was too much.

This wasn’t your Javi in these pictures—he was no longer recognizable, and your heart felt like it was splitting into a thousand pieces seeing him so miserable.

Your boyfriend was turning your head, sounding concerned, when he asked, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

The tears were coming unbidden, now crying hard, wracking sobs shaking your body.

“I’m sorry,” you cried. Javi pulled you into his chest, your face pressed to his shirt as his hand rested comfortingly on your head, the other rubbing circles on your back. “You were so sad.” Your words were muffled. “So mad—so unhappy. I’m sorry for crying—I just want you happy. Please tell me you’re okay now. Are you happy again?”

His stomach plummeted, guilt squeezing his heart so tight it was almost hard to breathe.

He was thankful his dad took the album; Javier moved her into his lap to hug her against him, her body shaking as she sobbed.

Pressing kisses into her hair, he reassured her, “I’m happy, Cielito. I’m so fucking happy—you make me happy. I’m okay, baby. Everything’s okay. Please don’t cry.”

I’m not worth it, was left unsaid.

He wasn’t worth crying over, not after seeing what he’d put his family through—what Cielito was going through now.

It had never once crossed his mind how his choices had affected those who loved him, and her reaction had him feeling like shit. She’d only looked at pictures, fucking pictures, and she was so upset; he couldn’t fathom what it was like for his parents. They lived it and saw in real-time him change for the fucking worst.

Chucho had a solemn look on his face. “Voy a traer le un poco de agua (I’m going to bring her some water),” he said, squeezing Javier’s shoulder. He nodded at his dad, silently thanking him, as the other man got up and made his way to the kitchen.

Wetness was beginning to seep into the flannel of his shirt from her tears, holding her tighter against him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes starting to burn. “I promise, Cielito, I’m happy—the happiest I’ve been in my entire life. You make me the happiest man.” His words were getting thicker. “Thank you,” he choked out, his throat closing up and having to swallow hard.

Her head came up, face all wet and puffy, to look him in the eyes, and he still thought she was so beautiful.

“You promise you’re happy?” she asked, sounding stuffed up.

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “So fucking happy.”

Wiggling her arm from between their bodies to hold up her hand, she stuck out her pinky.

“Pinky promise me you’re happy,” she said seriously.

It made him smile, chuckling softly.

“A pinky promise?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A pinky promise.” She nodded. “Nothing more sacred—breaking one results in unimaginable consequences.”

He wrapped his pinky around her smaller one, locking them tight together.

“I pinky promise that I’m happy,” he said softly.

Her eyes were big, her lips tipping up in a smile.

“I’m so fucking glad you are.”

Unlatching his finger, he gently grabbed her hand to bring it to his mouth, kissing each of her knuckles.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I just need help understanding why you dated her?”

Sighing, he looked away, lacing their fingers together to hold her hand, marveling at how much smaller hers was in his palm, her skin so soft compared to his rough gun-calloused fingers.

“I was young,” he said after a second. “I was young and really fucking dumb. I was busy with swimming and school.” Meeting her eyes again, he continued, “Swimming took up most of my free time—it was a lifestyle, eating a certain way, always practicing. I, uh, wanted to do it professionally. Since I was a kid, I dreamed of going to the Olympics. Anyways, I didn’t go out much, and if I wanted to get laid, I knew girls who were down for a good time and nothing more.”

She snorted, “Fucking knew you were fighting off the ladies.”

“Not… really,” he replied. “Girls like football players, not swimmers.”

“Well, I’d choose you over a football player any day,” she said, leaning in to peck him on the tip of his nose.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “Anyways, I wasn’t popular. I wasn’t popular in high school, either. No one cares about swimming—this is Texas; everyone only fucking cares about football. Senior year, during spring break, I went to Corpus Christi with my teammates, us wanting to relax and have some fun before the championships and trials—senior year is when you break or make it. Lorraine happened to be at a bar we were in one night and offered to buy me a drink. I was so fucking surprised. She was popular. Everyone knew who she was because her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, got drafted into the NFL.” He squeezed her hand, looking away. “I liked the attention,” he said quietly. “I liked that someone popular like her had taken an interest in me. Figured it’d be a one-night thing, her just wanting to fuck around, but she asked me to be her boyfriend, and again, I was young and dumb, thinking with my dick—sex on the regular and with the mayor’s daughter? I was in. I ignored that she was so fucking shallow and catty. I ignored how she looked at and treated my parents. I ignored that she started controlling what I could and couldn’t do, making me miss practices and not letting me hang out with my friends—it had to be all about her twenty-four-fucking-seven. It had to be the Lorraine show, her always putting up a fight when I had a competition or practice.” He sighed. “It was my first relationship. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing—assumed that I’d eventually fall in love with her, and after school, we’d be happy, that she’d be better and nicer, but I was so fucking exhausted.” He felt tired talking about it. “My plans to go pro were shot, school ended, and things didn’t get any better, they got fucking worse, and you know how it fucking ended.”

“You ignored the red flags because being with her made you feel like you were somebody?”

He sighed.

“Yeah. The dumbest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.”

“She… ruined your life.”

“I know,” he whispered.

He saw the sadness on her face, “She… ruined you.”

It felt like he’d been stabbed in the gut because it was true he’d let Lorraine fuck him up so badly it completely ruined him, and to this day, she was still trying to mess him up—like interrupting his date to try and make him look bad.

Since the day he took off and left her at the altar, Javier had been trapped in a cycle of guilt, always making himself smaller around her, walking on eggshells in her presence like it had been all his fault and wanting her forgiveness for the bad decision he’d made all those years ago.

Sitting here with Cielito, looking at the pictures, thinking about all that had happened, there were no more reasons for him to feel guilty—whatever he deserved for leaving her, he’d more than paid, he’d atoned, and he wasn’t going to feel bad anymore.

Anger was threading through his belly, thinking about all the shit she’d put him through, how she had ruined his fucking life with zero remorse. He thought about Danny’s wedding, her being happy while he was struggling, and then the moment she saw him on a date, happy, her trying to ruin it for him like it was her life’s mission to make sure Javier was miserable.

What did he do to make this woman hate him so much?

In his opinion, he’d been a good boyfriend—treated her the same way his father treated his mother because that’s how he’d been taught.

He never cheated—didn’t once cross his mind.

His only sin was leaving her at the altar after she’d lied.

Javier wasn’t the only one affected by Lorraine’s scorn; that was obvious to him now, she’d hurt his parents, his family, and years later, here she was, hurting the love of his life.

He no longer felt guilt; it was gone, fizzled away by the burning rage over all of the injustice of what she’d done and, to this day, continued to do.

Never again would he feel sorry for her.

Never again would she hurt the ones he loved.

Never again would he waste a single thought on her.

Never again.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing,” he said.

Cielito’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Javi, your dreams—”

“Were just dreams of a kid,” he interrupted, unlacing their fingers to caress her cheek. “It wasn’t meant to be. All of the shit that’s happened to me, all of it, the good and mostly bad, I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing because it all led me to you.” Tears were brimming in her eyes, her lip beginning to tremble. “I’d do it all again,” he said truthfully. “I’d go through all of the pain and misery, fuck, I’d walk barefoot through hell if I knew you were waiting for me. You’re worth it—you’ll always be fucking worth it, mi Cielito—you’re my little heaven, and the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Oh, Javi,” she gasped, wrapping her arms around him to hug him hard as she crushed her mouth against his, kissing him fervently. He held her around the back, his other hand cradling her face, moaning when she sucked on his tongue.

All he said was true—everything he’d been through was worth getting to sit here kissing the woman who held his heart.

God, he loved her so much.

It was getting harder, each and every day, to keep how he felt to himself and not say that four-letter word out loud. It popped into his head every time he looked at her or thought of her, having to mentally swat it away to avoid slipping up.

Javier was scared since he’d been burned in his last relationship.

What he didn’t mention to Cielito was things weren’t always bad with Lorraine; they started out pretty good, which he now recognizes was her manipulating him, only turning sour after a couple of weeks when he was far too gone on her to get out.

He had zero doubts the same would play out with Cielito, especially with how she reacted tonight, showing that she truly cared about him. It made his chest squeeze at how upset she’d been over his unhappiness, how she needed to make sure he was okay now and happy again.

Lorraine hadn’t given a shit about him, but Cielito? He could see it in her eyes, and how she looked at him, the words she said, her touches, all of it made him feel pretty fucking sure she loved him.

So, he wanted to take his time, do things differently, and allow them a chance to really get to know each other, which made him want to laugh since their track record showed they had a severe lack of self-control. He just didn’t want to rush things, and fuck all of this up, because he knew what they had was real, and he needed to be positive that she was as sure of how she felt for him as he was with her. Deep down, Javier knew that she was it; his future plans had her by his side—marriage, house, dog—she was who he wanted those things with, but the tendrils of doubt sprouting in his brain fuelled his insecurity over being damaged goods—she’d said it herself, he was ruined, and it was hard to believe someone would want to be with him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if he revealed how he felt, bared his soul, and gave her that final piece of himself, only to have it all come crumbling down because he fucked up—it’d destroy him to lose her.

Her tongue was sliding along his, tasting the apple pie and ice cream from earlier.

His dad loudly cleared his throat, “I’m still here,” he said, amused.

They separated from each other, breathing a little harder.

“Sorry, Chucho,” Cielito said, pushing her face into his neck to hide it.

“Don’t apologize,” his dad replied, waving away her words as he approached them with a glass of water. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mija. I brought you some water.”

She sat up, looking at his dad with a little smile as she accepted the cup with thanks, Chucho taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

She downed the glass quickly, leaning forward to set it on the coffee table.

“Well, I’m sorry that looking at pictures was not as fun as I thought it’d be,” Chucho said.

“I loved looking at them!” she replied. Javier enjoyed how she leaned her head against his shoulder, getting comfortable in his lap while talking to his dad. “I loved seeing Javi growing up and all the pictures of his mom. The end, though, was a real doozy.”

He hugged her closer to him.

“Yes,” Chucho said, frowning. “I know what you mean—the smiles.”

“The smiles,” she said sadly, nodding.

“You want to know something, Mija?” his dad asked, looking at her with sparkling eyes.

“What?”

“They came back,” Chucho said, smiling and reaching to pat her leg that was dangling off the couch with how she was seated sideways in Javier’s lap. “Around the time he met you. Coincidence? I think not,” he chuckled.

She giggled.

“I’m happy I could help,” she replied, leaning up to kiss Javer’s chin.

He couldn’t help himself, moving to press his lips to her forehead, “You feeling better?” he asked.

She looked at him, “Yeah.”

“Still want to go for a ride on Sombra?”

Her eyes widened, sitting up.

“Yes!” she answered, nodding her head.

It made him smile, his hands pulling her face in to kiss him, breaking it after a moment to look at her, “Let’s go.” He turned his head towards his dad. “We’re gonna go for a ride, then come back to say bye.”

“You two have fun,” Chucho replied. “Don’t get caught up touring the land,” he teased.

“¡Dios mío, Pop (Oh my god, Pop)!” he groaned.

His dad laughed.

The sun was beginning to lower on the horizon, the temperature cooling as Javi took you to the horse barn, the large sliding door already open. You watched in interest when he took you into the tack room, seeing the equipment needed to ride a horse and the different saddles in varying shades of brown leather neatly organized on racks jutting out from the wooden walls, Javi gathering a chocolate-colored one, and carrying it easily to Sombra’s stall.

You opened the door for him, bringing an apple with you that the horse happily took when you presented it in the flat of your palm. Sombra made that happy low-pitched sound through her nose, nickering as she swallowed her treat and making you smile.

Javi had set down the saddle, grabbing a soft pad hanging on the door and putting it up on the horse’s back.

“This is so she doesn’t get overheated,” he said.

Sombra was as cool as a cucumber, not bothered at all by what he was doing, standing still while you petted her nose.

Your eyes went wide, watching as Javi picked up the saddle from the ground with a soft groan, the sleeves of his red flannel shirt pushed up, letting you see the muscles in his forearms work as he smoothly lifted it up on top of the horse’s glossy black back. He wiggled it a bit, his face screwed up in concentration while he got it how he wanted, walking around to the other side to pull through the straps and start cinching them tight to ensure it stayed on.

He came towards you, grabbing one last strap that went around her front called the breast collar, Javi scratching her ear as he got it buckled in.

His voice took on that soft tone he used with the animals, petting her neck, “¿Te gusta la atencion (Do you like the attention)?” he asked her. She snorted in response, him smiling and beginning to walk around her to make sure everything was nice and snug.

He walked over to grab her bridle hanging on the wall, you moving out of the way so he could work. You were fascinated with him standing beside her head and putting an arm up and between her ears to grab the leather.

“Why do you do it like that? Your arm’s at such a weird angle.”

He smiled at you, “So, I have control of her head.” Demonstrating, he moved his arm gently from left to right, her head moving with it.

“Is she, uh, comfortable?” you asked as he got part of it into her mouth and started getting the thin leather straps up onto her head, carefully moving her ears forward to get over them.

“The bit—what goes in her mouth just sits on gums. She’s not uncomfortable.” He was standing in front of her face, making you smile when he made sure her long bangs were neatly placed along her nose and out from under the bridle, smoothing them out. “Muy bonita (very pretty),” he murmured. Making adjustments to the leather, he spoke, focused on what he was doing, “She’s one of the better horses—doesn’t put up a fight to get it in.”

“She seems very well-behaved.”

“Oh, she’s wonderful. Isn’t that right, Cariño (Sweetheart)?” he said in that sweet tone that made you feel like you were going to melt, him scratching her ears affectionately and hearing her nicker happily.

He went about getting everything tightened, and once satisfied, he gathered the reins, clicking his tongue, “Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Sombra),” he said, leading her out of the stall, with you walking beside him.

“So, we get on outside?” you asked, feeling a little nervous.

“Yeah,” he said, looking over at you. His hand went to the small of your back. “It’ll be okay. You’re not gonna fall.”

“I’d die from embarrassment.”

“It’s not gonna happen.”

“Okay.”

Once out in the open, in front of the barn, Sombra stopped walking, Javi having you stand next to her in front of him, him bending his knees and holding his interlaced hands down.

“What am I doing?” you asked, looking down at him.

He smiled.

“Grab onto the saddle horn, step, and I’ll boost you up—throw your other leg over the horse.”

“You’re going to lift me up..?” The uncertainty was apparent in your voice.

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you say something about a mounting block? The thing to step on and get up, couldn’t I use that?” you bargained.

He sighed, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t need the block. Step,” he ordered, nodding at his hands. “I’ve got you, Cielito.”

“What if I’d prefer the block?”

His eyebrows dipped together. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You pressed your hands to your face.

“I don’t think I’m coordinated enough,” you mumbled.

“It’s easy.”

“It’s a lot of steps.”

“It’s three steps.”

“Three too many.”

“If you don’t do it like this, I’m gonna pick you up and throw you on top.”

Your hands fell away.

“You wouldn’t.”

He smirked.

“I would, and you fucking know it. Grab, step, other leg over the saddle. Let’s go, baby.”

The idea of Javi picking you and tossing you on top of a horse was more humiliating than the possibility of losing your balance and falling on your ass, thus giving you the courage to stretch your arms up to grab onto the jutting horn and step your foot onto his waiting hands, thankful you were wearing flats. You squealed at suddenly finding yourself leaving the ground, Javi grunting as he lifted you.

“Throw your leg over,” he said through his teeth, your hands having a death grip on the hard leather, doing as he ordered, his hands moving to your ass to push you into the seat.

“See,” he said, breathing a little harder once you were comfortably seated. You looked down at him, his hair falling messily over his forehead, hands on his hips, grinning. “Easy.”

You sighed. “Sure, easy, Mr. Bossy Pants.”

His head tilted down. “These aren’t my bossy pants; you’re thinking of my slacks.”

“Okay, smartass. Are you coming up?”

He laughed, meeting your eyes.

“Not yet,” he said with a shake of his head. “Gotta lead you through the gate.”

“Okay.”

The leather was smooth on your bare thighs, feeling a bit weird to have your feet dangling, gripping tightly onto the saddle with being so high up. Sombra was so tall, and it had nerves flittering in your belly about falling off.

With the reins in hand, Javi got Sombra moving, your eyes taking in the scenery as he led you along the side of the barn and through a gate, seeing the land stretch for miles, all yellow grass and small hills rolling along the mostly flat land, trees scattered few and far between.

Once the gate was closed, he was handing you the leather reins, his hands grabbing onto the horn, your head looking down the side of the horse to watch him put his foot in the stirrup, the muscles in his forearms tensing as he jumped up with a grunt, easily getting his other leg over, and pushing you as far forward as possible to settle in behind you.

His body was pressed close into yours, feeling him so solid at your back, his arm moving around your middle like a band of iron to keep you firmly against him. His head was beside yours, turning to press his lips close to your ear, “This okay?” he whispered, unable to stop yourself from shivering.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Still worried you’re gonna fall?”

“No.”

“Good.” He kissed the skin of your neck. “Let me know if you want me to slow down, okay?”

“Okay.”

He took the reins from you, lightly pulling on them to get Sombra’s attention. The line of his legs were pressed to the backs of your own, feeling as his calves squeezed the horse’s ribs, clicking his tongue, “¡Vamos, Sombra (Let’s go, Sombra)!”

She started walking, your hips moving back and forth from the motions, your upper body almost swaying from side to side, Javi giving you time to get used to it before squeezing his legs harder to get her to move faster.

You tensed up with how she was making you bounce.

“Relax, baby,” Javi said into your ear. “Let your hips move with her.”

You were very aware of Javi pressed along the line of your body, relaxing like he said and letting yourself go with the flow of the horse’s movements and him behind you—trying to ignore how he was flush against your ass and the way every time your hips moved forward, his were pushing into yours. Your skin had heated from the contact, not surprised by the inkling of want simmering in your tummy, welcoming the wind on your hot face as Sombra moved swiftly over the land.

The ride had smoothed out, feeling like you were on a rocking horse, your center pulling forward and back, unable to keep from smiling at how comfortable you were, knowing you were safe with him keeping you close, looking out at the landscape in front of you, the golden grass shimmering in the sun, and spotting cattle in the distance.

“That���s better,” he said. “Love having you with me.” His hand at your middle moved up to squeeze your breast, gasping as he kissed your shoulder. “Love having you so close. Do you like this?” he asked with his lips to your ear.

“You feeling me up while horseback riding?” you asked loud enough for him to hear over the breeze.

You felt his chest shake, his warm chuckle making your spine tingle, him squeezing your flesh again.

“I know you like that.” The way his voice went deeper had the words shooting straight to your cunt. “I bet you’re already wet”—he ghosted his fingers down your body, getting under your dress to palm your pussy—”I bet you’d let me touch you,” he purred.

Your heart was hammering in your chest because he wasn’t wrong; you’d absolutely let him finger you, but the rational part of your brain was telling you that coming and falling off a horse would be such an embarrassing way to die—you could picture the newspaper headline, ‘Orgasm Leads to Rider’s Death.’

“I cannot believe you are seducing me on a horse!” you exclaimed. “Hand above the waist, mister. You are driving a moving vehicle.”

“She’s a horse, not a car…” he said slowly in amusement, his arm holding your middle again.

“And yet, she’s still considered a mode of transportation just of the non-motorized variety, and driving impaired could lead to lethal consequences.”

He snorted. “Hand will stay above the waist—don’t want your pussy causing a horse accident.”

“I’ve heard pussy is the number one cause of all fatal horse accidents.”

He laughed. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“Hey, I’m not willing to risk finding out if it’s true or not.”

“Fine, baby,” he said, kissing your neck. “Ready to go faster?”

“Let’s see how much horsepower this baby has,” you replied, playfully patting Sombra’s neck.

He huffed out an amused breath.

“If you want me to slow down, tell me.”

“Sounds good!”

Your hands were back to holding onto the saddle horn between your thighs, Javi’s legs pressing harder into the horse’s sides, hearing him click his tongue. She started going, not a full gallop, but still fast enough to have you laughing while Javi kept you from bouncing out of the seat.

Wind was whipping past you, able to feel the powerful movements of Sombra below you, all of it exhilarating. Javi tightened his arm around you, keeping you secure against him.

“Put your arms out,” he said.

“What?”

“Put your arms out—I’ve got you.”

It was nerve-wracking, having to work up the courage before finally stretching out your arms.

With the wind rushing by, Sombra practically floating over the ground, moving so smoothly it felt like you were flying.

It had you breathless, in awe, laughing happily at how incredible it was.

You could hear her hooves hitting the ground and the air moving past your ears, your eyes beginning to water, practically able to imagine you were some kind of bird gliding over the land, hovering above the terrain.

“Are you having fun?” Javi asked.

“Yeah!” you laughed. “This is so fucking amazing!”

“Grab onto the saddle. We’re gonna slow down.”

Doing as he said, you saw he was taking you up a hill, a large oak tree at the top, the limbs twisting out from the trunk. Sombra slowed down the closer you got until Javi had her stopping, him easily hopping off and tying her to the tree.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” he said, moving to stand beside you. “Bring your leg over so both are on this side.” He patted the saddle.

It took some maneuvering, getting your leg up and over, squeaking in surprise when Javi grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off, setting you gently on the ground.

“You okay?” he asked.

Smiling, you replied, “I’m wonderful.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

Following him, he led you to the other side of the tree, him sitting down at the base of it with a groan, resting his back on the trunk.

“Sit,” he said, patting the space between his open legs.

It made you giggle, him practically pulling you down and getting you where he wanted with your back pressed to his front, leaning your head against his shoulder to look up at him. Your fingers touched his jaw, moving his face to meet your eyes.

“You just wanted to sit under a tree?” you asked.

He kissed you softly, looking at you when he pulled back, his hand coming up to stroke along your cheek.

“No,” he shook his head. “I wanted you to see that,” he said, pointing in front of you both.

Looking forward, the land stretched as far as your eyes could see, lumpy with small hills, the sky awash in blues, purples, and pinks, while the horizon was a bright orangish-yellow glow, like a lake of liquid fire pooled in the distance.

He brought you here to watch the sunset, and it was breathtakingly beautiful.

“It’s so fucking pretty,” you said in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “You are.”

You turned to look at him, his eyes already on your face, looking at you with such a sweet expression it had your heart skipping a beat that he’d rather stare at you than the picturesque view.

“I know,” you said.

He looked a little surprised.

“That you’re beautiful?”

“No.” You shook your head, and he frowned, about to speak, but you stopped him with a press of your finger to his lips. “We’ll deal with my self-esteem later. I know how you feel.” You saw him swallow hard, his eyes looking a little panicked. “Don’t stress,” you continued. “I just need you to know that I’m very aware—those big brown eyes of yours hide nothing.” You caressed his cheek, him leaning into it. “Your last relationship fucked you up, and I’m now up to speed on just how bad it was, and completely understand that you need time. That’s fine with me, and I’ll wait however long you need because I feel the exact same way, fighting for my life every goddamn day, not saying it out loud since I think it’s important that you say it first. So, Javi, I know how you feel, and I feel the same, take your time, and when you’re ready, know I’ll say it back without any hesitation.”

His eyes had softened, getting misty.

“I really fucking like you, Cielito.”

“I really fucking like you, too, Javi.”

“Thank you for understanding.” He cupped your jaw, leaning in to kiss you hard, feeling it in the press of his lips; I love you.

He was happy.

So fucking happy.

Knowing she felt the same way, that she understood what he was going through, and giving him the reassurance that it was okay that he takes his time had a giant invisible weight lifting off his chest and making him feel like he could breathe easier.

She never stopped surprising him, somehow always knowing what he needed to hear, feeling like she truly understood him—she just got him, she cared about him, she loved him.

Since his early twenties, it had felt like he’d had to deal with one bad thing after another, never catching a single fucking break with the amount of shit he had to go through, feeling as though he was at odds with the world—that it was out to get him and he was meant to live some miserable existence of just surviving, and doing his best to make it to the next day.

He didn’t feel like that anymore.

No, his life had changed for the better—there was hope, happiness, calm; he no longer felt like he was swimming against the current, trying to keep his head above water, but for once felt relaxed, going with the flow and letting the waves soothe him as he embarked on this new part of his life, where the only thing working against him was his own thoughts and insecurities.

His own enemy was himself, and that was fixable; with time and reassurance, he’d get where he needed to be, and it just felt so fucking nice to know there was an end in sight, a light at the end of the tunnel, hope.

He had hope.

He had something to live for.

He had someone to live for.

And she felt the same.

He smiled on their ride back to the barn and while holding her hand as they walked to the house; it didn’t leave his face as he changed out of his cowboy boots for his regular boots by the backdoor or when his dad called them into the living room, his cheeks beginning to hurt, unable to keep himself from wrapping his arms around her middle from behind, placing smiling kisses on her shoulders and neck as she giggled, them awkwardly shuffle-walking towards the front of the house.

“¡Dios mío, Mijo (Oh my god, my son)!” his dad said as they entered the room. “¡Deja que respire (Let her breathe)!”

He pressed a loud smacking kiss to her cheek that had her laughing.

“Lo siento, Pop,” he said, not feeling sorry at all. He finally looked at his dad sitting on the couch, a lone photo album on the coffee table, along with a Polaroid camera and a sweating bottle of beer on a corkboard coaster. “Me gusta mucho (I like her a lot).” He kissed her cheek again. “No me puedo controlar (I can’t control myself).”

Chucho nodded as he spoke, “Sí, sí claro, te gusta, la quieres (Yes, yes, of course, you like her, you love her).” His dad laughed. “Ya me di cuenta (I’ve noticed)—Eres obvio (You’re obvious).” His attention turned to Cielito, “Mija, how did you like the ride?”

“I loved it!” she answered. “Was a little scared, but it was so much fun once we got going!”

His dad smiled brightly. “Yes, I love riding—so freeing. I’m sure my son would love to take you out again. His primo (cousin), Aarón, would probably let you borrow Dulce. She’s a sweetheart—very easygoing.”

“I met her!” she replied. “She was lovely. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to ride alone.”

Javier was imagining teaching her how to ride on her own, knowing how bright her smile would be when she got the hang of it—he should take her riding again.

His father said what he was thinking, “Well, Javi will have to take you out more—get you used to it.”

“I think I’d like that.” She turned her head to kiss Javier’s chin, him moving to get her lips.

Chucho chuckled. “Before you leave,” the older man said, “May I get a picture?” He leaned forward to pick up the camera.

“Oh my god,” Cielito replied excitedly. “I’m album-worthy?”

His dad laughed, “Mija, you are absolutely album-worthy! May I?”

“I am so okay with it,” she said, looking at Javier and meeting his eyes. “Is it okay with you, babe?”

“Of course, baby.” He kissed the side of her head. “Gotta get you in the album.”

She grinned, his dad practically jumping up from the couch.

“Gracias,” Chucho said, lifting the camera to his face. “Say cheese!”

Javier wanted to groan, their attention on his father, resting his head on her shoulder, and hugging her to him, her laughing as she said, “Cheese!”

The flash went off, hearing the whine as the camera spat out the picture, his dad pulling it out and shaking it a few times before setting it down on the coffee table.

“Uno más, por favor (One more, please),” Chucho said, getting the Polaroid camera into place again. “On the count of three. One, Two—” Javier moved, turning her upper body in his arms and cupping her jaw as he pressed his lips to hers, swallowing her surprised sound. “Three!” The blinding flash illuminated them for a second, followed by the whirring; Javier was too focused on kissing her to care how the photo turned out.

Chucho was laughing, “¡Tres segundos (Three seconds)!” Javier could hear the camera being set down on the table, his mouth moving against hers. “No pudiste esperar tres segundos (You couldn’t wait three seconds).” His dad had calmed down to chuckling. “Eres peor que yo y volví loca a tu mamá (You’re worse than me, and I drove your mom crazy). I see now why you’ve been slacking at work—” He switched to English so Cielito would understand. “—you’re too busy thinking about kissing her!”

Cielito laughed into his mouth, Javier breaking the kiss to groan.

He glared at his dad, the other man looking at the two pictures with a smile, “Are you done embarrassing me?” he asked.

Chucho met his eyes with an amused expression. “No sé (I don’t know),” he answered, shrugging. “You make it so easy.”

He sighed, “I kissed her.”

“For the thousandth time today?” his dad asked. “Surprised your lips haven’t fallen off.”

“Pop,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, Cielito giggling.

“I’m just giving you a hard time, Mijo.” His tone changed to something more serious when he spoke again, “Javi?” He saw the sincere look on Chucho’s face when he looked at him. “I like seeing you like this,” he continued. “I like seeing you happy. We went through the pictures together. You saw what happened, my smiling boy disappearing.” His dad was tearing up, and it had Javier’s throat getting tight. “You’ve come back to me—I got you back. Tu mamá would be so happy if she saw you like this. You know what she’d say?” Javier shook his head. “She’d say, ‘Ahí está mi niño feliz (There’s my happy boy)—mi Javiercito por fin está en casa (My Javier is finally home).’”

Javier’s breath got stuck in his throat, willing the tears away. Looking away, he cleared his throat, Cielito rubbing her hand over his chest, welcoming the comfort.

“I’m, uh, glad you’d both be happy.”

“We’re thrilled, Mijo,” Chucho replied. “The pictures turned out great.”

He saw his dad move, watching as the older man grabbed the photo album and opened it to the first page, which was blank, Javier just now realizing it wasn’t one from earlier.

“Is that new?” he asked.

“Sí,” Chucho replied. He carefully pulled the plastic back and placed the two pictures side by side. “New photo album for the start of a happy chapter in your life.” He’d gotten them situated and the plastic back into place. “¡Perfecto!”

Picking up the album, his dad brought it over to them, standing beside Cielito as he held it open.

The first photo had Javier holding her from behind, his head resting on her shoulder, their ears touching, and both smiling brightly at the camera. The second had her body twisted in his arms, his hand on her back, the other caressing her jaw as they kissed, seeing them both smiling as they did, reminding him of the old-timey photos of men about to go off to war kissing their loves one last time.

That smile was back on his face again, able to see how in love they both were, how fucking happy they were. They looked so good together, so right, so perfect, fitting together so easily. His veins were thrumming with fuzzy warmth, something he was becoming all too familiar with.

“They’re good pictures, Pop,” he said.

“I love them,” Chucho replied.

“I love them, too,” Cielito added.

“We gotta take more pictures together, baby—start our own album,” he said, kissing her crown.

He liked the idea of having something for them to look back on.

“We should!” She looked at him, smiling.

“I have many albums of Antonia and me,” his dad said. “They're nice to have.”

The other man moved, closing the photo album and setting it on the table. He picked up the camera, walking back over to them, holding it out to Javier.

“Un regalo (A gift),” Chucho said.

“No, Pop,” he replied, gently pushing it away. “Nos diste las vacas (You gave us the cows). No necesitamos tu cámara también (We don’t need your camera, too).”

“Lo insisto (I insist),” his dad replied, trying to give it to him again. “Tu mamá querría que lo tuvieras (Your mom would want you to have it).”

Javier’s eyes narrowed.

“That’s playing fucking dirty, and you know it.”

Chucho grinned, “Of course, but she would want you to have it—make your own memories, put together your own albums.”

Javier sighed.

“Fine,” he said, taking the offered camera. “But don’t be fucking surprised with what you get for your birthday.”

“My only wish for my birthday is more pie made by tu novia.”

She giggled.

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

“July 9th,” his dad and he said simultaneously.

“Right around the corner!” she said, grinning. “We should do something to celebrate! I could make dinner, or we could go out, and I’ll of course make you any pie you want, Chucho!”

The older man looked elated.

“I would love that very much!” his dad said.

“It’s a date!”

Chucho’s face softened, “It was wonderful meeting you, Mija.”

“Hug before we go?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, opening his arms. She stepped into them, his dad giving her a big hug before pulling back and holding her by the shoulders. “Thank you for making my son so happy. I can see how much you both like each other.” He winked. “Don’t be strangers, and come by anytime. You’re more than welcome.”

“It was so nice meeting you, too,” she said. “We’ll have dinner every week, and you let me know what pie you want for your birthday.”

“I’d love peach.”

“Then peach, you will have.”

“I can’t wait.” He patted her shoulders gently, her moving away from him, his dad’s eyes meeting his. “Hug, Mijo?” he asked, holding out his arms.

“Yeah, Pop,” he answered, hugging his dad while also holding the camera.

Chucho whispered in his ear, “Tu mamá lo aprobaría (Your mom would approve). Por favor cásate con esta chica (Please, marry this girl). Ella es perfecta para ti (She’s perfect for you).”

They broke apart.

“Sí, Pop (Yes, Pop),” he replied. “Es lo que quiero (It’s what I want).”

His dad was smiling, clapping his hands onto his arms. “Que bueno, Mijo (That’s good, my son). Porque yo también lo quiero (Because I want it, too).”

Javier chuckled.

“Okay, we’re going now.” He held the camera with one hand, pressing the other to Cielito’s back as they started walking to the front door.

“I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning,” his dad said. “Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some work done, and not be thinking about kissing tu media naranja (your other half),” he teased.

Cielito giggled.

“Pop,” he groaned.

“I’m joking,” Chucho laughed. “You’re such a aguafiestas (buzzkill)!”

The front door was opened, goodbyes were said, and Javier walked Cielito to his truck, opening her door and helping her in, smiling when she slid into the middle seat.

“Baby, can you hold this?” he asked, holding out the camera.

“Of course,” she answered, taking it and setting it in her lap.

He remembered something.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Need to run back inside.”

“Okay.”

He shut the door, turning on his heel back to the house.

The sky was dark when you left, stars shining brightly high above.

Whatever Javi forgot, it didn’t take long to grab, him coming back out quickly, hearing his muffled shout of ‘Bye’ to his dad as he closed the front door.

Before you knew it, the two of you were driving down the road back to town, the truck’s headlights illuminating your journey.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, your hand in his atop your thigh, the weight of the camera nestled in your lap while the radio softly played.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“We’re absolutely going to take dirty pictures, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“God, I really fucking like you.”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin  @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @thevoiceinyourheadx @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @kulicny @enjoyourlattebitch @athalien @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @star017 @javier-penas-wife

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #javier peña fanfiction #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[honakito]

hiiiii😁 idk of yours request is open but i wanted to ask for a mmj! reader x akito😞 hope youre okay with thisss, bye kisses and hugs 🫶😊

-⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀MORE , MORE ⠀⠀⠀. . . ⠀⠀⠀more more JUMP !

authors babbles . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀i freaking LOVE THIS ! !

MORE! MORE! - prod. honakito

posted as : request

chars : s. akito

type : x g/n ! reader

scenario : akito with an idol (specifically more more jump) reader ( headcanons )

taglist : @finanah ( ask to be added )

affiliated with : @virtualbookstore

notes : OH MH GOD i am SO SORRY for dipping this whole month and not doing this request sooner you probably forgot about it hhh,,,… no joke i was procrastinating this whole month since i am signed up for the math olympics ( i got a 20/28 at the local phase and now im in for the city phase) then i also have national phase if i qualify so requests are gonna take much longer… but still THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTHING THIS AAA!! AND AGAIN IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

notes 2 : so im actually working on a canon character only series. the only thing ill reveal about it is that it is a crossover with one of my current hyperfixations (they go brrr brrr brbrbr) so mist of my attention will be focused on it (requests will take longer in this case) and other shit BUT!!! ill alao try to finish the masterlists befpre my blog gets bigger so it is easier for me to arrange shit YKNOW ,,, and also the last time i posted here i barely got any REACH. like it was embarrassing omfg i dont want that to happen again so this is probably why i was hesitant on posting again but were cool gang ,, and i aslo have to revamp most of my posts kms

date : 26 / 02 / 24 - 10 / 03 / 24

well , he doesnt really care.

wait , what?

dont get him wrong , tho! when he first found out you were also interested in the music field , he was ecstatic in his own way. so , he asked some questions.

to realize youre the fifth member of ‘ MORE MORE JUMP! ‘ tho? that was a shocker! he never really put the puzzle pieces together.

not because he isnt capable of doing so , he just doesnt really.. care, about idol groups. it was never akitos type of music genre.

sure , he saw a few posters here and there , but never observed them as a whole. the only one he recognized on those was airi , because of enas childhood friendship with her.

and when you first came to kamiyama , he never really eavesdropped on any conversations about you. wasnt that normal? for everyone to talk about the new student! why was he the only one that didnt know you were a known idol?

isnt that a good thing , tho?

because akito didnt know of your passion , you saw right through him that this is actually how he feels. figured out that he saw you as an average human being , and not someone you only see on the outside , on a screen.

you were more glad for his oblivion , rather than mad.

but back on topic.

for a little while , he didnt know. but after? he seemed more cautious for you.

he knows the things you have to go through in the idol industry — he isnt stupid.

so for your sake , hes more supportive.

youll never notice it , but he will watch each and every livestream your group will hold after finding out. ofcourse , on a whole different account , while hes alone — he does not need teasing from neither you , mizuki , ena or an. 

and the same goes for your social media posts , he always tries to be the first one to like.

also pay close attention to his playlist — suddenly , a few of ‘ MORE MORE JUMP! ‘ s songs are there! but not the whole discography , hes still getting accommodated with the genre. 

so after a while — he gets comfortable.

hell always show up to the shows you will host. at first , he will seat in the back , so you dont notice him. but with a little bit of time , you will always spot him easily in the front rows , but he has too much pride to admit it. half of it , he will say ena dragged him with her. but what about the times he shows up alone? when theres no big sister , or no extra ticket from kohane?

if you figure it out tho , hed gladly accept any ticket you give him. doesnt matter if general or backstage access — your performances are moments that he holds close to him , outside of RAD WEEKEND.

and even if it seems like he doesnt care — he will always cheer on you from the sidelines.

begging the x reader gods to show this under the tag this time

div. arent mine ; please do not use my work for own uses , includes : reposting and claiming as their own , heavily inspiring off a long term fanfiction , etc , etc .

#written : surpassed angelic #virtualnetwork #project sekai #pjsk #pjsk x reader #akito shinonome #akito shinonome x reader #x reader #akito vbs

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Aaron Hotchner & CM Content Creator Spotlight

Good evening, loves! I hope you are all having a good start to your week. I just wanted to take a moment to shout out some of the amazing content creators that I see putting out the most breathtaking, content related to Aaron and Criminal Minds in general.

The fact that we get this content, for free, never ceases to amaze me. I’m lucky to interact, read, and view your work every day. It really does help my writing and makes my days a 100 times better. And an extra special shoutout to my moots (y’all are so keen! ❤️) Please check these awesome people out and give them a follow if you are so inclined. I will continue adding accounts to this list as I find them. See the list under the cut [accounts not listed in any order]

Creators who Write for Aaron & the BAU All fics mentioned are linked

@criminalskies - They have lots of Aaron-centered fics that are so comforting.

My favorite work of theirs: “In Your Orbit” Part I and Part II. I still haven’t recovered from these. 

@luveline - She has lots of Aaron content and some Spencer fics as well. She also posts for other fandoms like Stranger Things and The Mauraders. Her use of tone and diction always blow me away. 

My favorite work of hers: “If Things Go Bad”

@little-diable - A truly prolific writer! The consistency in style is incredible. She also writes for Harry Potter and Peaky Blinders (thank you, thank you, thank you!)

My favorite work of hers: “For You, always” [18+]

@softhairedhotch - He shares lots of Aaron head canons and ideas that get my writing juices going. 

My favorite works of his: “cold case” and the “Trans masc Aaron headcannons” ← This is still making me want to give him a hug and go to a pride parade with him and Jack!

@ssahotchnerr - When I read her stuff I just kick my feet and scream into my pillow. Her Aaron stuff sends me. I love the fics with fluff so much. 

My favorite work of hers: “Sleepless” 

@winterscaptain - To say that her series A Joyful Future actually changed my life is an understatement. I go back to it again, and again, and again. I’ll link the master list here (link) but if you want to literally feel like you are really married to Aaron, then give the series a read. 

I like all of Tali’s work, but I’m extra partial to “Though and Though” and “Berry Hill”

@itsrainingreid - I’m still pretty new to this blog, but the fic “Ride” [18+] sold me instantly. I can’t stop thinking about it. I look forward to reading more of your work. 

Creators that share Screencaps and Inspo 

@milla984 A L W A Y S comes through with the Aaron screen caps. Literally my hero!

@hotchs-big-hands [18+ account. Minors DNI!] Her nsfw Aaron inspo content does things to me. 

@hotch-girl The way I keep saving her pictures like I need to have the whole set. [I need the whole set]

@sadgirlzluvdilfs [18+ account. Minors DNI!] A generally lovely person who always posts/reposts good Aaron/Thomas content! It's a joy to hang out on her blog.

@hancydrewfan Always shares the Emily content I need. 

Creators that make Prompts and also Write 

@imagining-in-the-margins It was her Meet Cute Writing Challenge prompts that got me writing again. I cannot thank you enough for that. Her prompts have really helped me get my writing mojo back.

Criminal Minds Artists

@k1ngari

@lilliesthings Soft pastel aesthetic of Spence, Em, Garcia, and Derk. What more could you ask for? Nothing in my book.

@weirdlybeans Super cute art of Hotch! I love their work!

@hannaloony So cute and cozy digital art. I want all of your pieces as prints!

Creators that share the Dark Academia Aesthetic [my aesthetic] 

@optimistic-nihilist

@peacefulandcozy Maybe more soft academia / mori kie than dark academia, but I still find it very aesthetic!

@cafekitsune has the cutes text breaks and dividers on here. Her work has been a gamechanger for my page. Please check her out if you are into aesthetics on your blog! Remi I love you so much.

#criminal minds #fanfiction #ssa aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #spencer reid #aaron hotcher #criminal minds shoutout #cm #reader insert #fanficion #Is aaron a shared delusion? #i love my moots #reading recommendations #fic recommendations #criminal minds art #aesthetic

[scarletwinterxx]

take a chance with me - mark lee imagine

hi🥺😊 it's been a while since i wrote something this long, I wanted to take my time and do my best. I hope you like it.🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

song inspo: take a chance with me by niki

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"You got the Bruno Mars tickets?"

Mark looks up to see you looking a bit disheveled, still panting from running he assumes.

She still looks cute. Says his internal monologue but he quickly shuts that down, putting this tough shell back on in front of you instead.

"Yeah why?" he asks nonchalantly

You hold 1 finger up, signalling for him to wait while you catch your breath.

"Who are you going with?"

"Dery, supposedly but he got tickets too so now I'm not sure" he answers, his attention back on his laptop screen. There are so many things he should be doing right now to the point that he feels like the 24 hours of his day isn't enough and yet he can't seem to shoo you away.

He'll spare you a minute, an hour, or how long you ask him but you don't know that. And he won't say that out loud now that the two of you have broken up. His clock stops when he's with you.

Mark wants to scold himself for always giving into you, but he can't help it. It's you.

"Take me" you say straightforward, no sense of hesitation.

This made Mark look up at you again, raising a brow as he asks you "Now why would I do that?"

"Because we're friends?" throwing a question back at him

"God don't say that, it's weird" he mumbles, acting as if he was shaking of chills as you say the word friends

"You're the one who said we should be friends, this is me being a friend"

"This is you trying to piggyback on me to watch Bruno Mars"

"See, you still know me so well. Now why did we even break up?" you joke, but it wasn't well received on the other end so you cleared your throat "Right sorry, sore topic" you mumble

"I'll think about it" Mark tells you before his gaze returns on his screen

You smile down at him even though he's not looking at you. "In your book, that's a yes. Call me, bye" you tell him before walking away.

After that encounter with you, Mark of course couldn't keep his mouth shut and told his friend about it. He can already hear Hendery scolding him for being a 'simp'.

"Tell me you didn't say yes that fast" Hendery asks his bestfriend but he already knows the answer

"Mark, dude I thought we're working on the whole 'I'm moving on for real this time' era of yours"

"I am, I am over it. She's just going with me because I have extra tickets, which by the way was supposed to be yours. I paid a good amount for those" he scowls at the other boy

"And you didn't even think twice about giving it away to her, we could've sold that or something. Just say you're still whipped and go. What's the point of me lecturing you everytime about your failed love live if you're never gonna listen"

"I can't fail my love life if I don't have a love life" the Leo man justifies

"Okay you got a point there, so here's my proposal. We should find you a new girl so you can finally finally stop being such a simp"

Mark swears he trusts Hendery with his life, but also a big part of him doubts his Libra bestfriend even when he's staying still and doing nothing.

"I'm not a simp" Mark grumbles like a child. He can hear Hendery snicker from beside him,

"Sorry what was that? I can't hear bullshit. Get back to me when you finally mean it"

He really hoped Hendery was kidding when he said he'll find him someone, he had so many reason why this isn't a good time to date but he can't stop him once he sets his mind on something. Especially if it meant it'll give Mark a headache, which in that case is Hendery's forte.

But if there's someone topping that list, the number one person to make Mark's temporal pulse go thumping hard. It would be you. And you know exactly know to get on his last nerve whether he likes it or not.

"I can't believe you got floor tickets, and Dery passed this up?" you say from beside him as you look around the venue. It's the day of the concert and just like you said, you showed up in front of his doorstep 10 hours earlier with the most excited look on your face.

"He's somewhere over there, said he prefers it so yea" he answers, looking at his watch to check the time. His nonchalance making you look over at your ex-boyfriend slash friend.

"Why are you grumpy? Does it really bother you I'm here? I can pay for the tickets" you tell him.

Mark looks over at you, noting your serious expression. He didn't want to ruin tonight for you, for the both of you so he shakes his head.

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I invited you"

"I invited myself, I'll send you the payment after the show" you tell him then look away.

Great, now you're in a bad mood and he has to figure out how to fix it. He lets out a sigh, looking away from you. The ticket is not really the issue tonight, neither you being here tonight. It's his mind being at war again, asking him questions he have long buried in the depths of his consciousness.

It's like you press the reset button in him every time. He hates it but he can't walk away from you either. So as a result, he sometimes acts too harsh towards you.

Mark thinks of something to break the tension,

"Hey, remember when I said I wanted to watch Bruno Mars with you" Mark tells you, slightly leaning towards you to whisper by your ear

You do remember. Back when you were still dating he did say he wanted to go attend concerts with you, when he learned yours and his favorite artist was the same he got so excited and put it on his bucket list to watch Bruno Mars with you.

"Huh?" you mumbled, pretending like you were having a hard time recalling that memory but really it's still fresh like it happened just yesterday

"My bucket list, said I wanted to watch Bruno with you. Guess I can check it off from that now" he smiles

"Does it still count even when we're not dating anymore?" you can't help but ask, you expected him to react violently like he always does when you bring it up but instead he just smiles at you again

"It counts as long as it's with you" he answers then he looks away. Not catching the way your gaze stayed on him for a few more moments, in those moments you wondered what if that wasn't the case.

What if you never broke up. What if he was still yours.

A lot of what ifs you'll never know the answer to.

Instead of linger on that, you just look away from him. Ignoring the dull ache in your heart.

That night turned out for the better, probably a night you'll never forget. You had so much fun, singing and jumping along your favorite songs. There were times when you looked beside you to see Mark doing the same. Seeing the biggest smile on his face as he holds his phone up to capture the moment.

Instead of saying anything, you just watch him with a smile. Missing seeing him this happy and carefree.

After the show, Mark offered to drive you home. You were too tired to say no so you just sat on his passenger seat as he drives down the familiar street. He didn't need to check his GPS to know, he know these roads like it's the way to his own home.

In a way it used to be like that, you used to be his home.

He didn't say much when he dropped you off, watching you enter your building and only driving away when he's sure you safe inside.

"Mark, my friend"

"No" Mark cuts off Hendery before he could even say anything but of course his bestfriend didn't take any offence nor thought about listening to him, he continued when Mark didn't say anything else

"As I was saying, remember when I said I'll find you someone. Well I kinda did, a bunch of us is going hiking this weekend and this girl Arin is coming. Heard she's had a thing for you for a while now"

"How can she have a thing for me when she doesn't know me?" he mumbles, already getting grumpy with the idea of going out

"I can't explain the way of the universe to you my friend, she just does. Don't make me say you're one handsome man because I won't" Hendery says

"You just did though"

"So you're coming right?" Hendery asks with a devilosh smile like he's already plotting something

"Do I have a choice?"

"Hey don't look at me like that, it was your choice coming here" Haechan tells you as you let him drag you trough the woods at 5am in the morning

"You told me we were going to get coffee at this place with killer view. I'm about to be the killer here and you're in my view" you tell him, sending glares his way but this doesn't deter your friend.

"We are getting coffee, after we go hiking. Hey! No hitting!"

As the two of you bicker some more you don't notice the other people joining you for today's hike arrive.

From across the lot, Mark spots you and Haechan. Just as he looks over, he sees Haechan bend down to whisper something to you and you hitting him lightly making the guy laugh.

It’s been a while since he last saw you, after the concert you really didn't reach out that much. Not that he expected you to, the last text you sent him was a short thank you for taking you to the concert.

You weren't avoiding him, it's been a while since you went out with a big group of friends since you and Mark did share a lot of mutual friends. You didn't want to make it awkward for everyone, so instead you mostly declined the invites when you know he might come too.

And Mark, well he’s been keeping his distance from you too. It's always you who talks to him first, always letting you make the first step.

He knew you were close to Haechan. If he’s being honest there were enough times he felt jealous even.  He pushes that thought away as fast as it came. He didn't know you were coming this weekend, a detail Hendery failed to mention.

"Hey don't freak out, but your ex is here" Haechan tells you

Whipping your head around then back at him, waiting for him to say it was a joke

"No he isn't"

"Yep, he's over there. Wait don't look"

Too late you're already looking. And there he was indeed. Luckily Mark was too busy unloading stuff from the car to notice you looking over at him

“If only your gaze could make him notice you, he’d probably be here already having an actual conversation with you” Haechan whispers to you

“You know not every thought that pops into your head should be said outloud, you can just shut it” you answer, taking your gaze off from the guy from across the lot.

“It wouldn’t be too bad to admit you miss him, when it’s this obvious”

“Again, thoughts to your self. I don’t need you whispering in my ear like a little devil” this time it earned him a hit on the shoulder. From across the lot, Mark’s eyes glaze towards the direction where you were standing with your friend. 

“He’s looking over here, by the way” Haechan tells you when his eyes met with Mark’s, the other guy quickly averting his gaze somewhere else. 

“Shut up”

"He was, and I'm pretty sure he had the look of murder on his face when he saw me leaning a little to close to you"

"I have the look of murder whenever I look at you, now can I get a drink in peace without you breathing down my neck" you grumbled, rethinking all the choices you made which led you here. You should've been anywhere but here.

Anywhere except where Mark is. You thought.

"He's coming, act cool. Hey guys!"

You glare at Haechan one last time before looking to see Hendery, Mark, Yoo Jimin, Arin and Yeonjun.

"You guys got here early?" Hendery asks

"No, we just got here too. Ready to go?"

Everyone said yes then you were off.

You try to focus on not tripping and not think about Mark, which you kind of succeeded. The group made small talk among each other, of course with Haechan and Hendery there aren't any dead air.

When you got to the trickier part of the hike, the trail was steep and kinda hard to climb up. Some of the boys offered to go up first to assist while the others stay behind to make sure no one get's left behind.

Hendery and Haechan took the lead while Mark and Yeonjun stayed behind. You were standing behind Jimin and infront of Yeonjun, taking careful steps.

"Haechan Lee, when we get to the top I'm going to push you off" you tell your friend who was laughing from somewhere infront

"I thought this was easy, not gonna lie I'm gonna pass out soon" Jimin says

"Same" you mumble, resting your hand on your knee to catch your breath

"Hey you okay? Need help with your bag?" Yeonjun asks you, Mark who is standing at the very back listens to the conversation.

"No, it's okay" you politely decline

"You sure?" nodding at him, "Jimin, do you need help with yours?" Yeonjun asks the girl to which she answers with a loud yes and quickly passing her bag to him.

You let Yeonjun walk infront of you, leaving you and Mark at the very back of the line. Mark takes a water bottle from his bag, opens it before passing it over to you. You didn't even think twice about grabbing it, not really paying attention to who's beside you. Kind of forgetting if for a moment before you stood straight again to meet Mark's eyes looking at you.

"Uh thanks" you say holding up the bottle of water

"No problem, need help with your bag?" he asks, he did hear you already say no to Yeonjun but he can't help bu ask

"It's fine, you're already carrying yours" you tell him, shooting him a quick smile before resuming your walk. But before you can take another step, you felt him grab your wrist to pull you back.

"Wha-" then he was pulling one strap of your backpack then the other before putting it on him. Now he's carrying his backpack and yours.

"Mark, come on I can carry that" you try to get it back but he blocks your hands with his arm. Gently pushing you infront of him.

"I'll give it back when you don't look like you're about to pass out, now go. We're falling behind" he tells you, and when he gets this serious you have no choice but to follow him.

For the rest of the hike, you and Mark walk in silence. Passing the water bottle back to him every once and a while, not even noticing you're practically sharing it with him. And when there was a branch too big on your way, you felt his hands on your waist. Guiding you from behind.

"Careful" he mumbles

Too stunned to say anything, you make your way over. Haechan was there waiting for you. He helps you up with this sly smirk on his face, you send a glare to him. Already reading his mind and what's he's about to ask you later.

"And we're here! Look at that view" Hendery announces.

For a moment, all seven of you just admire the view.

"Okay, tell me I did good" Haechan bumps your shoulder, you roll your eyes

"Fine, this was worth all of that" you mumble while the guy beside you throw his fist in the air like he just won a very important arguement.

All of you find spots to sit and get comfortable while eating the snacks you brought and drink the coffee brought by Arin apparently.

"I'm working at the cafe near campus so I kinda picked up a few tricks here and there, taste it. Hope it tastes okay" she tells the group.

Passing the thermos around, you take a cup and wait for your turn. Haechan pours some on your cup for you, and even got you your favorite pastry which honestly might be the highlight of your week.

Meanwhile, Mark was not so subtly watching from the side as you smile at the other guy. Even saw you bump your head on Haechan's shoulder affectionately, probably since you can't give him high five with your hands fill. It's something he knows you do when you get all happy and excited. The coffee tasted okay but something else left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"We should go here again, it's nice to just be out of the city" Yeonjun says

"True, I was dying back there but I'd do it again for this" Jimin says with a smile, all of you looking out the view. Watching as the sun slowly ascend up the sky.

The seven of you spent a few more hours there, just talking and sharing stories then it was time to go. The hike back was much easier and faster since you kinda know where to go.

Saying goodbye to the group when you got back to the parking lot. You help Haechan put your bags in the trunk.

"Hey uhm I was wondering if you want to grab coffee sometime" you're not sure who was speaking so you look behind you only to see Arin standing beside Mark.

For a moment, Mark meets your eyes but you quickly looked away and made your way inside Haechan's car. You'd rather not hear the rest of that conversation, saving your self from the misery.

Haechan looks over at you with confusion, then behind him to see what you saw. And when he saw Mark looking where you were, he understood. He closed the trunk making Arin and Mark look at him, "We'll go now, see you around guys" he shoots them a smile and a wave before jogging over the driver's side.

"You good?" he asks you when he got in the car

"I think so"

"I'm not gonna make fun of you if you say no" he tells you which kind of did make you laugh.

"Just tired, and you still owe me coffee"

"Fine, I'll get you some. Only because you're sulking right now"

You wanted to say he was wrong and that you weren't sulking but that would be not true.

Not sure either why you suddenly feel so down. You and Mark have broken up for over a year and in no place to feel jealous if he decides to date again. And at the end of the day it was yo who broke up him.

Deciding to treat yourself, you walked around the neighborhood to buy some snacks and your favorite ice cream.

Mark just drove Arin home after going out to grab dinner together, they had a good talk. He's not as naïve as Hendery thinks, he can definitely see why he said Arin might like him. But Mark of course being the gentleman that he is, let her down in the most gentle way he could.

"It's just, I'm not really looking for a relationship right now" he tells her

"I understand that, I can wait" she smiles at him, a look of determination on her face. "I've been meaning to say hi to you and introduce myself to you for a while now. And now that I have met you, I really can't promise I that I can stop liking you"

He chuckles at that, "Thanks, I guess. It's for you to decide, all I'm saying is that I might not reciprocate your feelings for me. Sorry"

"What are you sorry for? We still have time, you can atleast give that to me right" Arin asks

In his mind he already said no. He just smiles though.

After he got home, he still couldn't sleep because for some reason he can't keep you off his mind.

Thinking what if it was you in his place, did you ever have someone ask you out. Is there someone else now. Was it Haechan? Yeonjun?

Too lost in his thoughts, he spots a convenient store nearby and decided to buy an ice cream. Just when he step out of the store, he spots someone sitting outside by the benches.

He'd recognize that jacket anywhere because he was the one who bought it. You've always had a love for all things cozy and fluffy. The teddy bear like jacket was a gift from him last Christmas, he can still remember the smile you had on when he gave it to you.

"What are you doing out here?" he asks you, catching you by surprise. He then takes the seat across from you

"Had a bad day, thought the ice cream would make me feel better. You, why are you here?" you ask back, not expecting to meet him here of all places

"Had a lot to think about, thought the ice cream would help" he answers, "Want to talk about it?" Mark asks before he could even think about it. Normally he would stop himself from prying into your business, respecting the boundaries the two of you have now.

Shaking your head in reply, he understood you won't say anything after that

"I can't tell you because it won't be fair" you mumbled

"Why won't it be fair?"

"Because you're my ex" you tell him, it flew right out of your mouth before you stop and think about it. Looking up at Mark to see him looking at you already,

"Don't worry about it, don't worry about me I'll be fine" you mumble with a small smile. Trying to make it better somehow.

"Why do you do that?" he asks

"What?"

"Run. You always run away from me when I get even a step too close. Even when we were together, you always to that. You always had this wall around you that even I couldn't go around, did you not trust me?" for such an intense gaze, he asked that question so calmly. Like his eyes were saying one thing and his lips were saying another.

"I don't trust myself. Every time something good happens to me, I always ruin it. Every time I think I'm the happiest, I get this overwhelming fear that something will take it away from me. I'm messed up, I know that and you're the last person I want to dump all that mess on" you answer.

For the first time since the break up you finally talk about it. Flashbacks of that night replaying in your head. Remembering how he asked you why multiple times and not being able to give him the answer

"Do you think it could've worked if only I held on to you tighter or would you have hated if I did?" he asks

"Probably, but we won't know. I'd rather keep our memories in a good way than regret it"

"Do you hate me?

He waits.

One second.

Two seconds.

His clock stops once again because of you.

Then he hears you speak,

"Never"

You smile at him warmly, just like you used to. "I know it's hard to understand and accept what I did. I didn't want to drag you down with me, I have bad days and even worse days. Back then it felt like you were the only good thing in my life, I was scared that one day I wasn't going to have that"

"So you walked away before anything bad happens?" he continues for you, "I get that, when things get to much the first thing you can think of is to run. It's natural to have a fight or flight response"

"Don't get to academic with me" you mumble, making the guy across from you chuckle before turning serious again

"No really, boyfriend or not you can still talk to me. If it gets too much, you don't have to run all the time. I'll stay right here, I won't go anywhere so when you need someone you can come to me. Run to me, instead than run away from me"

Mark has always had a way with words, this time instead of running away again you listen to him. Sharing a smile.

"I'll walk you home"

"What time is your last class?" Mark asks you over the phone, after that talk you had the two of you have been hanging out more. Taking his promise of being your friend seriously. Now, there isn't a day when you don't talk to each other.

"My last class is over, I'm here at the library. Why?"

"Do you have an umbrella?"

"Why would I need-" just then a loud thunder resonates outside, feeling the rumble of it from inside the library. You then remember the umbrella you left in your room this morning thinking you weren't going to need it.

"I'm outside" he says then hangs up. Quickly you fix your things and made your way outside the library and sure enough Mark's there waiting for you.

It's only a matter of time before the butterflies in your stomach takes over, and this warm feeling in your chest burst out but for now you choose to ignore it. Choosing not to risk this second chance with him.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him even though you've been waiting to see him the whole day.

"What do you think, I'm walking you home" he tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You have one umbrella, we're not gonna fit there"

"We'll make due, now come on. I'll make us rament later" he says as he pulls your bag from your grasp and sling it on his shoulder. He then takes his hand that wasn't holding the umbrella to hold yours, tugging you right beside him as the two of you make your way outside.

The two of you underestimated the rain and the size of his umbrella because by the time you arrive at your apartment, only the top of your heads weren't wet by the rain.

Quickly opening the door to get inside, you kick your shoes off and turn the lights on

"I think I have some clothes for you, wait here I'll get you towels" you tell him

But before you could walk away from him, you feel his grasp on your wrist holding you back.

"Do you need something?" you ask him

"I- I just feel like if I don't take this chance right now then I would end up regretting it again, just like when I let you go the first time"

"Mark"

"No, you were right, I won't blame you for our past. I can't be angry at you for choosing yourself. We both needed that to grow and learn and discover ourselves. This right now feels like our second chance, I'm not about to risk it and hope for another one to come by. For once, I'm going to take this chance with you. That is if you'll have me"

Maybe he doesn't know just how much he drives you crazy, just how much you'd risk to have another chance with him. It dawned on you just now how it didn't matter what's at stake if you try again with him because what matters the most is him.

Then suddenly you leap right in his arms, not expecting this Mark stumbles a few steps back. But he catches you, holding you close to him like he was afraid you might float away from him.

"I'd take that as a yes"

You lean back enough to meet his eyes, "See, you still know me best. Why don't we get back together" you tease him.

"I asked first" he pouts at you.

Your adorable Mark pouts at you. How can you ever say no to him if he's this cute and adorable. He knows exactly how to use it against you.

"What if it gets too much, if I get too much?" you ask

"You're never too much to me, nothing I can't handle. I love you, all of you. I'll stay here and tell you everyday until you get tired of me"

You giggle at his words, burying your head on his shoulder. You feel him kiss the top of your head before putting you down on your feet.

It's always scary taking chances, but to you and Mark it's scarier to let it pass again. This time you know you don't need to bet anything because you're sure he's there to stay with you.

#fic #story #tags #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct mark #mark lee #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct reco #nct reads #nct au #nct scenario #nct one shot #mark lee imagine #mark lee boyfriend #nct boyfriend #mark lee scenario #mark lee au #mark lee fluff #haechan #hendery

[princessconsuela120]

Chapter seventeen: Vienna Waits for You —✧

Series masterlist

Chapter Warnings: cursing, labor, pregnancy

Author's Note: Last chapter guys!! This story has been a whirlwind, I almost don't want it to end...I love this story with my whole heart. Leave comments let me know your thoughts and feelings, and send in requests, I'm going to post more about Kyle and Juno in the near future!!!

—✧

I think if there’s one thing in this world I love more than Kyle, it was Dirty Dancing. I may have just watched this movie 20 times before and never got tired of it. So being able to relax and sit with my brother in our living room, in our new house, our own house. It felt better than anything ever had. Kyle had a final game today, a huge one in the playoffs. They’d have college recruits and professionals there. But of course I couldn’t go. I had been on bed rest since leaving Kenny’s house a week ago.

“I just don’t understand why she wouldn’t just tell her dad?” Stan said, holding his hand out angrily at the tv screen. I rolled my eyes, shoving a handful of popcorn in my mouth.

“She wants to, he made her too afraid to. She loves him so much, she doesn’t wanna loose him.” I explained, shaking my head at the emotional scene that took place on the screen. Stan nodded, getting up carefully and dusting his pants off as he did.

“Makes sense. I’m gonna go grab a water you want anything?”

“Waters good, thanks brotha.” I said thankfully, doing a quick handshake with Stan before he walked away into the kitchen. I indulged in shoving my face with popcorn until a strange trickle of water started to soak the blanket, catching my attention.

“Umm…Stan!” I yelled, looking down as I pulled the popcorn off my lap, not caring about the popcorn that split all over the couch.

“Yeah Junebug?” Stan yelled back from the kitchen. I stood up, with much difficulty but I got there.

“Either I just pissed my pants or..” I paused, seeing Stan shoot his head out from the kitchen.

“Or?” He said, quickly coming over to me. We both looked down at the puddle on the floor, then back up at each other.

“Thunder cats a go!” I shouted, gesturing for Stan to go grab my hospital bag as before he came back, holding my arm to help walk me to the car.

“Cartman!” Stan yelled, earning a snarky shout back in response.

“What do you want!” He yelled annoyed. He came to the edge of the steps, his eyes widening when he saw Stan and I with my hospital bag.

“It’s go time!” He yelled, making Stan and I nod.

“It’s go time!” Stan yelled, calling Kenny as well as we all made our way out to the car.

“Fall out! Fall out!”

“Oh fuck!” I shouted, making Stan stop to grab my arm.

“You okay?” He asked, making me glare at him.

“No I’m not fucking okay! I have a baby trying to claw it’s way out of my vag!”

“Where’s Kahl?” Cartman asked, me sighing as he did.

“Basketball game, big game, don’t call him.” I explained, running my hands over my stomach to try and soothe myself.

“And risk being cursed by his Jew magic? Um, no thank you.”

“Glad you're back to your old self again Cartman.” Stan said, patting Cartman’s back as Stan and I went through a list of things we needed.

“The admittance forms?”

“Got them.”

“Parking stickers?”

“Got them.”

“Ow fuck!” I groaned loudly, causing the boys to look at each other and nod, both of them holding one of my arms to help me walk as Kenny ran down with the rest of our things.

“Yeah. Here we go.” Stan said, helping me into the car as Cartman and Kenny sat on either side of me in the back, holding onto my hands.

“All right, go.”

“Gas! Gas!” Kenny shouted, causing Stan to snap at him angrily.

“Shut up Kenny!”

“Drive damn you! Why aren’t you fucking driving!?” I shouted, throwing my head back as I kicked my feet from the pain.

“It’s a red light..” stan said, but I moved to be closer to him, pulling his collar.

“I don’t give a fucking damn if it’s a red light Stan, fucking go!”

—✧

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Out of the way. Out of the way. Hold on.”Kenny cheered, running around pushing me in my wheelchair as we laughed.

“Kenny, stop it. For God's sake, stop it. Don't do that.” Stan said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the wheel chair and holding it still.

“What? But it's fun.”

“Don't. You're making Tweek nervous.”

“Ugh, oh my god.. Stan where’s mom, where is she?” I asked angrily, trying to breath even though it wasn’t working.

“Mom and dad are on their way.”

“Ugh, dads coming? Ughhh.”

“I know Junebug. It’s okay just breathe.” Stan soothed, holding mu hand, kissing my palm to desperately try to calm me. It seemed to work, my breathing slowed and i smiled at her twin.

“We’re here!” That is until Randy came into the room shouting. “Emergency! My daughter is in labor, I demand to know where she is!”

“Mom, dad!” I called happily, the marsh’s running over to me quickly.

“Oh honey. How do you feel baby?”

“Not good. Not good at all.”

“Welcome to the wonders of child birth.”

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up, pass out and have explosive diarrhea all at once.” I say, making Randy sigh, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“That happens to me when I eat too much chipotle. I get the feeling.” Everyone turned to Randy, glaring at him as he looked around at the group. “Yeah I’ll just stop talking.”

“Where’s Kyle?” Sharon asked, making me sigh.

“He has a basketball game, it’s the finals.” I explained, making Sharon and Randy share a look.

“You didn’t call him?” She asked, making me sigh.

“I didn’t want him to miss this because of me.”

“Juno honey..”

“Just leave it mom.” I yelled, shaking my head as i held onto my stomach. “Please. I can’t let him miss more opportunities because of me. There’s big coaches there and college recruits.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Juno Marsh?” The doctor called, causing everyone with me to look over.

“Yes, that’s me.” I said, smiling at the doctor as my mom sighed.

“Your room is ready for you.”

“Oh thank fucking Jesus.”

—✧

It had now been a couple hours of simply waiting. The baby was taking their time, it was evident now after the 5th hour and I was only 2 centimeter dilated. Stan and I had been walking back and forth around the room, them only letting family stay with me yet sonehow Kenny had managed to stay. They said walking helps, which is a load of bullshit because I couldn’t even walk without Stan and it didn’t help.

“When do I get that frigging spinal-tap thing?” I asked, turning to my mom who was watching us pace.

“It's a spinal block, and you can't have it yet, honey. The doctor said you're not dilated enough.”

“Oh, come on. I mean, it's like...I have to wait for it to get worse? Why can't I have the thing now? It’s been five fucking hours of this.”

“Doctors are sadists who like to play God and watch lesser people scream.” Dad said, making us all look over at him until another contraction hit, worse than the last.

“Oww! Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.”

“You were right, I do hate this experience.” Kenny said, earning a glare from Stan who’s hands I was squeezing.

“Just, in through your nose out through your mouth. I got you Junebug.” He guided, but it wasn’t working.

“Ow, Stan it hurts so bad.”

—✧

I decided not in call Kyle to tell him I was having the baby. He had a big meet against North Park...And I didn't want him to get all worried about me. But he figured it out anyway.

“I came here as quick as I could!” Kyle yelled, running into the room and grabbing my hand. My eyes widened when I saw him, my heart breaking yet so happy to see him all at once.

“Kyle? Kyle honey, you’re game..” I begged, but he just held my face before pulling me into a hug.

“I knew when none of you were there that it must have meant it was go time.” He said, holding me closely before pulling away. He frowned when he saw tears in my eyes, wipping my eyes with his thumb. “Why are you crying love?”

“Im sorry, I should’ve told you I just.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I know.” He nodded, I nodded back. He kissed me quickly before helping me sit back in my bed, sitting beside me, his hand never leaving mine.

“Hey sweetie, how are you doing?” Mrs Broflovski said, having followed Kyle in, smiling sympathetically.

“Not good. Good god, I don’t know why it’s taking so long. I've already been here for three hours.”

“I know honey, you and Stan were 12 hours.”

“Kyle was 22.”

“Oh god..” I groaned, hiding my face in Kyle’s shoulder as he glared at his dad.

“Not helping dad.”

We sat back together on the bed, and I screamed loudly, hiding my face in the mattress. I grabbed the first hand I could and squeezed, which just so happened to be my father.

“Excuse me. Hey, can we give my kid the damn spinal tap already?” He shouted, sighing happily when I pulled away from the pain I was causing him, making him wince as he shook his hand.

—✧

When it came time to final deliver the baby I had practically begged the doctor to lie and tell my family only Kyle was allowed in the hospital room. Of course, Stan and Dad over heard and argued they’re way inside, somehow Kenny managed to sneak in here and my mom was welcomed by me with open arms.

“Breath and push. That's good.” The doctor said, making me scream in pain as they coached me through.

“Push. Keep pushing.”

“Come on, Juno, keep pushing.”

“Keep pushing, keep pushing.”

“I can’t, my god I can’t push anymore.” I said breathlessly, not even able to tell who was talking anymore.

“I can’t watch this.” Kenny said, turning away at the pain his friend endured.

“It’s okay honey you can do it…”

“You try pushing a watermelon out of your ass dad then you can tell me what I can do!” I shouted at him, making him raise a hand hesitantly.

“I..”

“Randy Marsh if you say anything about PF Changs right now I swear to god…” my mom shouted, making him frown and sit back down.

(if you get it you get it)

“Juno you’re the strongest woman I know, you got this.” Kyle whispered, being the closets person to me, letting me cry into his shoulder.

“It’s hurts Kyle, it hurts so bad, please. I don’t wanna push anymore, I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of? Baby I’m right here next to you.”

It was as if the world paused, and Mr and Kyle where the only ones in the room still going.

“What if I can’t, what if I can’t do it?” I cried, making him sigh, kissing my temple regardless of the sweat.

“You, Juno Marsh, my sun my moon. My sky and stars, whatever you put your mind to you can accomplish. And no matter where you go I will always be right here, holding your hand.”

And then reality came back.

“I see the head!” The nurse yelled, causing the pain to become even worse.

“What?! The head? Oh fuck..”

“Oh my god..” my dad said, before promptly fainting onto the ground.

“Dad?!”

“He did this when you two were born too.” My mom said, making Stan chuckle.

“A few more big pushes.”

Next it was Kenny’s turn to faint.

“Oh my god! You killed Kenny!” Stan said, looking over to where Kenny was being checked out by nurses after having fainted.

“No I didn’t you bastard he just passed out.”

“That’s why I’m not looking below the stomach.” Stan said, before I could laugh another scream came out.

“Ahh!”

And then, out of nowhere, there it was. There she was.

“It’s a girl.”

And then came the tears. They placed her on my chest, and once again the world stopped. And it was just her, eyes closed, and so damn beautiful.

“Hi there little one.” I whispered, afraid I would wake bother her if I spoke too loud. She was crying, but I didn’t care. “Oh my god Kyle she’s so little.” I said, holding onto her tiny fingers.

“I know.”

“Oh Juno, she's precious.” My mom said, leaning over to look at the baby. I smiled over at her, my dad getting up just in time as everyone surrounded us by the bed.

“Did she just come outta me?”

“She did. You did it.”

“Oh my god. Hi, hi you.” I cried, Kyle wipping my tears as he laid his head against mine.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

—✧

“Alright, where are they, where’s my grand baby!” Shelia cheered, running in the room frantically with excitement.

“Over here ma.” Kyle said quietly, making Shelia squeal.

“Oh my goodness. Oh how precious.”

“I knew it was gonna be a girl.” Randy teased, making Juno tease him back.

“Oh Juno honey she’s so beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“She looks just like you Kyle.” Gerald complimented, making him shake his head.

“No, she has Juno’s baby blue eyes.”

“It’s those strong Marsh genes.” My dad said, patting my shoulder proudly.

“Gimme my grand baby. Hello little bubby.” Shelia said, taking the baby in her arms happily.

“Ma, be careful.”

“Aww look at you, already a protective father.” She teased, pinching his cheek making Kyle blush.

“Ma, stahp.”

“Okay my turn, my turn! I was in the waiting room getting my blood pressure done when she was born.” My dad said, taking the baby from Shelia. She immediately snuggled into his arms, babbling lightly. I’m sure she thought he was Stan.

“I can’t believe you passed out.” Kyle’s dad joked, making my dad roll his eyes.

“Shut up Gerald! You watch a baby come out of your daughter then you can judge me!” He looked down at the baby happily. “Hi, hey little one. Oh my god she’s so little, yes you are you’re such a little girl. My little buddy.”

The baby smiled at him, as if she could understand.

“Aww, Randy I think she likes you.” My mom said, dad smiling happily.

“Smart kid.” And on queue, she started crying. “No, no you like me!”

“It’s okay dad, I think she’s just hungry.” I said, holding out my hands so he would hand her back.

“We have to try breastfeeding again..mom?”

“Right, yes.”

“Alright we’ll, we’ll leave you guys too it.” Shelia said, the two walking out the room.

“Thanks guys.”

“Before we go..What’s name did you decide on?”

Kyle and I smiled at each other, before telling.

(You’ll find out soon)

—✧

Everyone came in shortly after. And when I say everyone I mean everyone. The room could barely hold us all. But yet they were here, and each and every person got a chance to hold the new baby, with happy smiles on their face. Stan may be her only blood uncle, be man would this baby have so many aunts and uncles to love her.

“Hey, come on in.” Kyle said softly, calling everyone into the room.

“Hi.”

“Oh my god.” Wendy gasped, making me chuckle.

Would ya look at that? “Oh my god Juno she’s so tiny.”

“I know right?” I said, gesturing the baby out for everyone to see.

“Look at her little fingers.” Heidi cooed, holding onto one of her hands gently.

“Oh she’s gonna be so spoiled.”

“I can’t wait to spend so much money on you, make you the biggest fashionista ever.” Bebe cooed next, making us all chuckle at her words.

“Aw, Juno can I hold her?” Wendy asked, causing me to nod.

“Of course you can. Kyle?”

“Here, cradle her head, and hold her there, perfect.” He explained, placing her gently in Wendy’s arms.

“I think I’m gonna cry. She’s so precious.” Wendy said, making me laugh. “Kyle she looks just like you. She even has your ginger curls.”

“The only ginger I’ll ever like.” Eric teased, earning a light shove from Stan.

“I can’t believe you made this.” Craig teased, holding Vienna next. Then she was passed over to Butters, who already fell in love with her chubby cheeks.

“Hey little buddy, you’re just a little lady aren’t you?” He said, cooing at her as she shifting gently in his arms.

“Look at those eyes, they’re gorgeous.” Heidi compliments, making Wendy shove Stan lightly.

“Aw Stan she has your eyes.”

“I know, isn't it great?” Stan said wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, those are my eyes too, give me some credit.” I joked, causing Wendy to look at me with a pout.

“How to you feel mamas?” She asked sympathetically, making me sigh.

“Okay. A little sore.” I shifted my position, wincing at the pain in my abdomen. “A lot sore. But I’ll manage.”

“You did so good. I'm so proud of you.”

Kyle placed a soft kiss to my cheek, leaving a smile on my face as the group smiled at me.

“We all are.”

“I can’t believe you made this.” Kenny said, looking down at the baby in his hands.

“I know, right?”

“So, what’s her name then?”

Kyle and I looked at each other, smiling.

“It was a hard decision, but we came to a decision. Vienna Lianne Marsh-Broflovski.”

“Lianne?” Eric asked, his head perking up at the name.

“You may not know it Eric, but your mom touched a lot more lives then you both knew.” Kyle explained, making Eric smile.

“Yeah, and so will she.”

“Do you wanna hold her Eric?” Butters offered, now being his turn to hold Vienna.

“Not yet, I don’t wanna bruise something so precious.”

I smiled at Eric, butters handing me back Vienna as I carefully shifted her in my arms.

“How do I look?” I asked, making Stan smile.

“Like a new mom. Scared shitless.”

—✧

Kyle was up, I don’t think he’s slept since the baby was even born. There was a chair beside our bed, he hadn’t left that spot either. He helped me sit up with the baby, practicing walking myself over to the chair to sit in his lap.

“That’s it, you got it.” He reassured, helping me sit back as I cradled the baby in my arms.

“Careful. I don’t wanna wake her.”

“It’s okay, I got you love, just sit back.”

We both seemed to sigh with joy, before looking down at the baby.

“She’s perfect, you’re perfect.” Kyle kissed my cheek, holding a hand on the blanket carefully.

“She looks so peaceful.” I said, rocking her gently.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’m home.” I said, my eyes never leaving the baby in my arms.

It ended with a chair.

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick x reader #stan marsh x sister reader

[jcbbby]

"i’ll come running whenever you need me. "

This sentence with Jamie

I'm sorry, this feels incredibly rushed... But I hope it still makes you smile! :) Thank you for the prompt! <3

Warnings: None!

(send me a sentence or line of dialogue and I’ll write a little something Jamie/Henry/001/Kit Marlowe-related with it)

-

This week had been awful. You got home from work, tossing your keys and bag haphazardly on to the table by the door, going directly to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Just something to soothe the frayed nerves. At least you were going to FaceTime with Jamie tonight. He was away in Europe filming a new movie, while you stayed home in LA. It had been about 2 weeks now, out of 6 he would be gone, and you wanted nothing more than to just cuddle up with him.

After slipping into some comfy clothes, a pair of shorts and one of Jamie's shirts, you poured another glass of wine and got comfy on the couch, eagerly awaiting the sound of your phone ringing. Finally, his icon popped up as your phone rang and you smiled wide as you hit the green checkmark, pulling up Jamie's live video.

"Hello my love!" He waved on your tiny screen.

"Hi baby! How are you doing?" You smiled back.

"I'm good, yeah. Just had a shower and relaxing with some tea. How about you?"

You held up your glass of wine, pouting. Jamie laughed.

"Oh, no. Tough day again too?" He asked matching your downturned lips.

"Probably the worst of the week, honestly. Someone side swiped my car. The whole side is dented and the paint taken off. They didn't even leave a note or anything. I mean, insurance will cover it...but still, are you kidding me?" You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your glass.

"Oh, god...I'm sorry, darling. You've really had a shocker of a week, huh?"

You nodded. "Messed up that big project at work, spilled coffee all over my new white shirt, broke my favorite necklace you gave me, Stephanie is mad at me for who knows what, now my car...a week from hell."

"Well, at least the week is over now. You made it through, love." He smiled.

You inhaled and exhaled smiling back. "Yeah...I wish you were here though. You always make everything better. I miss you."

"I miss you too, darling. I'm sorry I'm not there." He frowned.

"No, no it's okay. You're working, being the best actor in the world and all." You giggled.

He chuckled. "Oh, don't try to flatter me...you know my ego is big enough."

Talking to Jamie made you feel a lot better. Or maybe it was the wine. Or both. But you went to bed that night feeling a little better at least.

The next morning, you decided you would be active, as it was a lovely day. A leisurely bike ride sounded good...until it wasn't.

"Hi baby, what's up? Jamie said picking up the phone, sounding cheery.

You sniffled. "I'm in the ER."

"What?! What happened, are you okay?" He exclaimed.

"I'm okay, I just...I went for a bike ride this morning." You sniffled again. "And I don't know what happened, I must have hit a patch of something and I fell off. I think I broke my arm."

"Oh...my love...you poor thing. Ugh..." You didn't see, as you were having a regular phone call, so Jamie wouldn't see your puffy, red eyes from crying, but he ran his hand over his face. "Well, keep me updated, okay? I can come home if you need me to-"

"No, no." You shook your head. "No, you're working. I'll be okay. I just wanted to let you know- oh, the doctor's here. I'll call you back. I love you."

"I love you too, darling." The two of you hung up.

After a series of x-rays, it was determined you had indeed broken your arm, in two places. You were put into a sling for the next week, before you could get into the orthopedic specialist to be fitted for a full cast. You texted Jamie, slowly, with your non-dominant hand, to let him know the deal. He offered again to come home, but you wouldn't dream of making him do that, filming has only just started anyway.

After a couple days at home, the limitations that your injury imposed became incredibly frustrating. Since it was your dominant hand, even simple tasks were a struggle. You called Jamie this morning, just needing to talk.

"I just want to wash my hair!" You whimpered on the phone to Jamie. "I can't even put it up in a ponytail. I feel so gross, I just want to wash my hair." You wiped a tear.

"Baby...I'm sorry you're having such a hard time. I love you so much." Jamie comforted you as you vented and cried before he had to leave to get back to set.

You spent the rest of the day sulking on the couch watching trash TV. Eventually, at some point you fell asleep watching the dull, plot-lacking reality shows. You awoke several hours later, hearing your door open and then close. You shot up, eyes fixed toward the sound of footsteps coming closer. Your hear pounded, mentally preparing yourself to be met with an intruder since you weren't expecting anyone. Your fear quickly flipped to surprise when you saw Jamie's face come around the corner. He stopped and immediately smiled when his eyes met yours. You blinked, wondering if you were maybe just dreaming.

"Jamie? But how did...when did...w-what are you doing here?"

"I'll come running whenever you need me. Even if we're across oceans." He smiled. "I was already on my way here when you called earlier, I was on a layover in New York.. When I said I had to get back to set, I was boarding my flight."

Your mouth hung open for a moment. "I don't deserve you, you angel man. I really don't." You shook your head, laughing lightly, eyes welling.

"So, would you like some help washing your hair, beautiful?" He smiled.

You nodded, allowing him to help you up as you both made your way to the bathroom. You turned to him as he reached to get the water running in the tub.

"I love you, thank you for always being there for me." You hugged him with your good arm.

"I always will be." He smiled, placing a kiss to your temple.

#jamie campbell bower fluff #jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie bower fluff #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower rpf #jamie bower rpf #jamie campbell bower #jamie bower

[gfdatingsim]

HOO you don't have to respond to this bc I'm gonna RAMBLE but I just wanted to say thank you so much for making this game. I remember when it first came out years ago, I love dating sims, but I had never seen Gravity Falls before. I thought "aw man, if I play this, a bunch of references will probably go over my head huh" so I decided to actually sit and watch GF, I binged it and managed to finish the whole series in about two or three days. I wouldn't have taken initiative to watch the show at *all* if it wasn't for this dating sim, but I sincerely love visual novels more than anything else in the world, and I am so glad I watched the show. I really enjoyed it. Now, years have passed, I decided that I wanted to replay this dating sim again today, but it'd been years since I'd played or even watched the show and I didn't remember much of anything at all, so I rewatched again and fell in love like the first time. I'm pretty sure I sped through the episodes in less than five days this week because I was so so so excited to play this game again. I smiled SO big when I heard the music after opening the title screen. Felt like coming home.

I can tell a lot of love was put into this game. I've tried making dating sims before, just personal ones for my own self indulgence with my OCs and such, and like... dude, it's so hard! Making games is hard!!! Pushing yourself to actually finish a game is hard! Not to mention coding, that's like a whole other can of worms more tempting to never open. So the fact that you finished this game is impressive just in itself! Not only does your game seem so in-character, making it so easy to read everything in the character voices, but it's got such expressive sprites!! I cannot tell you how many otomes I've played where the sprites are just one plain expression with maybe 3 different eyebrow angles and just a switch between a smile and a frown. But your sprites really move!! The body language!! Oh my god. The way the sprites are colored to fit the setting. Like their coloring is darker if they're outside, and even tinted red in the sunset backgrounds. I literally just sat and stared at the screen when that first transition into nighttime happened and you see the characters matching. I was so impressed. Even Stan's hands in his pockets change when he bunches his shoulders forward ever so slightly. The attention to detail is amazing. The outfit changes too!!! Ahh!!! :D

The illustrations. Wow. Just.. man, please let me ramble about the CGs, they're gorgeous. The brush strokes look so so so soft and the fact that so much time was put even into the backgrounds... lineless and so clean... every few minutes I take the time to just stare at the artwork. I rarely draw backgrounds because I find it so difficult, and anyone who has the patience to make backgrounds and also paint is really admirable to me. I'm so blown away by the art in this game. The illustrations are magnificent. There is genuine fondness and joy in their eyes in each drawing and it's so pretty to just [parks and rec voice] this is beautiful, I've been staring at these for 5 hours now

I'm so happy to have found a fan-made dating sim who is not only true to the characters, but also slowburn. It feels real, making a genuine connection with these characters at a steady pace, not rushing into things. And maybe this is just because I'm ace, but agh, I can't tell you how refreshing it is to play a game where I don't have to do anything raunchy to get a good ending... like, I've played so many dating sims, it's one of my favorite things to do, but it's always a little bit disheartening to only get a good ending if you do something sexual, from the perspective of a person who. well. isn't! And when I replayed this game today, I remembered "oh yeah... I don't have to worry about that sort of thing" and it also makes me feel more lovable because... well. ahh this might sound dumb but it made me feel like these two would really truly love me, not just despite me being ace, but maybe even *because* of it? It was so refreshing, I'm sorry I'm not the best with putting things into words but I hope I was able to phrase it clear enough to state: I am really, really grateful that this game is made the way that it is, that someone like me is able to play it without any worries. A huge lift off of my shoulders. I can't tell you how many otomes I've played where I've gotten a bad ending or a neutral ending just bc I didn't sleep with someone. Playing this and just having pure fluff and kisses (with a bit of the steamy makeouts on Stan's route? heehee) Hoooo, that was perfect, that was just perfect.

This message is getting so long fjdhkfh I'm sorry I was gonna ramble more about how much I love the game like, the dates, how the dates are very fun to play bc there's such a variety of things to do that makes you feel like you're really in Gravity Falls, and I love how you get to interact with many more characters on the side without it distracting from the main storyline, like interacting with Dipper and Mabel and even Dan and Susan, things like that! I love the little mini games like boxing and playing dungeons, I love that you have to really work hard to get the perfect endings and that Ford takes a little more time to open up about his feelings - hell, I love the little detail that you have to encrypt the codes to get their walkthroughs!! That's such a cute little touch! This whole thing couldn't be more perfect. I adore everything about this game, it's very dear to my heart. You've all put so much love into it, I don't think there's any other fan-made games out there for any other fandoms I'm in, at least to my knowledge, that are so well put together. It's one of my favorite things and I love replaying it at least once a year. Thank you for making me feel like these characters would love me, it helped me through a tough time lately, I've been in and out of the hospital for a few months and this game gave me some much needed comfort today. I hope everyone who worked on this game is doing well right now. And know that there is some random person out there on this planet under the same sky as you, who is always going to cherish the love put into this game, forever, always gonna have a special place in my heart for it and I am so thankful it exists 🥰💙

i love that you noticed so many details about the game!

reading this felt like looking into a mirror a couple times--i've had a similar experience with vns/dating sims, though for me i gave in and stopped playing them bc it felt like while i loved the genre, it never loved me. i've felt those thoughts and worries myself, so i'm really glad you can just relax with this one!!

thank you so much for sending this in :') i hope you're doing well right now too!

#sovo answers

[maybankiara]

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

24: WHEREVER YOU GO NEXT

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead. w/c: 3.5k a/n: the mallory family holds a christmas eve dinner. this one is also perfectly timed with the holiday season which i'm buzzing about!! (might be a few typos - i apologise in advance) read on wattpad previous part | series masterlist

When her phone buzzes, it’s Drew’s name flashing on the screen, alongside a photo attachment. Addie chuckles to herself—it could be literally anything—and goes back to writing the email for Wes and Raiden, attaching the files Holden had her look over. By the time she’s finished, Drew's sent about a dozen more messages. 

  Addie opens them to be met with a blond toddler, grinning at the camera while sitting on a tractor big enough to make him seem like an ant. He’s got Drew’s excited grin: slightly lopsided and a little mischievous. It’s a cute photo, and Addie would’ve told him so, if she didn’t have another two dozen photos to look through. They’re all of Drew, from a toddler to a teenager, sometimes with other kids or family members. He accompanies each with context (‘I was sixteen and my parents knew I’d drink in high school so they got me drunk home first and I didn’t know they took photos until this morning') and Addie finds herself laughing as she keeps going. 

  It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s weird, too, because Addie realises she’s struggling to accept that this little boy sitting in a tractor is Drew. She always just kind of pictured him at his current age, and anything else felt surreal. 

  So that’s what she texts him: ‘I know this is proof you were a kid once but I still don’t believe it’

  Her dad knocks on her door a few moments later, leaning on the doorframe with his head tilted and a playful smile on his lips, even if his hands are crossed on his chest. ‘Don’t you think you should put work aside for a little while?’

  ‘Can’t do that,’ Addie says, spinning around in her chair to face him. ‘Grubson Law will fall apart if I do that.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m pretty important there.’

  ‘Well, I’m not surprised. You’re pretty important everywhere.’ Zion winks at her. ‘Especially downstairs, because Donnie wants you to know that your checkers throne is, um, quaking.’

  Addie chuckles. ‘Has he been practising?’

  ‘Well, Addison… I think today might be the day.’

  The image of Donnie getting the whole family into helping him practise for beating her one day is endearing to say the least. She’s known about this for a while – Liyah has sent her photos of Fun Fridays that now include checkers as a staple. Checkers with Donnie have always been one of Addie’s favourite perks of visiting her family.

  Addie smiles. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

  As her father leans against the doorframe with his arms on his chest, Addie finds the resmblance to Dwayne Johnson again. He’s bigger than she’s last seen him and brighter, like there’s a spring to his step, even just standing like this. 

  ‘You’re looking better, Dad,’ she says. ‘Gym and the new job look good on you.’

  ‘Thanks, Chione.’

  Addie sighs at her father’s insistence to use her middle name instead of her first, but there’s no bite to it. The phone buzzes and she throws a glance—it’s Drew—before putting it in her pocket. She’s ready to go, but Zion is still standing there, looking around the room with fondness in his eyes. 

  ‘You know,’ he says, ‘even though it’s been years since this was really your room, whenever I walk past it, some part of me still expects to see you hunched over your desk, studying.’

  ‘Really? That was ages ago.’

  He shrugs. ‘It’s just not the same without you.’

  ‘Dad,’ she whispers, and then she’s hugging him like she’s six again, terrified of going to school for the first time, with only her dad’s arms to hold her. ‘You’re going to make me cry.’

  ‘Now that’d be a feat.’ 

  ‘I’m not joking.’

  Zion chuckles, regardless, and kisses the top of her head. ‘I look at you and I see a woman that I will be proud of for the rest of my life.’

  Addie feels herself tremble. Zion squeezes her harder, plants another kiss, and then he’s patting her back and letting go. 

  ‘C’mon. You need to defend your throne from Donnie.’

  ‘I’ll be right down.’

  The door closes and she’s alone again, her chest heavy with the emotions swirling around it. She takes a moment to compose herself and drinks some of her water, waiting to go down until her eyes don’t feel like they could betray her. Her phone buzzes with another text from Drew and she shoots a quick response, promising to send some photos of her own later.

  Addie makes her way downstairs and tries to remember her best checkers strategies, to remember Donnie’s, to figure out how to beat him before the game’s even begun.

  She doesn’t, though. It’s the best day of her brother’s life.  

◇

Christmas Eve dinner is the tradition of the Mallory family and as such, is held every year at precisely seven o'clock, with the same roast chicken being served, the same homemade gravy and Liyah’s same precisely cut roast potatoes, amongst other constant elements. The latter is a recent addition – Liyah was twelve when she decided that she had inherited the Mallory chef gene, and started delighting the entire family and beyond with her ability which at this point, in Addie’s opinion, rivals Marianne’s.

  Before the dinner, there is usually a speech. It’s similar to Thanksgiving, except they don’t go around the circle and say what they’re thankful for – instead, they speak of the good and the bad alike, and anything else worth for the entire family to hear. It’s one of the traditions Addie knows she’ll bring into her own family someday. 

  It’s the sight of all the people who make up her home at a table, holding hands while they wait for the dinner to begin, that makes her wonder if she’s ever truly appreciated the cards she’d been dealt.

  Zion clears his throat, rising to his feet. ‘I believe it’s time for me to say a few words.’

  Addie looks at her mother, only to find her eyes shining for her husband, with the gentlest of the smiles in the corner of her mouth.

  Imani has always been the one with the knack for creating an atmosphere. From the soft jazz playing from her vinyl collection in the living room to the candles scattered around the dining room, replacing the main light for the main event. Even the evergreen-ivory theme of the table extends to the rest of the room, giving it a sense of home that grounds Addie. 

  She thinks back to the first Christmas Eve dinner she can recall, when she was five and an only kid. They lived in an apartment in the centre of Denver where the dining room was also the kitchen and the living room, and there was a small roast chicken and a candle or two, with her father’s potato wedges the only food other than the chicken. It was modest and it was the most magical thing Addie had ever seen at the time. 

  Looking over her family now, even with Donnie’s eyes very clearly hungry for those Liyah’s wedges, Christmas Eve still feels like magic. 

  Zion clinks a fork against his glass. ‘When you get to my age, you realise that everything you’ve ever done is so that your children wouldn’t have to go through the same things.’ His voice is kind and his eyes go from one child to another. ‘Every hardship your mum and I faced has been so we could be sitting at this table today, all five of us. I look at you and I see everything I’ve ever wanted in life.’

  Every Christmas Eve, when Zion Mallory holds the speech, the house itself takes a breath, and the world slows to a halt. There is little remarkable about the man, Addie would have to admit, but that’s what she appreciates the most – even in moments like these, he is never trying to be anyone other than himself.

  Her dad.

  ‘Everybody thinks they’ve got the best family,’ he says, ‘but I know I do.’

  Liyah groans. Addie only hears because she’s sitting right next to her, and she gives her a light kick on the shin – she used to feel the same about Zion’s grand speeches, until she moved away and started hearing less and less of them.

  Liyah will appreciate it more, one day.

  ‘We’ve been through a lot to get our family here today,’ continues Zion. He gripts the back of Imani’s chair, and his wife rests her hand on his. ‘We’ve gone through many jobs, many houses, many of everything to finally own this place. To be able to sit here and call this our home. For the three of you to have grown up here.’

  ‘Donnie hasn’t,’ Liyah says. ‘He’s still five.’

  The boy in question puts. ‘Twelve.’

  ‘Same difference.’

  Zion looks at them from underneath his brow, head tilted, menacing even if there’s a smile on his face. ‘Aaliyah. Adonis.’

  The two apologise and Addie meets her mother’s eyes, both of them laughing quietly at the situation. There’s a running bet around the household to see who will manage to draw Zion out of his speech mood, yet for ten Christmas Eve dinners, no one has succeeded.

  Not even today.

  Addie listens to the speech with gleam in her eyes. If someone were to look at her from the outside, they’d see the love pouring out of her – she’s always been a daddy’s girl. She’s seen him hit rock bottom and build himself back up while raising three children and raising them well, and if he can do that, then she can get do anything, too.

  She herself reeling in her father’s words and their delivery – in another life, he would’ve been a preacher. He would’ve been the one voice to manage to make the world a better place. 

  There’s always been something about Christmas that makes her want to take life by the reins again, to do the things she’s afraid of doing. She looks at her siblings and her mother and wonders if they feel the same.

  She’s convinced they do.

  She watches as Donnie grew three times in size when their father talks about his success in grade school. Donnie’s ADHD doesn’t come up but it’s in the back of everyone’s minds as he’s reminded of being the top of his class, of his fight against the odds, and of the fact that him keeping up with Liyah and Addie’s successes means he’s no less but more determined and adaptable than they were, because he has to be.

  Donnie doesn’t say a word but he’s smiling, and Addie feels pride swelling in her chest. She’s missed out on so much of her little brother’s life and moments like these just remind her of it.

  Zion spoke about her sister, too, even though she groaned and sighed her way through it. Addie knows that she’ll learn to appreciate it more someday, because she used to be all the same. Addie was just the first – Liyah is the one with a chance at Yale and Harvard and MIT, and Addie gives her a little squeeze on the shoulder. She won the state archery competition, too, which Donnie is most impressed by, and she even got promoted to Assistant Manager at their local pizza place.

  Her siblings are growing up. Moving up in the world. And she’s given up seeing them do that – for what? For a carrer she’s unsure of? For a love that—

  Zion calls her name, shaking the thoughts out of her head. ‘As I said before, I am beyond proud of the woman you’ve become. I see nothing but big thing in store for you. Whatever you decide to do after your internship ends, after you get your degree – whatever you choose for your career, wherever you go next, you are going to make the world a better place for everyone in it.’

  Addie doesn’t even have the strength to say a thank you, just mouths it instead. 

  He moves on to her mother before Addie has had the time to process his words and most of what he says next goes past her head, but she catches the love pouring from his voice. She hears the pride for Imani’s long shifts at the hospital, and the hand on his starts to shake until Imani ends his speech by pulling him in for a kiss. 

  ‘We're proud of you too, my love,’ says Imani as they sit down, hand in hand as her thumb strokes the back of his palm. ‘You are what holds this family together.’

  Zion opens his mouth and Addie knows it’s to protest, except Liyah is faster. ‘You’ve always got our backs. And the reason why we keep fighting is because you’ve never stopped, and you show us that it pays off. You always push us to be the best versions of ourselves.’

  There’s a moment of silence where Zion’s tiny smile is frozen except for the corner of his lips, where it’s twitching a little. ‘Liyah,’ he calls, extending the pause. ‘Your softie is showing.’

  Donnie starts to cackle and Liyah throws her napkin at Zion, who keeps on teasing her. Addie wants to participate but all she can do is watch her family and just be thankful for the life she’s got, for the way she’s been brought up. Sometimes just existing alongside the people you love is enough.

  When the playfulness ceases, the Mallory dinner commences. Addie thinks this Christmas just might top the first one.

◇

By the time Addie is finished wrapping up her presents, it’s nearly two o'clock in the morning. She knows it’ll be a pain when Donnie gets them all up before eight, but it’s nentirely on her. Hanging out with her family on a Christmas Eve until much later than any of them anticipated was worth it, though.

  Now, Addie is in a tank top and pyjama bottoms, and she’s thankful that her fuzzy slippers don’t make noise on the floorboards as she walks down the steps. If Liyah catches her being bad at sneaking again, she’ll never let her live it down. 

  She's good, though – she gets to the Christmas tree without anyone knowing. There’s five gifts she slips under the ones already there, her maroon merging with the family’s traditional ivory- and evergreen-coloured, chess board-patterned wrapping paper. Her family went for ivory-coloured Christmas tree decorations this year, and the entire interior of the house is adorned in bits and pieces of ivory and green. Addie likes it. It’s a little bit tacky, a little over-the-top, but her mother knows how to make a place feel like home. 

  There’s warmth coming from behind her, a little to the right, and she’s half-surprised to see a lit fireplace in the middle of the living room wall. She comes closer and the heat blows into her face, raising some stray baby hairs, and she stares into the open flame until her eyes feel all dried out, and she’s forced to move away and keep her eyes closed for a little while. 

  When she opens them again, she rests her back on the bottom of the couch, enjoying the heat travelling through the floor, pecking at her bare feet. There’s always been a fireplace in this house, but it hadn’t been working for a long time when they moved in, and Addie kind of made peace with it being a decoration rather than a functional way of heating the place. She always liked sitting here when she was younger and couldn’t sleep – there was something grand about trying to picture what a fire would look like there, how it would feel. 

  Addie doesn’t think she ever pictured it this good. With the Christmas tree and presents underneath it, decorations scattered all over the place, and the finally lit fireplace, it looks like anything one could ever hope for in life. Or at least, in Addie’s case. 

  Her palm is lying open on the floor, and she puts it to her face; it’s warm and soft. Her mum would yell at her for doing this, because the floor is dirty, but Addie doesn’t quite care. There's a feeling within her chest that is at peace here – she thinks she could sit like this forever. 

  Some time passes, and Addie’s dazed train of thought takes her to memories, to photos, and the albums she knows her parents keep in the corner of the room. It’s an effort to go and get them, but she does, picking the one labelled 1994 first, and then grabs a couple more from the years that followed. She goes back to her little spot in front of the couch, gets comfortable with a pillow underneath her butt, and begins looking through the album. She hasn’t done this in a while. 

  There's a sense of comfort Addie gets from looking at pictures of her parents from when they were just a little bit older than her, perfectly in love, ready to take on the world together. She has a lot of her mother’s features but her father’s smile, and she’s glad there’s a lot of pictures of him smiling. Pictures of pregnant Imani are gorgeous, and Addie makes a note of telling her that in the morning. Even in the first picture taken after Addie’s birth, with the little baby wrapped up in a towel and pressed to her mother’s chest, Imani looks beautiful in a way that every mother does. 

  It’s not like Addie has baby fever, but she likes to think that someday, she’ll have kids of her own. She hopes that she gets the chance to be as good of a mother as Imani has been to her. 

  Little Addie in the pictures grows fast, and she’s doing everything a toddler shouldn’t. She made fun of Drew's photo of him on a tractor, but there’s photos of Addie on her uncle’s jet-ski, on the fence, even some of her with bloodied knees and a gash on her chin as she waves gleefully from the highest branch of a tree in their backyard, at barely three.  She was a happy kid, and her parents always supported her wild and reckless endeavours. Later, when school came into the picture, she had a little less freedom, and the grazed knees became bruises from bumping into surfaces while waiting tables. 

  She takes a few pictures of the photos, turning the album so the fire would lighten them up enough to be visible on her phone camera. She sends them to Drew, with a few funny captions like his own had been, and sends some of the more embarrassing ones (like Addie crying because Zion smudged some of her fourth birthday cake on her face) to Marianne. 

  Her finger hovers over Holden’s name for a while. She thinks about sending him some of the ones she’d sent to the other two, but doesn’t quite know if...

  Well. She sighs to herself, leaning the back of her head on the couch – she’s not sure what’s keeping her from sending the photos. Her fingers play with the corners of the page she’s on, twirling them around as she tries to come up with a logical explanation. 

  (Logic doesn’t always work. Marianne’s voice is in her head, and it’s telling her about the highs and lows of being with Tom, and Addie feels like her mind is telling her something that she can’t quite grasp. There is a clear sense of discomfort in her thoughts, in the idea of Holden being a part of this greater picture of Addie’s life, and it leaves a bad taste.)

  Addie’s heart is a little heavy, now. She knows she’s tired and overthinking and her feet are starting to be a little too warm, but there’s been a funny feeling nagging at her for a while now. Being home is like a fairy tale – she’s thinking about family, about history, about love she has for people in her life, and about what she wants her life to be like someday, and... she isn’t really thinking about Holden. Not in the way where she feels like he fits into these little pieces.

  Drew messages her back before her thoughts get anywhere further, though. It’s mostly him making fun of her in return, but he also wishes her Merry Christmas, and Addie realises she’s kind of already forgotten it's past midnight, so she writes a half-apologetic Christmas wish to him. It’s easy, talking to him, teasing him about the fact that he’s awake so late on Christmas of all days, and getting teased right back. As it turns out, both of them are up because they left the gift wrapping for the last minute. 

  The alarm clock on her bedside table reads 3:49am when she finally gets into her bed. She’s still warm from the fireplace, and she’s still chatting to Drew and promising to bring some of the albums up or at least some of the photos, and she falls asleep in the middle of writing a message. 

  She dreams of fireplaces, little kids with her hair running around, and a man whose face she doesn't get to see.

◇

25: MERRY CHRISTMAS (coming 23/12)

#drew starkey #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #obx fanfiction #my fic #phone swap series #f: obx #drew starkey x oc