#and then the chief is like ???? hello ???? this is important | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlymingyus · 3 months

Text

Like We Just Met

pairing; yoon jeonghan x jeon wonwoo x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; friends to lovers, reunited friends, mild dom!jeonghan, mild mlm, flashbacks to high school, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, temperature play, wonwoo is able to lift the reader, pet names/nicknames, cameos from other members -- as always if i have left anything out and its glaring let me know.

w/c; 9.8k

a/n; thank you to @onlyseokmins for proofreading for me!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

The lobby of the Eleva was impressive and caused you to take a deep breath. You had been inside nice hotels before but none of them seemed up to par now as you looked up at the ornate ceiling.

You had moved to the city a few years ago after getting a job as an intern for Artistaire and just a few months ago you had been moved into the position of editor. You were on a fast track to becoming assistant editor-in-chief if you did well with what you had been tasked with starting today.

You could hear your boss’ voice in your head as your heels clicked over the marble, making your way towards the receptionist's desk. The conversation was so fresh in your mind that your fingers were trembling around the leather strap of your bag, held tightly against your shoulder.

“It’s the most important article of the year for Artistaire. I’m trusting you to meet with both of them and find out everything about them. I want every detail. Don’t stick to the script, Y/N.”

The article was for Artistaire’s most influential of the year. It was not only a great honor to be picked and interviewed for the article but also to be the interviewer. It could make or break someone’s career.

Your biggest problem was that you were given very little detail about the men you were interviewing. It could be anyone. The entire point of the interview was to go in blind with no preconceived notions about who you were going to meet. You weren’t supposed to do any research and to get everything in the article from the interview so that it reads “raw and fresh” for the audience.

“Get the dirty truth for me. I want to know everything, from what they eat in a day to who they are fucking.” René had smiled at you when you let out a breath at her crude wording before she added. “I know how much you like the corner office with the view, darling.”

“Do it for the corner office with the view." You mutter to yourself as you step up to the desk and give a bright smile to the pretty receptionist, who looked a bit bored with you before you even spoke. “Hello, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, from Artistaire.”

Pursing her lips, the woman sighs, glancing at the screen in front of her, before her lips turn into a slight smirk and she meets your eyes, reaching for something out of your view.

“Take the elevator to the 100th floor. You’ll need this, and from there you’ll be escorted to the penthouse, Miss Y/L/N. Enjoy your Eleva experience.”

Furrowing your brows at her wording, you take the black card from her fingers, glancing over the gold engraved lettering before glancing towards where she had directed you to go. Whispering a soft thank you, you turn towards the elevator, feeling the knot in your stomach only getting tighter. Who the fuck were you interviewing?

Stepping into the elevator, you glance around the mirrored walls before looking at the buttons that run from B1 to 100. You knew Eleva was a tall building but the idea of being in the penthouse on the 100th floor was one that you had never thought you’d get to experience. You couldn’t help but bite at your lip to suppress a smile, wondering what the view of the city would look like from that high as you tapped the card against the reader and pressed 100, listening to a soft chime as the doors shut.

As the elevator rises and the minutes pass, you lean towards the mirrored door in front of you to check your appearance. You had tried to look good, especially not knowing who it could be that you were interviewing. The only thing that you knew was that it was two influential men. That was a broad term with an even broader range of candidates.

Politicians, actors, affluent businessmen, influencers, authors... You had spent hours trying to go over names but the list was so long with people that you felt that their actions and accomplishments could merit the interview.

Hearing one last soft chime, you take a single step back from the elevator door and let out a breath to calm your nerves as the elevator comes to a stop on the 100th floor. With the doors opening, you meet the brown eyes of a handsome man who smiles at you, giving you a quick once over.

“Welcome to Eleva, Miss..."

He didn’t know your name. Furrowing your brows, you step forward and clear your throat as you offer the man your hand, letting him take it gently into his.

“Y/L/N.”

Your voice is meeker than you intended, but it was a bit daunting to see the long hallway with a single ornate door that seemed to loom in the distance. Was this the man who you were interviewing?

“Miss Y/L/N. I apologize; when Artistaire set this up, they didn’t give many details. It seems like that’s part of the interview process. I’m Hansol, the personal assistant of Mr. Yo–”

The name was hanging on the tip of Hansol’s lips when he smiled and tilted his head, thinking better of it.

“Supposed to be a surprise, isn’t it?”

He was charming but obviously not who you were interviewing. You smile at Hansol taking back your hand as he walks beside you towards the penthouse door.

“Yes, it’s a silly premise, honestly but it’s supposed to provide a “real” interview experience. The idea that my editor came up with was that this creates tension that the reader can feel through words.”

Hansol smiles, glancing over at you once again and giving you a quick appraising look before reaching for the door in front of him with a sigh.

“Seems like it works out. The articles are always interesting. May I take your keycard?”

You look confused for a split second until you remember the black and gold card in your fingers and lift it, handing it over to the man in front of you. With another grin, Hansol taps the card against a reader on the door and pushes it open for you, letting you go inside first.

“Mr. Y–” Laughing and once again catching himself, Hansol lifts his free hand to rub at the back of his neck before correcting his words. “My employer and the other gentleman you will be interviewing are right this way. Follow me, Miss Y/L/N. Also, if you need anything during your visit with us at Eleva, just ask for me personally, alright?”

Offering him a nod, you follow, lowering your eyes to your bag, ready to take out your things as you enter a large living area and your breath is taken away by not only the aesthetic of the place but also the floor and the ceiling windows, offering you the view you had imagined in the elevator.

“It’s stunning, right?”

A familiar voice causes your brows to furrow even as you take a step towards the windows. Why did that man sound so familiar?

Jeonghan tilts his head, looking at you from behind as you look out the window at the view. He could tell you were gorgeous even from where he was standing but he hadn’t seen your face just yet. You seemed to have been startled by his voice; that hadn’t been his intention but he did have that effect on people occasionally.

“My apologies; I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Yoon Jeon—”

“Jeonghan?”

Turning towards him, your eyes widening, you stare at him as if you had just seen a ghost. Swallowing hard, Hansol takes a step back towards Jeonghan, pursing his lips before offering him the penthouse key.

“If you need me, sir – “

“Then I’ll call you. You can go, Hansol.”

A smile pulls at Jeonghan’s lips as he steps towards you, putting the keycard into his suit jacket pocket. Dark eyes move over your face and body before the man you have known for years is within arms reach and he laughs in disbelief.

“No way…Kitten?”

Your eyes were searching Jeonghan so closely to make sure he was real that you hadn’t realized that another man had moved into the room. Hearing the nickname that you had once been called in high school by your two best friends, you glance to your right, only to take a step back in shock to see Wonwoo smiling at you.

“I– no one has called me that in a long time.”

Grinning, Jeonghan reaches out to take your hand, as you seem to almost stumble in surprise at seeing ghosts from your past. He wasn’t worried about the glass behind you breaking but he was concerned about you getting hurt from falling down, as unstable as you seemed on your feet.

“Well, no one but us called you that anyway.

It had been around a decade since you had seen either of your friends in person after the three of you had made promises to stay in touch. Graduation had come and gone and the promise became harder and harder to keep as each of you went in different directions.

You knew they were successful. Jeonghan’s family had always been successful so it was a clear path for him into business. Wonwoo, you had seen him as the face of many brands and the star of many dramas and movies. Meanwhile, your road to success had taken a bit longer and you were still climbing. Now your climb was looking like a shear cliff face as you looked at the two men in front of you with expectant looks in their eyes.

“Holy shit, you look great, Kitten.”

Wonwoo’s voice was quiet but warm, just as you remembered it. He had always been a comfort in your life when you were younger and you had found yourself cheering him on with each award he had received over his years of blooming into a renowned actor.

“Wonwoo… thanks.”

Jeonghan squeezes your fingers with a light chuckle slipping from his lips as you start to come back down to earth. It was like you were waking up from a dream and he could see the realization starting to register in your eyes. Your fingers pull back from his as you clear your throat, your eyes dropping to the floor with a quick shake of your head. You were trying to put on a confident facade.

“I, this is a surprise. Clearly, as the interview states, none of us knew who would be interviewed. So this would be a biased article.”

You were so fucked. In so many ways, you were so fucked. Your fast track to the corner office with the view was going into the lap of Karina and you could see her too pretty smile now. You could picture her crossing her legs and flirting with Jeonghan and Wonwoo the entire interview; it was making your stomach turn, but you couldn’t do this now.

“What do you mean? Are you refusing to do the interview?”

Lifting your gaze to meet Jeonghan’s eyes, you press your lips together, shifting in place as you try to figure out how best to phrase what you need to say.

"I'm not refusing; I just don’t think it’s how the interview is supposed to go. The entire point is to be unbiased and raw. I’m supposed to ask you questions as if I’ve just met you, but clearly."

Smirking, Wonwoo shakes his head, moving closer to you. There was so much about you that hadn’t changed. He had beat himself up for years for losing contact with you and Jeonghan but luck changed a few years ago when he stayed at one of Jeonghan’s hotels and now here you are standing in front of him. You were always talking in circles and you needed someone to sit you down and get you to stop spinning your wheels.

“It kinda is like we just met, well again... High school was a long time ago, Y/N.”

– 10 years ago –

Jeonghan grins at you as he leans against his locker, watching as you struggle to get your textbook back in its proper place. He knew he could help you but it was cute to listen to your tiny whines. You were nervous about exams and about university acceptance letters, while he was doing his best not to let it show that he was nervous about other things.

“Why do they make them so small?”

“So that teachers can write tardy notes, Kitten.”

Wonwoo smirks as he steps in behind you to take your book, lifting the organizer with ease to slip the book under as you glance over your shoulder at him. Things had changed between you and your best friends over the last year of high school but none of you were ready to talk about it.

Each of the boys had started wanting to spend more time with you. They had started standing closer to you, touching you more, and there was always something left unsaid.

“Thanks, Woo… Jeonghan was just watching me struggle. At least I can count on one of you.”

Laughing, Jeonghan reaches over to pinch your cheek, causing you to pout your lips and pull back from his touch and teasing.

“Well, you show your claws when you get whiny, Kitten. It’s cute…”

Your cheeks burning, you glance up towards the bell as it rings and becomes your saving grace. Both of the boys watch as you clear your throat, brushing your hands over the front of your outfit, before you look up at them with a nod.

“Anyway… I will not be tardy. See you after school.”

Watching you walk quickly away, Wonwoo leans against your locker, giving a glance towards Jeonghan, who lets out a breath as his eyes move over your frame. They were thinking the same things, but maybe it was just teenage hormones getting to them. But maybe it was something more.

– Present –

Letting out a breath, you step away from Jeonghan as he speaks, only for Wonwoo to move in and take your arm, leading you towards the sofa. The feeling of being back in high school, either of the men on either side of you, made it feel like the air was water.

“Jeonghan’s right. Why are you so worried about it anyway? It’ll be a great article. I’ve read your stuff. You’re a great writer, your editor has nothing to worry about. I know I’m not worried.”

Shrugging as a way to agree with Wonwoo, Jeonghan sits down on the other side of you, crossing his leg over his knee, his arm draped over the back of the sofa behind you.

“You can ask me anything. I’ll answer if I don’t think I’ve ever lied to you, Kitten.” When you and Wonwoo look at him Jeonghan grins and tilts his head, adding, “I’ve skimmed around the truth.”

Shaking your head, you look down at your bag, now resting on your lap. Maybe they were right. Maybe you could still do this; maybe this was a good thing. It could give you an edge. When you nod, your brows furrowing, Jeonghan grins at Wonwoo, lifting his brows.

“Yeah? Not so freaked out by us anymore? Still pretty much the same people you went to school with.”

That made you laugh, both men watching as you cleared your throat to cover it, leaning down to put your bag on the floor, taking out an iPad to take notes on before crossing your legs. Wonwoo can’t help but watch how the fabric of your skirt stretches around your thighs as Jeonghan sucks at his teeth, letting his eyes run along the buttons of your blouse before you look up to meet his eyes.

“You aren’t the same. Isn’t that what we just said? Not in high school anymore. You are... what do you do, Jeonghan?”

You had known Jeonghan was a chaebol but that was such an umbrella term in the business world. He could own a multitude of things and hold many titles. His lips pull up into a smile as his eyes follow your hand, pulling the pen from its holder so you can start taking down your notes.

“My father put me in charge of all the hotels and resorts.”

Writing his name, you start to write what he was telling you when the scale of what he had just said hits you. A soft chuckle to your right brings you back to reality as you shake your head and continue where you left off, muttering under your breath.

“All hotels and the resorts..."

Swallowing hard, you glance at Jeonghan to find his eyes haven't moved from you at all. It was as if he were trying to stare a hole through you or, worse, undress you with his eyes. Quickly looking away, you continue your train of thought into a question.

“In all countries?”

“All hotels and resorts are mine. We own 15 in the United States alone. I plan to open five in Europe over the next three years. There’s a scoop for you, Kitten. Make sure you jot it down.”

Your hand was shaking, and you could see the nerves in your handwriting as you tried to take your notes. It isn't until Jeonghan leans in a bit closer to you to look at what you are writing that you press your lips together and pause.

“Just…Y/N, I think would be better.”

Pursing his lips, Jeonghan meets your eyes once again before giving you a playful smile and leaning back, lifting his hand from his thigh as if he were submitting.

“Whatever you want, Y/N. Kitten is just a hard habit to break.”

Both watch as you flex your fingers and go back to your task, writing a few more notes before looking up to Wonwoo, who is turned more to the side to face you, his legs crossed towards you. He was breath taking, they both were but after years of seeing him on a big screen or a billboard, it was startling to see him so close once again.

“Have a question for me?”

Wonwoo watches you nod, your eyes dropping back to your tablet, before you take a breath and are finally able to remember how to speak.

“Your last movie, First Snow, was a hit.” Watching Wonwoo smile, you can’t help but do the same. You knew he had been nominated for several awards and was likely being cast from the hit. “You seemed to have great onscreen chemistry with your co-star…anything blossoming from that?”

You watch as the man in front of you laughs and shifts on the sofa to brush his hand over his mouth. With a quick shake of his head, Wonwoo’s eyes lift back to meet yours, making you feel shy once again.

“She’s sweet, incredibly so, but no. I do hope I get to work with her in the future but as for my personal life... Things haven’t changed much from when you knew me before.”

That you very much doubted, your brows furrowing as you scoff, jotting down a few more words on the iPad on your lap.

– 11 years ago –

“Just ask her.”

Wonwoo shook his head as he watched you smile at the tall boy with perfect teeth. He might be friends with Mingyu but that didn’t make him want to punch him any less as he and Jeonghan watched him flirt with you and worse, you flirted back.

“She doesn’t know how you feel and that you want her to go with you to the dance if you don’t ask her.”

Groaning, Wonwoo looked at Jeonghan, who had his arms crossed and his tongue pressed into his cheek after saying his own peace when he really had nothing he could say.

“So does that mean you are going to do the same?”

Shooting a look at his friend, Jeonghan rolls his eyes and turns away from the scene in front of him as Mingyu dares to let his fingers brush over yours. He wanted to do more than punch the boy. He wanted to pay him to move to a different school at this point.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one pining like a love sick puppy.”

“Says the dude who just looked like he was going to go in swinging just now.”

Sighing, Jeonghan turns towards his locker, using his fist to open it rather than a normal civil way, before shrugging.

“Whatever. She can do what she wants and so can you. One more year of this hell hole and I’m out of here and on to bigger fish.”

You look up at the sound of Jeonghan’s fist hitting his locker, along with Mingyu's hand dropping from yours, when you mutter your best friend’s name. Everyone knew you were pretty much off limits but every once in a while someone got gutsy and tried. Mingyu had been feeling confident but he hadn’t realized how close Jeonghan and Wonwoo had been.

“I–shit. Can we talk about the dance later, Y/N?”

Watching you frown, barely nodding, Mingyu sighed, knowing his chances were slim to none now as you walked towards the two men who took up most of your time.

“Jeonghan, what the hell are you doing? Did you hurt your hand?”

Your voice pulls Wonwoo and Jeonghan from their conversation and back to reality, where you were standing right in front of them. Starting to speak, Jeonghan tries to come up with an excuse when you grab his hand, bringing it close to you to look over his knuckles to inspect the damage.

Wonwoo just stays quiet for a moment, watching how gentle you are, blowing softly on the rough skin before placing a kiss over his knuckles and lifting your head with furrowed brows. You looked confused. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t like you knew how Jeonghan felt or how Wonwoo felt.

“I’m okay, Kitten. I just couldn’t get the door open, so I got mad.”

Glancing at Wonwoo, you wait for him to tell you the truth but he just sighs and nods along with what Jeonghan says, though you can tell Jeonghan is telling you a half truth. He was good at those and Wonwoo was good at following the leader.

Reaching over to the locker, you pull up on the latch and watch it swing open easily, much to Jeonghan’s dismay. With a sigh, the boy pushes it back closed before leaning his shoulder against it, looking over yours towards Mingyu, who was pouting and watching you while talking to another tall boy named Seokmin.

“Minkyu is waiting for you.”

Sighing, you glance over your shoulder towards him, offering the handsome boy a smile and getting one in return before you cause his to fall instantly when you turn away.

“Mingyu, Jeonghan… but you know that. Why are you so mean to him? He’s nice. He likes you. Wants to be as cool as you.”

Rolling his eyes, Jeonghan lets out a scoff before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you towards the doors that would lead towards your next class but not his. Wonwoo just shakes his head, following in tow, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“He wishes.”

– Present –

“He’s not lying. I’ve probably dated more than him.”

Lifting your head back towards Jeonghan, you feel your stomach tighten at his words. You shouldn’t care if either of them were dating. You were doing your job. This was something that your readers cared about. They didn’t really care about what their jobs were or what they entailed; they wanted to know who they were sleeping with.

“Oh? Currently? On your way to finding Mrs. Yoon?”

Jeonghan’s lips turn up in a smirk before a full grin spreads across his face. He can’t help but see the look on your face when you ask the question. Did you really want an answer to that question?

“No, not even close. Hasn’t been a steady girl in my life since you, Kit–mm, sorry, Y/N.”

Swallowing hard, you push your tongue against your cheek and hum as if that is a normal answer to your question. You write down part of it but omit anything about yourself, which causes Wonwoo to chuckle as he runs his fingers along the back of the sofa.

“Giving the readers hope?”

Jeonghan leans forward at Wonwoo’s comment to read what you have written down. You scoff at his smirk, pulling the tablet back from them both, feeling even more like you were back in high school with them both.

“I–sort of. It’s my job. I’m supposed to give them a raw interview with two fascinating people. I’m supposed to show them the most intimate parts of those people and if there are facts like that, omitting parts that they don’t need to know could be misunderstood –"

You suck in your breath when you feel Jeonghan’s fingers up your arm towards your shoulder as he shakes his head. A soft sigh falls from his lips as he meets your eyes and you try to finish your thought only to lose it midsentence.

“I get it; I do. Your readers are horny. They look at successful people and dream about what it would be like to fuck them. But no matter what you omit, there is still the elephant in the room.”

There was no elephant in the room. The room was clear of any elephants. Shaking your head, you try to ignore his fingers as Jeonghan walks them along your shoulder blade.

“They do like that sort of thing. It sells magazines. So I will omit it. I mean, looking at this objectively, you are both ideal. Incredibly attractive, wealthy, and single.”

Grinning at your reaction and your attempt to ignore him, Jeonghan glances over to Wonwoo, who had been watching you both like a hawk. It was getting interesting.

“That’s kind of you to say, Kitten.”

Blowing out a breath, you shift from Jeonghan’s wandering fingers to shoot a look at Wonwoo when he calls you the nickname. Now they were both teasing you. You were struggling to keep this professional and they knew it. This wasn’t some game like they thought it was. This was your job on the line.

“Not my name, Wonwoo.”

“Is to me, but my apologies, Y/N. Keep going with your questions. What’s next on your list?”

Focus. The word is repeating in your head like a prayer. You look back down at your iPad and lick your lips as you listen to Jeonghan laugh softly next to you. God, he was the same and yet worse in many ways. He was still unbearably confident and cocky but now he was a grown man.

Lifting his hand to rest his thumb against his teeth, Wonwoo watches your eyes narrow at Jeonghan’s reaction. He could tell you were getting annoyed. This was better than high school because he wasn’t that kid who lacked confidence.

"It's... tell me about an important event in your life that led you to where you are today.”

Jeonghan’s brows furrow as Wonwoo tilts his head toward the question. That was a loaded topic. Pursing his lips, you watch as Wonwoo reaches up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose before he meets your eyes once more.

“Do you remember when you pushed me to try out for that play senior year?”

Your smile causes Wonwoo to mirror you. Of course you remembered it. Wonwoo had been showing interest in acting and it might have been a high school play but he had been too nervous to try it out at first. You could remember going over lines with him for hours before the audition, before you and Jeonghan sat in the auditorium in awe as he took the stage and looked like he had been born to act.

“Really? That’s what led you to this? Playing Tony in West Side Story?”

Still smiling, Wonwoo nods, leaning to rest his head on his palm as his elbow pushes into the back cushion of the sofa. He remembered looking down at you from the stage opening night and finding confidence when his voice wavered. You were more important to him than you would ever know.

“Yeah… Trust me, I don’t put it on my resume.”

A short chuckle from Jeonghan draws your eyes back over to him as he leans his head back, remembering the play and how much you had wanted Wonwoo to do it. You had been good at pushing them to be great; now he was wishing they had done the same for you.

“I can’t imagine why, Wonwoo. Couldn’t be because I still have a shitty copy of you butchering Something’s Coming from opening night.”

Reaching behind you, Wonwoo smacks his best friend, causing the other man to laugh and for you to lean forward, a laugh of your own, slipping from your lips. You could feel your heart tightening in your chest. You had missed Jeonghan and Wonwoo more than you could even admit to yourself.

“You said you deleted it.”

"Yeah, well, I lied. It makes great blackmail for when we are old and decrepit.”

Sitting back up when the men have gone back to their "corners", you just shake your head, putting your pen back on your tablet, and trying to word Wonwoo’s answer in the best way you could without inserting yourself into it.

“What about you, Jeonghan? What led you here?”

Sighing, Jeonghan rolls his eyes—not at you but more at the answer he came up with—before pouting his lips a bit and looking up at the tall celiing.

“I mean, the obvious answer is my father. My family led me here directly but honestly,"

You watch Jeonghan’s face soften, your eyes moving over his sharp jaw as you chew on your lips, until he looks back at you and scoffs again but this time it’s like he has made a discovery.

“You.”

Looking behind you at Wonwoo, you give him a confused look before he shrugs and gestures back at you, sending you back towards Jeonghan, who just smiles fondly.

“I’m serious. Graduation day.”

– 10 years ago –

You watch as Jeonghan flicks the tassel on his graduate cap from one side to the other as he leans back in his chair. Most of the other students had left with their families apart from you, Wonwoo, and Jeonghan. Wonwoo had promised his mom to come home soon but after she saw the look on Jeonghan’s face, she told him to take his time.

“I’m sure there was a reason he wasn’t here, Hannie…”

Rarely did you call Jeonghan anything other than his full name but today called for all the best tactics. Today should be one of the best days of your lives and your best friend was sad. He had been so proud of the honor sash around his shoulders and the speech he was giving but the moment he stepped out on the stage and started to speak, he noticed the space reserved for his father was noticeably empty.

“Sure, Kitten. You don’t have to try so hard to make it better. You didn’t do it.”

He was right. It hadn’t been your fault but there was something you could do to make him smile. Leaning towards Jeonghan, catch his eye before you press a soft kiss to his cheek and hold on to his arm. As much as he denied it, you knew how much he loved skinship when it came from you or Wonwoo.

A sigh falls from Jeonghan’s lips but his lips do pull up at the sides and Wonwoo’s do the same, knowing you were succeeding in what you were trying to do. He hated to see his best friend like this. It wasn’t fair. Jeonghan had worked his ass off to be the perfect son and he deserved so much better today.

“Stop slobbering on me.”

You just laugh, pressing more kisses on his warm cheek. Jeonghan groans, grabbing your arm and turning his head away from you, only for you to turn it back a bit too far, letting your lips catch his briefly. Clearing your throat, you stop instantly and drop your hands, feeling heat rising in your neck and cheeks as you look away.

"Sorry, uh, but no, anyway... We should go get dinner before we all go home. We are fucking graduates. Full ass adults who will be going to university soon.”

Wonwoo just stares at Jeonghan as he sits in shock from feeling your lips on his, even as you try to make everyone forget it had happened. Reaching up to touch his lips, Jeonghan watches you do a cute little dance in your chair before shaking his head and furrowing his brows.

“I gotta get home, Kitten. I’m sure my dad is at home. I need to tell him to shove something up his ass. You know, like his legacy.”

Calming down from your accidental kiss, you shake your head and reach for Jeonghan’s arm as he tries to stand up to leave. You knew he would regret his decisions later. Wonwoo follows your lead, shaking his head and coaxing Jeonghan back into the chair, muttering for the other to calm down.

“I know you are upset, Jeonghan. You have every right to be, but... listen to me, okay? Seriously, look at me.”

You wait until Jeonghan sighs, rolling his eyes to look at you, his face softening as he does, knowing he can’t stay annoyed as he looks at your pretty face.

“If you really don’t want to work for your dad and do the business stuff, then don’t but it’s all you’ve ever talked about. So don’t throw it away because of his selfishness. Use this to fuel yourself to work harder and get what you want. Be the Yoon Jeonghan I know.

– Present –

“I ran off spite for a few years but eventually I got my own space and now I am doing shit on my own. He gave me my own slice, like you said he would. I worked harder every day remembering what you said.”

Jeonghan smiles while watching your lips form into a bit of a pout. He could tell you were remembering the conversation and graduation. He remembered it just as fondly, maybe for other reasons but he also remembered dinner afterwards with you and Wonwoo. He remembered sneaking off with drinks and the promises that all three had failed to keep.

"Anyway, that and a kiss led me here.”

Writing down Jeonghan’s answer, you stop midsentence to scoff and glance up at him, letting out a breath, only to scoff a second time in disbelief. He surely wasn’t talking about the accidental kiss on graduation day.

“Not a real kiss.”

Biting his lip, Jeonghan tilts his head and narrows his eyes as Wonwoo laughs and puts his hands up when you shoot him another look.

“I’m just… listen, Y/N… The kiss was just that—a kiss. And an 18 year old Jeonghan... He talked about it for a while. Trust me.”

That confession from Wonwoo made you look back at Jeonghan, who was narrowing his eyes at his best friend, only to soften them when they met yours. Lifting his hands, Jeonghan sighs once, trying to speak, before sighing again and laughing.

“I did talk about it for a bit. I mean, clearly, I remember it well. I mean, come on, Kitten, you had to know how we felt about you.”

Shaking your head, you sit up straighter on the sofa, looking from Jeonghan to Wonwoo for clarification as if a bomb had just gone off in the room. You knew how you felt about them and that they had teased you about it but never in a million years had you thought they had felt anything for you.

“No, no, no, I didn’t. What? What do you mean by how you felt about me? “We?” Clarify, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan laughs when you use his full name and your thoughts start to spin in circles. The interview is the last thing on your mind now. Taking a breath, he reaches forward, taking your iPad from your hands and leaning to put it on the coffee table so he can have your full attention. But that only causes you to flex your fingers and then play with the end of your skirt out of nerves as you wait.

“We went to the same school for four years, Y/N. We saw you every single day and from day one, we latched on to you. At first, it was just because you were this cute frisky girl with a sassy mouth that could keep up but then it was more about the fact that you were ours.” Glancing down at your fingers as you tug at the end of your skirt, Jeonghan reaches to wrap his fingers around your wrist to make you stop as he speaks. “Did you really not see it? How we’d chase off anyone else or get pissed off if you’d give any of them a chance?”

Wonwoo shifts beside you, his breath closer than you had remembered it being when you feel it almost against your ear as his deeper voice chimes in to add to Jeonghan’s point.

“The stupidest thing we did was not keep our promises to keep in touch during university. Letting life get in the way... You feel him smile into his words with how close his lips are to your ear. “But I guess life has a way of correcting mistakes.”

You glance over your shoulder, brows furrowed, ready to ask him what he means when you find Wonwoo as close as you had pictured. If you hadn’t stopped yourself, you would have found yourself in a similar situation that you had on graduation day a decade earlier, as you stopped your lips just in time, taking a breath before they could brush over Wonwoo’s.

“I don’t know. This isn't—I could lose my job.”

It’s Jeonghan’s hand that slides over your thigh, gripping it just hard enough to make you want to spread them, which causes you to lose your resolve and causes a breathy, soft moan to slip from between your lips and into the air. Wonwoo smiles just a few centimeters from your lips as he shakes his head and furrows his brows.

“Fuck the job, fuck the interview. If you want it that bad, you can ask the questions afterwards. If you lose the job, they didn’t deserve you, and we will take care of you or get you whatever job you want, Kitten.”

He wanted you to say yes or take that final step. Wonwoo wasn’t going to do it but he was giving you all the right answers. Whining, you try to quickly weigh the pros and cons, a lifetime of regrets washing over you before they fade away when you close your eyes and press your lips against Wonwoo’s with purpose.

Jeonghan furrows his brows and bites his bottom lip hard. He wasn’t upset that it was Wonwoo you had kissed first this time. It didn’t matter to him; all that mattered was that it was happening. All that mattered was that you were here and back in their lives by some random chance and he wasn’t letting you go again.

Pressing his fingers into your soft skin, Jeonghan groans softly against your hair as your tongue glides along Wonwoo’s and you finally let him coax your legs apart. He could feel the warmth of your pussy under your skirt and he was dying to get his hands on you, even if it was just for a moment.

"Baby, you are so fucking pretty. You always have been but now, God, you're stunning. Never letting you out of my sight again, you understand?”

Reaching up to turn your head from Wonwoo, Jeonghan listens to your whimpers and soft complaints but he wants your answer. When you meet his eyes, Jeonghan runs his thumb along your bottom lip and smiles at your reaction—the way your mouth parts and your eyes flutter closed for a moment only to open and meet his once again.

“I said, do you understand?”

One hand on your chin, the other caresses your thigh up to your panties, where Jeonghan’s fingers tease you, causing your body to jerk with each pass of his fingers. Wonwoo smiles while watching you with Jeonghan, not phased by the other man pulling you away from him. Instead, he turns his attention to your neck as he works a few of the buttons on your blouse open before sliding his hand into your shirt over the top of your bra to squeeze your breast, making you arch against his chest.

“Answer Jeonghan, Kitten.”

They expected you to answer a question and think clearly when you were not only living out your teenage wet dreams but also the fantasies of every female that knew either of their names? Pressing your lips together, you furrow your brows and nod, regaining your resolve, before letting out a breath along with your words.

“I understand.”

Jeonghan grins, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, finally claiming his prize while also rewarding you for your answer. The kiss is gentle, yet you can feel the desire behind it as his teeth catch your bottom lip, nipping at it before he pulls back with a soft groan.

“Good, girl. Wonwoo, I want her up where I can see her.”

You weren’t sure what Jeonghan had meant but apparently Wonwoo did, as you found yourself on your feet before your legs were around the man’s waist so he could carry you where he wanted you. Smirking against your lips, Wonwoo glances behind you, following Jeonghan to the kitchen, stopping to sit you on the counter, where he stays situated between your thighs.

Hands slide over your thighs, and fingers bunch up your skirt, urging you to lift your hips so the material can be pushed to your waist, granting you a peck on the lips from Wonwoo. You watch as the man groans, glancing down between your legs, his left hand gripping your thigh as his right thumb traces the growing wet spot on the center of your panties.

“So wet already. Did you ever think about doing this? You can tell me, Kitten. I won’t tell anyone else.”

The teasing tone in his deep voice makes your breath quicken as Wonwoo steps back and you watch him pull his dress shirt from his pants. His slender fingers move over the buttons with quick precision so he can pull them from his body and toss them to the floor, leaving him shirtless in front of you.

“I–”

The words get caught in your throat as you stare at Wonwoo, your eyes moving over his toned abdomen and chest. You had seen him shirtless in school and then in ads and movies but you had never imagined you would see him like this.

“Words, baby, use them.”

Jeonghan smirks, running his fingers over your hair as he stands beside you, watching you panic over Wonwoo. He was still fully dressed, though one glance at his dress pants told you he was just as aroused as you and Wonwoo.

“I did, many times, but I always felt bad.”

You hear Jeonghan coo, then feel his lips press against your jaw as you lean your head to the side, watching Wonwoo lean over to kiss your thighs. His fingers scratch along your thighs up to your hips before they finally press under the elastic of your pants and start to shimmy them down your legs to your feet.

“You didn’t have to feel bad. I was doing the same thing and I know Wonwoo was too. We will just make up for lost time, right?”

Jeonghan whispers the last of his words against your ear and you can only moan out a yes to not only the feeling of his hot breath against the shell of your ear, but also Wonwoo’s tongue running along your slit in one fluid motion.

Leaning your head back, you gasp out Wonwoo’s name, reaching your hand down to thread your fingers through his wavy hair as Jeonghan smirks against your ear at your reaction. Glancing between your legs to watch, he furrows his brows, feeling his cock throb in his pants, not only to the visual of Wonwoo eating you out but also to the sounds coming out of your mouth and the wet sound of Wonwoo’s mouth on your pussy.

“Fuck… He’s right; you are wet. Can I feel too?”

Slipping his fingers between your folds and Wonwoo’s mouth, Jeonghan is surprised that your thighs jerk to his touch. That wasn't your reaction to Wonwoo. Lifting his head, Wonwoo holds your legs and takes a breath as Jeonghan’s fingers circle your clit, only for you to moan and slide your hips back from his touch shyly.

“Your fingers are so cold."

Jeonghan smiles, tilting his head and pulling his fingers back to rub them together, feeling your slick between them. He knew his hands were cold but he hadn’t expected you to have such a reaction to them. Glancing down at Wonwoo, Jeonghan just winks, turning from you both towards the cabinet to take down a glass and moving to the fridge to get ice and water as Wonwoo’s lips press to your thighs, making you split your attention between the two.

“What are you doing, Jeonghan?”

“Having fun, Kitten. What are you doing?”

Your eyes follow Jeonghan as he sits the glass down beside you before dipping two of his fingers into the ice water. His eyes meet yours as a darker smirk takes over his pretty lips and you whine, feeling Wonwoo’s mouth back on your pussy, his fingers digging into your hips and pulling you back towards his tongue.

“I–shit. What if I can’t handle it?”

Jeonghan bites at his lip, the smile ever present, as he finally takes his fingers from the cold water.

“Just tell me and I’ll move them, but I’ll make it worth it. I promise… Wonwoo, lean back.”

Hearing his name, Wonwoo groans a bit frustrated, already feeling drunk off your pussy. He wanted to make you cum on his tongue and with how you had started to moan, he felt like you were getting close. Still, he wasn’t going to argue with Jeonghan so he licks his lips and leans back a few inches to watch Jeonghan touch his ice cold fingers to your clit and your reaction as you try to close your thighs around his head and the fingers.

“Oh my god!”

The cold sends a shock through your body that you weren’t fully expecting and when Jeonghan traps your clit between two fingers, squeezing it ever so slightly, you feel like the counter is going to break under your fingers.

“Jeon—Jeonghan!”

As quickly as you say his name, Jeonghan moves his fingers and uses his free hand to push Wonwoo’s head back to your waiting pussy. You feel hot breath and a warm tongue running over your now chilled folds. Smiling against your skin at the feeling, Wonwoo can’t help the excitement he feels at working together with Jeonghan. He enjoys making you feel good, especially as you grind against his mouth.

“See? You liked it, didn’t you?”

All you can do is nod as you feel your orgasm on the precipice. Jeonghan watches your face and listens to your breath starting to hitch when he tugs at Wonwoo’s hair, pulling him back, and listens to your curses as your orgasm is pulled from you.

Ice cold fingers slide between your folds and towards your dripping entrance, where Jeonghan works two into you, curling them upwards. Quickly, you forget how upset you are at him as you see stars and your nails dig into his forearm, cum seeping around his fingers as your orgasm takes control of your senses.

Wonwoo just watches, entranced by what is happening as your thighs start to shake and Jeonghan’s fingers thrust into you. He watches as you roll your hips towards the man’s palm and Jeonghan groans your name like a soft, sweet prayer.

“Here… I know you want it.”

Nodding, Wonwoo leans forward, licking the cum from Jeonghan’s fingers before grabbing your hips again and running his tongue along your folds, cleaning you of every last trace of your cum. Your mind spins with what you have just experienced and watched as you find yourself leaning back on the counter, your chest rising and falling quickly.

It is Jeonghan who pulls Wonwoo from between your thighs as you whimper from overstimulation, tears running from the corners of your eyes. It isn’t even that he’s concerned that you aren’t enjoying it; it is more that he doesn’t want his friend to miss the image.

Wonwoo just groans, running his palm over his wet mouth and chin before leaning down over you and the counter to capture your lips. His thumb is running along your temple to push away the tears as he mutters against your lips about never leaving you and never losing you again.

“Mm, see, he shares the sentiment, Kitten. We have to get you to bed or I’m gonna fuck you on the counter.”

You weren’t against it but it seemed both of the men were. You quickly found yourself moving through rooms and on a large bed, then stripped of your clothing. Jeonghan was the one between your thighs now; his clothes were also discarded with yours somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom. He let his eyes move over your body in wonder as his hands followed the same path as if he were trying to imprint it on his brain.

“So perfect… and ours?”

In truth, your relationship status hadn’t been discussed before any of this started and also Jeonghan hadn’t cared. Now, with you lying on his bed, looking like every dream he had ever had of you, as Wonwoo slid in beside you to press his lips to the top of your breasts, he was starting to wonder if you really would be there at the end of the day.

“Yours.”

A single word left Jeonghan breathless. He hadn’t seen any rings on any important fingers but he hadn’t been in your life in a long time. He didn’t know what your life was without him but now, as far as he was concerned, there wouldn’t be a time without you.

"Fuck, I need you. Can I?”

You lift your hips as Jeonghan’s hands slide along your inner thighs and along your legs to your hips. You knew what he was asking and there was nothing you wanted more. Nodding, you whine into a moan as Wonwoo sucks at your skin, your fingers once again threading into his hair and tugging at his scalp.

Lining himself up with you, Jeonghan shakes his head, realizing what was really happening and how lucky he was as he slowly pushes his tip in. With his eyes on your face, Jeonghan watches your lips fall open at the stretch, his fingers digging into your skin as he angles his hips, feeling your soft, warm walls enclose around his cock.

“Feel good, Kitten?”

Wonwoo smiles against your skin as he speaks between kisses, working them up your breasts towards your neck. Wonwoo nods along with you, feeling Jeonghan’s hips meet yours as he bottoms out. The stretch is delicious and your brain is a mixture of spinning and empty. While your brain wants to freak out over what's happening, the only thing you can do is just feel and enjoy the drag of Jeonghan’s cock as he starts to thrust into you at an even pace.

His head falling forward as he pulls your hips up more, bracing your weight with his hands, Jeonghan quickens his pace, feeling your pussy throbbing around his length. You already felt better than he had ever imagined and he had dreamed about it many times before. He had tried to substitute the dream girl in his head before and none of them were living up to this now. There was only you and he could already feel himself tightening up from his stomach to his thighs.

“God, baby… cum on my cock. Give me that. At least once.”

Jeonghan had said you were theirs but just in case this was a one time thing, he needed to feel you cum around him at least once in his life. Sliding his right hand between your legs, he uses his thumb to massage your clit in tight circles while watching you throw your head back and your fingers scratch at the bedding. Jeonghan just groans your name as he feels your walls tighten around him and then the warm, slick feeling of your cum makes each of his thrusts all that more delicious.

A moment later, you feel your ass lowered back to the bed and Jeonghan pulls from you before his warm cum paints your thighs. The sound of his soft grunts and groans dances off the walls like music as your eyes move over his body to his hand. You watch as his fists over his cock hard and fast for a moment longer before he lets out a long, soft breath. Smiling, Jeonghan feels your leg running along the side of his when he opens his eyes to find you and Wonwoo looking at him.

“I made a mess. I can start the shower…”

You can only laugh as Jeonghan rolls from the bed, leaving you in Wonwoo’s arms, his lips gently pressing to the side of your neck. Wonwoo’s brows furrow and a groan slips from between his lips as your fingers wrap around his heavy cock, lazily stroking him as the sounds of water drift in from the attached bathroom.

“I’m too wound up, Y/N… I won’t last long. Shit…”

Pressing your thumb against his slit, you take your hand away, leaving Wonwoo breathless as you sit up and take his hand, pulling him from the bed. A look of confusion in the man’s eyes, along with a slight pout on his lips from seemingly being denied, is replaced by a smile when you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you as Jeonghan lifts a brow to the scene in front of him.

With your hand back around Wonwoo’s shaft, you feel him gasp into your mouth as you pull away from him once again and smile at Jeonghan as he opens the shower door for you, letting you and Wonwoo in first before following.

“You are being mean to Wonwoo, Kitten... after he cleaned you up so nicely with his mouth?”

“I’ll make it better, promise.”

Jeonghan starts to speak but is rendered speechless when you move to your knees in the shower in front of Wonwoo, who silently curses, lifting his hand to run it through his hair. With the water running along his back, Wonwoo leans his head back into the stream of water with a long, deep groan when you wrap your lips around his head and take him into your warm mouth.

He had wanted to fuck you but this would work too. Unlike Jeonghan, he was almost certain this wasn’t a one time thing. He was going to make sure of it, especially now as your pretty hand stroked his cock under your mouth as you moaned around him. He had told you he was wound up and he hadn’t been lying.

“Shit… shit! Too good… babe. Gonna cum. Slow down.”

You had no intention of slowing down. You wanted Wonwoo to cum. Just as much as he wanted to taste you, you wanted to taste him. So when he told you to slow down, instead you moved your hand and took him as deep in your mouth as you could, letting his tip nearly graze your throat. The action pushes Wonwoo over the edge, his hands gripping for whatever is closest, one being your hair and the other being Jeonghan’s arm, as he cums hard into your mouth.

Closing your eyes, you moan around Wonwoo as you pull back to just his tip, letting the last of his cum drip into your mouth before you sit back on your feet and swallow most of it, just a bit seeping from the corner of your lips. Jeonghan stares at Wonwoo for a moment longer before looking down at you and groaning, feeling blood start to work its way back to his cock when he seems cum dripping down to your chin.

Tugging his hand free from Wonwoo’s grasp, Jeonghan takes a deep breath, reaching down to swipe his thumb over your chin, collecting the cum, before pushing it back into your mouth and letting you suck it clean. Willing himself to not get hard becomes even harder as he curses under his breath and smiles at you in disbelief. You were even more perfect than he had dreamed.

“Both of us made a mess of you, Kitten. Only fair we clean you up, huh?”

Your cheeks warm as you come down from the high of everything that had happened. You look at both of the men as Wonwoo helps you back to your feet. His hand runs over your back, spreading body wash, as Jeonghan does the same to your front, paying extra attention to your thighs where his cum still lingered.

“This is crazy…”

Jeonghan’s brow shoots up at your soft words like a puppy hearing a new word. You were starting to panic. The shock was setting in. Shaking his head, the man steps closer, running his hands over your arms before leaning in to gently press a kiss on your lips.

“It’s not. It makes sense. We’ve always made sense. We were just too young and dumb to realize this. We just had to meet again in a different life to see it.”

Pouting on Jeonghan’s lips, you feel Wonwoo’s body close to yours; neither man is willing to let you run away from them, knowing you too well despite all the years of separation. You wanted to believe this could work. You wanted it to work. Sighing, you lean your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder, letting Jeonghan look at you with a soft smile on his lips as you speak.

“I’m so getting fired.”

Laughing at your words, Jeonghan shrugs, running his hands along your wet arms as Wonwoo smiles, leaning to kiss your cheek and hugging you tighter to him. Lifting his hand, Jeonghan pinches your cheek like he had so many times in high school to tease you, feeling your warm cheek under his touch.

“I might be biased but I think we are worth it.”

#jeonghan smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #jeonghan x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #jeonghan x wonwoo

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

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𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — h-hello firefighter!bakugou and heart surgeon!reader

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, sfw. mentions of hospitals, surgeons, fires, firefighting, mutual pining, crushes, he has a huge crush on you ok!! and yes i’m sorry, this is grey’s anatomy inspired ajaja

“so— open wide— what brings you in this time, blondie?”

bakugou looks at you, petulant like a child and pissed all at once— begrudgingly letting you pry open his plump rosey lips with what looks like a popsicle stick. he sticks out his tongue for good measure, letting you inspect the back of his throat for black specks of ash while he eyes you up. not that you mind.

“purse pooch,” he grunts once you let him free to notes on your clipboard to document the state of his health. he watches your hands, stable and good enough to hold hearts and feel them beat. you’ve got a grip on his own heart and you hardly know the extent of it. “some chick left her stupid dog in her apartment while the building burnt down.” your fingers are soft as they brush over his chest and then his back before you reach for your stethoscope. “i told you, ‘m fine.”

rolling your eyes, you press the cool metal tool to bakugou’s back— his shoulders rippling at the cool temperature and his tight protective shirt does nothing to hide the dips of each muscle beneath it. “who’s the chief of cardio at this hospital, blondie?” you tease him, feeling around for the dull thump of his heart. the one that you’re so used to. the one that you love to hear. you’ve been treating katsuki since you were an intern and he’d just started out as a firefighter— now you’re here, years later, an attending in cardio at a top trauma-focused hospital in Japan and katsuki, the captain of his regiment.

bakugou rebuttals with pettish silence and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “exactly. i am.” there’s something about the way his heart sounds… beating faster and faster until it seems like it’s going to burst. it makes your face drop because as a doctor, it sounds like his heart is sick and not like he’s panicked over how close you are. “and i don’t go telling you how to do your job mister ‘i run into fires and save stupid dogs’, although i should. i see you in this ER more than i see my own apartment. dogs aren’t stupid by the way.”

“they are, ‘nd i told you, i’m fine.” amused, the blonde swats you away and clears his throat nervously when you meet his eye, moving to face him with the stethoscope hovering over his chest this time. stupidly and perfectly sculpted, it makes you hot under the skin.

“are not,” you respond to both of his statements like a child goading another one into getting in trouble. you even stick your tongue too. “and the girl was obviously worried sick about her pet. they can mean a lot people. just as much as a person can. when you love something, someone, their lives are important.”

just as you finish your wistful speech, katsuki’s pulse speeds on the monitor and your resident who had taken over charting perks up at the incessant beeping. “uh, doc? should we be concerned about that?”

you shouldn’t be. medically, it’s nothing — the firefighter is just flustered by you and your existence. how you speak so tenderly about someone’s love for something. to everyone else in this hospital including you, katsuki’s heart rate could be an indicator of something dangerous or life-ending instead of the obvious crush he has on you.

bakugou’s cheeks warm as he tries to bat your resident off of him— he can just tell that they want something to be wrong with him so the case can turn surgical. “get off’a me, twerp!” he spits, sourly. “i’m fine!”

“i’m the doctor, i decide when you’re fine. you decide when and how the fire goes out.” you’re scolding him, bantering with the man and it drives him up the wall— gives him another reason to fall for you.

relenting, and no longer fighting treatment— bakugou keeps talking to you, hungry for more than just your medical attention. “okay, the dog wasn’t stupid. it was…just dumb of the chick to leave him. he meant a lot to her son ‘nd that typa carelessness pisses me off. went back in to keep the kid from losin’ his animal…am i off the hook now?”

“so you do have a heart, i knew you went back in there for a reason.” you smile softly despite your worry for his health, repeatedly checking his pulse on the monitor until you can get it down. “he’s got elevated breath sounds on the right and a racing pulse. no soot in his lungs but i’d like to get him up to CT just to double check.” you tell your resident and step back to put the arms of his bed up.

“how many times do i gotta tell you, doc? i’m fine!”

bakugou grows grumpier. maybe because after all these years of him coming in for check-ups…you haven’t realised how much he likes you.

how much me might even love you.

“i know that, but i want to make sure, and i figured you’d want to stay with me for a few extra hours while i check up on you.” honey runs through his ears as you speak, leaning over bakugou to lower his bed and wheel him around with your resident.

bakugou blushes profusely, forgets how to breathe and how to speak. “s-shut up,” he stutters.

because you still don’t know how much of his heart you hold in your practiced hands.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagines #bakugou drabble #bakugo x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #mha fluff #katsuki bakugou x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted

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fabdante · 5 months

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@zutaraweek day 3: union

a little follow up to this comic i did last year. i really liked the idea of union in a political context and this was a very round about way of that. like, a little tongue in cheek with all the different kids from different nations just sort of talking and gossiping together. teens doing teen stuff despite their high profile roles in society, that type of thing.

initially this comic was a lot more ambitious but some complications happened in my life which made me have to chip away at a lot of it. such as having it in full color, with backgrounds. there's been a lot of thought put into the world of the chief kya au, though! particularly related to yue that is not featured at all asdfghjk.

the more i worked on it, the more i got worried zuko might be a little ooc. but i was a bit inspired by crystal catacombs and the softness he had there. whenever i try to write him in this au, he's just usually just happy to be around katara so i'm just going to let him do what he wants.

Anyway, a transcript along with brief image descriptions is beneath the cut under my obligatory art links as well as in the alt text of the art!

art only blog - insta - inprnt - redbubble

Page 1: Zuko and Katara are at a gathering for those invited to the peace accords which seems to be more packed then usual.

Katara: Wow, there’s a lot of people here Zuko: Yeah. There’s a lot of people this year. K: I don’t recognize anyone yet. Z: Oh! I can help you. Z: That’s Mai. Her father is an official. Z: She’s Suki. Leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. Z: And next to her is- K: Yue!

Page 2: Katara and Yue hug and the teens (Zuko, Yue, Katara, and Suki) all chat.

Yue: Katara! K: I missed you! Y: I’m so happy to see you! have never spoken more than hellos was just trying to chat with Yue awkward turtle duck Z: So you do know someone. K: We’ve known each other since we were kids. Lu Ten: Prince Zuko?

Page 3: Lu Ten appears, Yue and Suki gossip, and Katara's a bit sad as Zuko leaves with Lu Ten to handle business elsewhere.

Z: Lu Ten? L: Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you? Z: Is it important? L: Unfortunately. L: They seem nice. I’m happy you’re making friends.

Page 4: The girls gossip and Mai overhears.

Y: I didn’t know you knew Zuko. Suki: Yeah. Do you know anything about the scar? K: I don’t really know him. We just met. What do you guys know? Mai: No one actually knows. M: About the scar. They kept it quiet.

Page 5: There's a small flashback to Zuko at 14 after receiving his scar, the girls continue to talk, and there's a final panel of Ozai, alluding to a family secret.

M: He just went away for a while. And then he came back and there it was. M: That’s all anyone knows. Except Zuko. K: That’s awful. There has to be more. M: Well…people have some suspicions.

#zutara #zutara week #zutara week 2023 #prince zuko #katara #zuko #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #my art

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sufferingsokkatash · 1 month

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THAT famous zukka hug in the atla north and south comic : an essay you did not need, by me.

i was thinking about how, in writing, there should be no accidents or coincidences in how and why something is described, or the detail the writer chooses to use. for example, zuko tapping his hand on his desk would be used to show that he is impatient or anxious about something.

so THEN i decided to apply this to the zukka hug, because why not be delulu about these things idk.

first of all, here are the zukka hug pages for context:

disclaimer: i don’t really know how the fandom feels about the comics. personally i like them, so i will proceed with that bias in mind. also please take this with the humour that is intended, it’s more fun that way.

i go down a sabre tooth moose lion hole below the cut.

this whole scene to me is largely what we all love about atla - humour and good characterisation combined with serious subject matter. king kuei and bosco are the comic relief and oblivious party in the face of quite a complicated issue, as zuko himself acknowledges. this humour then extends to kuei offering zuko the chance to join in on his hug with bosco, which zuko politely refuses. obviously, there is the clear issue of zuko being afraid of being eaten by a bear, but we’ll pretend that ernest hemingway is grading our papers here, okay.

it is a very deliberate writing choice and contrast to have zuko refuse hugs from one person/animal and then immediately and happily accept one from sokka. (see also: sokka running excitedly with a big grin on his face at the bottom of page 17 to greet them, naming zuko first, but remembering that he is a good ambassador to the swt and using their proper titles despite his excitement. more silliness mixed with seriousness. see also, also: HE RAAAAAN!) zuko may be touch averse and not a huggy person, but screw that when it’s sokka who’s offering the hug.

remember there are no accidents in good writing. kuei happily says: hello friends! to which, in both that panel and the next, he is clearly ignored. sokka and zuko are so absorbed in hugging each other that sokka neglects his duties in welcoming them both properly. zuko : 2 swt ambassador role: 0. also ignored is the fact that kuei brought his bear, which would normally be subject to some kind of smartass comment from our boomerang boi, even if he knows he’s obsessed with his pet from the ba sing se episodes.

this could be an actual mistake, but sokka ran towards zuko, who was standing in front of kuei. but in the hug panel, sokka is between them. that means kuei walked all the way around them trying to get their attention, and it still didn’t work. sokka, nor zuko, say a further word to kuei. like exactly how much tunnel vision is there in this, my goddddd.

bosco is protecting kuei and sokka is protecting zuko. could be why they mirrored them and their positions in the hug panel, so not a mistake. a swt person says: protecting foreigners, sokka?! but that is exactly what he does by ignoring the protesters and telling zuko not to worry about them. despite wanting to do his duty to everyone sokka puts zuko first, basically, and doesn’t care about what they all think of him. that’s kind of huge for sokka.

yes, hakoda is injured at this time and yes he’s proud of sokka, but surely as chief he would have gone to meet the earth king and firelord? why did the writers go to so much effort making sure that sokka was there to meet zuko and have them hugging take up a third of an entire page when printing and space in the comics is such a consideration? it is clearly important, y’all.

their faces when they see each other. sokka can’t stop grinning and zuko closes his eyes in relief he’s so happy. enough said.

sokka says: thanks so much for coming! like he doesn’t already know zuko would travel the world just to make him happy or help in what’s important to him. have you forgotten boiling rock, sokka? because that dude you’re wrapped around, acting like he’s been starved of you, sure hasn’t.

this comic is all about nations coming together and traditions being upheld and shared. in other words, marry him sokka. it is in your diplomatic interests to do so.

in utterly insane conclusion:

i am always surprised at how much they made the effort in the writing for this one scene. i don’t see the comics as something that tease ships, they aren’t natla. what i do see is two guys who clearly care about each other, almost to the detriment of their roles and responsibilities, and their relationship was worth the effort taken in the writing and artwork to show that. it is super heckin sweet. does this mean i think zukka is canon or could be? no. maybe did i have fun pretending and overanalyzing every detail? yes.

ps in all seriousness, the answer is that this is about my fav boy and how far he has come in his character growth journey - exhibit a from ‘the avatar returns’ episode:

the end, i am getting blocked and going to jail but it’s okay because zukka is my bosco hug.

#zukka #unhinged ramblings #tash goes feral on nonexistent zukka lore #PLEASE YOUR HONOR #i love sokka so much i want to rip things up when i look at him

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wheresarizona · 10 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 20

summary: Javier has a shitty first day at his new job—thankfully, you thought ahead and planned some surprises that will turn it all around.

rating: E (18+! No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, (massive) breeding kink, sneaking around (secretly fucking in a house full of people), dirty talk, spanking, praise kink, domestic fluff, family fluff, family bonding, PTSD (panic attack), food as a metaphor for love, emotional hurt/comfort, hanging out with Chucho and fam, Javier in love, Javier saying very romantic things in Spanish, Javier holding a baby, baby fever)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

a/n: Hello there! This is a very important chapter that I literally hammered out in less than two weeks (I don’t know how I did it). We meet some new characters, and there’s a lot of Chucho content. It’s also very plot heavy. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing. You're the best!

word count: 22k (this is who I am)

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The Webb County Sheriff’s Office was located in the heart of downtown Laredo, a hulking two-story building with a tan stucco exterior and grey metal lettering on the front declaring, ‘Sheriff’s Office.’ Their jurisdiction spanned over three thousand miles and was the largest in southern Texas—whereas the Laredo Police Department only handled the town itself.

Javier had opinions about the local police.

None of them were good, seeing as the department’s Chief for the last twenty-something years has been Lorraine’s other uncle.

If it seemed like her family was everywhere, that was because they fucking were.

Her father’s side, the Smiths, have lived in the area going back generations and were the wealthiest family in Laredo, all thanks to the large transportation company her great-grandfather started back in the early 1900s. Their family made a name for themselves and were known for their philanthropy and pursuits to better the town—at least, that was true before her father took over the company from her grandfather and used all of the good his predecessors had done as a means to run for Mayor, making what turned out to be empty promises after he was elected.

He wasn’t the worst Mayor in Laredo’s history, but he wasn’t the best, either.

The philanthropic endeavors decreased when the business was handed over to her dad, who was more concerned with filling the family’s pockets, yet they still remained the town’s biggest benefactor and were held in somewhat high regard. The Smiths were well known, and two out of his three brothers had notable careers in town: one was the Chief of police, another had been a judge down at the courthouse before he was nominated by President George H. W. Bush to work on the federal level, and then, of course, there was Javier’s former barber.

Lorraine also had siblings and a hell of a lot of cousins who still lived in Laredo, so her family was fucking everywhere, much to his annoyance. He did his best to avoid them at all costs, especially if Cielito was with him. Javier was pretty sure there would be a physical altercation if she saw his ex, which made him smile, but it also meant he had to be on high alert when they were out and about. He was proud of how good he’d gotten at distracting her to keep them from crossing paths, usually feigning interest in a nearby store or restaurant. There was also the time they hadn’t even left his truck yet, and he’d spotted Lorraine down the street, so he kissed his girlfriend and made out with her for a solid five minutes to make sure the coast was clear—that one was his favorite.

Thankfully, none of the Smiths worked for the Sheriff.

There were five minutes to spare when he arrived at the office downtown, spending the first hour with the only Human Resources employee, Juana, a lovely older woman, half his size who kept calling him ‘Guapo (Handsome)’ and trying to wheedle his mom’s tamale recipe out of him. He’d filled out all of the necessary paperwork, frowning when he had to mark ‘Single’ on many of the forms. He got his picture taken and badge made, Juana commenting it was ‘Guapísimo (Very handsome),’ and he couldn’t wait to show Cielito to see her reaction, wearing it around his neck on a black lanyard. Then the older woman gave him a tour of the building, the only places of interest to him being the supply room, conference room, records room, evidence room, and where the nearest pot of coffee was located to his new office, which was their final stop.

Most of the people who worked here, he either knew or knew of, and they were all very aware of who he was if the looks and whispers he ignored were anything to go by.

His office wasn’t anything special and didn’t compare in the slightest to what he’d had in Colombia. It was small, with room enough for a cherry wood L-shaped desk against one wall, his desk chair putting the door in his line of sight, two chairs in front of it, and two bookcases behind it on either side of the window that had a breathtaking view of the parking lot. A computer was atop the reddish-brown hardwood, the bulky thing situated against the wall. A typewriter, which was more his speed, was on the other side near the edge, and a landline office phone between them in the corner. Aside from those three things, everything else was bare and empty—his plan was to raid the supply room, which could more accurately be described as a closet, for all the shit he needed.

He was standing just inside the door and finally alone, shuffling the stuff in his hands to free one up to grab the door handle and pull it forward to look at the other side, smiling when he saw there was a lock. Making his way around the desk, he set the things in his hand down on top of it, pulling out the chair and taking a seat.

The first item did not belong to him, and he’d never be caught dead with it, which was a fucking lie since it was sitting on his desk—The Empire Strikes Back Metal Lunch box was blue with art of Han, Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO in the Millennium Falcon cockpit, and did belong to his girlfriend, who’d packed his lunch the night before. She realized they hadn’t gotten him a lunch bag of his own, so she handed him this fucking thing at the door, giving him a kiss and a smack to the ass, telling him to have a good day.

He moved it off the desk and down behind it on the floor where it wouldn’t be seen.

The other two items were small black-bordered picture frames, setting the first one up: a picture of him and Cielito in his dad’s backyard, her standing in front of him with his arms wrapped around her chest, her hands holding them to her, his head beside hers as they smiled at the camera, the happiness clear on their faces. He put the second one next to it that had a Polaroid he’d taken while they made dinner one night in their kitchen of her grinning brightly at the camera and looking unbelievably adorable in his Fleetwood Mac shirt.

They made him smile, his mind going back to that morning and how fucking good it was. He sighed softly, touching the knot around his throat. He loved having her watch and help him get ready, then seeing how much it turned her on when he was dressed, wishing every morning was like that—the woman he loved choosing his outfit and keeping him company. They usually got dressed together, sometimes even asking each other opinions on what to wear, but it had never been like today. He wanted to look good for her, he wanted to wear what she wanted, he wanted to do something so simple to make her happy.

Then there were the things she did to him that had his slacks suddenly feeling a bit tight.

Javier felt like such a dick for arguing with her. He doesn’t know what came over him except that he didn’t think it was fair that only he was getting off—which was dumb because they both had times when they just wanted to pleasure the other without getting anything in return.

Fuck, her mouth, her tits. He looked at the Polaroid and her breasts under his shirt. She was so fucking beautiful between his knees, fucking him with them and letting him come all over her chest. Coming inside her was his favorite, but seeing her painted in his spend was a close second… Unless he could finish in her ass. His brain shortcircuited for a second, imagining how fucking tight she’d be while he filled her, and if she orgasmed at the same time, she’d tense up and squeeze his dic—

There was a low whistle from the door, a familiar deep voice saying, “Te tiene loco esa muchacha, se te sale la baba (That girl’s got you going crazy, you’re drooling).”

Javier frowned, his cheeks heating, clearing his throat as he looked at the older man standing in the doorway. He didn’t get up from his chair since his cock was at half-mast, confirming he was, in fact, crazy about her.

The newcomer had a similar build to his dad, the short cropped hair on his head and around his mouth grey with age, wearing the Webb County Sheriff Department uniform of a khaki short sleeve button up and army green pants with a yellow stripe down the sides, the golden Sheriff star badge pinned to his chest, glittering in the lights.

Unrelated to him, Sheriff Arturo López was about his age when he was elected into office back in the 70s. He was the county’s longest-serving Sheriff, and for good reason: he was an honorable man. Javier was very aware of this because he’s known him his whole life; Arturo was a good friend of his father’s.

“You’re as annoying as Pop,” he grumbled, straightening in his seat. “He’s told you about her?”

The other man’s face lit up, walking into the room to stand behind one of the chairs in front of the desk, resting both hands on the back.

“Talks about her and you—” His finger was directed at Javier. “—all the damn time. When I went out to the ranch last week, he showed me all of the pictures he took last month on his birthday with that fancy new camera you got him.”

He and Cielito had celebrated with his dad by barbecuing at the ranch. Daphne and Velma were in attendance; the two calves he’d practically raised, whom they affectionately called their bovine children, were given apples as treats, happily lying in the sun or chewing on the grass with their humans nearby. Chucho loved Cielito’s cooking almost as much as Javier did and had requested a peach pie for his birthday, which she, of course, made for him, much to his delight—he wouldn’t shut up about how much he loved it, and that was completely understandable, it was a really fucking good pie; so good, in fact, that Javier had stolen an extra piece before they’d left for the night. The picture of them on his desk was from that day, Cielito looking beautiful in a lavender-colored dress that he’d managed to match his button-up to—his eyes went back to it, thinking they looked so good together.

Perfect.

“¿Me oyes o que (Can you hear me or what)?” Arturo said a little louder, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Javier immediately looked up at him, seeing the other man was amused.

“Shit, sorry,” Javier replied, running a hand through his hair.

Arturo chuckled. “Tu papá tenía razón (Your dad was right). Estás arrebatado (You’re completely enraptured).” He slid a chair out and sat down, kicking his feet up on the desk’s edge.

His jaw ticked, annoyance creeping up on him, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve got it bad—are you here to give me shit about it, or are we going to discuss the scope of this job you’ve been on my ass about since I got back?”

The other man huffed out a breath, his face going serious, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “Your dad also said you get very defensive about it—tu novia (your girlfriend) is off limits. I read you loud and clear.” He put his feet down, sitting up in his seat, his eyes on Javier’s. “Remember when I offered you a job when you graduated from A&M?” he asked.

Javier did—it was his backup plan if swimming hadn’t panned out. He’d wanted to get into law enforcement, and it would’ve been a good start, but then Lorraine fucked that up for him, too, since he had to get the hell out of Laredo.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“I saw your potential all those years ago—determination in your eyes to do something good and look at what you did in South America.”

Javier scoffed.

A crease appeared between the Sheriff’s eyes. “You know you’re a hero, right?” he asked.

Javier’s elbows were on the desk, his fingers laced in front of him. “I’m no hero.” He shook his head. “I just did my fucking job, and that’s it. Not like any of it mattered, anyway—the war on drugs will never fucking end.”

“On a large scale? No, there will always be drug trafficking, but things can be done here at home to crack down on it and keep our community safe.”

His eyebrow rose. “That’s why you need me?”

The older man smiled. “Partially.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware of the drug smuggling problems we’re having here in Laredo?”

He nodded.

Arturo continued, “We know it’s coming into Laredo and then being distributed out to the bigger cities—we’ve got a whole narcotics unit, and they’ve done some decent busts throughout the county, but things can turn violent quick. You know how it is, people have drugs—”

“They’ll have weapons,” he cut him off, nodding.

They have to protect their cargo.

“Well, our current strategies aren’t making much difference, and even with some wins, it’s not enough. You personally took out the Colombians, and with them gone, the Mexican cartels have been taking advantage, and things have gotten bad, and that’s why I needed you to take this job. I need a new set of eyes. I need your expertise.” He pointed at Javier. “I need you to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. I want you to work with the team and make a better plan of attack. Have you kept up on the Mexican cartels?”

He has. Steve still works for the DEA in Florida and updates him about the goings on in South America and Mexico on their weekly calls.

“Yeah.”

“Good, we know they’re supplying.”

“Of course they are. So, you want me to look over the situation here, consult, and help plan? Can I meet the head of the narcotics unit?”

“You’re the head of the narcotics unit.”

His eyes widened, taken aback. “...what?”

That definitely wasn’t in the job description—he was supposed to be here for informational purposes only, training people, consulting, not running a team. He promised Cielito this would be an office job, and he absolutely would not go back on his word to her; he’d quit first and work somewhere else; hell, his alma mater, had put out feelers on if he’d like to teach. Anger was bubbling in his belly that this was turning out to be a fucking bait and switch, the Sheriff putting way more responsibility on him than he agreed to.

His face pinched in anger, glaring at the other man, his voice low, menacing, not brokering any room for argument, “When you pitched me this job, you said I’d be consulting, bringing in my knowledge and training people, shit like that. I didn’t sign up to head a fucking unit. I promised my girl this job would be nothing like the fucking DEA.”

“Cálmate (Calm down), Javi, it isn’t.” The Sheriff waved away his concern. “I’m sorry for springing it on you like this. I thought you’d like to be in charge since you wanted a desk job, and that’s what it is, a desk job—you’ll never see any action. You don’t even need a gun. You’ve got a lot of experience we could benefit from, so it makes sense you’d be the best person to lead and advise them. You’d help them do their jobs better.”

Javier had the upper hand here—the other man needed him more than he needed this job.

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want the fucking responsibility of running a team—if that’s the case, I’m walking out that fucking door.” He jutted his finger toward it.

Arturo frowned, sighing deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll forget the title. I’ll assign one of the other guys as the leader. You’ll consult—look into the situation here, help train, and plan. Is that better?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I am not in charge of them, is that understood?”

The other man sighed again. “Yes, Javi. You’re not in charge—no responsibility for them.” He leaned forward, offering his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yeah,” he replied, shaking the offered palm.

“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Welcome aboard.” He got up from his chair. “The team is scheduled to meet with you at one in the conference room for introductions—they’re expecting you.” He was walking toward the door, stopping before he exited to look at Javier over his shoulder. “There’s one other part of your job I forgot to mention.”

Javier let out a loud breath, feeling beyond annoyed. “What’s that?”

“You’ll be the point of contact for the DEA when they come knocking—I’ve got Southern Texas’ largest county to worry about. I don’t have time for their bullshit.”

He scoffed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here, Javi. Thank you for doing this,” he said as he left the room.

“Fuck,” Javier breathed, pressing his face into his hands.

Did he make a fucking mistake taking this job? He felt like he’d bit off way more than he could chew. He was starting to get a headache, reminding himself that this wouldn’t be anything like the DEA; he wasn’t going after cartels, he wasn’t having to put his life at risk, he was keeping his promise to Cielito, and that was all that fucking mattered.

Thinking of her, he remembered the day before when they were eating breakfast, hearing her voice clear in his mind saying, ‘...since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem…’

Find a problem to solve.

What was going on in Mexico wasn’t his problem; that was for the feds to worry about; what was a big fucking problem to him were drugs somehow making it past heavy border patrol and DEA intervention, but could he solve it?

The woman he loved was into that astrology shit, and the stars, or whatever the fuck, seemed to want him to.

Jesus Christ, was he really taking advice from something somebody probably pulled out of their ass?

He thought about it more rationally.

Laredo was his home, even if he wanted to leave it with his girlfriend most of the time. He had Cielito and his dad here; one day, they’d have children. Did he want to bring their kids into a world where there was a possibility of danger? He was remembering Colombia and the horrible shit he’d seen when drug busts went sideways, and innocent people got caught in the crossfire. What if Cielito was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and something happened to her? His memories of South America were fueling the worst-case scenarios playing out in his head of things that could happen to her or their future kids, his heart starting to pound in his chest, dread feeling like lead in the pit of his stomach.

He was beginning to panic as he thought of the potential consequences if he didn’t do this. He needed to keep his family safe; he had to make sure their home was safe, needing to protect his future wife and their future children.

What if I fail to protect them like I failed others before?

His breaths were coming out quick, the room suddenly going dark around the edges, it feeling stifling—he couldn’t breathe.

With it being the beginning of August in Southern Texas, it was barely ten a.m. and already scorching hot outside.

After sending Javi off to work with the coolest lunch box that he sighed really loudly at taking, a kiss and a smack to his ass, you’d showered, putting on some black bicycle shorts and the white t-shirt you’d gotten at a Prince concert the year prior. It had his symbol on the front with ‘The “Jam of the Year” World Tour 97/98.’ written on it, wanting to wear comfortable clothes since you’d be cooking all day—something that required you to leave your apartment.

But not to go to a store… yet.

The air conditioning was turned up as high as it would go in your car, Salt-N-Pepa playing loudly over the whirring of it as you drove down the road.

Ringing sounded in the passenger seat from the cell phone in your purse Javi got you when he moved in; you hadn’t wanted it, but the man worried about you getting stranded on the side of the road, or having an emergency, so to mollify him you’d accepted it.

Your eyes stayed on the road as you reached into your bag, fumbling around until you found the hard plastic Nokia phone that seemed practically indestructible. Pulling it out, you turned down the radio, the screen on the cellphone glowing green showing Javi was calling—which was a surprise, immediately hitting the answer button.

“Hey, babe!” you greeted, driving one-handed.

“Talk to me,” he said between heavy breaths, sounding like he’d been running.

It made you frown, worry curling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Javi, what’s going on?”

“Talk, please.” There was desperation in his tone, understanding he needed you to calm him down.

“Okay, um, gosh, I am so sorry for this stream of consciousness, it’s going to be unfiltered, just straight brain to mouth,” you rambled. “I’m driving right now and wearing those tight, stretchy shorts that I swear to fucking god are a magnet for your hands—you know the ones. Like, you smack my ass so much in these that I know if I’m within reach of you, I’m getting spanked—which, I’m only telling you this because you’re, you know, but I love when you do it so much—I love you, too, a lot, an insane amount, and I can’t wait to see you, so I can give you a big hug and smother your face in kisses—just smooches all over that sexy mug of yours. Um, I hope you’ll like the dinner I’m making—it’s gonna test my skills, and I’m excited to attempt it; hopefully, it’ll be edible.”

His breaths were beginning to even out, continuing to speak your thoughts, “I’m super worried about you right now since you’re calling me before your lunch and needing me to talk. So, just focus on my voice, baby—you’re gonna get through this. Breathe, you’re okay, and it’s gonna pass—everything is okay. Um, fuck, what else can I talk about, oh! I really liked that movie we rented Friday before last—the one with Harrison Ford? It was honestly so on point that the woman fell in love with him while stranded on that deserted island—how could you not fall in love with Pilot Harrison Ford? Which, I mean I wouldn’t—” you added quickly. “—I’ve already got a hunky, grumpy man I’m disgustingly in love with, thank you very much, and Harrison Ford can kick rocks—you’re my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with if that wasn’t clear, and if I got stranded somewhere I know you’d find me—I don’t know how you’d do it, but you would. I know I said it already, but I love you, Javi—I love you so much sometimes I feel like I’m going to combust—”

“I love you, too,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

“There you are,” you replied, smiling in relief at hearing him. “Feel better?”

“Yes.” He audibly swallowed. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me, and you’d never bother me, Javi. I love you.”

“I love you, too—I fucking knew you wear those shorts on purpose.” The smile was evident in his voice.

You giggled. “Kinda. They’re just really comfy.”

“Uh-huh, right. I’m also happy to be your hunky, grumpy man you’re disgustingly in love with.”

“Good, ‘cause you are.” The reason he called had you sobering up, asking, “Javi, do you want to talk about what happened?”

He sighed. “The, uh, smuggling problem is worse than I thought, and I started thinking about if something happened to you or our kids, and it, uh—”

“Triggered a panic attack,” you finished for him. “Javi,” you said softly. “It’s your first day, and you already had a panic attack. Are you sure you should be doing this job?”

“I promise, I’m okay—it won’t happen again.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know,” he sighed again.

“You can quit and go back to work with your dad on the ranch while you look for another job that won’t be so triggering.”

“I know… But I want to do this.”

A frown was on your face again. When he told you he’d gotten a job with the Sheriff, you’d been worried it’d make him miserable and lead to him resenting you. He was adamant that wouldn’t happen, and his new work wouldn’t be anything like the DEA, promising you it was just an office job, but with this phone call, your worries were back. He’d been there—you glanced at the clock on your radio—two hours, and he’d already had a panic attack—it didn’t bode well that his PTSD was acting up. Then there was the determination in his tone, hearing how he felt like this was something he had to do, and it made you feel uneasy.

“Okay,” you replied. If this was what he wanted, you wouldn’t fight him on it. “But if this happens again, you call me.”

“I will.”

“Promise me, Javier—don’t hide it from me.”

“I promise, Cielito. I won’t keep it from you.”

“Thank you. Now, do you need me to come down there right now? It’d take me like twenty minutes.”

“No, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“Alright. How’s your first day so far?”

“The woman from HR kept calling me guapo, but I think she was just saying it to get mi mamá’s tamale recipe.”

You snorted. “Eres guapísimo (You’re very handsome). ¿Ella tuvo éxito (Did she succeed)?”

He chuckled. “No, Cielito. No se lo diré a nadie excepto a ti (I won’t tell anyone except you).”

“I don’t know why, but that’s very romantic, and I’m touched.”

“Ella hubiera querido que lo tuvieras (She would’ve wanted you to have it).”

You were smiling big.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I should probably get back to work.” He sounded like he didn’t want to get off the phone.

“Wait, promise me, Javier, if this job gets to be too much or you feel yourself slipping back to how you were before, you’ll quit. Promise me.”

“I promise, Cielito—I pinky promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it. I love you. Call me on your lunch.”

“I love you, too, and I will.”

Goodbyes were said, the call ending, tossing the phone back into the passenger seat.

Chewing on your lip, your brain was stuck on Javi as you drove.

You really fucking hoped he’d be okay, but your boyfriend was stubborn, and when he put his mind to something, he didn’t let anything get in his way—including himself. It was one of his flaws, yet also a strength, that made him good at his job.

Colombia was a looming shadow, always following him around, and he still hadn’t shed a light on it for you. You knew the overview of his time there—he’d worked with Steve to help take down Pablo Escobar, but he’d fucked up and was sent home before they’d gotten the fucker; A lot of his informants were prostitutes that he’d slept with; He was sent back a second time and was put in charge, working his ass off to take down the Cali Cartel, and once he finished, he’d resigned from the DEA—and now he’d found another thing to put his mind to, and you were worried it would consume him.

You wouldn’t let him fall back into old habits and would talk to him and lay down some ground rules, the first being work stayed at work—when he came home, it was time for him to relax and forget about the day. It was what you did; it was how you survived being a busy emergency room nurse in a hospital in Dallas, where there was so much death. Once you clocked out for the day, your shift was over, and your worries over work ceased until you clocked back in for your next shift. There was no dwelling on things when you’d go home. If you did, you would’ve been miserable and the job much more difficult. You knew it would be really fucking hard for Javi to do, but you were determined to make sure he didn’t revert back to the miserable, depressed man he’d been in Colombia.

It wasn’t going to happen. Not if you had any say.

Your mind had been so preoccupied you suddenly found yourself at your destination, pulling into Chucho’s driveway, the gravel crunching under your tires, seeing him sitting in one of the two white rocking chairs on the porch, waiting for you with a big smile on his face. Pulling off to the side in front of the house and parking, you shoved your cell phone back into your purse, grabbing it and the little notebook from the passenger seat, and getting out, walking along the stone path in front of Javi’s mom’s beautiful flower garden, her husband still tended to.

“Buenos días, Mija (Good morning, Mija),” the older man greeted as he got up from his seat in jeans, a white short-sleeve button-up, and cowboy boots to hug you when you made it up the few stairs.

Smiling as you hugged him back, you replied, “Buenos días, Chucho.”

He let go of you, meeting your eyes with a happy grin. “The house smells amazing,” he said, moving over to the screen door, the springs screeching as he opened it for you, making your way inside the house.

“I hope it turned out amazing.” You were hit with the smell of cooking meat permeating in the air, heading toward the kitchen, the older man following you with the screen door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sure it did.”

It warmed your heart how much faith he had in you, setting your purse and notebook down on the kitchen table to go look in the Crock Pot and finding the pork you put in it the night before was done. Turning it off, you smiled, seeing that Chucho had already set out a giant bowl and tongs for you to use. Grabbing the utensil, you looked over your shoulder, clicking them twice. “I see this isn’t your first rodeo—thank you,” you said.

He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Mija. It can cool while we go to the store.”

“Very true.”

Your attention moved back to the slow cooker, removing the lid and using the tongs to transfer the big pieces of meat into the bowl.

“How was your morning?” he asked.

Memories of Javi getting dressed came to you, your skin heating when you thought of the dirtier things you’d both done.

“Pretty good—your son let me choose his suit and tie,” you answered, moving another piece of pork.

“A good man.”

“The best, and we had a lovely breakfast before he went off to work.” You’d stood in the kitchen drinking coffee together, and he took a granola bar for the road. “How was yours?”

“Not bad. I made sure all of the pots and pans you’ll need are where I saw them last, and I extended the kitchen table so you have more room.”

You’d noticed it was bigger, going from being able to seat four to about six.

The last chunk of meat was put in the bowl, discarding the utensil into the sink as you said, “You are the fucking best, Chucho.”

“I’m just excited,” he laughed.

After unplugging the Crock Pot, you faced the older man. “I’m excited, too, and really fucking nervous.”

“You’re going to do great,” he reassured, making your heart clench.

“Thank you, Chucho. I really hope it’s good. Do you have aluminum foil?”

He pointed beside you. “Second drawer.”

“Thank you.” You got the foil out, tearing a piece to cover the bowl, putting it back where it belonged, and turning toward your boyfriend’s dad again.

“Okay,” you started. “So, I watched the video of Antonia’s instructions again this morning and tried to take some notes.” You put it on after Javi left, doing your best to write stuff down. Frowning, you continued, “You know I’m getting better at my Spanish, but there were some things I missed.”

He had a warm expression.

“Don’t stress, Mija. I watched and helped mi amor (my love) make her tamales so many times I’ve lost count. I may not know measurements or remember all the ingredients, but we’ve got her recipe cards we can use.” He gestured to the dining table next to him, where your things sat atop it beside a small oak wood dovetailed box that you knew when you opened the hinged lid, it contained his wife’s handwritten recipe cards.

The idea to make Javi’s mom’s famous tamales came to you while watching the home video of her explaining how they were made. You knew they were his favorite food, and wanted to make his first day at work special because, even though he acted like the job was no big deal, you still worried it’d fuck him up—which is exactly what happened, and now you were really happy he’d have your attempt at his mom’s tamales to comfort him.

There was nervousness about asking Chucho for permission. The recipe was a heavily guarded secret and something his wife was known for, and you were just some random woman dating his son. He’d been ecstatic when you called, though, telling you he’d get out Antonia’s recipe box for you to use, which was such a huge honor, you teared up.

The first time you got a chance to look inside the box was the night before when you brought over the pork to cook—the cards inside were old and some stained, able to see which ones she used the most, her recipes written out in beautiful script, all of them in Spanish and finding some she added little notes to—one for Pozole she’d crossed out radish in the ingredients, noting Javi hated them.

It was a little overwhelming knowing each one this incredible woman had touched, each one she’d made, and even though you never got a chance to meet her, it felt like you had—as odd as it was, you felt closer to her, seeing the tweaks she’d made to some recipes and completely understanding why she did them.

Antonia Peña was alive through the stories her family told, the pictures in old albums, the many home videos, and the food she’d once made that you were now getting the chance to make to honor her memory.

Smiling, you said, “Yes, we’ve got the recipe.” Walking over to the table, you picked up your notebook, looking at him. “I wrote down our grocery list in here.” You tapped the cover with your finger. “But in the video, she mentioned a secret ingredient in her red sauce. She spoke too quickly for me to understand what she was saying, and I didn’t see it listed on the recipe card…”

He held up four fingers. “Four arbol chiles. No more, no less. Four.” Your eyes went wide, grinning as you flipped open your notebook, grabbing the pen tucked between the pages. A hand covered the paper, looking at him in confusion. “You can’t write it down,” he said. “It’s a secret only Javi, and I know, and now you do, too.” He smiled.

Tears brimmed in your eyes, feeling so honored to have been told. You were careful of the notebook and pen you were holding as you threw your arms around him in a hug.

Javi said you were the only person he’d tell the recipe to, and here was his dad saying the same, feeling so unbelievably loved by this family.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you said.

He patted your back. “You’re family, Mija—mi futura nuera (my future daughter-in-law), you get to know, but you can’t tell anyone. Es un secreto (It’s a secret).”

You pulled back, nodding, “Yes, of course.” The pen was put back in the closed notebook, using your free hand to wipe at your teary eyes. “You ready to go?” you asked. “You’re my inside man on where to get the best ingredients.”

Chuckling, he replied, “I’m ready. I’ll drive. We’ll go out the back.”

Grabbing your purse, you followed Chucho down the hallway to the house's rear. The walls were bright teal with artwork of flowers Antonia had picked out, passing a guest bathroom, another hallway that led to a spare bedroom, the laundry room, and the staircase that went up to the master bedroom. He stopped at the coat hooks behind the back door to put on his straw cowboy hat and grab car keys from a row of tinier key hooks.

On your first visit to Chucho’s, you learned they didn’t lock the house during the day, so it wasn’t a surprise when you shut the door behind you, and he just kept walking. The gravel driveway fanned out behind the house where many cars and trucks were parked beside each other, knowing most belonged to Javi’s cousins and uncle, who all worked on the ranch.

It confused you when he passed his pickup, having assumed that was what you would be riding in and ending up at a smaller vehicle with a white cover over it and a dusting of dirt.

“It’s a special occasion,” he said, going to the front and beginning to pull off the covering. “So, we’ll take my baby.” Removing it as he walked toward the rear, he slowly revealed an old, red, soft-top convertible sports car in impeccable condition.

“Wow, I get to ride in the fancy car,” you replied, delighted. “This is so nice.”

The cover was set aside, Chucho unlocking the driver’s side door.

“Thank you.” He patted the top. “She’s a ‘68 Ford Mustang. Got her the year she was made.”

You went to the passenger side, looking through the glass at the black leather interior, two seats in the front, and two squished in the back, the lock disengaging with a click.

Getting in, you used the crank to lower your window, the older man starting the engine, and it roaring to life.

“I’m sure Javi had a blast riding around in this,” you said.

He was leaning to the left to press a button near the steering wheel, the top slowly moving back to open with a whine.

“Oh, he did.” Chucho smiled. “I don’t drive it much—drove it more back then than I do now. Javi would beg me to take him for rides and always was an excited little guy when I’d pick him up from school in it.” The top was completely down, and he rolled down his window, too. “But, Antonia, mi amor, was my regular passenger.” He tapped the dashboard. “Brought out the Mustang for date night.” He grinned.

“I love that so much,” you replied, putting on your seatbelt and Chucho doing the same. “Once Javi got his license, did you let him drive it?”

He put the car in reverse, his arm going to the top of your seat as he looked behind him to back out.

“Hell no,” he answered, making you laugh.

He had you both on the road heading into town in no time, the wind whipping past you, unable to stop from smiling. There wasn’t any awkwardness, feeling comfortable casually chatting with him. Chucho told you more stories about Javi and Antonia that had you laughing, having the best time with him.

There was a small lull in the conversation, and turning your head toward him, you said, “Thank you for helping me with this, Chucho. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”

Smiling, he glanced at you. “You’re welcome, Mija, and you know, you can call me ‘Pop’ if you want,” he replied. “I already think of you as my daughter and don’t mind.”

Your eyes were watering, and it had nothing to do with the top being down.

In all the time you’ve known this man, he’s been more of a father to you than your actual biological dad. He welcomed you with open arms and was so warm and caring, able to see how much he loved his son and now you, too. It was a stark contrast to the coldness you were used to from being the family disappointment, not even sure when you last spoke to your father, thinking it was probably when you visited your family months ago.

Your mother was the one who stayed in contact with you, though her calls have become less frequent since you’d gone off on her for saying shitty things about Javi. The next time she called after the incident, you had put your foot down and threatened to go no contact if she continued to belittle and say horrible things about him. She hadn’t liked the threat but begrudgingly agreed to your terms, and you assumed the lack of phone calls was because she didn’t have anything nice to say.

Honestly, you knew her weekly calls were to make sure you weren’t bringing more shame to the family name, and it was nice not having her breathing down your neck.

You’ve never known what it was like to have such a loving parent like Chucho, and you were over the goddamn moon you had him now.

“Thank you,” you replied. “You’re a great dad, and I’m happy you’re in my life.”

“I’m happy you’re in my and my son’s lives. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all you’ve done for him. I just love seeing how happy he is and those smiles. So, thank you, Mija.”

“You’re gonna make me cry!” Tears were threatening to spill.

“Don’t cry! This is a happy day.” He patted your knee. “We’re having a great time and almost there.”

La Tapatía Market was a hidden gem on the west side of town in a more residential area, inhabiting what was probably once a neighborhood grocery store back in the 1920s if the old painted brick on the outside was anything to go by. It was on a corner lot, a stone wall separating it from the homes that resided next door to it, and it wasn’t large nor tiny but a decent enough size to offer a variety of goods straight from across the border.

The market also happened to be family-owned, as you learned walking through the front door, hearing a bell jingle above it.

Entering, there was a long counter on the right where the register was, and a young man behind it, who was maybe in his thirties, his black hair buzzed short on his head, and face clean shaven, wearing dark green flannel, his attention immediately on the two of you.

��¡Hola (Hello)!” he greeted. “Me alegro de verte aquí otra vez, Don Chucho (It’s good to see you here again, Don Chucho).”

“Buenos días, Martín (Good morning, Martín),” Chucho replied, smiling. “¿Cómo están tus padres (How are your parents)? ¿Están aquí (Are they here)?”

“No, no están aquí (No, no, they’re not here).” He shook his head. “Tenían que ir a un mandado y deberían volver pronto (They had to go run an errand and should be back soon).”

“Bueno, bueno (Good, good),” he replied. “Oh, Martín, me gustaría que conocieras a mi nuera (Martín, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law),” he said, stepping aside and ushering you forward as he told him your name.

“Hola (Hello),” you said. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).”

The other man’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“¿Javier se casó (Javier got married)?” he asked.

“No, todavía no (No, not yet),” Chucho chuckled. “Pero espero que más pronto que tarde (But hopefully sooner rather than later).”

“Sí, Don Chucho (Yes, Don Chucho). Es maravilloso que haya conocido a alguien (It’s wonderful that he met someone).” His attention turned to you, smiling. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).” Looking between you both, he asked, “¿Qué los trae por aquí hoy (What brings you here today)?”

Chucho’s arm went over your shoulders, grinning as he answered, “Ella es una cocinera increíble y está haciendo los tamales de mi esposa (She is an amazing cook and is making my wife’s tamales).”

The praise had your cheeks feeling hot, thinking it was very sweet how highly he regarded you, but it also was a tad nerve-wracking, feeling the nervous flutter in your belly.

Surprise was on Martín’s face. “Los famosos tamales de la Doña Antonia (Doña Antonia’s famous tamales)?”

“Sí,” Chucho replied excitedly, and it was honestly very adorable.

“Guau, buena suerte (Wow, good luck). Avíseme si necesita ayuda para encontrar algo (Let me know if you need help finding anything).

“Gracias, Martín (Thank you, Martín).”

“Gracias,” you also said, smiling.

Just inside the door and to the left were metal shopping carts, Chucho grabbing one while you opened your notebook, telling him the first thing on the list, and him leading you to the aisle. There were only a couple of other shoppers moseying around, your boyfriend’s dad greeting them by name when you happened across them.

The recipe from Antonia’s cards said it’d make about two dozen tamales, and you were very confused when Chucho had you get five times the ingredients on the list.

Did he want to make sure you had extra in case you fucked up? Five times seemed a bit excessive for that...

You were standing in an aisle, many different kinds of chiles in plastic bags hanging on pegs in front of you. The older man was looking at the labels with concentration etched on his brow before grabbing a bag.

“These ones,” he said, showing it to you. “How many do you need?”

“Uh, twelve chiles.”

“Okay.” He nodded, looking in the bag and counting how many chiles it had in it, then once again, he was quintupling the amount, throwing in more bags, and doing the same with the arbol chiles.

“Chucho?”

“Yes?” His attention turned to you.

“Why are we getting so much extra stuff?” You pointed at the growing pile of goods in the cart.

“So there’s enough for everyone,” he answered.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Who’s everyone?”

“You’re making tamales…” he said slowly.

“Yes… and that means?”

What were you missing?

“You don’t make tamales alone…”

“Yeah, you’re helping.” You gestured at him.

He smiled warmly. “Mija, you’re going to need more than just me. So, I invited people to come over and help.” He shrugged.

It felt like a record scratched in your brain.

“What people?”

“Just my sisters and some of their kids—they’re very excited to meet you.”

Well, this new bit of information did not help with your nerves at all. Now there would be more people judging your food, and your worry that you’d fuck up was running rampant. You took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were doing this for Javi—you needed to do this for your boyfriend, and thinking on the bright side, it will be good to have people who know how to make tamales there.

“Oh, wow, okay. I’m meeting the fam. That’s cool. I’m excited to meet them, too.”

Aside from Javi introducing you to a couple of his cousins who work at the ranch, you hadn’t met anyone else in his family—not because he was ashamed of you or didn’t want you to meet them, he was just being selfish, and hogging you all to himself. His tía María had everyone over at her house after church every Sunday for food and to catch up, and there was an open invitation for Javi and you to attend, but he preferred spending the day with you instead. It was romantic of him, but you were dying to meet the people you’d heard stories about and seen pictures of in the photo albums of him growing up.

You hoped they’d like you.

Chucho was back behind the cart, and you were beside it. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said in a gentle voice you could imagine him using with the animals at the ranch. “They’ve heard all about you and are happy Javi has such a great girlfriend. They already like you.”

There was doubt in the back of your mind.

“You’re sure they like me?”

He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Rebeca had some of the peach pie you made for my birthday and wanted the recipe. They all can’t wait to try your tamales.”

That made you feel better.

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

"You won't."

A thought came to you. "Fuck, I don't think I made enough pork!"

"You did."

"I did?"

He grinned. "Yes, when you called to ask how much to buy, I made sure you got enough."

Smiling at him, you replied, "You're very sneaky, Chucho and I love it."

"Thank you. What's next on the list?"

“You won’t. What’s next on the list?”

The cart was fuller than you anticipated, with Chucho getting a variety of fruit-flavored sodas called Jarritos and some beer by the time you reached the register. He also refused to let you pay, which was annoying, but after the third time you tried, he gave you a grumpy look that was strikingly similar to your boyfriend’s, so you’d given up.

Everything fit in the trunk of the Mustang, and the two of you were off back to the ranch, Chucho turning on an oldies radio station while you guys made a game plan for the day.

He told you Antonia cooked the red chile sauce first, making the filling next, then the tamale dough called masa after. That was a good idea, deciding that was what you’d do, too.

Returning to the house, everything was brought inside, and you organized it all into piles for each step of the process on the kitchen table. Chucho put all the drinks in a giant cooler with a ton of ice stationed out of the way in the big kitchen.

After washing and drying your hands, you got to work, starting with shredding the pork that cooled while you were out. Chucho turned on the kitchen radio, you telling him to keep it on the Spanish station his wife had loved, and he’d gotten you guys some cold beers out of the fridge.

While you dealt with the meat, he took care of soaking the corn husks in hot water where they’d need to stay for hours to make them pliable and easy to work with when it was time to construct the tamales.

When you finished with the pork, it was put aside, and you started on the red sauce.

The two of you were standing next to each other at the kitchen counter, a big wooden cutting board in front of you both with kitchen shears and a chef’s knife you were using to cut the stems off of the chiles, then using the knife to slice them open and remove the seeds by hand—it was a somewhat tedious process.

“Did you always help your wife with this part?” you asked him, adding another cleaned chile to the pile on a baking sheet beside the cutting board.

“Sí (Yes), well, at least until Javi got old enough to remember not to touch his eyes.” He chuckled.

“A rookie mistake.” You shook your head.

“Oh yeah, I remember the first time, he was maybe five or six, she told him, ‘No te toques los ojos—es owie (Don’t touch your eyes—it’s owie),’ and what did he do? Rubbed them. Antonia had to soak cotton balls in milk and put them over his eyes.”

“Oh god, poor little guy!”

The pile of chiles was getting bigger.

“She felt bad, so I’d help her with the chiles, and he’d be her shadow through everything else.”

“He loved his mom a whole lot.”

“Yes, he did. Surprised he even bothered with me.”

Frowning, you turned your head toward him, pausing what you were doing to reply, “You know he loves you a lot too, right?”

He sighed, “I know.” His hands were still working.

“No, I mean he loves you so much, he won’t leave Laredo, we won’t leave Laredo. He needs to live close to you because he loves you, and he can’t fathom ever being away from you again. I think it’s those talks you guys have over beers.” You smiled, knocking your shoulder against his.

Chucho huffed out a breath. “Maybe it is. We had a good one after he watched the video of his mamá cooking.”

“Oh?” You tried not to sound too curious, returning to what you were doing. “Is there like father-son confidentiality, like doctor-patient?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “But,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “you didn’t hear it from me that he’s planning to propose in less than a year.”

Grinning, you replied, “On our first anniversary! I know; I weaseled it out of him.”

He laughed. “I should’ve known you’d find out. Mija?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a betting woman?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. What are we thinking?”

“I’ll bet you fifty dollars he does it before.”

“See, I thought maybe he’d break, too, but he is adamant about this one-year thing. Apparently, he has a whole romantic plan. So, I’ll take you up on that wager. I see him waiting.”

“We’ll see what happens.”

“Yes, we will.”

He spoke a little softer, “You’re really not moving away when you get married?”

“Hell no, Pop. Our kids need to be close to their abuelo.”

You heard him sniffle, so you bumped your shoulder into his again. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The recipe for the sauce was pretty easy to follow, Chucho seeming to know what appliances you would need and getting them ready: preheating the oven, pulling out the blender, bringing you a good-sized saucepan. When it was simmering on the stove, you thoroughly washed your hands with soap and water to clean off the chile oils, Chucho already doing so.

It was now time to wait as it finished cooking, the anticipation swelling up inside you, praying to whatever deity was listening for it to turn out okay.

The black-rimmed reading glasses were on his face—they’d been kept in the inside pocket of his jacket, that article of clothing draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, his eyes scanning the words on the document from the opened file in front of him on his desk, while his right hand scribbled notes on the yellow pages of a legal pad, his styrofoam cup of coffee, empty.

Before he met Cielito, it was nightmares that plagued him—not every night, but enough that there was a familiarity to the shadows of his dark room, the bright moon outside his blinds a regular companion. What happened earlier was… new, yet he knew he had to call her; she told him to if she wasn’t there, and he had a nightmare, and this seemed pretty fucking close to one. Her voice gave him something to focus on, grounding him, soothing him to the point his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened out. The whole thing was entirely unexpected, and he fucking hoped it didn’t happen again.

She wanted him to work out the shit in his head, and he hated admitting it, but maybe he needed to see a professional.

Fuck, he couldn’t go to any in Laredo because people would talk. He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pushing through his hair as he sighed. A neighboring town was an option. It’d be a bit of a drive—worth it, though, if they could help with whatever the fuck was wrong with him. He’d talk to his wif–girlfriend, he mentally corrected, frowning. He’d talk to her tonight since she could probably find a place with her connections at the hospital.

After the panic attack, he focused on work, stocking his office with supplies from the supply closet before going to annoy the fuck out of the Sheriff’s assistant. Her desk was right outside Arturo’s closed office door, a coffee mug on her desk with the University of Texas crest and the words, ‘Class of ‘98,’ so she was a fresh graduate, her nameplate reading Joy, looking like a deer in headlights when Javier rattled off various documents he needed from the Sheriff. Eventually, he sighed when he realized she wasn’t listening and asked for her pad of paper and pen to write them down instead, telling her he needed them as soon as possible.

Half an hour later, she’d brought him a small stack of files and apologized profusely, explaining she’d only worked there a month and had no idea what he was talking about, needing help from the Sheriff.

Javier then spent the time up until now reading and jotting down notes to work out his plan.

He flicked his wrist up, looking at the silver watch face, seeing it was a little past noon and time for lunch.

Closing the manilla folder, he moved it back onto the stack, pushing his notepad aside. His hips shifted forward in his seat as he shoved his hand into his right pocket to pull out his phone, hitting one, then the call button to speed dial Cielito, bringing it up to his ear. Sitting up in his chair, he rested his elbows on the desk, taking off his glasses with his free hand.

She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, babe!”

He smiled. “Hi, baby.”

Spanish music played softly in the background on her end, making him smile bigger, warmth radiating in his chest.

“I’m happy to hear your voice. Has everything been okay since we last talked? Anything else happen?”

“Aside from me confusing the fuck out of some girl and, I think, accidentally scaring her?”

She’d been very apologetic and wouldn’t look him in the eyes, bolting once he told her she didn’t need to apologize and that everything was fine.

“Was your face grumpy, and were you bossy?”

His smile fell.

“Maybe… a little?”

“So, that’s a yes. How old are we talking?”

“Just graduated from UT.”

“Then she was probably really intimidated. Be nicer. You’re working with these people five days a week, don’t make them hate you.”

He frowned, thinking about how everyone in Colombia called him an asshole because he didn’t put up with their shit.

Sighing, he replied, “I’ll… try.”

“Good. So, did the Sheriff give you better details on what he wants you to do?”

His face pinched when he thought of the conversation he had with Arturo.

“Yeah, he tried to fucking saddle me with a goddamn team and have me run the fucking show,” he seethed.

“Excuse me?” There was anger in her tone. “Javier, you told him to get fucked, right?”

“Told him I’d quit on the fucking spot.”

“That’s my man.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made his own lips tip up. “What happened?”

“We came to an agreement, and I’ll be doing the work I was promised.”

“And you’re positive you want this job?”

What choice did he have? He needed this job to protect her—he had to do this for her and their family. The work wouldn’t be too difficult, and it was a desk job, so he’d stay safe.

“Yeah, Cielito, I do.”

“Okay…”

“I promise I’m okay, baby. I’ll, uh, need to talk to you about this morning at home.” He scratched at his mustache.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Changing the subject, he asked, “I hear you’re in the kitchen. What are you working on?”

“Right now? A sauce that I am stressing the fuck out about because I’ve never made it before and don’t really know what it’s supposed to taste like, so I’m basically doing this blind.”

“I know it’s gonna be the best fucking sauce, Cielito.”

“You think so?” He could picture her perfectly in his mind chewing on her bottom lip.

“I know so because you’re making it. Haven’t had cooking as good as yours since mi mamá.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and you fucking know it. I tell you every day.”

“You do really like my cooking.”

“I do, Pop loves your cooking, too, and I know you’ll kick this sauce’s ass.”

She snorted. “I’ll try. Speaking of your father, after work, drive out to the ranch. We’re having dinner with him.”

His brows furrowed.

“Are you cooking at the apartment or Pop’s?”

“Your dad’s because that was easiest for all the work I have to do.”

He smiled. “Is he with you?”

“Oh, yeah. Took the day off to be my sous chef, but I’m missing my good luck, especially with this sauce!” She said the last word dramatically.

The idea of his girlfriend and dad cooking all day together delighted Javier and had him wondering what she could possibly be making. He was assuming some kind of complicated pasta dish with a complex sauce—he was excited to try whatever it was.

“Baby, don’t stress,” he said calmly. “It’s gonna be so fucking good, and you know I’ll love it. I always love your cooking.”

“I have to be real, babe. There’s a lot of pressure with this one.”

“And you’re gonna knock it out of the fuckin’ park.”

“You’re so nice to me, and I am upset I cannot kiss your stupidly handsome face right now.”

He huffed out an amused breath, smirking. “Glad to know I’m your hunky, grumpy man, you’re disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face.”

“It’s true!” she exclaimed. “You are my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face I wish I could kiss right now!”

He heard his dad laughing in the background.

“I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too. I don’t want you to waste your whole lunch on the phone with me. Go eat.”

“I’d rather waste my lunch on the phone with you.”

“That’s sweet, but please eat for me. It will make me feel better.”

“Then I’ll eat my lunch.” He moved the phone into his other hand, pressing it back to his ear, as he leaned over the side of his chair with a groan to grab the metal lunch box off the floor. “You couldn’t pack it in a paper bag?” he asked, setting it on the desk in front of him.

“You keep acting like my lunch box is the worst thing on earth when literally Empire is your favorite Star Wars movie, and I know you think it’s cool.”

He sighed. “Yeah, but I’m almost forty, walking around with a fucking children’s lunch box.”

“A cool children’s lunch box.”

“I guess it’s kinda cool.”

“Stop lying to yourself—you love it.”

“I don’t love it,” he grumbled.

“You do. I’m so sorry, babe, but I gotta get back to cooking. Don’t forget to come out here after work!”

“I won’t forget. I love you.”

“I know.”

He chuckled. “Smartass.”

“You love me, and I love you, too. See you after work!”

“Bye, Cielito.”

“Bye, Javi.”

They hung up, setting his phone down next to the lunch box, his hands moving to flick open the two clasps on the metal with his thumbs, flipping the top back.

He snorted, smiling, as he looked at the decent-sized sandwich, three—he pulled out the foil-covered sandwich—no, four little baggies of fruit snacks, a clementine, and a Hi-C Ecto Cooler drink carton.

God, he loved her.

Pulling open the foil, he sucked in a breath, lifting the top piece of bread and seeing she had made him one of her BLTs.

The previous night, they had breakfast for dinner before she’d left to go do her secret thing, and she’d made too much bacon, which he’s discovering was to make his sandwich—seeing the arugula, tomato, avocado, and aioli on bread from Anna’s bakery.

Something caught his eye in the lunch box, realizing it was a small piece of paper from the notepad on their fridge. Setting the sandwich down, he grabbed the folded note, unfolding it to see her familiar handwriting, a cute heart over the I in his name:

My dearest Javi, I love you SO FUCKING MUCH and hope you have the BEST DAY at work! I know it’s probably going to be a lot (even if you’re stubborn and won’t admit it), so your favorite sandwich to comfort you since I won’t be there and an Ecto Cooler because I know you secretly like them. I’ll be thinking about you ALL DAY and am going to give you so MANY kisses when you get off. Te amo, mi amor. Your Cielito xoxo

His eyes were a little watery at all of the thought she’d put into his day—that she fucking knew it wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he hoped it would. Why was he surprised? She knew him better than he knew himself, and of course, she’d go out of her way to try and make everything okay.

Because she loved him.

Aside from his parents, no one had ever loved him so selflessly. It was a little overwhelming that she loved him with the same ferocity that he loved her. The Sheriff had said he was completely enraptured, but that wasn’t all—he was enthralled, enamored, entranced, she consumed him, and he consumed her; she wasn’t just the most beautiful and perfect woman on the planet, she was the one.

The cell phone was put back in your bag on the kitchen table, relieved Javi was doing good. Even though he reassured you multiple times he was okay after the panic attack, you still worried about him, but he sounded fine on the last call, and now you could really focus on what you were doing. Going back to the stove, you took the lid off the pan, stirring it with a large metal spoon, determined to kick its ass like Javi said you would.

“Does this seem too thick to you?” you asked, and Chucho came over to look.

“Sí, it’s an easy fix. Just add a little more water.”

“Right.” You nodded, doing as he said with some water in a glass measuring cup until it was the consistency you wanted. “Okay,” you said, the cup getting set aside. “Do you want to do the honors and taste it? Be brutally honest.”

Chucho was beside you, taking the silver spoon from your hand. Chewing on your lip, your tummy was all aflutter with nerves. You had followed every step on Antonia’s recipe card and got the secret ingredient, hoping you did her sauce justice, not sure what you’d do if you failed—that was a lie, you’d cry hysterically that you were a failure and let your amazing boyfriend down.

He inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful.” You were basically on the edge of your seat, watching as he scooped a little of the sauce onto the spoon and brought it up to his lips, blowing on it softly. He paused, looking at you. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I need to know if I brought shame to your amazing wife!”

His eyebrows creased. “Mi Antonia would be so happy that you tried to make her sauce, and she’d tell you what her mamá told her when she was learning how to make it.”

“What did she say?”

“You didn’t make it wrong; you’re creating your own.”

“Oh.”

“Now, let’s see what your sauce tastes like.” And he ended the sentence by putting the spoon in his mouth and tasting it.

He hummed appreciatively, nodding his head, moving to put the dirtied utensil in the sink. “It’s very good, Mija,” he said after swallowing. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. He was standing in front of you, his gaze on yours. “Wow.” His eyes were getting a little misty, taking off his glasses to wipe at them. “Haven’t had a sauce that good since mi amor. God, I miss her,” he mused, putting his glasses back on. His hand went to your shoulder. “It’s very close and very good. Antonia would be proud, and Javi’s going to love it.”

Happy tears fell down your cheeks, your arms going around him for a hug.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, hugging you back.

It made you cry harder, squeezing him a little tighter, roughly saying, “Thanks, Pop.”

After you calmed down, it was time to make the pork filling, which required using a large lidded Sauté pan, combining the meat and sauce, and having it simmer on the stove.

Chucho was making himself busy by cleaning and clearing off the counters of the stuff you no longer needed.

He had the dishwasher open, filling it with dirty things from the sink.

“I’m happy you had all the kitchenware I needed,” you told him.

Groaning as he bent to put the glass blender jar into the appliance, he said, “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.”

“That’s understandable.” You nodded. If something happened to Javi, you’d be the same.

He straightened. “And it’s a good thing I kept it all because now you can use it.”

“Yes, I can.”

“May I ask a favor, Mija?”

Turning to face him, you said, “Yeah, of course—anything.”

“I know you’ll want to make more of her recipes. Can the next one be her flan?”

It made you soften, well aware that Antonia’s flan was his favorite dessert, loving it so much he named his horse after it.

Smiling, you answered, “You got it. We’ll have to go on another store adventure.”

He gave you a big grin. “We’ll take the Mustang.”

“I hoped we would.”

Once the filling was done, you tried a bite, loving the rich savoriness with a slight kick of spicy, the pork infused with the chile sauce was absolutely delicious. It was finally time to make the dough, reading over your notes about what Antonia had said in her instruction video. Chucho had gotten out her nice avocado green KitchenAid stand mixer that was probably a good twenty years old and in fantastic condition.

The dough was called masa and made out of a special ground-up corn, and in Antonia’s recipe, she added some of the red sauce to it and used the broth made from slow-cooking the pork, you doing the same. The mixer was on, hearing the mechanical whir as it mixed all of the ingredients, needing them to become the consistency of smooth peanut butter. Chucho was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his beer, the corn husks in two tall piles on a baking sheet, and the pork filling in a large bowl on the tabletop next to them.

There was the sound of the front door opening and the screen door slamming closed.

“¿Donde está la muchacha (Where is she)?” A feminine voice shouted, footsteps coming closer to the kitchen.

“No la asustes, Lupita (Don’t scare her away, Lupita),” another woman said. “Tenemos la suerte de conocerla (We are lucky to be meeting her).”

“Sí, y me muero por conocerla, María (Yes, and I’m dying to meet her, María).”

Two very short older women entered the kitchen, both smiling and holding aluminum foil-covered glass Pyrex baking dishes. The two had similar hairstyles of their hair cropped short, the one with black hair, her curls framing her face with bangs, wearing a purple floral blouse; the blonde with a choppier cut, a gold cross necklace laying over her dark blouse.

“Aquí está (She’s here)!” The lighter-haired one excitedly announced, moving quickly to put her dish on a part of the counter you weren’t using.

Turning toward her, you smiled, a white rubber-ended spatula in your hand, greeting her with, “Hola!”

“¿Hablas español (Do you speak Spanish)?” she asked.

“Un poco (A little),” you answered. “Todavía estoy aprendiendo (I’m still learning).”

“Then I’ll use English,” she said with a heavy accent. “Chucho has shown us pictures, and you’re much prettier in person.”

“Thank you?”

“Mija,” Chucho said, “That’s my sister, Guadalupe—”

“You can call me Lupe,” she interjected.

“And María,” he added. The other woman had set down her glass dish, too, both now standing beside you, Chucho introducing you to them.

“It’s nice to meet you,” María’s accented voice said with a warm smile.

“So, nice to finally meet you,” Lupe told you. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Hopefully, good stuff,” you replied. “It’s nice meeting you both.” Your attention moved back to the mixer, switching it off.

“Lots of good stuff, Mija,” Lupe said.

“You’re making the masa?” María asked.

“Yes.” You nodded, lifting the mixing arm out of the bowl and scraping the sides with your spatula to check the consistency of the dough, smiling when it was smooth. “I think it turned out okay—I have to do the water test.” That was a way to determine if it was ready; if it floated, it was done, and if it sank, you needed to add more fat.

“I’ll get the water,” Lupe said, moving to get a cup out of a nearby cabinet and turning on the sink.

“Did you have a hard time making the sauce?” María asked.

Looking at her, you answered, “Not really? Antonia did a great job of writing out her recipe, so I did what it said, but boy, was I nervous about how it would turn out.” You chuckled.

“Oh, yes,” María said. “It’s the biggest worry.”

“It was,” you agreed, nodding your head.

A warm glass of water was set next to you on the counter. “Thank you,” you said, getting a small piece of the dough, holding your breath as you dropped it into the cup. It was floating, “Yes!” You pumped your fist in the air. “I did it, Chucho!”

“I knew you would!” he replied. “María, Lupita, ven aquí y prueba la carne (Come over here and try the meat).” They went over to the table, and nerves were once again making your stomach flutter, hoping they’d like it. You were distracting yourself by using your rubber spatula to get the dough off of the flat beater.

“¡Dios mío (Oh my god)!” María sounded surprised. “Es bien bueno (It’s very good). ¿Esta fue la primera vez que lo hizo (This was her first time making it)?”

“Mmm,” Lupe hummed. “Esta muy sabroso (It’s very tasty).”

“Sí, es su primera vez (Yes, it’s her first time).” Chucho sounded so proud, and it had your eyes brimming with tears. “Te dije que es una cocinera increíble (I told you she’s an amazing cook). Sabe casi como el de mi amor (It tastes almost like my love’s).”

“Sí, sí (Yes, yes),” María agreed. “Estoy sorprendida (I’m shocked).”

“¿Ella conoce el secreto de Antonia (She knows Antonia’s secret)?” Lupe asked.

“Sí,” he answered.

“¿Tú se lo dijiste a ella pero no a nosotros (You told her but not us)?”

“Sí, porque mi Antonia dijo que la esposa de Javiercito puede saberlo y creo que se casarán antes de fin de año (Yes, because my Antonia said Javier’s wife can know and I think they will get married before the end of the year).”

You spun around, your eyes wide. “Before the end of the year?” you gasped.

His gaze met yours, smiling as he nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Javi can be… impulsive, and I don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’s going to make it to your anniversary.” He looked beyond amused.

Swallowing hard, you asked, “Really?”

“He’s right,” María added, looking at you, her lips lifted in a smile. “When Javi was still working out here, and I’d stop by, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He’s head over heels for you, Chula (Cutie). That boy won’t be able to make it.”

“I agree,” Lupe said. “You’re going to be family sooner than you know.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, feeling positively giddy that the people who’ve known Javi his whole life all agreed he wasn’t going to make it to your anniversary. It wouldn’t even bother you if Chucho won the bet. You’d still be a winner.

“Wow,” you replied. “And I’m happy you like my cooking. I was super nervous.”

“With how good this is?” María pointed at the bowl of meat. “There was nothing for you to worry about, Chula.” She walked over to you, giving you a hug, saying, “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” you said, after separating, Lupe came over to hug you, too.

“You did good,” She told you. “We’re happy to have you here.”

María said to everyone, “There’s lunch on the counter. I made tortas ahogadas, and Lupita made some arroz y frijoles (rice and beans)—Rebeca’s bringing her tres leches cake.”

At the mention of lunch, your stomach grumbled, realizing you hadn’t eaten since that morning.

With everything done to make the tamales, it was time to take a small break, finding out a torta ahogada was a type of sandwich with pork carnitas and red onions smothered in a red chile and tomato sauce served on a crusty bread roll and was amazing.

Eventually, Rebeca showed up, the youngest of Chucho’s sisters and a couple of the wives of Javi’s cousins who worked at the ranch bringing along their young kids, who were happy to watch cartoons in the living room and eat snacks their mom’s brought, everyone else eating and drinking the food and drinks that were in the kitchen.

There wasn’t any awkwardness for you, the family very welcoming as you all talked and laughed, and then it was time to get to work making the tamales, forming an assembly line on both sides of the table—the first person spread the masa on the husk, passing it to the next person to put in the filling, the final person folding and tying them with a thin strip of corn husk. It was obvious all the adults had done the process before, continuing to chat as you worked, the children screaming as they ran around the house, and everyone having a great time.

Chucho was folding and putting the finished tamale in a large pot at the end of the table while you sat next to him, spooning on the pork before passing it to him.

He told the table, “She thought she was going to do this with just my help.” The whole table laughed, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“I didn’t know!” you defended, putting a large spoonful of meat on top of what María handed you.

“It’s okay, Mija,” he reassured, taking it from you.

“This is something you do with family,” Rebeca said, across the table, spreading masa. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her kind eyes glancing at you.

“In December,” Lupe started, folding on the other side of the table from Chucho, “we have a big Tamalada at María’s and make hundreds of tamales.”

Your eyes went wide. “That must take hours,” you replied.

“It does.” She smiled. “But we have a great time.”

“When Antonia was alive,” María said, “she did even more. It took her days to prepare the filling and masa, then our whole family and her older brother’s would come out here, and we’d have the table like this and switch out people when they got tired. It went the whole day, but she made tamales for the family and others in town who’d order from her.”

“I’m surprised we could fit so many people in our house,” Chucho chuckled.

“You couldn’t,” Rebeca laughed. “People were always in the backyard partying.”

“And we’d finish making the tamales,” Lupe said. “And everyone would stay out here until one, two in the morning hanging out and drinking.”

“That’s something you need to know,” Chucho told you as he took another tamale you passed him. “When the family gets together, it’s never a short visit; we’re together for hours.”

It was hard to imagine wanting to spend that amount of time with your own family—it would be literal torture. But with this family? You’d love it, with how much fun everybody was having and the way the conversation flowed so easily. It was apparent there was a lot of love between these people and that they enjoyed each other’s company, finding it refreshing. The thought that this was how Javi grew up made you really happy—so many people who loved him and were open with their affection; each person at this table had given you a hug and welcomed you into the family, including the daughters-in-law who were excited to have another one who would join their ranks.

You’d honestly never had a better time with so many people, feeling like this was where you belonged.

The rest of his day hadn’t been too bad.

The meeting with the narcotics unit had gone mostly well, Javier taking a lot of notes as they all discussed what they were currently doing, relaying what was working and what wasn’t, him already having ideas of how to help them improve. He was expecting there to be some pushback with him coming in—assumed there’d be dick-measuring contests, but he quickly learned the Sheriff only hired people who actually cared about their jobs and wanted to be better at them—except for the kid on the team who was in his twenties and Javier had to tell to fuck off when he asked if the government really paid for him to get pussy; Travis quickly learned that Javier did not tolerate that disrespectful bullshit.

His Cielito had told him to be nicer to the people he worked with, but they made it so fucking hard.

He’d left at five on the dot, carrying her Star Wars lunchbox out of the building and to his truck, stopping on the way to his dad’s at the florist. Mrs. Taylor, the owner, had a smile on her face when he walked into her tiny shop, asking him which bouquet it’d be this week, her not even remotely surprised when he told her his girlfriend’s favorite, sunflowers.

The flowers were carefully laid in the passenger seat as he drove out of the city limits toward the ranch, thinking about everything Cielito had done for him today—taking the day off to watch/help him get ready, making him come before work, answering the phone when he called and calming him down, hanging out and cooking with his dad, making his favorite sandwich for lunch with a sweet note that he saved in the top drawer of his desk. She was right when she wrote it’d be a lot for him to go back to work, but all those things she did had eclipsed any of the bad shit, and he was in a great mood, feeling so unbelievably happy.

He didn’t know how he could possibly thank her for it all, thinking he’d probably go down on her for a couple of hours and get her off so many times she passed out—that would be after he fucked her nice and slow, needing to feel her come around his dick.

His eyebrows furrowed when he turned onto his father’s long driveway and noticed more cars than usual parked along the gravel in front of the house and out back, spotting a couple belonging to his tía’s. Confused, he put the truck into park in front of his girlfriend’s car, grabbing the flowers before getting out.

The sunflowers were in his left hand, his right loosening his tie while he walked along the stone path to the front steps, it untied and resting on either side of his chest by the time he made it to the door. Once inside, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where he abruptly stopped at the doorway.

She was catty-corner to him across the kitchen, the angle allowing him to see her side as she stood at the kitchen counter next to his tía Rebeca at the stove, a tortilla press in front of Cielito, her grabbing some dough from a bowl beside her, rolling it in her hands to make it into a ball, and putting it in the press, pushing down on it hard with two hands. Tía María was next to Rebeca, cooking, tía Lupita nearby making what looked to be a salad, all four of them laughing as Cielito handed the flattened tortilla to Rebeca to cook on the hot pan.

He was stuck in place, shocked at how easily she was making the tortillas like it was something she’d done hundreds of times before and having a lively conversation with his tías, the familiarity in which they spoke making his heart squeeze tight.

Hearing them call her Chula (Cutie) made him smile because it meant they liked her.

Tía María’s head turned, spotting him, moving what she was cooking onto a cold burner to immediately make her way over to him. “Ahi estas! (There you are)!” she said. “Te demorastes! (It took you long enough).”

Rebeca stopped what she was doing, heading his way with Lupita.

He soon found himself crowded by his tiny tías glaring at him, Lupita reaching up to cup his cheeks, saying, “Cómo te atreves a mantener a este ángel lejos de nosotros (How dare you keep this angel from us).”

“Sí,” Rebeca agreed, pinching his arm. “Ella es maravillosa (She is wonderful).”

“Y una cocinera increíble (And an amazing cook),” María added.

“Nos debiste haber introducido antes (You should have introduced us sooner),” Lupita said.

María spoke, “Podríamos haberle estado enseñándole nuestras recetas (We could have been teaching her our recipes).”

“Y las de tu mamá (And your mom’s),” Rebeca told him, poking him in the arm.

“Que no se te ocurre venir sin ella el domingo que viene (Don’t you dare come without her next Sunday),” María threatened as she jabbed his other arm.

“Sí, más te vale (Yes, you better),” Rebeca agreed. “Necesito su receta de pastel de melocotón (I need her peach pie recipe).”

“Deja de ser codicioso y manteniéndola para ti (Stop being greedy and keeping her to yourself),” Lupita said, patting his cheeks. “Es grosero (It’s rude).”

“Muy grosero (Very rude),” María added.

Javier’s mouth was opening and closing, unsure how to respond, finally clearing his throat to say, “Lo siento, lo siento, fue mi error (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was my mistake).” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Yo era muy codicioso pero cómo no iba a serlo, la has conocido, ella es increíble y la amo (I was very greedy but how could I not be, you met her, she is amazing and I love her).”

The anger left their faces, replaced with fond looks.

“Ella también te ama, Chamaco (She loves you, too, Little Guy),” María said, rubbing his bicep. “Ella te ama mucho y también la amamos a ella (She loves you a lot and we love her, too).”

“Encontraste una buena (You found a good one),” Rebeca told him.

He smiled. “Sé que lo hice (I know I did). Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo (I’m the luckiest man in the world). Ella es con quien me voy a casar (She is the one I’m going to marry). Vamos a tener hijos (We’re going to have children). La amo mucho (I love her so much).”

“Si dios quiere (God willing)!” the three exclaimed simultaneously.

María said, “Javiercito, tu mamá la hubiera amado y querido que te casaras con ella (Javier, your mom would have loved her and wanted you to marry her).”

“Sí,” the other two agreed, nodding their heads.

“Si, lo se (Yes, I know). Ahora, ¿puedo hablar con mi amor por favor (Now, can I please talk to my love)?”

They all moved away from him, finding that Cielito had washed her hands and was standing behind them. The moment her path was cleared, she was rushing him, flinging herself at him with enough force he grunted when her body collided with his, having to take a step back to keep his balance as her mouth fused to his, kissing him hard.

He was thankful for whichever of his tías took the flowers so he could hug her close to him, melting into the kiss that deepened quickly, her tongue slipping past his lips to slide along his own, her fingers digging in his hair. The older women were laughing, giving them some semblance of privacy as they returned to what they were doing.

Something like calm came over him, his body relaxing as they kissed, his hands rubbing all over her back, needing to feel her. It was the contentedness and knowing deep down in his bones this was where he was meant to be—when he was with her, he was home, she was home, she was forever and everything to him.

His lungs began to ache, and her mouth left his, breathing hard as she kissed all over his face, her hands grabbing his head to tilt it forward so she could reach his forehead, smothering him in loud smacking kisses that had him smiling so big she was able to kiss his dimple.

She finally pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile on her swollen lips, “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hi,” he replied.

“How was the rest of your day?” she asked, her fingers fixing his hair.

“Not bad.”

“That’s good.”

“Look at my badge.” He lifted it up for her to see his picture.

“God, you’re hot—it is unfair how photogenic you are.” She glanced up at him. “It’s a good thing, though.”

His eyebrow rose. “That I’m photogenic?”

“Yeah, means our kids will probably be photogenic, too. There are going to be so many pictures—I can feel it in my bones that you are going to be worse than your dad.”

He’d gone soft at the mention of their future children, smiling at her.

“Probably.” He shrugged because she wasn’t wrong. Javier was always using the Polaroid camera, and they started their own album—he’d been meaning to get a better camera. “I see you’ve met my tías,” he said.

“And a bunch of your primos (cousins) who work out here, their wives and kids, and your tíos (uncles). Most of them are out back.” She jutted her thumb behind her. “Your dad is barbecuing, and I was learning how to make tortillas, which aren’t too difficult. I’m basically a pro at making masa now.”

“You made masa?” He asked with his eyebrows up in his hairline.

“Yep. I actually have a surprise for you—take off your jacket, and get comfy at the table.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, doing as she said and shrugging it off while she walked away. He went over to the kitchen table, putting his suit jacket on the back of his chair, the wood scraping across the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. The sunflowers he brought were in a small vase on the tabletop.

First, she brought him a cold beer, the bottle sweating in front of him.

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She winked before heading over to the stove.

He picked up the beer, taking a drink, finding it cool and refreshing before setting it back down. His elbows rested on the table as he fiddled with the label on the glass.

All the women were whispering to each other, and it made him curious as to what the surprise was, watching as someone grabbed a plate from a cabinet.

“Did the sauce turn out how you were hoping?” he asked loud enough for Cielito to hear.

“According to your family, yes,” she answered.

“It turned out real good, Chamaco,” Maria said.

“It did,” Lupe added. “She did a great job.”

“A really great job,” Rebeca agreed.

His eyebrows creased, thinking about how she said it was a sauce she’d never made before and how she was stressed about it, his family now saying she made it well. Did she make a Mexican dish?

“Close your eyes!” Cielito said.

“What?” he asked.

“Close your eyes!”

“Okay…?” he replied, closing them.

Moments later, the beer was removed from his hands, moving his arms out of the way to make space for the plate that was set down.

“Now, before you open your eyes. I need you to know I tried really fucking hard, and if you hate them, it’s fine; I’ll never make them again.”

He snorted. “I’m not gonna hate it.”

“I mean, you might, and it’s okay if you do.”

“I won’t.”

Her hand rubbed his upper back, feeling her kiss the top of his head, her muffled voice saying, “This is why I love you. Okay, open your eyes.”

His breath hitched in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest, not believing what he was seeing.

When she said she was working on a new recipe all day that involved a sauce, he assumed pasta or something along those lines—he never in a million fucking years would’ve guessed she’d try to make tamales, staring at the two wrapped in corn husks on the plate in shock.

“What are they filled with?” he whispered, and the thing was, he knew her answer before she even said it, his eyes burning and his bottom lip starting to tremble.

“It’s your mom’s recipe,” she gently confirmed, the first tear falling down his cheek.

He needed to try them, his hands moving to unwrap one, the tamale steaming as he grabbed the fork she’d set beside his plate and took his first bite.

Javier has had years to grieve the loss of his mother and come to terms with the fact she was gone—he’d never see her, talk to her or get to eat her food again. She was gone. Yet, the spices of the red chile sauce and the sweetness of the pork hit his tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she was alive again, the taste so close that his shoulders started shaking, and more tears fell, savoring each bite he took, until the first one was finished, and he was quickly digging into the second.

It was like coming home after being away for years and feeling the warm embrace of your loved one—the instant comfort, happy nostalgia, and overwhelming love, Javier remembering the many times he’d sat at this same table with his mamá nearby, eating her tamales, feeling like she was here with him now.

“Are they okay…?” Cielito asked. “I hope you’re not mad at me for making them…”

The last tamale was gone, his head turning to look up at her with wet cheeks.

His voice was rough, telling her, “I’m not mad. I’m so fucking happy. You—” His voice cracked, his eyes squeezing shut. “—you,” he tried again. “You gave me a chance to eat mi mamá’s food again, and I’m so happy.” There was no way he could keep from crying, shoving his face into her stomach and hugging her tight as he sobbed.

This woman loved him so goddamn much, it was making him cry harder. He couldn’t believe she went through all of this effort for him—she did it for him. He didn’t deserve all of this. He didn’t deserve her. What was she doing with him? How had he lucked out so much? With all of the shit he’s been through and how life has always kicked his ass, there was a fear in the back of his mind that things were too good and she’d realize he wasn’t worth it. It just seemed so fucking impossible that he found someone who truly loved him—she didn’t even have to say the words, he could feel it in what she’d done, and it was crazy to him she loved him that much.

Was it crazy, though?

He was just as in love with her. He’d do anything for her, anything because she had embedded herself so deeply in his heart, he was sure if something happened to her, it’d stop beating—his love for her felt as bright as the burning sun and would keep shining even when he was no more.

“Oh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “I love you—I love you so much, and had a feeling today would be tough. Your dad said I can make any of your mom’s recipes, so if there’s something you want, I’ll give it a go, and your tías all offered to help me learn.”

Leaning his head back to meet her eyes, he asked, “You want to make more of her recipes?”

She stroked her fingers through his hair.

“Absolutely. I promised your dad I’d make him flan.”

He smiled. “Pop would love that.”

“I know, so I gotta make it for him. He said he’d take me in the Mustang again to go shopping for the ingredients.”

His eyes went wide. “He took you in the Mustang?”

“He did! Top-down and everything. It was a blast.”

“You should see if he’ll let you drive it...”

She huffed out a breath. “To see if you’re the only one with a Mustang ban?”

“Yeah.”

“I highly doubt he’ll let me.”

“You should still ask.”

She playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if by some fucking miracle he says yes, you’re not allowed to be upset,” she said, poking his nose.

“Deal.” He nodded.

“You feeling better?” she asked.

“Yeah. They were so fucking good. Please tell me you made more.”

“There are so many. Your dad had me make a ton.”

Tía María said from over at the stove, “She thought she and your papá could make them all by themselves.”

“I didn’t know!” Cielito exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

“Wait,” Javier started, “was there a tamalada? Is that why everyone’s here?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Your dad sprung the news on me that he invited everyone while at the store. It was a lot of fun. I did filling.”

He was frowning, feeling sad he missed it.

“I liked to fold,” he sighed.

“Hey.” She held his cheeks. “We can do it again on a day you have off.”

Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that.”

Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss.

“I love you,” he murmured into her lips.

“I love you, too.”

His mouth left hers, his chair squeaking as it moved back, so he could stand, turning so their bodies were chest to chest, his big palms cradling her face as he looked her in the eyes.

“No,” he said, “te amo más que a nada y mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (No, I love you more than anything, and my life would be empty without you). Vivo para ti, respiro por ti, mi corazón late por ti, soy nada sin ti (I live for you, I breathe for you, my heart beats for you, I am nothing without you).”

“Javi,” she gasped, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking romantic, but I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.” She shook her head. “I’m nobody, and I’m waiting for the day you realize I’m a big fucking loser.”

His eyes squinted, his eyebrows knitting together, not understanding why she would say that.

“What?” he asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re fucking incredible and everything to me. You’re not nobody. You’re my all—you’re it, and I hate the self-deprecating bullshit because if one of us doesn’t deserve love, it’s fucking me.” He patted over his heart. “I don’t deserve you, and I’m really fucking aware of it. So, stop it, and let me fucking love you.”

“Esto es mejor que mi telenovela (This is better than my telenovela),” tía Lupita whispered.

Rebeca shooshed her. “Se está poniendo bueno (It’s getting good).”

“What the fuck are you talking about that you don’t deserve me?” Cielito asked. “I can’t be self-deprecating, but you can? No, unacceptable. You’re a fucking amazing man, and I will not tolerate you thinking that you do not deserve me—you more than deserve me. Thank you very much. So, you fucking stop it—” She poked him in the chest. “—and let me fucking love you.”

He smiled, grasping her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “You can love me, and I’ll love you, so that’s settled.”

“Good.”

He kissed the center of her palm. “I really fucking love you.”

“I really fucking love you, too.”

His lips pressed to her wrist. “Estoy enloquecido por ti (I’m crazy about you).”

A kiss to her arm. “Mi corazón es tuyo (My heart is yours).”

Another press of his lips further up. “Soy tuyo (I’m yours).”

One to the bend in her arm. “Eres todo para mi (You’re everything to me).”

Straightening, he gently cupped her cheeks. “Eres el amor de mi vida, mi Cielito (You are the love of my life, my Cielito).” Finally, kissing her on the lips.

Javi demolished seven of your tamales, and when there was a minute with you two alone in the kitchen, you watched him fill two gallon Ziploc bags with probably twenty more that he hid in the fridge to take home, which made you so insanely happy. There was still a bunch left for everyone else to have more than one, not feeling too worried about it since Javi’s tíos showed up with a ton of meat and other things for Chucho to cook on his massive grill and ingredients for his tías to make sides.

Your boyfriend had draped his tie over his suit jacket on the back of a chair at the kitchen table, stuffing his badge in the pocket, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, and popping open a few buttons on his dress shirt before you’d gone out back. A beer he was nursing was in one hand, the other over your shoulders, keeping you close to him.

A dozen or so kids, all under the age of twelve, were running around laughing and screaming in the backyard. The glass dining table on the patio had paper plates, plastic utensils, condiments, a big bowl of fresh-cut fruit, and a tiny stack of tamales on it. The adults sat at a picnic table on the grass, others in plastic chairs pulled close, talking animatedly while eating and drinking their sodas and beers, waiting for more food to be ready, a boombox out playing music.

Javi’s dad had an array of things he was grilling, pointing at each one with his giant metal tongs and telling you what each was: costillas (pork ribs), entraña (skirt steak), chorizó (well-seasoned pork sausage), cebollitas asadas (grilled green onions), and elote (grilled corn).

“The elote,” Chucho said, flipping one over to grill the other side, “we dress it in mayo, cotija cheese that’s crumbly, chili powder, and lime juice. It’s very good.”

“I’m sure I’m going to love it,” you replied, Javi pulling you closer into his side and kissing your hair.

“Ask him,” he murmured in your ear.

“Ugh, fine, hey Pop?”

Your boyfriend jolted next to you, “Pop?” he whispered.

“Yeah, babe—” You rubbed his chest. “—there was a lot of bonding today; he said he thinks of me as his daughter, and real talk, he’s the best dad I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Mija,” Chucho said, smiling at you. “I’m happy to have another kid, and who knows, maybe I’ll finally get those nietos (grandchildren) I want soon.”

Javi was in the middle of taking a drink and choked, coughing into his arm while you patted his back.

“We’re waiting until we’re married,” you told him. “And gosh, we’d probably want to have a house, too. There’s no space for a baby in the apartment.”

Chucho was nodding his head. “Of course, of course, if anything, Javi’s got his room here, and I’ve got the spare bedroom we could turn into a nursery, so that’s an option.”

It made you grin.

“That’s so sweet of you, Pop. We appreciate it.”

“Anything for my kids and future grandkids. Now, you had a question.”

“Oh, yes! Would you ever maybe possibly let me drive the Mustang…?”

“Sure.”

Your mouth fell open, Javi saying loudly, “What?!”

“But I’d be your passenger,” Chucho continued. “You can drive when we go to La Tapatía for the flan—it’s the least I can do.”

“Can I drive the Mustang?” Javi asked.

His father met his eyes. “No.”

“¿Por qué (Why)?” he said in rapid Spanish, his tone laced with anger. “¿Por qué ella puede conducir y yo no (Why can she drive and I can’t)?”

“Ella me está haciendo el flan de tu madre (She is making me your mom’s flan). Por eso. (That’s why).”

“¿Qué tengo que hacer (What do I have to do)?”

The older man thought about it for a second before a big toothy smile appeared on his face.

“Cuando te casas con ella, puedes conducir el Mustang (When you marry her, you can drive the Mustang).”

Javi sighed loudly. “Esta bien (Fine). Estas bien agresivo (You’re very pushy). Me voy a casar con ella (I am going to marry her).”

“Yo sé, Mijo, pero no lo suficientemente pronto (I know, Mijo, but not soon enough).”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you want your grandkids. You’re gonna have to hold your fuckin’ horses and wait.” He took another drink.

“I’m not getting any younger.” Chucho’s attention went back to the barbecue, flipping meat and vegetables.

“I’m aware.”

The two of you migrated over to where everyone else was, standing off to the side as they all talked in Spanish, Javi’s arm around you, his finger drawing circles on your hip.

“I can’t wait to get home,” he whispered in your ear for only you to hear.

“Why’s that?” you asked just as softly.

“So I can spread you out and eat your pussy for an hour or two.” He nipped at your earlobe, your breath catching in your throat. “But first, I want to fuck you nice and slow—want you to feel how I stretch you open and make you squeeze my dick when you come. Gonna pump you full of me.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your cunt, squeezing your thighs together.

“Javier,” you gasped. “We are with your family. Stop making me horny.”

“Yeah? Your panties drenched? If I stuck my hand inside those stretchy fucking shorts I love, would I feel you all wet for me?”

You were, and you hated how smug he sounded.

“Of course, but we’re going to be here for hours. Don’t rile me up.”

His hand moved from your hip to squeeze your ass.

“Maybe I want to rile you up. Have you dripping for me and needy. Get you so fucking horny that we barely make it into the apartment, and I fuck you right there on the floor.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You fucking love it. You don’t give a single fuck where I do it as long as I fuck you full of my come—you love being stuffed.”

“Javier,” you hissed.

“Yes, mi amor (my love)?”

“You’re being a goddamn menace.”

“I’m being your menace.” He kissed your cheek.

A tiny child was suddenly hugging your legs, looking down to find Javi’s cousin, Danny’s toddler, holding her chubby little arms up for you to pick her up, bending to do just that. The little girl was wearing a pink sleeveless dress, her little bit of dark hair pulled up in two pigtails, sitting her on your hip.

“Hola (Hi),” you greeted her with a smile. “¿Cuál es tu nombre (What is your name)?”

She was rubbing her hands together, not looking you in the eye.

“So-feee-a.”

“Hola, Sofia (Hi, Sofia). Tu nombre es muy bonito (Your name is very beautiful). ¿Cuántos años tienes (How old are you)?”

“Dos (Two)!” she announced, holding up two fingers. “Sí, dos (Yes, two)!”

“Muy bien (Very good). Te estás divirtiendo jugando con tus hermanos y primos (Are you having fun playing with your siblings and cousins)?”

“Sí, corren rápido (Yes, they run fast).”

Looking over at Javi, there was a soft look on his face, you asking him, “¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

He was just staring, your eyebrows creasing, jabbing him in the side with your elbow, “Javi?”

“What…?” he asked.

“¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

“Oh, uh, corren muy rápido para ti?”

Nodding, your attention moved back to the child. “¿Corren muy rápido para ti?” you asked her.

“Sí, muy rápido (Yes, very fast).”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry) ¿Cuál es tu color favorito (What’s your favorite color)?

She tugged on her dress. “Rosadooo (Pink)! Y amarillooo (And yellow)!”

Her answer made you giggle.

“También me encantan esos colores (I love those colors, too).”

Sofia frowned. “Tengo sed (I’m thirsty).”

“Oh, um, Javi.” You looked at him. “Can you tell her we’ll take her to her mom?”

He set his beer down on the grass, straightening and holding out his arms. “Ven aquí, preciosa, te llevaremos a tu mamá (Come here, precious, we will take you to your mom),” he said in that sweet voice he always used with the animals, taking the child from you.

He held her easily in one arm, hearing him speaking softly to her in Spanish as he walked her over to her mom at the picnic table—your eyes had gone wide, gulping as you took him in, your ovaries going haywire at how perfect he looked; how natural, thinking those broad shoulders of his would come in handy to carry more than one baby.

Oh.

Oh no.

You had to fan yourself with your hand, it suddenly feeling very hot, doing your best to ignore the ancient, primal part of your brain screaming that he was the perfect man to father your children, and he needed to put one in you right that second—the temptation to toss your birth control when you got home was too damn high.

Dear god, was this baby fever? Were you experiencing baby fever?

The way arousal was burning in your gut and making your pussy throb with need told you, yes, you did, in fact, have baby fucking fever.

You were so unbelievably horny, annoyed it was at the most inopportune time, needing to go splash some cold water on your face to calm yourself down.

Javi was returning to you, your eyes darting away as you said when he was close, “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Pointing with your thumbs toward the house. “I’ll be back.”

He was in front of you, his hands rubbing your upper arms, your body shivering at the contact.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Fucking fantastic, not horny at all, no siree, perfectly fine. I’ll be back.”

“Okay…?”

You practically bolted away from him and into the house, passing the guest bathroom to go to the one in Javi’s room. Two of his tías and a daughter-in-law were in the kitchen making side dishes, their husbands in the living room, relaxing in the air conditioning, and watching something on the television.

Safely locked away in Javi’s en suite, you took care of your needs and washed your hands, leaving the faucet running and turning the temperature as cold as possible. Leaning over the sink, you splashed some water on your face, which helped a little, still feeling on edge as you walked over to get a small towel out of the in-wall cabinet to dry off.

The sink was turned off, staring at yourself in the mirror. “We will get married, we will buy a house, and then we will have babies,” you said out loud. “Don’t you dare give in just because your boyfriend is a goddamn DILF without the children. Oh, god,” you whined. “He’s going to be such a fucking DILF! Why does he have to be so sexy?! We can’t even fuck until later. Focus!” You pointed your finger at yourself in the reflection. “No babies, no matter how fucking tempting it is, no. Cool your fucking jets. You’ve got this.” Nodding your head once, you turned to toss the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, squeaking in surprise when the hulking figure of your boyfriend was right there, immediately invading your space, his hand on your jaw as he crushed his lips to yours, his other arm wrapped around your back—walking you backward, kissing you like his life depended on it, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth to tangle with your own, your hands landing in his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.

He kicked the door shut, his lips not leaving yours as he reached behind him to lock it.

The horniness was back at full force, wanting him, no, needing him to ease the ache between your legs, snaking your hand down his front, finding his cock hard under his navy blue slacks, his boxer briefs making it stretch up at an angle toward his belt, Javi groaning as you stroked him over his pants.

He pushed you back against the bathroom counter, his hips pressing into you, moaning as his tongue plundered your mouth.

A moment of clarity hit you, remembering where you were and the many people outside his bedroom door, reluctantly breaking the kiss to say, “Javi, your family’s in the other room.”

Kissing you again, his words were muffled, “I locked the bedroom door.” He squeezed your breast, his other hand grabbing your ass.

Pulling back again, he chased your lips, moving your head to dodge him. “We can’t fuck with them out there, Javier.”

There was a grumpy expression on his face as he stared at you. “Why not?”

“They could hear us?”

“They won’t—we’ll be quick and quiet. Nobody will know.” He licked his plush lips, your attention drawn to them.

There was his bedroom and the entryway separating you from everyone else, so as long as you weren’t too loud… Christ, were you really thinking about fucking in a house full of people? Yes, you were, knowing Javi would make it so good—remembering how he said you didn’t care where he did it as long as he came inside you, which was apparently true, your resolve disappearing in an instant, wanting him so fucking bad nothing else mattered.

“Fuck, okay—a quickie, Javier, and you better make sure I’m not too loud,” you said, poking his chest. “God, I’m so fucking horny.”

His mouth was on yours again, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his lips moved to your jaw, saying into your skin, “I know you’re horny, baby—” He nibbled on your chin. “—could tell outside.” His mouth was against your neck, kissing down it, his hand moving between your legs, making you moan when he rubbed over your sex. “You think I’m a DILF.” He sucked on your pulse point before his head popped up with a confused look, “What the fuck is a DILF?”

“Oh god, you heard my pep talk.” Embarrassment had you covering your face with your hands, Javi immediately prying them off, looking at you fondly.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Cielito,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I loved the pep talk—we needed the pep talk ‘cause seeing you with the baby fucked me up, too. You didn’t answer my question, what’s a DILF?”

“You know a MILF is a mother I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is a dad I’d like to fuck—you’re a fuckin’ future dad I’d like to fuck.”

He kissed you, smiling into it. “You’re in luck,” he said, ending the sentence with a nip to your bottom lip. Stepping back, he spun you around to have your front to the counter, his body flush with yours, seeing you both in the mirror with his lips at your ear, his dark eyes meeting your gaze in the reflection. “You get to fuck me,” he said in a deep timbre that had tingles moving down your spine.

“Good,” you replied, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. “I need you to fuck me, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, seeing his throat bob as he swallowed. His body left yours, pulling you with him as he took two steps back. “Arms on the counter, baby,” he rasped, his big hand sliding up your spine and gently pushing you forward, bending at your waist to rest your forearms on the countertop beside the sink. “Fucking love these shorts.” His hand came down hard on your asscheek in a loud smack, your cunt clenching, gasping his name.

“You’re also gonna love what’s under them,” you purred.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, his gaze was on yours in the mirror, smirking under his mustache. “The red one?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

He tugged the bike shorts down, the air cool as it hit your bare skin, Javi sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on the red thong you’d worn, unable to keep himself from squeezing handfuls of your ass. “I love you so fucking much—fuck, it’s pretty.” He glanced up to continue, “Thank you for spoiling me today, mi amor (my love).”

Smiling, you replied, “You’re welcome, Javi. Now please fuck me.” You wiggled your hips.

“Are you needy for me, Cielito?” he asked, his hands going to the front of his pants, hearing the clink of his belt and the teeth of his zipper coming apart.

“Needy in the sense that I need your dick inside me right now, and we can save the ass worship for later.”

He chuckled, his slacks and underwear getting shoved down his thighs. “I’ll put my dick inside you, then,” he said, using one hand to pull the soaked fabric of your thong to the side, spitting on the fingers of his other to slick up his cock.

Anticipation was thrumming in your veins, your pussy weeping for him, needing Javi to fill your achingly empty center in the way only he could satisfy. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the tip of his length to your sopping entrance, gasping yes as he started pushing in, your head dropping between your shoulders, resting your forehead on your crossed arms in front of you. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, cursing under his breath as he slid home in one smooth thrust, making you moan when he bottomed out—it felt so fucking good, his thick cock stretching your tight walls, carving out space inside you while your cunt tried to suck him in deeper, feeling so goddamn full.

The hem of his dress shirt was brushing against your ass, Javi pulling almost all the way out, and thrusting back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, setting up a punishing pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”

This was going to be hard and fast, the goal to get off as quickly as possible.

You could hear the wet slap of his hips connecting with your ass, the flesh jiggling—his hand landed on your asscheek hard enough the smack echoed in the small room, your pussy squeezing him tight as you moaned. Looking up, you saw him behind you in the mirror, his mouth slack, eyes dark and half-lidded, his attention on you, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, seeing the flush crawling up his chest to his beautiful neck, the taut skin glistening in sweat.

“Does it turn you on, baby,” he asked through his teeth, pistoning into you, “thinking about me as a dad?”

The beginning threads of your orgasm were starting to weave in your belly, feeling the familiar heat growing.

He slapped your ass again. “Answer me, Cielito.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your words stuttering from the pounding, “Fuck, it’s so good, Javi. It turns me on—turns me on so fucking much,” you babbled. “You’re fucking me so good. Harder, Javi.”

“You want it harder, mi amor (my love)?”

“Yes.”

Bending over your back, his arm went under you and across your chest, pulling you up to stand. His thrusts didn’t wane, shoving your shirt up your chest one-handed to reveal one bra-covered breast, tugging the cup down to pinch your stiff nipple, the sensations shooting straight to your pussy.

He kissed the side of your neck, grunting in exertion.

“You really want it harder?” he asked breathily in your ear.

“Yes, Papí,” you moaned.

His big hands moved, grabbing your biceps near your elbows, pulling you back as he thrust forward, fucking you so hard your mouth was open, gasping out moans. Your mind was a pleasure-addled mess, unable to think about anything except how good he was fucking you—the knot in your belly was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, until euphoria exploded outward from your core, coming with a shout of Javi’s name that was quickly muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shhh, Cielito—such a good fucking girl for me” Your cunt had clenched up so tight his rhythm slowed to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he worked you through your high. His head was beside yours, speaking in your ear, “I know it’s good, baby—need you to be quiet, just ride it out.” He kissed your neck again, his free hand rubbing over your stomach and up to squeeze your breast. “I love you so fucking much.”

Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving after climaxing, Javier waiting for her cunt to stop fluttering around him, his throbbing cock slowly moving in and out of her, it wetter where they were joined.

He loved watching her come and knowing he was the one that got her there, pride always swelling inside him that he made her feel so good.

She was saying something, not making out the words with his large hand over her mouth, quickly removing it.

“What’s that?” he asked, kissing just behind her ear.

Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him in the mirror.

“I said I love you, too,” her rough voice responded.

One sentence, and it had his body going warm, unable to keep from smiling at her with how fucking happy she made him.

He was close to his end, the heat in the base of his spine threatening to explode with how fucking gone he was on her. All he could think about was everything she’d done for him that day, all of the things, big and small, showing him without her saying it how much she loved him, and he wanted to give her the entire fucking world—it was more than what she deserved, but that wasn’t possible so he was settling with giving her such good dick, it made her drool.

“You’re cute when you’re fucked out of your mind,” he said, placing a kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Her aftershocks had finally ended, and it was his turn. “I’m gonna move you,” he told her. She gasped when he pulled out, getting her closer to the counter where he turned her to face him, bending to tug down her shorts and underwear, impatiently taking off her shoe to get one of her legs free. When he stood back up, he gripped her bare thighs, grunting as he lifted her onto the counter's edge, spreading her legs to make space for himself.

She was wide open for him, seeing the puffy lips of her pussy shining in the light, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wishing he had time to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, Javier taking his place in the cradle of her thighs, quickly sheathing himself back in her wet heat.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, slowly rocking deep inside her.

Her legs wrapped around his middle to lock at the small of his back, her cunt warm and welcoming, beckoning him to come, feeling the build low in his belly.

There was a need to have her like this, his lips smashing into hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he started moving faster. His hand held her face, the other pushing her shirt all the way up her chest to get both of her breasts free from her bra, palming the bare skin and tweaking her pebbled nipples while his tongue slid along hers in the way he knew made her toes curl.

Her soft sounds and his rougher ones were quieted with their mouths being connected, his hips swinging into her with strong, even thrusts, hearing the wet suck of her pussy, the slick friction of her velvety walls pushing him closer to his release.

She put all of her weight on one of her arms, her free hand grabbing his hair to pull his head back, her lips wetly trailing along his jaw, her voice saying into his skin, “It’s so good, Javi—you feel so fucking good inside me.” Her tongue licked up the column of his throat, and it had his eyes rolling back, his rhythm stuttering for a second.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, her mouth sucking a mark on his jugular. “You’re gonna make me come.” The muscles in his abdomen were beginning to tighten.

His pace sped up, able to tell he was fucking her good when her head fell back, and her sounds started getting loud enough he had to cover her mouth again.

“It feel good, Cielito?” he asked roughly. “You like knowing you’re gonna make me come? That this pretty fucking pussy is gonna milk me dry? You love that I’m gonna give you what you want and fill you up—stuff you full of my come?” He licked his lips. “Bet you wish you weren’t on birth control.” Her moan was muffled, squeezing her eyes shut, causing a jolt to run through him.

Seeing her earlier with the baby had ignited a fire inside him, something instinctual telling him he needed to give her one of her own—that they needed one of their own, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he fucked his come deep inside her. From the look on her face, she was also feeling some type of way, which was why he’d followed her into the house, her pep talk confirming he was right. There had been no way for them to wait until they got home to fuck, he was too riled up, and she wasn’t any better.

She looked at him, her eyes glazed over in lust, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, looking absolutely fuck drunk as she tried to say something he couldn’t make out, still fucking in and out of her.

He lifted his hand.

“What?” he asked through heavy breaths.

She sounded wrecked. “Fuck a baby into me—please,” she begged.

The sentence was his undoing, a strangled noise ripping from his throat, his head falling against her shoulder, his balls tightening, and cock thickening—two more quick strokes before he was burying himself to the hilt, sinking his teeth into her flesh over her shirt as he came so hard his vision went white and he lost hearing in his left ear.

He rolled his hips, working his spend as deep as he could get it, the overstimulation causing a whispery hiss to leave his lips before he finally stilled, his body so relaxed he slumped into her. A euphoric haze came over him, his mind as slow as molasses.

Her free hand stroked through his sweat-damp hair, her nails scratching lovingly along his scalp, which felt so good, he was humming appreciatively.

A few minutes passed, and she finally broke the silence to croak out, “Well, that was unexpected.”

His ear was still ringing, lifting his head to look at her. “What was unexpected?” he asked.

“The sex—” She delightedly smiled, poking his nose. “—and your massive fucking breeding kink.”

Confusion came over his face.

“My what?” he asked.

“For a man who has had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot, it’s always surprising when you don’t know a sex thing.” She pushed some of his hair off of his forehead. “Your breeding kink; it gets you off thinking about knocking me up.”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, looking away from her.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to know…” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Her hand gently moved his face to meet her eyes, her brows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Letting out a long sigh, he answered truthfully, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I’m fine with waiting,” he quickly added. “Really fucking fine with it, especially after this morning, but the fantasy…”

“Really gets you going. Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a massive breeding kink, too. I like to imagine you getting me pregnant when we fuck, and also, the whole there being a one percent chance that you actually could really gets me going.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over her thighs. “So, it’s okay..?”

She smiled, resting her palm on his cheek. “Oh yeah. It’s more than okay. We can have our fantasy for now, but my god, imagine how good the sex will be when we’re actually trying.”

That had arousal stirring in his belly. “Fuck,” he breathed again. Cupping her cheeks, he said, “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky with you, but you’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. Eres la mejor novia del mundo y soy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado (You’re the best girlfriend in the whole world and I’m happy to share each moment of my life by your side).” He kissed her softly, murmuring into her lips, “Siempre has sido tú, incluso antes de conocerte, y siempre serás la elegida porque eres el amor de mi vida y tú eres la única para mí (It has always been you, even before I knew you, and it will always be you because you are the love of my life and you are the only one for me).”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile.

“I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world, and I’m happy I get to spend my life with you and have your babies.” She pecked him on the lips. “It’s cheesy,” she continued. “But before I met you, it felt like something was missing in my life, you know? And now I feel like everything is right—you feel right; you were what I was missing,” she said, poking him over his heart. Javier grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles, listening to her speak. “So, you’ve always been it for me, always, and life just waited for us to both be lost before allowing us to finally find each other.” She shrugged. “You’re it for me, Javier Peña—you’ve always been it; yesterday, today, tomorrow, a year from now, it’s always going to be you because I was meant for you, and you were meant for me. In summary, I love you so fucking much, too.”

He chuckled, kissing her a little harder this time, feeling so happy he thought he might be floating.

He knew she was the love of his life—knew it with every fiber of his being, and he would spend the rest of his days with her just to prove it.

When your lungs begged for air, you broke the kiss, Javi smiling so big his dimple was showing, the love for you clear in his gaze.

“Today was good?” you asked.

“Today was fucking amazing.”

“Good, good,” you nodded. “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?” His hands were skating up and down your bare thighs.

“I have another surprise for you that can’t happen until tomorrow…”

“Baby, you’ve done so much. I don’t need anything else.” He quickly kissed you.

“Oh, you’re gonna really fucking want this.”

His eyebrow lifted, looking curious.

“What is it?”

“Well, after a lot of thinking and working up my courage, I thought maybe you’d wanna try fucking my ass?”

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

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Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Eventual smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

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Chapter 2: First 100 Days

One hundred days. You had been Chief of Staff for one hundred days. You couldn't believe it.

What you couldn't believe more was the fact that Bradley's approval rating was high. The highest of any president's every in recent history for their first one hundred days in office. The people loved him.

You had worked hard to keep him on the right track. He might be running the country, but you were running him.

These first one hundred days hadn't been easy by any means, but you felt a sense of relief that you had pulled them off. You felt confident that if you had made it this far, you could see it through for the next four years.

You had just finished meeting with your staff for a morning briefing when Jenson, one of the secret service agents came up to you.

"Ma'am, we have a situation that requires your attention in the West Wing." He tells you. You tell your assistant Tamera to hold your calls and reschedule your morning meetings as you follow Jenson.

A few minutes later, you enter the Oval Office. You find Jake sitting on a couch, cigar in hand, and Bradley is sitting in his chair with his back turned to you.

"Mr. Vice President, Mr. President, you requested to see me."

"Ms. Wiseman," Bradley begins. He turns around dramatically and kicks his feet up on the desk. You notice he, too, has a cigar in hand. In your mind, you think that it is way too early for them to smoke a cigar, but when they are some of the most powerful men in the world, logic doesn't make sense.

"Have a seat." Bradley continues. You quickly sit. Something about the way his voice is doesn't sit right with you. He's calm yet authoritative. Normally, he is much softer with you.

He gets up from his desk and walks over to you. He sits on the coffee table in front of you.

"Do you know what today is, Ms. Wiseman?" He asks you. "It's your one hundredth day in office, sir, we have a dinner and a speech planned for tonight. Is there something I am forgetting?" You ask him. Your palms are starting to sweat. Bradley has never made you this nervous.

"Yes, but what is the date?" He tilts his head. You look past him to Jake who is also staring you down.

"April 29th, sir." You reply. "Precisely." He claps his hands and stands up. "And do you know what is important about April 29th Ms. Wiseman?" He asks you as he walks back to his desk.

Your mind is blank. Surely you hadn't forgotten something about today. You had every meeting, dinner, drink, and everything in between written down.

You search through your planner and phone as Bradley fiddles with something at his desk. You miss the smirk Jake has on his face as you get flustered.

Suddenly, a small gift bag appears in your line of sight.

You look up at Bradley, who is holding it with a smile.

You look to Jake once again, who is also smiling.

"Did you forget?" Jake asks you. You look at him confused. "Oh my god, you did forget!" He exclaims before he and Bradley break out into a fit of laughter.

You look at them like they are crazy.

"Um, hello!? Does anyone want to fill me in?" You snap your fingers at them.

"Y/N, it's your birthday! You forgot your own birthday!" Bradley gasps as he wipes a tear from his eye.

You pause, and then it hits you. It really is your birthday. Today, you're thirty years old. "I've been so busy it just slipped my mind." You sigh. The two men finally stop laughing.

"You know, you really had me freaked out. I thought it was something serious." You tell Bradley. "It is something serious! It's your thirtieth birthday!" He exclaims, holding out the gift bag again.

You take it from his hands. Inside is a pair of oval cut diamond post earrings. You take one look at them and know they will match you pendant he gave you on inauguration night perfectly. You smiled as you touched the pendant around your neck. You'd worn it every day since then, like a good luck charm.

You found a card in the bottom. You quickly opened it, and read it.

"What?!" You shrieked, shooting up from your seat.

"Is that a good 'what' or a bad 'what'?" Bradley asked you as the smile from his face drops.

"A bad one! You rescheduled or canceled my meetings for next week without telling me? You cleared my schedule without asking me first?!" You yell at him.

Bradley and Jake had tried to do something nice for you for your birthday. They had made it possible for you to have to have the week off to spend it in the Caribbean with your best friend at a resort. They'd arranged and paid for everything and cleared your schedule without telling. They now realized what a bad idea it was.

"We were trying to be nice!" Bradley defends as you storm towards him. He tries to duck behind his desk, but you beat him and deliver a harsh smack to his chest.

"Ow!" He exclaims. "You know I could have you arrested for that." He tells you. "You won't. You'd be lost without me. Which is why I don't understand why you thought this was a good idea." You throw your arms up and walk away from him.

"Wise-woman, you've been working so hard for us. We thought you deserved a break." Jake tells you. "Plus, everything is non-refundable, so you have to go."

"I'm the Chief of Staff for the president. I could get a refund." You state.

"You're going, and that's final." Bradley states. You know there is no changing his mind. You head to your room and pack. You call your best friend to tell her the news, but she already knows. The two of you leave out tomorrow at noon.

Since your schedule is wide open, you take a look over the final draft for Bradley's speech for tonight. You head to the gym for a quick workout, then to your bathroom for a long hot shower.

You fix your hair and makeup before dawning your necklace and new earrings. You slip into a sleek black cocktail dress and head to the dining room.

You spend the evening fielding questions and keep Bradley on track. His speech goes remarkably well.

Soon, everyone is ushered out of the White House, and it's residence can make their way to bed.

Before you leave for your trip, you make sure your staff, Bradley, and Jake all swear to you that they will call you if they need you. They wish you safe travels before seeing you on your way.

You meet your best friend Jaycee at the airport the next day. The two of you spend time catching up before flying first class to the US Virgin Islands. You're gone three days before your phone rings.

"Hello, Ms. Wiseman?" A voice speaks on the line.

"Yes, this is she." You confirm.

"Please hold for the Vice President." The line goes silent before Jake's panicked voice calls out. "Y/N, we need you back in Washington. We have a situation. I've arranged a jet to come and get you and Jaycee in two hours." He tells you before the line goes dead.

Two hours later, you're on a plane. Four hours after that, you're stateside. A car picks you up from the airport while another escorts Jaycee home. You're pulled into a conference room the minute you get in the door.

"Ms. Wiseman, sit." Your assistant tells you.

You ignore her and walk over to Bradley and Jake, who are huddled with the press team.

"I'm going for three days. Three days! And you've fucked something up, haven't you?" You yell at Bradley.

"Y/N—listen to me! I swear it's a lie!" Bradley defends himself.

"What's a lie?" You ask him. "No one told you?" Jake asks you. "No, no one has told me anything. My phone has been out of service since I got on the plane. What is going on?" You demand.

One of the press team members slides a folder to you. You open it up and read the headline, "Daddy Dearest? Former staff member claims she had an affair with President Bradshaw and is pregnant with his child." You go on to read that the staff member claims,"she was fired for revealing her pregnancy to the Commander in Chief." You read on and see the woman's name and a picture of her.

You know exactly who she is. You fired her. Not because she was pregnant, but because you caught her trying to steal encrypted information about the president's schedule, and you had caught her sneaking in the living quarters. She had been stalking Bradley.

You look up from the paper and back to Bradley.

"Please—please for the love of God, tell me you didn't sleep with the crazy chick who was stalking you? Oh my god, was that the reason she was stalking you?!" You exclaim.

"No, I didn't sleep with her. I haven't slept with any of the staff. I haven't had sex in months!" Bradley barks out. Jake snickers. You cut your eyes at him, and he immediately stops.

"Okay. Don't worry, I can handle this. I have a plan but I need some help." You tell them.

"Jenson, get my friend Jaycee Marchetti on the phone. She works for The Washington Post. I can get us ahead of this. Mr. President, we are going to release a counter statement. Davners, call Emily Feilding at CorpLabs. She owes me a favor. Rogers, get me the personal file on our bitter friend here. I need to know where she lives and who her medical provider is." You command the people in the room.

Everyone starts moving as you head to your office.

You look over a few things and see that this story hit the press late last night. Some garbage tabloid published it, and it went viral on social media. Damn those GenZers.

It takes forty-eight hours for your plan to be put in motion. Just like you suspect. This woman has faked everything.

Your friend Jaycee was able to keep the story out of The Post and has kept running positive pieces about Bradley.

Once you found out where the whistle blower lived, you had her followed by a P.I. and you have more than enough evidence after two days to use against her.

You got a copy of her medical records, and there is no proof of pregnancy. But just in case, you have Emily on standby.

You're at the door waiting for her when the secret service escorts her in and leads her to a room with just the two of you.

"Shannon," you being as she sits down. "Oh how wish I could say it was nice to see you, but we both know it isn't.

You grimace as she smirks at you.

"Can we make this quick? I have an interview with the Evening Show in a few hours, and I need to be ready for it." She deadpans.

"Oh, I'm going to make this very quick. Let's cut to the chase. You and I both know you aren't pregnant. You're mad because you got fired for trying to steal the president's encrypted schedule and for trying to sneak into his private bedroom." You tell her.

"You're wrong! I am pregnant with his baby. And I'm going to make sure all of America knows." Shannon insists.

"No, the fuck you aren't." You breathe out.

"You see, Ms. McAllen, one great thing about working for the White House is that we keep all of your personal information on file. So I was very easily able to find your home address and have one of my P.I.s follow you the past two days. And do you want to know where they followed you to?" You ask her.

You watch the smirk fall from her face.

"They followed you to not one, but two bars. And, I have photographic and video evidence of you consuming multiple alcoholic beverages. Now, I've never been pregnant myself, but every American with even the tiniest bit of common sense knows that if you're pregnant, you can't consume alcohol." You state. She leans back in her chair and opens her mouth to speak, but you cut her off.

"Also, they followed you to your gynecological appointment on Friday. I was able to pull your records from that appointment and see that you were going in for an IUD insertion. Do you know the great thing about getting an IUD? They perform a pregnancy test just to be safe! My wonderful friend Emily at CorpLabs got me a copy of your results. Can you read what it says right there for me?" You ask her as you slide the folder to her.

"It says that I'm not pregnant." She stutters out.

"Exactly." You smirk at her.

"So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to go on the Evening Show, and you're going to tell everyone that you lied. You were upset that got fired, not for having an affair with the president but for stalking him. You're going to tell them you've been unstable since you stopped taking your medication, but you're going to get help. Then, some nice officers are going to escort you out, and no one is ever going to hear from you again." You tell her.

"But I don't take any medication! I don't have mental problems, " Shannon shouts at you.

"Not according to what I have here. This file says you have bipolar depression and anxiety." You point to the file.

"But, this is—you made this up." She shreiks.

"Maybe I did, but the people won't know that. They'll believe what it tell them."

"This is illegal! You can't do this. I won't do it!" She screams.

"Fine, have it your way. But I guarantee you that if you don't do things my way, I will make your life a living hell. I have the heads of every major news outlet on speed dial. My friend Jaycee at The Post has the files and photos ready to publish. All I have to do is say the word, and all of this gets leaked." You walk around the table to stand over her.

"I will make you public enemy number one. The people love the president. He is America's golden boy. Do you know why? Because I made him that! If this gets out, you won't be able to go to work, the grocery store, the mall, the metro, or anything else. You won't be able to leave your shithole apartment without someone recognizing your face and instantly hating you for the lies you told and the trouble you cause him. You have no idea the amount of hell I can ran down on you, you vicious little bitch" You shout at her.

"You— you—you can't do this to me." She chokes out.

"I can, and I will because I am Y/N fucking Wiseman and I am the best at what I do. Do you think I made it this far without being cut throat? Do you think that I won't do every possible thing in my power to ruin you because you've come after something I care about? I have no problem gaslighting, gatekeeping, or girlbossing ANYONE who threatens someone I care about. I am the author of this narrative, and the truth is what I say it is." You sneer at her as you watch the last bit of hope die in her eyes.

You hold eye contact with her, as she cowers in her chair.

"Okay— fine —you win." She sighs, admitting defeat. "But I want some sort of financial compensation." She demands.

"Oh hell no, Shannon. You don't get to come here and threaten everything that I have worked so hard for and then try to get a payout. The president doesn't negotiate with terrorists and neither do I. Your payment is me not leaking this information and ruining what shred of dignity you have left. Now, do we have a deal, or would you like to fuck around and find out?" You stare down at her intensely.

"We have a deal." She breathes out. "Good, now I need you to sign a few things for legal reasons, in case you ever try a stunt like this again." You hand her some papers and a pen. She quickly signs them and leaves.

You hold your head up high as you exit the room and stride to the Oval Office.

You toss the paperwork onto Bradley's desk. He looks up at you.

"I fixed it, just like I always do." You tell him.

"Thank you!" He sighs in relief.

"Now, what lesson did we learn?" You ask him.

"That I would be lost without you, Sweetheart." He smiles.

"Not exactly what I was going for, but all take it. Now, do you think you can go a few hours without another scandal?" You ask him. He nods.

"Fantastic. Then can you please have a guest room prepared and transportation arrange for my friend Jaycee? I still have two days of vacation, and I'd like to get some use out of them. It's the least you could do — Mr. President." You tease him.

His more than happy to oblige you.

You quickly texted Jaycee to let her know what is going on. Before you go back to your room, you head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of your favorite wine and a corkscrew. You forgo a glass, because after today, you're going to need the whole thing.

Wise-woman came, saw, and conquered! Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

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observeowl · 3 months

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Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 7 - Getting Risky

Series Masterlist

"Y/N, please come here!" You were working at your desk when Millicent called you. "Y/N, you did very well last month. Therefore I want you to do this important interview. Director Lancaster from Lancaster Group has just gotten married. We will be interviewing him this time." That raised alarm bells in your head. Why would they be interested in him? "I think I can't..."

"Why not? Several people in the company saw him come to see you." She reasoned. "It's not like that, I-"

"Y/N, I think highly of you. That is why I decided to let you do this interview. Go and prepare the interview outline first."

You sighed as you stepped out of her office. The relationship with your family has become so complicated and weaved into your work. "Y/N, what is wrong?" Wanda asked. You dragged to somewhere quieter and told her that Millicent told you to interview Director Lancaster. Someone told her that you were his friend, but you don't think you're up for this job.

"Millicent asked you to interview Director Lancaster? Isn't he the handsome one that came last time? What's up with him?" You shook your head, Wanda would never get it without you telling her the whole story. She's much too focused on a person's look to see anything else. "Why? Skeleton in the closet? I brought this interview up during the meeting. You have to thank me!" Sharon came out behind you.

"Is there anything odd with the interview?" Wanda asked timidly. "Nothing odd, I am afraid that someone is too guilty to take the task. Afraid to meet him since he is married, and more afraid of being bullied by the legal wife!"

"Sharon! What nonsense are you talking about?" Wanda came to your defence. Despite knowing nothing much, the one thing she know is your personality and there was no way you would break a couple's relationship.

"I'm not talking nonsense, you'll know later."

You've done quite a few since you started working at Stark News and the outline was quickly done and vetted by Millicent. "The interview outline is okay. Since you and Mr Lancaster are friends, you can meet privately first. Afterwards, I'll arrange for him to come here and take pictures for the cover. If it wasn't for you being able to get an interview with Natasha Romanoff, we wouldn't have sold out all of our copies. The Chief Editor will definitely reward you! This is the last edition, you can keep a copy." She handed you the magazine with Natasha Romanoff on the front page. You could see why so many people have a crush on her. You were embarrassed to admit that you were staring at the front page for a while until Millicent told you you were free to leave.

You arrange a meeting three days later with Marcus with Lancaster Group. When the arranged date arrived, you went to his office but Stephanie was sitting on his chair instead of him. "What? Don't feel surprised?"

"You have painstakingly sent Marcus away. Is it because you have no confidence in him?"

"How is that possible? Don't think that I don't know that you still can't forget Marcus after so long." You rolled your eyes at her comment. She and Marcus kept getting involved in your life, you can't forget him even if you want to. "You're thinking too much. I'm not into taking someone's leftovers, only you treasure him."

"Hello? Is this Starks News? Your employee is very arrogant! We're here to do an interview, not to look at your employee's negative faces! Director Lancaster is very angry now! You must give us an explanation! What has she done? She hit Director Lancaster and even splashed coffee on him!"

"Y/N, we'll see how you try to explain your way out this time!"

"There is no need for an explanation. You have said what you wanted to say. I can't do anything about it." If you can handle Sherry's accusation about you, she is nothing to worry about.

===

You were told to enter Mr Stark's room and it was only your second time here after your interview. "I'll give you a chance to explain what happened today."

"I didn't meet with Director Lancaster, I only met his wife."

"Stephanie Y/L/N? Your sister?"

"How did you know?"

"I attended your wedding. I had some doubts at first. However, Natasha Romanoff's interview last time was successfully completed, so I can basically confirm it. I will let another person interview Marcus. It's okay if you can't do it. Don't worry about it."

"Are you giving me this privilege because I am Natasha's wife?" You asked. Mr Stark looked at you like you have a second head before holding her belly and laughing out loud. "Y/N, what are you talking about? Even though the Romanoff family is supreme, the Stark family is also not that bad. It's only that I want to protect this magazine. You're a dependable hard worker, not arrogant nor bad tempered. That's why I keep you here."

"Sharon will be in charge of the interview with Mr Lancaster. I hope Group 1 will cooperate with Sharon." Mr Stark told the company in an open meeting. You and Wanda were happy to see that Sharon was reaping her own words.

"Mr Lancaster, someone from Stark News just came, they left when you weren't here." Marcus's secretary told him as he came back. "Alright, I'll call them back." Normally, he would leave such a task to his secretary, but since he knows you are working there, he decided to be the one calling instead.

M: Hello?

S: Hi, Director Lancaster. I am the editor from Stark News. I am so sorry for what happened. I will let Y/N Y/L/N apologise to you!

M: Apologies? I had a meeting in the morning so I wasn't in the office and was unable to meet her.

He knew it had something to do with Stephanie telling him that there was something wrong with the factory and that his father was unable to do anything about it, pulling him away from his office.

S: ...I hope Mr Lancaster can give us a chance.

M: About the interview, I have no problem with it. You can arrange for it.

S: Thank you Mr Lancaster, shall we meet tomorrow at 11am?

M: Alright, see you at Birkins Restaurant.

Marcas was excited to see you at work. He wondered how you would look, and you must look very professional in your work clothes. "Prepare a new suit for me. It must be presentable and good looking. The more handsome the better!"

Words somehow spread and Natasha caught news that Tony Stark knew of your identity because of the conflict of Marcus's interview. "It is not a problem. I know Tony Stark. He has only started managing the company for the past few years. He has the capabilities but no ambition."

===

While Marcus was waiting for your arrival, he was daydreaming about how it was going to go. He really thought how the both of you were going to have a good time at the interview, chatting about work and not.

"Mr Lancaster, sorry to keep you waiting." A voice said as she pushed open the door. "It's fine, I have just arrived too... you are?"

"I am Sharon Carter, editor from Stark News, nice to meet you."

"Is it only you?" He asked as he subtly looked behind her. "What do you mean, Mr Lancaster?"

"Where is Y/N Y/L/N?"

"Mr Lancaster, because of Y/N's conflict with you previously, the company has decided to send me to interview you. You're looking for her now... to reapproach her?"

"Who asked you to change the interviewer?! What did she do wrong? Did I tell you to change her?!" He stood up and shouted at her. "Mr Lancaster, please listen to my explanation."

"Forget about the interview this time! If there is an opportunity, we will cooperate again in the future." He walked out a room without giving a second thought to Sharon. She clenched her fist, there's always you standing in her path. Before you appeared, everything was smooth sailing for her.

"Hello? Are you Stephanie Lancaster? I am Sharon Carter from Stark News..."

In the end it was Stephanie who was interviewed on behalf of Marcus. News was that Marcus had something on suddenly so Stephanie took the interview instead. As expected, the interview included remarks of her supposed confidence in Marcus to not get lured by other ladies.

"Y/N, don't you think she's provoking you?" Wanda asked as she read the interview printed out. "You think too much. It's just a simple interview. I'm going to the washroom."

You were washing your hands when you saw Sharon from the mirror with her lackeys. It was always the usual two following her. "So, do you feel anxious after reading the interview?" They surrounded you, making you unable to go anywhere. "I don't know what you are talking about." Sharon gave the signal and one of them went to the door to flip the sign indicating that the washroom was undergoing maintenance.

"What do you guys want to do?" They took a hold of your arms, locking you in place.

"What can I do? I'm just following orders. After all, I got an interview, and I had to do something for Mrs Lancaster, right?"

"Aren't you guys afraid that the Chief Editor will find out?"

"Ah! Really? I'm so scared!" She faked. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, the Chief Editor took a call and went out. Furthermore, the soundproofing of this washroom is pretty good. Who will know what we did to you?"

"Wanda knows that I'm in the washroom. If I don't go back, she definitely will look for me!"

She gave another signal and the others smacked your head on the counter. "No worries, Wanda can't come in even if she wants to." She took out her phone and snapped a photo of you. "Look at you, all fine and tender, the face of a vixen. No wonder Natasha Romanoff and Marcus Lancaster are both seduced by you!" You continued staring at her and pissed her off, making her knee you in the gut. "Bitch! How are you stare at me!"

"Sharon, how about we let it go? If anything happens to her, we'll be finished."

"What are you scared of?! I specifically hit her in places that can't be seen. Do you think she will go out lifting her shirt, telling others that we beat her up?" She shouted. "I will teach you a lesson today! A mistress is like a rat running across the street, everybody shouting and wanting to kill it." She turned to you and lifted you by your hair and pushed you into one of the stalls. "I want to see how you'll hang your head up high next time!" She closed the door and you rushed to open it but it was not budging.

You heard the sound of water only after it hit you, leaving you drenched in your clothes. "You just stay here and behave yourself. I'll let you out if I remember." You started hyperventilating and bangging on the door for anyone to help you out. You didn't want to be stuck here alone.

Message from Stephanie: You did a great job! I have long thought that your abilities were above average. If there is any problem in the future, come and find me.

"What are you doing?" Sharon asked when she saw Wanda walking past her. "I'm looking for Y/N, she's been in the washroom for quite a long time."

"The water pipes of the washroom on this floor are not functioning. The washroom is out of order."

"Then why hasn't she come back yet?"

"I just saw she seemed to have met someone she knows. They were talking and walking with each other, who knows where they went."

Wanda accepted it as it is and went back to her table with a thought. You wouldn't leave your bag and phone on the table, unless it was an emergency? There was a sense of unease with her the longer you left.

When everyone was clocking out of work, one of Sharon's lackeys asked if she was really going to leave you alone in the washroom. "Why even bother to care about her? After a while, the cleaner will come and know that she is there."

And true enough, the cleaner came round and saw someone place the maintenance sign in front and questioned it. No one told her that there was going to be maintenance here. "Who did this?! What the hell are they doing?" She grumbled when she saw a particular stall being really wet with a chair in front of the door.

"Ahhhh!" She screamed, getting the attention of Wanda heading there to check again. "Some-someone is dead!"

"Y/N! What happened to you? Wake up! Hurry! Call the ambulance for help!" She rushed out of the washroom to get to her cart and bumped into Tony Stark. She hurriedly explained what happened and he jumped into action. "It will take a while for the ambulance to come, I will drive her to the hospital."

At the emergency room, Tony and Wanda were waiting for any news of you as the doctors determined the best course of action for you. "It's my fault. If only I had gone into the washroom to have a look."

"It's okay, we can't change the past now. Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Let's pray she isn't too affected."

The sounds of wheels turning caused them to turn their heads. "Where is Y/N?"

"Y/N is in the emergency room." Tony replied. "What happened? How did Y/N end up here? Now is not the time to be crying! Tell me!"

"In any way, I will give you a satisfactory explanation."

"I don't only want an explanation." Tony experienced Natasha's piercing eyes first hand and almost cowered in fear. It was no wonder rumour had said that she is merciless. "Well, I think I know who did it."

"I went to the toilet to look for Y/N. Sharon told me that I couldn't because it was under maintenance. Now to think of it, she just didn't want me to know that Y/N was inside. And also she always goes against Y/N, and even said Y/N was a mistress."

"Clint, go and check it out."

"What about you?"

"I will wait here for her."

===

It wasn't long before a doctor came out with the result. Your fever was high and ongoing and you were lucky you were brought to the hospital in time or it would have turned into pneumonia. They were also informed that you were going to be wheeled to another room later.

"Y/N... you're finally awake!" You saw three figures in front of you as you opened your eyes. "Why am I in the hospital?" You mumbled to yourself until you remembered what happened in the washroom. "Y/N, don't worry. We won't let her get away with this! Mr Stark already knows the entire story, they can't get away with it."

"We don't have proof."

"Are you just going to let her bully you and let her get away unpunished? This is just too unfair!"

"I remember there is a security camera installed outside the washroom. Once we get the footage, they have no way to run to. I will arrange for someone at the security's office to check now." Mr Stark said but Natasha stopped him. "It's no use. At most, the footage only captured them going in or out the washroom. What happened inside cannot be captured. I will handle this. She should pay for what you've gone through."

"My guard was down this time. I promise, there won't be a next one. You stay out of this, okay?" She was about to protest until she saw your puppy eyes and let it go. "Okay, just this once."

Wanda, upon seeing how close you were with her idol, broke her. "Wanda, what's wrong?"

"Wh-what is their relationship?"

"Can't you tell?" She refused to shake her head, not wanting to acknowledge what was in front of her. "This is my wife, Y/N." Natasha said. "W-wife?"

"I didn't say anything." You chuckled, relieved that the tension wasn't as thick anymore.

Series Masterlist

@natsxwife @franfineashell @dvrkhcld @reginassweetheart @marvelogic @autorasexy

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha x you #my writing #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #unwanted marriage #mcu x reader #marvel #avengers

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odyssean-flower · 7 months

Text

The Chief Justice and the Worst Painter in Fontaine Chapter 2: The Wonders of Water

summary: It was supposed to be your time to relax and get in touch with your (extremely) buried creative side...but then your boss showed up. Masterpost here

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 (Bonus Scenes) || Chapter 4

On that first week back to work after your surreal weekend, Neuvillette didn’t make any contact with you. No visit to your desk, not even a note. You had expected it, of course. The Chief Justice was a busy man with his mind preoccupied with matters that were far more important than you. He had probably forgotten all about you. If you were honest, you were a little bit disappointed, but at least this would make for a fun story to tell, right?

Not that you told anyone about it. You weren’t even sure how to explain it.

On Friday, just as you were thinking of pursuing another hobby, preferably within the city, the Melusine who worked at the front desk, Sedene, delivered a note to you.

“Hello there, [Name],” the short Melusine said as she approached you, holding a folded piece of paper in her hand. “I have a message here from Monsieur Neuvillette.”

You almost thought you misheard. You looked around to see if there was anyone else near you, but you were the only one in the office. It was Friday, and everyone had vacated the Palais Mermonia as soon as the clock struck the end of the work day.

“Um…from Monsieur Neuvillette, you say?” you asked. “It’s really from him? And for me?”

“Who else would it be from?” Sedene tilted her head to the side. “He told me that you would be expecting it. Although, I was also surprised when he asked me to do this. I don’t think he’s ever delivered a handwritten note to a human before.”

Oh, great. Does that mean he’s actually expecting something from me? Your palms were getting sweaty, but you accepted the note. “Thank you, Sedene.”

After the Melusine left, you opened the note. It contained a location written in elegant handwriting. Neuvillette was asking you to go to the mountains north of the city.

Well, it seemed that your fate was sealed. So much for relaxing outside of work.

That was what you thought back then, but to your surprise, weekends with Neuvillette were actually pretty…enjoyable?

Every Friday, he would send a note with a location. You would go there with your painting supplies, greet him, and start painting.

Although you still felt somewhat bitter about having to pick out a nice and respectable outfit even when you weren’t at work, you had to admit, Neuvillette really did know the best spots for painting.

The gray mountains capped with snow, the rolling fields of green dotted with flowers and rustic-looking houses, even the sinister and creepy-looking Elynas. For a lifelong city dweller like you, these sights were just as awe-inspiring and breathtaking as what you imagined the soaring peaks of Liyue or the lush green jungles of Sumeru to be like.

With these sceneries and your empty canvas before you, the urge to jump into the act of creation almost overpowered your nervousness.

There wasn't much talking done during these sessions, just you trying your best to depict what you saw with the tools you had at hand. Neuvillette would simply stand there, gazing off into the distance. Sometimes, you would sneak a glance at his profile to see if anything changed. It never did, or if it did, you were too slow to catch it. You never felt his gaze on you while you were painting, but it didn't feel like he was ignoring you. It felt more like he was trying to be considerate towards you as you were working.

It was hard to figure out how long you should take to finish your paintings. On one hand, you didn't want to take up too much of his time (nor your own), but on the other hand, taking too little time to take in the view and focus on your artwork felt disrespectable. You had to keep reminding yourself that this was your leisure time, so you should take however long you please, and anyway, Neuvillette was the one who always stayed there after you left.

Once you were done your painting, you would show it to him, and he would compliment it. You didn't know where he was getting those compliments from and had the suspicion that his ability to appreciate art was tragically askew. But somehow, his words sounded genuine. Though you felt not a little pressure to improve each and every week, hearing his kind words made you walk into work with a little more spring in your step.

Your weekends with Neuvillette weren't something you exactly looked forward to with anticipation, but they were never the worst part of your week.

It felt a bit dramatic to call it a double life…but it really did feel like one.

During the week, you were just one of many ordinary office workers diligently working at their desks, unnoticed by those above you, much less the Chief Justice (well, now that you knew that he knew your work, it suddenly felt like there was a heavy gaze upon you). But on the weekend, you were…well, an amateur painter who somehow got taken under the wing of Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

You haven't told anyone about him, not even your best friend. Something about telling people about what you do on the weekends felt wrong, almost scandalous, even though it was nothing of the sort. You didn't want to deal with a barrage of questions, and what if those reporters from the Steambird found out?

It was scary how something could become an unremarkable, normal part of a routine once you done it enough times. For you, it didn't take long before you were comfortable enough to sit with your legs spread slightly apart or mumble to yourself as you mixed colors. While you were still somewhat nervous dealing with him, and you definitely wouldn't call you and Neuvillette friends, you no longer felt like a small mouse trying its best to take up the least amount of space as possible in the fear of being noticed by the cat.

As for your painting skills...well, improvement was a slow and steady thing.

Neuvillette was as inscrutable as ever, but you were beginning to learn how to read him.

The weather wasn't good today. It wasn't raining, but the skies were covered in gray clouds. Furthermore, Neuvillette was unhappy. You had no idea why, and he wasn't giving any explanation. You were ninety percent sure it had nothing to do with you, since he had already been like this when you got here. But still, you could feel waves of moroseness coming off from him, and it was affecting your work.

After hearing a small, nearly imperceptible sigh issue from his lips, you decided to pluck up the courage and ask him what was bothering him. Hey, I'm showing initiative here, aren't I? You attempted to give yourself a pep talk.

"Um, excuse me, Monsieur Neuvillette," you begin, trying to inject the right amount of politeness and concern into your voice. "I can't help but notice that there is something on your mind..."

Neuvillette turned at your voice. There was surprise in his eyes, like he hadn't expected you to ask about him.

"My apologies. I didn't know my mood was affecting you. Please, feel free to disregard me."

"Oh, it doesn't bother me at all," you half-lied. "I'm just worried that you're not enjoying yourself, sir."

"My enjoyment shouldn't be a cause of concern for you. You only need to focus on your painting while you are here."

"But I shouldn't be the only one having a good time. This is your rest day as well."

"Please, [Name], there is no need to worry about me. Your enjoyment is my--"

"Monsieur Neuvillette, please tell me what's bothering you! I really want to know!" you unconsciously raised your voice, then immediately clapped your hands to your mouth upon realizing what you had done. "Oh Archons, I'm so sorry."

There was a short silence after you said that.

Crap, crap, crap.

He's going to push me into the waters and then I'm going to sink to the bottom and become fish food-

"It's the water here." His calm voice broke through your panicked thoughts. "It leaves much to be desired. I felt upset for bringing you to such an unfit place to paint."

"The...water?" you looked around. This weekend, Neuvillette took you to a small island near Romaritime Harbor. The water here was sapphire-blue and clear, just like the water everywhere in Fontaine. "I don't really see what's wrong with it..."

"Let me show you." A silver cup suddenly appeared in Neuvillette's hand. Where did that come from?

He scooped up some water in the cup and swirled it, then showed it to you. It looked like...extremely pure water.

"Do you see how different this water is from the location we visited last weekend? The scent, the texture, and..." he took a sip of the water before your incredulous eyes, then grimaced. "The taste. All of it is utterly subpar."

He then went on a rant about how water was different in different places. He must have been bottling this up, because he kept talking for about ten minutes. You had never seen him talk so animatedly before. It was honestly pretty refreshing, even though you had no idea what he was talking about. So, you just kept nodding and saying "uh huh" at the appropriate moments.

"Um...if you say so, sir. Although, I think this place is just as lovely as all the other places you've brought me to," you said after he finally concluded.

He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not at all. You deserve only the best."

Your cheeks warmed. Did he really just say that!?

"Next week, I will take you to a far more beautiful place," he said solemnly. He raised his hand awkwardly, hesitantly, then placed it on your shoulder. "I promise."

You could still feel the weight of his hand on his shoulder even after you returned to work on Monday.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #my works #painter series

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gothicflowers · 3 months

Text

John Price x GN!firefighter!Reader

Hang Up The Coat

Umm so this is extremely self indulgent (I’m using Price to cope instead of facing the reality of my job)

Warnings: mentions of death, alcoholism, firefighter reader. SFW.

John had returned last night from his deployment to an empty home. Bottles scattered around, Piles of laundry from the past month. He knew it was getting bad but it seemed to have gotten worse in his absence. He didn’t know how to have the talk that needed to happen but you seemed to be on the edge of breaking and he’d be damned to let you get near it.

It was 07:13 in this morning and he had already polished the house clean. The was no evidence that anything was even remotely wrong. To price it was important to help you get better. Even if that meant waking up at 4AM to clean the house so you could relax when you got off shift. Working 48 hours consecutively absolutely exhausted you and he wanted to make sure you could have his undivided attention.

You had a habit of going full housewife when he was home. Cooking, cleaning and tending to his every need. Despite your families disappointment of getting a male dominated job you still can’t get rid of the traditional values you where raised to uphold. Your adoration for John was undeniable even after all these years. In a way you left that your life purpose was to serve him. And John lived his life to serve you, when he wasn’t at work the soldier in him melted away to reveal a kind hearted man with a love for his wife and board games.

He finally heard your car door shut in the driveway. He practically ran to the door to great you like a puppy. Opening the door you were greeted with a brown haired man with his hair pulled back and a smile plastered on his face. He was home a week earlier to your surprise.

“My love I missed you”

He pulls you into a deep kiss. His strong hands cradling your small head as he kissed you. The tears he hadn’t noticed poured into his hands.

“No, no, baby what’s wrong?”

You sniffled and handed him the paper that you hoped would say something different. Instead it read the same as all the times before.

Hello,

Thank you for applying for the lieutenant position. We regret to inform you that you were not selected this round. While you held the necessary certificates and training requirements the promotion committee believes you should improve as a member of the brotherhood before any further promotions. We appreciate your time and dedication in the selection process.

Thank you,

Chief

“Darling im so sorry”

He pulled you into a deep hug. His musk engulfs your senses. He’s been gone for three long lonely months. No contact with you per 141 policy. The isolation is suffocating. All your friends had moved on with life and left you behind so you were completely alone. The letter wasn’t helping with the sense of adulthood failure.

“I’m so tired, of this constant struggle to be enough”

“Maybe it’s time to consider other options”

His soft voice was afraid of what you’d say next.

“But it’s what I was made for. All these year and to just be done?!”

John felt a ping in his heart because he knew his honest words would still sting.

“Love you don’t need your job to be your purpose in life”

That’s when you began the real breakdown.

“But it’s what I’ve been doing since I was 18. I don’t know anything else, I’m stuck, but I love the job too much to quit. It’s like asking you to leave 141.”

You never intended to be a firefighter. It just kinda happened. That bright eyed rookie that was full of energy had been burned to pieces years ago. Your friends always told you that working a 48 hour shift must be so nice because you have so much time off. In reality you came home and slept for a few hours after the never ending late night 911 calls and days filled with the general public yelling at you for not being fast enough, cold dinners, washing bio hazards of your boots.

At home waking up to deal with the mental toll of the job and making yourself a glass of whiskey to ease your mind, only to overdo it and end up passed out on the kitchen floor.

The department you worked for always peached “brotherhood” but no matter how hard you worked you still remained an outside. Constantly getting pulled into the chiefs office for “not showing enough dedication”. They never recognized the extra effort you put in. The endless charity events you organized, overtime, teaching classes. Going to extra training classes eating away at your days off. Countless trainings out of town when your husband was home from deployment. None of it mattered to them. Never good enough.

Promotion time came and went again, this was round four of applying for promotion. Yet again missing out on becoming a lieutenant because you don’t fit into any of the clicks. You didn’t golf with the ranked officers on your days off. You didn’t get invited to the cookouts. They always said promotion was based off performance but the five newest officers proved that to be false. Lazy, arrogant, fat men had moved up while you stayed at the bottom. If you wanted to move up you needed to be one of the boys. How?

“It’s never enough for them is it” John has said just loud enough to be a whisper.

John was tired of seeing you get kicked around. It angered him more than you’ll ever know. He always stood by your side when things got hard. You had made it your goal to get promoted to lieutenant before you started trying for a family. John was never going to tell you but he has growing slightly impatient. He wanted you to spend your days happy, kids running around while he cooks breakfast and you sleep in. Not coming home pretending that you didn’t witness another overdose before breakfast and help the corenor bag another young person took far too soon before bed.

You barely had energy to kiss him when you got home. Your mental health had plummeted, your new hobby was drinking and screaming at the walls. Stumbling around with music blasting. You didn’t care about anything, and when you wanted to talk about something you turned it into an argument over nothing. The five foot nothing angel he fell in love with eight years ago was barely recognizable in you. The man that never wanted you to know pain, death, loneliness felt helpless.

But for whatever reason he still loved you. He recalls a time before you met when he was this way in the military, before 141. Angry at the world, doing his best with a bottle in his hand. He only realized he needed a change when he was given the option to stay or start 141. He chose to leave the bottle.

“Love maybe… maybe it’s time to close this chapter” he was gentle saying it as best as he could. He knew how much it hurt for you to hear it. But he knew you better than to let you keep being destructive. He could see the internal conflict within yourself behind the tears in your eyes.

“Then what do I do? I know what I want out of life but I just feel like I’ll lose part of myself if I stop”

“Do you think you’ll lose a part of yourself, or has the part of you that’s tired of pushing has turned into rage?”

“It’s turned from rage to sorrows. And I’m tired of being pushed around. And I’m tired of not being good enough… and…”

“And what love”

“I don’t want you to think less of me for calling it quits when you’ve always stood by be though it all. I want to go back to how I was to you. I’m so sorry I’ve neglected you for so long”

“Oh love you’ll always and forever be my strong angell. I would never think of you differently for quitting. You did such a good job and I know they don’t see it but I know. I will always know my wife fought hard. And I just want you to get better and I’m happy you want to. But I can’t let you keep hurting yourself like this”

“Then I think… I’m ready to hand up my coat.”

“Then that’s what you will do”

He gently kissed your lips and wiped away your tears.

He had a soft reassuring smile. He knew this was going to be a hard process for you but the job was eating you alive and you knew it too.

“Would you like me to help you write your letter of resignation?” His hands still holding your delicate face while his eyes looked down with love.

“I would love that”

#call of duty #captain john price #flowerwrites #john price #john price smut #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x you #price x y/n #john price cod #john price x reader

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muffinpink02 · 17 days

Text

Bronze Is Better Then Gold

part 2 here

Summary - Ona has transferred to a new police force, she meets her partner, Lucy Bronze. The girls hit it off right away, flirting at every chance they can get. But will Lucy’s past get in the way?

This is an AU story, but its got most of the girls from the lionesses featuring. People seem to like it so thought you guys might too.

Warnings - some suggestive scenes (lets keep it 18 and above) lots of angst, gun violence, smut to come in last chapter (chapter 4)

Ona shivered from the crisp cold morning air. It had just hit the start of October and the signs of autumn were already showing. Even after nearly five years of living in the UK the Spaniard still hadn’t got used to the cold English weather.

She drank the last sip of her coffee, taking in the grey building in front of her. Her new place of work.

She watched as a couple of uniformed police officers walked into the building, talking amongst themselves. She took in a deep breath, trying her best to shake off the first day nerves.

It was her first day at the new firm. She had been personally scouted from the Chief Constable to have a chat. When asked if she wanted to transfer it was an easy yes for Ona. The building was closer to home, it was a day shorter in the working week with Mondays off. And the Chief Constable was well known to be excellent at her job. Her team was one of the best in the city of London. She was definitely someone Ona wanted to be working under.

She dashed her empty coffee cup in a nearby bin and made her way to the buildings reception, where she was greeted by a very overly happy receptionist. Not something that she was used to back in her old firm or in London for that matter.

“Hello, how can I help you today?” The blonde smiled brightly up at Ona.

Ona cleared her throat. “Good morning, I’m Ona Battle, it’s my first day today, I was told to go to reception.”

“Ohh lovely! Welcome! I have all the bits you’ll need.”

Ona smiled at the bubbly blonde. She glanced at her name tag, Esme Morgan.

The blonde grabbed a folder that had lots of paper work inside, she handed it over to Ona.

“Right here’s all the bits you’ll need from me, I’ll take you over to Sarina, the ‘important’ part of the building. I’m Esme by the way. Follow me.”

The blonde was taller than Ona expected her to be, but that wasn’t hard in Ona’s experience, most people in the room were always taller than the Spaniard, unless they were under the age of ten.

“You’ve met Sarina right?” The blonde smiled.

Esme reminded Ona of an excited puppy in the nicest possible way, the girl was full of beans.

“Ahh yes, on video call. She’s really nice.”

“Oh yeah she is, she’s like a mum away from your own mum. Well that’s how I see her.”

Ona smiled, she liked this girl, she wasn’t like your usual Brit, she was genuinely cheery. Not fake cheery, but someone who actually seemed happy.

They walked down a long green corridor, Ona looked over at the pictures on the wall of police officers from across the years, even going back as far as the 18th century.

“We’ve heard such good things about you. I know Sarinas really happy that you joined us.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard good things about this branch. I could never have said no.”

Esme smiled, she had a happy bounce to her as she walked, her cheerful character was almost infectious.

“Ahh that’s great. I hope you like it here, we’ve got a lovely bunch on the team. Do you know who your partner is?”

“Ahh that’s good to hear. Erm I’m going to be working with Gold.”

“Gold? Who’s Gold? I didn’t know we had a gold.” Esme’s face scrunched in confusion.

Ona rattled her brain for the right translation, she was sure it was gold, or was it?

“Oh do you mean Bronze?”

Ona laughed, just slightly embarrassed of her mix up.

“Ahh yes, sorry I haven’t got my elements down.”

Esme smiled widely, Ona couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oh yeah, neither have I, don’t worry about it.” She laughed to herself, turning a corner with Ona following.

“Yeah Bronze is a lovely girl. She’s such a hard worker, one of the hardest workers on the team actually. You’re lucky to have her as your partner.”

Ona smiled, she already liked the sound of her new partner, but she had to try and forget ‘Gold’ and remember Bronze.

But little did Ona know that wouldn’t be hard.

They stopped outside a room with a plaque ingrained with ‘S Weigman’ on the door. Esme knocked a cheery tune.

In a heartbeat she heard a women’s voice coming from inside.

“Come in Esme.”

Esme opened the door motioning for Ona to enter.

“Right, here we are, this is where I leave you. Sarina will take it from here. Good luck today and if you need anything you know where to find me.”

“Thank you Esme, it was lovely to meet you.”

Esme nodded, a happy smile still sitting on her face.

“Oh by the way, Claudia called, she’s had to cancel the 10 o’clock meeting.”

Sarina nodded, smiling fondly at the blonde, it was as if she was looking at a young child.

“Thank you Esme, and thank you for bringing Ona.”

The bubbly blonde nodded and bounced off, waving at everyone she passed in the corridor. Ona couldn’t help but smile again at the brightness that Esme left on her mood.

“Ona! Please come in. It’s so good to finally meet you in person, I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve joined us. Come take a seat. Do you want a tea or coffee, a cold drink?”

Ona took a seat in front of Sarinas desk.

“Oh no, I’m okay, I just had a coffee. Thank you.”

Sarina nodded, smiling at the young girl in front of her.

“Okay, well firstly welcome. I know I’ve said it already but I’m so excited to have you on the team. Emma told me how much of a hard worker you are, you’ve accomplished so much at such a young age. It’s incredible. Emma did not let you go easy! But I’m glad you were happy to move to us.”

Ona smiled at her feet, feeling slightly shy at the compliments.

“Ahh thank you. It’s just part of the role, I really enjoy my job. And yes the move felt right, I had been there since I moved to London, so it was nice for a change. I’ve also heard a lot about you and your team. You’re well known how efficient your squad run.”

Sarina smiled and nodded, taking in the girl in front of her.

“So where are you from? That’s not a British accent I can hear.”

Ona laughed. “I’m from Spain, Catalonia. I’ve been in the UK nearly five years.”

“I see, so why police here and not Spain? What made you move here?”

Ona played with her fingers. “I was in the police force back in Spain, I joined when I was 18 but I wanted a change. I love my city but things didn’t work out how I wanted. I’ve always loved the UK and the people. There’s something special about it.”

Sarina nodded again, smiling warmly at the younger girl.

“I can understand, I’m originally from the Netherlands. I came here to study and never left. I then found my now husband and have lived here ever since.”

Ona nodded, smiling at the women. “The UK spoke to both of us.”

Sarina hummed in agreement. “It did indeed. Do you ever go back home much?”

Ona played with her fingers again, feeling a little uncomfortable. She kept her eyes casted down.

“Erm, not really. I went back once but that’s all.”

Sarina noticed the change in the younger women. She didn’t want to push so she changed the subject.

“Well, these next couple of days I just want you to get to know the team and the building and how we work here. I don’t want to throw you right in the deep end, even though I know you can handle it. I like my staff to feel comfortable first. Bronze and the team will be going on a raid next week. You’ll be joining them.”

Ona nodded. “Okay, that sounds good. I’m really looking forward to meeting everyone and getting stuck in.” She smiled at the older women.

“And I want you to know I am always here if you need to talk about anything, from work, to general life. We have our therapist on site that we ask you to at least see once every two weeks but you can go as much as you want.

Ona now understood what Esme meant about Sarina being a mother figure, she could sense a genuine care from the older women but also a firmness to her.

The Spaniard nodded and smiled. “Thank you.”

“Great, I’ll take you on a tour of the building and you can meet the team and meet your partner.”

Sarina showed Ona around the building, stopping off at certain floors that Ona would need in the future.

They then walked into the main office, where it looked like most of the staff worked. Ona suddenly felt a little nervous, she was fine with meeting new people, she was a social butterfly really, but it was always daunting meeting your new work colleagues.

“Nobbs, Stokes, come and meet Ona Battle, it’s her first day and I want you to make sure she settles in.”

Two short women smiled brightly at Ona, both walking towards her.

“Hello, I’m Jordan or Nobbs. It’s nice to meet you.” She reached her hand out to shake Ona’s.

“Hello Jordan, lovely to meet you.”

“I’m Demi or Stokes. Really happy to have you on the team.” The slightly taller woman also holding her hand out for Ona.

Ona smiled, shaking Demis hand.

“Hello Demi. Also lovely to meet you.”

“You’ll be working a lot with DC Nobbs and DC Stokes. They’re some of the best Detective Constables I’ve ever worked with.”

Serina patted Demi on the back. Looking at the girls like a proud mum.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that about everyone.” Demi rolled her eyes, joking with her superior.

“No? Do I? Oh just the good ones then.” Sarina winked at the Spaniard. Causing the group to laugh.

Ona once again could see the pride this woman had for her team, it was refreshing to see. It definitely wasn’t something she was used to in her old firm.

Demi then spoke. “We’ve heard only good things about you Ona.”

A slight tint of pink rushed to Ona’s cheeks.

“I’m scared I’ve got to live up to this reputation now.”

All four of the women laughed.

“Don’t worry. You have Bronze as a partner, she’ll make sure you live up to it.” A new voice entered the chat.

Ona turned around to face a women even taller then Esme. A cup of coffee in hand.

“Don’t try and scare her Scott.” Jordan scolded the older women.

The taller women laughed at her own joke. She stuck her hand out for Ona to take.

“I’m only joking. I’m Scott, it’s good to have you on the team.”

Ona noticed her thick Northern accent, she knew she’d have to listen extra hard when speaking with the tall woman.

“Thank you, it’s great to meet you.” Ona smiled.

“Ona, this is our SFC Jill Scott, one of the best I’ve ever worked with.”

“That’s true.” Jill took a sip of her coffee looking pleased with herself, while the other two girls rolled their eyes at the banter.

“Where is Bronze?” Sarina looked around the room.

“Gym.” In unison all three of the girls replied.

Ona quirked an eye brow at the response

“That girl! I told her to be here to meet Ona.”

“She probably wanted her muscles to look extra big to show off.” Jordan laughed.

“Yeah, like she needs them any bigger.” Jill took another sip of her coffee.

“Jealousy is a shit trait to have Scott.”

Another voice entered the conversation.

“Ahh Luce, you know I’m only joking. I am indeed just jealous.” Jill laughed.

Ona turned around wanting to give the new voice a face.

Wow.

Ona nearly forgot how to breathe, the woman standing in front of her was stunning. She took in the girl in front of her, she had almond shaped eyes, filled with a beautiful intense shade of green. Like Ona she had a face covered in freckles but a lot less dark and less condensed.

Her face was strong and soft at the same time, her jawline was perfectly defined, yet her other features were soft and feminine, she was gorgeous.

Her face was flushed, a thin layer of sweat glistening over her muscular arms and neck. Her dark hair was wet and scraped back, small curls escaping the messy bun, clearly wet from the gym that the girls had mentioned.

Ona was lost for words, the girl was beautiful.

“Ona this is CI Bronze, she’s going to be there for whatever you need, all of the girls will be, but Bronze is your go to girl.”

Lucy couldn’t hold back the smile that appeared on her face, Ona was breathtaking. It was her eyes that Lucy noticed first, she had wide, soft doe eyes, innocent looking eyes. A beautiful chocolate brown surrounded her iris, making her face warm and inviting.

Dark freckles covered her face, another feature Lucy couldn’t help but admire. Her skin was slightly tanned but not bronze, more of a milk colour. Lucy imagined that was because of the English weather.

It was when Ona smiled that Lucy felt her stomach flutter. She thought her face was beautiful and soft before, but her smile made her perfect. She noticed how chiseled her jawline was when she smiled, how perfectly it fit with her features. The girl was utterly beautiful.

Lucy held out her hand for Ona’s to shake.

Ona had to kick her brain into gear to move, she took Lucy’s hand, instantly loving how soft her skin was against hers.

“It’s great to have you on the team Ona, and like Sarina said, I’m here for whatever you need.”

“Thank you, I can’t wait to work with you.”

They held hands for a second longer than the usual handshake would normally last.

The interaction wasn’t missed by the other women, Jordan and Demi eyed up the the older brunette, smiling between each other as Lucy and Ona kept eye contact for a second too long.

“Okay, well. I’ll let Lucy take care of you from here, if you need anything let the girls know, or if you need anything from me you know where I am.”

The older lady smiled warmly at Ona, leaving her with her new co-workers.

“Let me show you your desk, it’s next to mine.”

“Great.” Ona followed.

Lucy walked towards a row of desks with computers and files of paper work neatly piled on each space. But there was one desk with only a computer that Ona assumed was hers.

“This is you. I apologise in advance my desk can get a little messy now and again.”

“Ahh that doesn’t bother me.” Ona couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

“I’ll try keep and keep it tidy though.”

“She won’t Ona, she’s lying.” Jordan poked her head over Lucy’s computer. Hers and Demis desk both opposite their own.

“Shut it Nobbs,”

Jordan smiled cheekily at the older brunette.

“Trust me Ona, give it a week.” Jordan smiled.

Ona laughed at the banter between the girls, she wondered if her and Lucy would ever get as close.

“Ignore her. I’m going to quickly head for the showers. I know you’ve got all that paper work to go through, so you can just chill here. Kitchen is just over there, help yourself to a drink. Once I’m back I’ll go through some bits with you.” Lucy smiled at the younger girl.

“Sure, sounds good. Enjoy your shower.” Ona had to stop herself from thinking too hard about Lucy in the shower. She looked around the room, noticing other people at their desks working, she was going to have to try and remember a lot of names today.

She started to read through her paper work, it was mostly rules and work conducts she had to read and agree to.

Eight pages in to her paper work she felt Lucy hover over her.

“God I hate all of this, it’s so boring, but I get it, it has to be done.” Lucy rolled her eyes.

Ona smiled, she agreed but she wasn’t going to make it obvious. “Ahh yeah, I know. Nearly done though.”

Lucy nodded. “Do you fancy a tea or coffee? I’m going to make one.”

“Coffee please.” - “Tea for me.” Jordan and Demi loudly put their order in.

Lucy rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t asking you!”

“Don’t be like that, you’re going anyways.” Demi shouted back.

“Fine. Ona?” Lucy started to get up.

“Erm, tea please? With two sugars please.” Ona smiled.

Lucy had to hold herself back from saying the ‘you’re sweet enough’ line.

“No problem.” Lucy made her way to the kitchen.

Ona smiled as she read on with her paper work.

Ona drank her tea that Lucy made, listening to the brunette talk about what investigations the team was working on.

“But don’t stress too much, I’ll have you sitting in the catch up on Friday, so you can get an idea. I’ll send over some bits so you can read them in your own time. I know the first day can be a lot.”

If Ona was honest she was more than grateful for the slow introduction to the work. She was finding it hard to concentrate with Lucy. She’d never been one for distractions with work, but she was having to listen extra carefully to Lucy, instead of watching her lips, wondering what they would feel like against her own.

Ona nodded. “Yeah that’s great. I’ll go over that tonight, thank you Lucy.”

“Great. It’s nearly lunch, Sarina has insisted we go for lunch together to get to know each other. Partners and all that. But don’t feel like you hav-.”

“Yes!” Ona internally winced at her own eagerness

Lucy chuckled.

“I mean yeah, that’s sounds great. It’s a good idea.”

“Cool, do you like pizza?”

“I love pizza.”

“Oi, don’t try and par us off, we was CC’d on that email too.” Jordan’s head pocked over the computer.

Lucy rolled her eyes once again at her friend.

——————-

The conversation between the girls came naturally, they spoke about why they got into the police force, and some of their hardest cases.

Ona explained that she fell in love with London, and how she always wanted to be a police officer when she was young. She kept some bits brief, not wanting to get into certain bits of her life.

She noticed those greens eyes watching her throughout the meal, every time she caught her, the older brunette would dart her eyes to something or someone else, but she was caught every time.

*********

By the end of the day Ona was tired, she’d already not slept great the night before down to nerves. She had met everyone else in the office after lunch, so by five she was yawning.

Lucy was on her computer sending Ona some notes to read.

“Right, don’t stress about reading this tonight. It’s been a long day.”

“But don’t be tired on Friday, we’re going to The Rose and Crown. And it’s the rules, you have to come.” Jill had come up behind Ona.

“Well it doesn’t sound like I have a choice, you can buy my first drink.” Ona smiled, getting used to the girls banter.

All the girls laughed, Jill put her hand on Ona shoulder giving her a squeeze.

“I like this one.”

Lucy was watching Ona, a bright smile on her face, Ona felt her heart beat just a little faster.

——————-

By day two Ona was obsessed with Lucy’s laugh, the girl had a serious nature to her, but once Ona made her laugh she couldn’t stop. She wanted to hear that beautiful sound whenever she could. It was a good thing Lucy actually seemed to find her funny. Ona felt a rush of excitement go through her, even at a glimpse of Lucy’s beautiful smile, the girl did have a beautiful smile.

By day three Lucy had to physically stop herself from staring at Ona. The younger girl would be doing the simplest of tasks and Lucy seemed to find it fascinating. She watched the Spaniard making them tea in the kitchen, talking and laughing with others in the office. Lucy maybe even getting a little jealous when someone made the shorter girl laugh hard.

Ona may have noticed the eyes on her and was loving every second of it. Making sure to laugh a little harder at something someone would say.

By day end of day there neither girl could keep the other out of their head. Lucy thought about Ona as she made dinner at home, wondering if Ona would like her cooking. Meanwhile Ona got comfy on her sofa to watch a film, wondering what it would be like to have Lucy cozied up next to her.

By Friday morning, Ona thought about Lucy as she ate her porridge, wondering what her morning routine looked like. As Lucy finished her workout in the gym she wondered if Ona was a morning person. She wondered what it would be like to wake up next to a groggy Ona. The thought made her body heat up.

———————

“We have eyes on Harvey Smith aka ‘Bugz’ and Frank Smith aka ‘Slims’. We know the brothers are highly dangerous to the public. We believe Slims is the brains behind most of the drug operations and Bugz is mostly muscles for Slims. On Wednesday at seven hundred hours, our teams will raid the location that we suspect they will be. We’ll have Scott and her team ready with arms. Carter will have the K9s unit, Bright and Greenwood will have their teams ready on site.”

Lucy looked over at her team.

“Any questions?”

Everyone shook their heads, and Ona wasn’t surprised. Lucy was clear with her instructions, she’d gone through many different stages of the plan. Ona understood why she was in this role.

“If you have any please come to me.”

Lucy looked her watch. “It’s 4.45 and Friday let’s call it a day.”

The room hummed in agreement, light chatter broke out as people started to leave the room.

Ona went to her desk to grab her bag and jacket, she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders.

“Ready for the pub?”

Lucy’s voice filtered into her ears, Ona nearly shivered at how close the brunette was.

“Sii. I’m ready.”

“Great. Nobbs, Stokes, Scott, let’s go.”

—————-

Most of the staff from the office were at the pub, clearly a favourite of theirs. They made their way upstairs to a booth next to a fire place, Ona instantly felt the warmth from the fire kissing her cheeks.

“Right, I’ll get first round who wants what?” Lucy stayed standing.

The girls gave in their orders. Before Ona could offer to help with the drinks and also just have an excuse to be with Lucy, Jill got in there first.

“Right come on then, I’ll help ya.”

At the bar Lucy gave in the orders. She knew Jill wanted to say something as the Geordie had never offered to help anyone with the drinks since working with her.

“Go on then, what do you have to say?” Lucy looked hard at the taller women.

Jill smiled smugly. “Nothing gets past you.”

Lucy hummed.

“Just noticed you’ve been a lot more chirpier around the office. A lot more happy. Started since our new Detective Inspector started.”

Lucy felt the knot in her stomach, was she that obvious? Did Ona notice? Who else noticed? Either way Lucy wasn’t going to fess up.

“You chat shit Scott.”

Jill laughed loudly.

“You know I don’t. Come on it’s okay, no harm in it. Just happy to see you happy to be honest. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that smile on your face.”

Lucy knew what Jill really meant when she said that. She could tell the older women said it with her own hint of sadness to her voice. If she was being honest, it was the first time this year she had felt a little happier. And it was all because of the short Spanish girl sitting upstairs.

“So Ona are you seeing anyone at the moment?” Jordan asked.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m a single, how do you say? Dingle?”

The girls laughed. “Pringle, a single Pringle.” Demi corrected.

Ona laughed. “Ahh that’s it. Single Pringle. What about you guys?”

“Demi here’s engaged, with a baby.” Jordan smiled.

“Ahh that’s lovely.” Ona smiled.

“And Jordan has a little thing going on with a blonde in the HR team.”

“Oi, shut up.” Jordan looked panicked.

“Oh come on Jordan, everyone knows. You guys really aren’t subtle.” Demi laughed at her friend.

“Who’s not subtle?” Lucy placed the tray full of drinks on the table, sceptically looking at her friends.

“Just Jordan and Leah.”

Lucy let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

“Oh yeah, you guys aren’t subtle.”

“You can talk.” Jordan muttered.

Ona didn’t miss the daggers Lucy shot at Jordan.

The evening was full of laughter, Ona couldn’t help but feel a little sense of relief that these were her colleagues. They instantly made her feel like she was part of the team, it felt like she had been there longer than four days, it felt like she’d known these girls in another lifetime.

The pub bell rang.

“Last orders!” A bar girl shouted.

“One more for the road?” Lucy looked around the table.

“Not me, I’m at a coffee tour tomorrow.” Jill sipped on her pint.

“Yeah me too. I’m a plus one for a 2 year olds birthday party tomorrow.” Demi slumped in her seat.

“Yeah I’ve got to head off. I’m meeting a friend tomorrow.” Jordan cleared her throat.

“Yeah ‘friend’.” Demi laughed.

“I’ll stay for another.” Ona looked at Lucy.

Lucy had to hold back the excitement that bubbled up in her chest. Herself and Ona hadn’t really gotten any one on one time since the girl joined the team.

“Finally! Someone who isn’t a lightweight. Same again?” Lucy looked at Ona.

“It’s my turn. I’ll get this.” Ona shot up, going down to the bar before Lucy could argue.

Once the Spaniard was gone all three of the girls looked at Lucy, smirks on their faces.

“What?” Lucy looked at her friends.

“Oh come off it Luce, you like the girl.” Jordan nudged Lucy’s arm.

“What? No I don’t.” The brunette tried to defend herself.

She looked at Jill, hoping for some back up.

“I’m staying out of it. I’ve already said enough.“ She shook her head putting her coat on.

“Come on Bronzey. You can tell just by the way you look at her.” Demi laughed.

The smirk that creeped on her lips gave her feelings away.

“Is it that obvious?”

All three girls smiled happily at the brunette.

“Awww our girls got a crush.” Jordan grabbed the back of Lucy’s neck, making the girl duck her head.

“Get off.” She laughed.

“She’s single.” Demi quirked.

“Yeah but I don’t even know if she’s into girls.”

All three of the girls laughed hard then.

“Come on Luce, I thought you was a detective. The girl looks at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. I think this its a mutual feeling.” Jill lightly chuckled.

Lucy scoffed. “I doubt that.”

Before the girls could harass Lucy anymore Ona returned.

“Right I’m off. I hope you’ve enjoyed your first week Ona. The real work starts on Wednesday.” Jill winked.

“Sii, I’m looking forward to it. And thank you girls for making me feel so welcome. I appreciate it.” Ona smiled at the girls.

“It’s been a pleasure Ona.” Jordan smiled.

“Yeah, you fit in so well Ona, so glad we got you on our team.” Demi grabbed Ona’s shoulder.

“Look after her Bronze.” Jill pointed at the older brunette.

“Oh, she will.” Jordan winked at Lucy.

Ona didn’t miss the comment, or the way Lucy’s face went a shade of pink. Before Lucy could think of a come back the girls were gone.

Suddenly the room became quiet and the air between, Lucy and Ona felt thick. It was the first time Lucy had felt nervous, they had never been alone before, with no one sticking their nose into their conversations.

Ona was buzzing, don’t get her wrong, she loved getting to know her other colleges, loved being a part of the team but she had wanted some alone time with Lucy since she met her.

The fire made a loud cracking noise, the pub still had a few people nursing their drinks.

Lucy had forgotten all words, she hadn’t been able to think about nothing else since this girl came into her life only four days ago, and now her mind had gone blank.

After ten seconds of silence that actually felt like hours, finally Lucy’s brain woke up.

“So speaking about first weeks, how has yours been?”

Ona took a sip of her new drink, smiling.

“It’s been amazing. Everyone has been so friendly, so welcoming. It’s been great.”

Lucy nodded, smiling. She was happy to hear Ona was feeling welcome, she understood it was hard to start a new job anywhere.

“You especially have made me feel so welcome, I’m really happy that you’re my partner Lucy.”

Ona’s smile was shy, she looked at Lucy with those big beautiful brown eyes.

Lucy’s face had definitely changed in colour, she couldn’t hold back the dorky smile that plastered her face.

“I’m glad I have.”

Lucy smiled with her brilliant teeth.

“And yeah, you’re not too bad yourself. Definitely need to get you better at making tea, then you’ll be perfect.” She smiled cheekly at Ona.

Ona laughed hard. “Aye it’s not that bad!”

Lucy drank her drink, looking around making a point to not look at Ona.

“You’ll have to teach me.” Ona didn’t mean to sound sexy, but Lucy couldn’t help but think her voice got an octave lower.

Lucy pointed between herself and Ona. “If this is gong to work, then yeah, I’ll teach you.”

“Fine.” Ona smiled.

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.”

“No puedo esperar.” (I can’t wait)

Ona definitely lowered her voice that time. Lucy felt the heat rise up in her cheeks. Lucy laughed trying to gain her nerve back. She tried to change the subject before her face went any redder.

“Are you going back to Spain for Christmas?”

Ona’s smile dropped, she hadn’t told anyone the real reason for leaving Spain. It wasn’t because she was ashamed, it was just still a hard thing for her to digest. But if she could tell anyone Lucy would be the best person.

“No, I, ……. my parents don’t talk to me because I am gay.”

Lucy’s own smile dropped. She could see the sadness in Ona’s eyes, it broke her heart.

“Oh, Ona. I’m so sorry. When did they do that?”

“It happened when I was 19. They found out and kicked me out of my home. They blocked me and never spoke to me again. So I moved here. I wanted to move here at some point anyways, but it was sooner than I’d have liked.”

Lucy could feel her own tears well in her eyes.

“Have you spoken to them since?”

Ona looked down at her drink.

“After a year of living here I went back to Spain, to see if they would speak to me. But when I got to my home my mum closed the door on my face. I tried to reach out in many ways but they won’t talk to me.”

Lucy couldn’t believe how anyone could purposefully hurt the girl in front of her, let alone her own parents. It made her angry but Ona didn’t need that kind of response. She reached out her hand, gently grabbing Ona’s.

“I know we haven’t known each other that long but I am here if you ever wanna talk. Or if you ever just want an ear, I’m all yours.”

Ona smiled at Lucy, she heard everything she had said but mostly ‘I’m yours’ stood out most to her. “Thank you Lucy. I appreciate it.”

Lucy squeezed Ona’s hand, not ever wanting to let go, her hand felt so small and delicate in her own.

“Hi guys we’re closing up now.” The girl from behind the bar shouted loudly.

The last thing she wanted to do was leave Ona now. She wanted to do nothing else then scoop the girl up and hug her until she could smile again, even then Lucy wouldn’t want to let go.

“I guess we better leave.” Ona smiled sadly.

“You hungry?”

Ona nodded. “Starving.”

“Do you like chips?”

Ona nodded again, gaining back a smile.

“Right, come on then. I know the best place.”

——————-

“Okay don’t tell no one but I prefer curry sauce with my chips, and as a northerner that’s a bit of a crime. The northerners prefer gravy, I like both but the curry sauce just tastes so good.”

“I don’t think I’ve had it with chips before.”

“What? Okay, I’m about to blow your mind Battle.”

Ona laughed hard, she loved this excited version of Lucy, it probably was the fact that they were both tipsy and not in the office but it was nice to see the girl relaxed.

They left the chippy with their precious chips in hand.

“There’s a bench nearby if you want to eat there?”

“Yes, let’s do that. I want to give my full attention to your curry sauce.” Ona giggled.

“Thats what I like to hear. It’s just five minutes from here. It’s worth the walk.”

Ona followed Lucy down the coberrly streets of London. She watched as some business men stumbled into a black cab as they passed a posh looking restaurant.

They came to a busy road, with a few more pubs and bars lining the street. She felt Lucy link her arm into hers as she guided them easily through the crowds. Her heart skipped three beats from the simple gesture, just like it did in the pub when Lucy took her hand.

“Just down here.”

They got to a dark stair case leading down, Ona followed the older women, she would follow her anywhere at this point, no questions asked.

And as they got down the steps she saw why Lucy brought her here.

It was the perfect skylight of London. Ona had lived in London for nearly 5 years. She had seen the skylight in many different ways. Different times of the day, different seasons, different angles but this was the prettiest she’d ever seen it.

“Wow! It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Lucy was looking at Ona. Agreeing with both views.

“I come here sometimes when I need to think. Or just needing some time alone. Come sit.”

They sat on the bench facing the Thames, the lights of London lighting up the sky.

“Right, get your chip and dip.”

Lucy held out the curry sauce.

Ona dipped a thick chip in the sauce, she already liked the smell of it, so she hoped she’d like it. And she did, she loved it.

“Oh wow, that’s so good.” She dipped another chip.

“Yes! I knew you’d like it. Get in.”

Lucy dipped her own chip then, a satisfactory smile on her face.

Ona watched the girl, smiling at her. There was something about Lucy, something that seemed like a comfort that she had known before, a comfort she hadn’t felt in years.

The girls spoke about random things, laughing at the one another as they ate their chips.

Once they had finished their food a comfortable silence settled between them.

Until Ona yawned.

“Yeah, it’s late. Where are you from here? We can maybe share an Uber” Lucy picked up her phone.

“I’m in Battersea.”

Lucy’s eyes brightened. “I’m in Wandsworth. Nearly neighbours.”

Ona loved the thought of them being so close. She couldn’t help but wonder if Lucy would ever meet up with her on a weekend.

Ona gave Lucy her address for the Uber.

“Cool, they’ll be here in two minutes.”

They walked to the pick up destination, both suddenly quiet. It felt like neither girl wanted the night to end.

The Uber picked them up, both girls jumping in the back. It was at least a 20 minute drive to get home, so Ona grabbed the aux cord.

She put on Rosalía - BESO. Lucy turned to her smiling. The older brunette began to sing perfect Spanish like it was nothing. Ona’s mouth fell open in complete surprise.

“What? You can speak Spanish?”

Lucy laughed at the girls shock. “Yeah a little bit.”

She didn’t know why but it turned Ona on to know Lucy could speak Spanish, not just Spanish but Catalonian, it was hot.

The girls sang mostly to Rosalia all the way. Lucy was first the be dropped off. She turned to Ona.

“Night Ona. I’ll see you Tuesday.”

“Lucy wait, I should have your number.”

“Oh yeah, you should. Pass it here.”

Ona handed her phone and Lucy put her number in it, she called her phone to save Ona’s.

“Text me when you’re in please.”

“I will.” Ona smiled at the older women.

Lucy slid out the car and walked towards her home. Ona and the Uber driver watched as she walked into her house.

As soon as Ona got in she texted Lucy to tell her she was home.

Ona - Hola! I’m home. I owe you for the ride x

Lucy replied instantly .

Lucy - don’t worry about it x

Lucy - actually you can pay me back by making better teas 🤔 x

Ona - Fine! I’ll do better! I’ll make your tea better then you do for yourself 💪 x

Lucy laughed to herself.

Lucy - hmmm bit confident, we’ll see x

Ona - got to be confident in yourself 💅🏼 thank you for a good night Lucy, I really enjoyed myself xx

Lucy - you’re right! And you’re welcome, I really enjoyed myself too. And always here if you need a chat xx

Ona - thank you Lucy ❤️ good night xx

Lucy - good night xx

#woso soccer #women’s football #woso #woso community #lucy bronze #woso fanfics #ona batlle #alternate universe #woso couples #woso imagine

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