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shina913 · 2 months

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Code Blue | KMG

Code Blue

Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare

Word count: 3.8K words

Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other stylist--he only wants you.

A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!

It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.

One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.

“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.

“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”

Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.

“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.

You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”

He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just…hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”

You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”

“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”

“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.

“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.

“As what?”

He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”

You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.

“Gyu—”

“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.

Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.

You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.

You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”

You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.

This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.

After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.

********

“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”

The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.

“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.

“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.

“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.

“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”

“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.

You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.

Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.

You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.

She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.

You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.

********

It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.

It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.

“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.

“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”

“Mm, how was that?”

“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”

He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”

“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.

He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”

“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.

The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”

As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even… you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.

“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.

You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”

“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”

Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look…clean.”

He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.

“Can I put you to bed?”

You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.

Before you can answer, you freeze when the door across the hall opens. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.

“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.

“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.

“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.

“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”

Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door.

Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”

You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.

“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”

He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.

********

“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.

“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.

“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”

“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.

“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries.

“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”

“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.

“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?”

You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.

“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and…you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”

You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.

After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.

What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.

“I’m not playing games.”

“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”

You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”

He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official…with you. Just you.”

You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.

“You can’t or won’t?”

“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.

“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.”

You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”

“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.

Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.

You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”

“Then let’s do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.

His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.

“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.

“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”

Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.

After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”

A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”

Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.

Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.

“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.

And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.

You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.

He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.

You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.

He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.

The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.

His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.

He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.

You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way.

In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him.

You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.

You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.

He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.

Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside. He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.

The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.

You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan.

Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.

You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.

His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah…Mingyu...fuck, yes…”

Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.

He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”

Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.

“Say it.”

So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.”

With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.

Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.

“Kiss me,” you gasp.

Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.

The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.

It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you, and you stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms.

********

Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.

When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”

He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”

“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.

“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”

You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”

Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile… you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.

“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.

He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.

His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.

“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”

“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.

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elli3luvs · 1 year

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falling in love at a coffee shop pt. 3 [ELLIE W]

summary: watching movies with your favorite barista was never easier

genre: fluff/angst

wc: 1.9k

a/n: thank you guys for loving this! i don't feel as if im too good at telling stories but im glad you guys enjoy it hehe sorry if i missed anyone on the tags as well!!!!

part two

Who even knew video stores were still a thing? You surely didn't think they were — you were almost certain they died out in the late 2000s with the rise of streaming services. Every store around town seemed to be shuttered up. But Ellie, being the cool girl she is, somehow knows of a still operating movie store. You have to admit, putting in a DVD somehow feels cooler than pulling it up on Netflix. There was something about the sound of the DVD player that made you a little giddy. The giddiness was totally not because of the girl standing in front of you.

Totally not.

She raises her eyebrows when the tray slides back into her DVD player, "Super cool, huh? Feels... retro." She lets out a shaky breath while rubbing the back of her neck. She makes her way over to the couch — plopping down, making your body slide closer to her. Her scent fluttered over your nose. She smelled woody and like coffee.

On brand.

You still couldn't believe you were sitting in Ellie's living room. The room smelled similar to her minus the coffee smell. The room wasn't necessarily tidy but it wasn't overly dirty. There wasn't trash everywhere but random trinkets were scattered over the surfaces. There were hoodies thrown over the backs of chairs and a couple of empty water bottles on her coffee table. Lived in is what you would describe it as. There were a couple of picture frames on a mantel above her TV but the room was too dark to make out the figures.

"I haven't watched anything on DVD in like, I don't know, years." You let out a small laugh as the home screen pulls up. It was a movie you have never heard of, but it looked similar to Star Wars. Grand music filled the room before she turned the sound down a bit.

Ellie nods at your words, "I love it," You turn your head to look at her. There was a giddy look in her eyes you have never seen before, "Going to the video store is, like, my number one hobby."

You laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, "What about making coffee?"

Ellie clicks the 'Play Movie' option and a bright light flashes over her face as the commercials play before the movie. You forgot movies used to have commercials even on the home versions.

She rolls her eyes playfully at your question, "Making coffee is my job. Even though I love it, I definitely don't want to think of it once I'm out of there."

"I get that."

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. It's hard not to stare at her through your peripheral. All you wanted to do was stare at her. You feel her legs pressed against yours, her legs spread a little more than yours. You take in a deep breath so you don't freak out at the contact.

God, is this middle school?

You shift your eyes slowly over to her figure, just wanting to take a tiny little peek. She was too pretty not to look at. It wasn't weird to look casually, right? When your eyes connect with hers, though, you rip them away while you blink rapidly.

Shit, she was already looking?

A pounding feeling against your chest makes it nearly impossible to focus on the now-playing movie. A spaceship rips through outer space as the main actor barks orders at his crew on the ship. Techno music plays in the background. You had no clue what was happening as a little vermin-looking creature started speaking in a made up language.

Was she still looking? Surely she had to be focusing on the movie she chose. She looked so excited to start it. She definitely wasn't staring at you anymore.

You slowly move your eyes across the room and slightly turn your head to look at her. Your eyes connect with her green eyes once more but instead of looking away, you keep them there. You can feel your face flush under the intense gaze she has you under.

Ellie's eyes widen once she realizes you weren't going to look away. Another flash from the TV illuminates her features. You could tell that she was blushing. Neither of you looked away even as the tension built.

She was so cute.

"I can't," She starts, voice barely more than a whisper, "I can't focus on this."

You smile at her, "I definitely have no clue what is going on," Ellie smiles at your honesty, "Turn it off. We can just talk."

Ellie seems to like your suggestion as she reaches her hand out and presses the off button on the remote. She fully turns toward you. Your knees knock against each other with how close the proximity is.

Ellie rubs her hands together while a breathy laugh escapes her lips, "I guess I'll ask the question that's been burning me the most."

A laugh bubbled out of your throat, "What is this 21 questions?" Ellie joins your laughter at the realization of what she's doing, "Go ahead, I guess. I might have an answer for you."

"What's your major? And... why did you decide to come into my coffee shop that day?"

"Woah, these are... really hard-hitting questions." You sarcastically reply. Ellie pushes your shoulder lightly with a chuckle. She mutters, Shut up' before looking back at you with expectant eyes. There was a glint in her eyes.

You loved the way she looked at you.

"I'm a literature major, boring I know, and the reason I went in is that my friend dragged me there," Ellie acts fake offended at your response, "I actually hate coffee."

Ellie gawks at the last part, "You what?"

You throw up your hands in surrender, "Don't hate me. It is just so nasty to me."

"I feel as if you have just shot me. You always order something," Ellie's hand goes over her heart in a dramatic manner, "But if I'm being honest, I don't really like it either."

You shoot up from your position. Ellie may have been faking shock but this was true for you, "What do you mean? You own the coffee shop!"

Ellie copies your surrender motion, "I know. I know. The only reason I opened the shop, well became a barista in the first place, is because my dad really loves coffee," You can feel your heart melt at the kind words, "Gave us something to bond over."

"That's really cute, Ellie." You look at her with eyes gushing with love. You hoped she couldn't tell how infatuated you were becoming with her.

"I know, I'm adorable," She leans in closer as if she's about to reveal a huge secret to you, "You do realize we have other drinks than coffee, right?"

She laughs at the way your face pales and how your eyes widen, "Oh my god!"

Her laugh was perfect.

It was becoming impossible to ignore your feelings for much longer. Each moment was another reason to fall for her. She was extremely sentimental and super observant, remembering the tiny details. Ellie was the first to notice if you parted your hair a different way or did a new thing with your makeup. It made your heart soar with happiness when she remembered another tiny detail from you.

Throughout the rest of the night, you guys talked about random things on that stupid couch situated against the wall. You talked about her love of space and how she wishes she could see the stars up close at least once. You talked about your worries and fears, things you wanted to do when you grew up, and the things that make you happiest.

You got closer to her with each passing second, knocking knees turned into your legs thrown over hers. That turned into you scooting closer (almost sitting on her lap) and your head leaning against her shoulder.

You weren't sure when you fell asleep. All you knew was it was the most comfortable you felt in a while.

Burning light was what woke you up. It definitely wasn't how you wanted to wake up, much preferring the smell of food cooking. Damn those stupid curtains for being pulled back. You furrow your eyebrows at the blinding light, not yet used to the morning sun. Your hand shoots out to feel around where you were. Still on the couch but no Ellie. You blink the bleariness away from your eyes while wondering where Ellie went.

There's slight muttering coming from the kitchen, it's hushed but urgent. There she is but you can't make out what or who she is talking to. You sit up from your laying position, back aching from sleeping on the tiny couch. Your ears strain to hear the conversation.

"Wasn't really expecting... come home... random girl!" That definitely wasn't Ellie's voice. It was too high-pitched and sweet.

"...Quiet... still sleeping... been broken up... had no right." There was the voice you came to know.

Curiosity filled your mind at the quiet talking in the kitchen. She never mentioned a roommate while talking to you last night. You fully push yourself off of the couch and creep your way to the area they were in. Ellie's back was turned from you so you got a glimpse of who she was talking to.

It was a shorter girl with black hair with an angry expression painted on her features. Her eyes landed on you and she scoffed.

Oh shit. She was furious.

"Great," Her voice cut the tense silence, "Now she's walking around as if this is her house."

Ellie whipped around with a look that made your heart stutter. It looked as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

She gave you an apologetic look, "Cat, can you for once..." She cut herself off, reaching out to you, "Hey, listen-"

You decided to cut her off this time while stepping back, "You never told me you had a girlfriend. This changes a lot, Ellie."

Cat scoffs again at your words. Her arms cross over her chest as she mutters, 'Good god, Ellie.' Ellie gives her a pointed look before turning back to you.

"I can fully explain this." Ellie's words are punctuated by the movement of her hands. They were shaking slightly.

'She's just stunned that she was caught,' an evil voice in your head bounced around.

You shake your head, "No need to." You turn on your heels ready to get the hell out of the tense situation. Ellie calls your name but once you are out the front door she doesn't make any moves to run after you.

"Great," You roll your eyes trying to ignore the feeling of your heart shattering, "This is fucking great."

You couldn't wait to talk to Dina.

tags: @ellieismami, @minillie, @dankpunks, @elliesgff, @muthafuckingstargirl, @deafelliewilliams, @pinkazelma, @fairybr3ad, @me-and-your-husband, @intrnetdoll, @kyleeservopoulos

#ellie williams scenario #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff

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toomuchracket · 1 year

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bday boy (flatmate!matty)

(hi! day 1 of Birthday Party week, a celebration of our short king turning 34 on the 8th, organised by legend icons @the1975attheirverybest and @brownduck! i don't know if i'll be writing every day, but i thought it might be nice to kick off "your first birthday as a couple - his" with a tiny thing about the love of everyone's life, flatmate!matty. enjoy!)

the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains is what wakes matty up. it's warm on his face, a gentle caress, as if to soften the aching realisation that he's another year older as of today.

that realisation is also softened by you, tucked safely into his chest, still fast asleep. your bare legs are entwined with his, your hair escaping from the loose bun you insist on putting your hair in every night, and your nose twitches adorably as you lightly mewl (he can't think of a more accurate word) in your sleep; matty has never seen a cuter sight in his life than you right now.

he hopes you're dreaming of him, to be as contented as you are. matty's certainly dreamed of you - in the years before you finally got together, it was for sights like the one he's woken up to today. now, his unconscious fantasies are filled with diamond rings, white dresses, you in sundresses with a swollen stomach, toddlers with your sparkling eyes and his wild curls. it's been less than a year since you both braved the transition from friends to lovers, but matty knows that he wants to wake up to you and only you for the rest of his life. well, to you and several children that are half you and half him, feisty little characters with wicked senses of humour and hearts of gold.

you begin to stir in your sleep, limbs shifting and head rolling back as you awaken. matty eases you through it by rubbing small circles into your bare back, which makes your eyes flutter open slowly. the butterflies in his stomach begin to flutter in parallel - god, he loves you so much. you smile sleepily at him, before your eyes widen in alarm and you exclaim. "FUCK! you weren't supposed to be awake first!"

matty's brow furrows in confusion. "and good morning to you too, sweetheart?"

"sorry," your face softens into a sheepish smile that melts matty's heart. "i just... i wanted to be up before you, so i could make breakfast and surprise you with it. happy birthday, baby."

christ. he could cry at how sweet you are, but he just pulls you close and kisses your forehead instead. "fuck, i love you so much."

"so you're not in a mard because i haven't made you pancakes?" you giggle, as matty begins pressing little kisses all over your face, your bare chests pressed together. "i love you too, by the way, even if i did wake up late on your birthday. i swear i have the rest of the day planned out nicely, though - we'll meet your mum for lunch and then see the boys for a drink then go for dinner and i've booked this hotel in town for tonight that i really think you're gonna li-"

"-baby, baby, it's alright," matty interjects, before you talk yourself back into unconsciousness. "just relax, yeah? s'just another day. no point getting yourself all worked up about it."

your shoulders move forward like you're deflating. "but it's not just another day, matty. it's your birthday, and i'm your girlfriend now," you murmur into his chest. "just wanted today to be special for you, and s'all thrown off now."

you sound so sad about the whole thing that matty's heart aches. weirdly, though, it continues to flutter at the inherent tenderness of how much you love him, to want to make his birthday such a lovely day. "darlin', it'll be special anyway," matty says, tilting your chin up so he can look at you properly. "how could it not be? i'm spending it with you, love of my life, girl of my dreams."

"who couldn't even wake up on time to bring you surprise pancakes in bed," you mutter petulantly, looking away from your boyfriend.

matty's undeterred by your annoyance, though; he begins to press kisses down your face and jaw and onto your neck, long, sensual kisses that involve swipes of his tongue across the spot he knows makes you go loopy. when you begin to moan, despite yourself, matty gently rolls you onto your back and continues to kiss down your body, your moans continuing as background music to his actions, stopping when he reaches the tops of your thighs. "i can think of something i'd much prefer to eat for my birthday breakfast than pancakes. can i, angel?"

smiling, you open your legs, and let matty settle himself between them happily. after all, who are you to deny the birthday boy what he wants?

#mads does writing #flatmate!matty #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty x reader #matty healy

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itsgrimeytime · 4 months

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Magnolia in May (Part Twenty Eight) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: none.

[[A/N: He's so pretty in this gif. Girl... Thanks for reading !!! ]]

Fragrant, every time you so much as shared space with Mr. Grimes, he smelt wonderful. Tones you couldn't quite name and scents that made your head spin -some you question if it wasn't just him. Such scents followed him so closely, that you wished to replicate such a smell -perhaps spritz it on his handkerchief to remember it was his.

Although, you were sure it to be quite odd to sniff a handkerchief.

Which brought you to now, sitting closely by his side as you reread the same page and he shuffled through papers -he'd just requested for your company. And you, being you, eagerly complied.

Mr. Grimes hadn't said anything about it, so you hadn't either.

"Do you use any perfumes?" you echoed out before you could think about it too much.

"Perfumes?" he questioned, looking up to give his full attention -like he always did.

"Like," you stuck to such a topic, "-Like scents? Headmistress gave me one that smells like sweet citrus, but they make them for men as well-"

You were rambling, a nervous ramble -had he ever seen one of these before?

"-It's not a womanly thing wholly, and well, I was just wondering if you used any?"

He blinked at you, with a tiny soft chuckle, "Perhaps. I couldn't tell you what kind, because I'm not certain. Why do you ask?"

You blushed a certain type of crimson, admitting, "Your fragrance is quite wonderful is all. I was only curious if it was entirely you or..."

"A perfume," he finished with a small, teasing little smile -oh, he was not going to let go of this, was he?

"Do you always do that?" he questioned, in reference to the nervous ramble, you gathered.

"The rambling?" you poised, placing your book into your lap, "-Only when I'm unsure of such an approach."

"And why haven't I seen much of it, then?"

"Well," you began, carefully, "-I'm rather certain with you. I don't question my words, I know intently what I'm to say. It's... It's natural to me, I suppose."

"Such a thing is heard only by certain ears," he hummed in understanding, "-I'm rather happy you are so certain upon speaking to me, Ms. Greene."

"I'm sure you must know much more eloquent speakers," you relented.

"No," he added, "-you are quite direct in your pursuit of knowledge. You aren't afraid to get right in a reporter's face, or ask a man of his scent, it's wonderful."

"Some would say it unladylike," you echoed out, fidgeting with the pages between your fingers.

"Some would," he agreed, turning fully to face you, "-but I find it rather interesting. 'Have since the day I met you. Most women are afraid to speak to me, you know. But you are the opposite, I've always wondered why."

"Handsome men do not scare me, Mr. Grimes," you tsked, "-if they did, I certainly wouldn't have made it this far. I'd be married and unhappy, to the tune of a handful of years."

"You believe me to be handsome?"

"Oh, please-" you started with a smile, "-don't tell me you haven't heard such a thing before. The whole town of Alexandria-"

"Not from you," he echoed, a grin biting onto his lips, "-I believe it to mean a lot comin' from you."

"Well, I apologize for not saying so sooner," you smiled, "-I find you entirely too handsome. As does the rest of Alexandria."

"Too handsome for what?"

"For me," you hummed, a bit playful but something else settling in your heart,"-such a man should never reach as lowly as the eldest."

"You speak as though you aren't wonderful," he reiterated, "-do you truly not believe it so?"

"I-" you echoed, a little hollow, "-I believe you."

"When I say you are wonderful?" He repeated, "-You just believe me? You don't believe such a thing yourself?"

"Isn't it brash to believe you're beautiful?"

"No," he stood from the desk, joining you on the couch, "-entirely not. To believe you are beautiful is a thing many wish to, for their own sake. I suppose I'm askin' if you are one of those."

"I... I never thought about such a thing," you exhaled, "-I suppose, being in the prettiest dresses and with the most beautiful ribbon made me beautiful, not-"

"Not yourself," he hummed, using a finger to tilt your finger up to match his eyes, "-Darlin', you are as pretty as a magnolia in May, and one day I will make you certain of such words."

"You seem to be trying very hard now," you softened, "-What makes you certain you can do such a thing?"

"Because," he smiled, fingers still gently under your chin, "-I have the rest of our lives to do it."

The next few days were uneventful, Headmistress on her outings and Father working -it was just you and the sisters at home. You were just about to make breakfast for them when the door was knocked upon -a familiar sort of knock you knew by now.

Beth and Maggie were by your side in moments, eagerly awaiting you to open the door -like they knew such a thing was coming.

You spared a glance at them, perhaps they did.

You swung open the door with a gentle sort of swish, revealing the one and only Mr. Grimes at your doorstep. You knew so upon his knock, but it was still a delight to see him.

"Lovely to see you, Mr. Grimes," you smiled brighter -as you always did, "-What are you here for today? Did I forget plans?"

"No, no," he answered, "-This is a spur-of-the-moment gift, actually. If you shall come with me?"

"Uh, certainly," you spoke, "-but what of my sisters? They haven't eaten breakfast-"

"Allow me," he clarified, "-my chef is still in the process of makin' breakfast, and a few extra faces are certainly welcome."

"Yes certainly we are," Maggie grinned, slipping by the two of you and out the door -it was all rather suspicious. You gently guided Beth out the door, a small hand over her back, leaving you and Mr. Grimes.

"You're certain it's alright?"

"'Course," he whispered, "-the more the merrier. It was goin' to be a rather empty meal without you, anyway."

"I don't have to be there for every meal, Mr. Grimes," you laughed.

He stayed decidedly silent on that, and you were caught a bit off guard. It was quickly righted, however, when he extended his arm to you to get seated in the carriage -your hand touching his warmed you in a way only he could.

Sitting beside you, you found the familiar brush of sleeves was rather lovely -gathering a little flutter from your heart. It reminded of you when such touch was the extent of it, when dancing was what you daydreamed about.

The ride was rather short, Beth filling the silence with her newest read -all the details presented eloquently but still Beth. You enjoyed her synopsis, and always made time for them -especially when she was so openly willing.

You loved your sisters, something in your heart warmed once more. It was a day of affection, you decided.

You squeezed Beth's hand across the car, and patted Maggie's leg -smiling. It was a wonderful morning.

"Before we go to eat," he interrupted, as you gathered outside his home, "-Ms. Greene, will you walk with me?"

They didn't have to ask which one.

"Yes," you answered simply.

The walk wasn't outside, not like you had assumed -perhaps to his garden, or just away from the others. He waltzed you through the door and stopped, the girls walking ahead of you -toward the dining space, you realized.

But Mr. Grimes had stopped in the foyer. Arm tight around his, you hummed out a soft concern.

"Everything alright?"

He merely smiled, eyes lingering on the open spot of the wall -the one you'd seen before on your visit with Father. You curiously wondered what he was so lost in.

"What are you going to put there?" You asked, trying to garner his attention.

"A new portrait," he hummed, turning to you, "-once it's made."

"Oh, lovely," you echoed, smiling, "-It shall certainly be beautiful."

"Certainly," he grinned, eyes lingering on yours for a second longer, before he led you down the hall.

You'd always thought such an estate was wondrous, all billowing velvet and beautiful decorations -it was something you'd never dreamed of seeing. Never dreamed of having-

You realized he'd taken you to the ballroom, then and suddenly, you were rather confused. It was a beautiful room, certainly, with pillars of grandeur and the white marbled floors. But, you weren't sure what you would do here-

"What-"

And then you saw it, a painter. He was set up just off to the side, where the light so wondrously hit everything elegantly -canvas large, far too large. Like... Like some of the portraits out in the foyer.

You stalled in your footsteps, Mr. Grimes tripping for a moment when you didn't move. But he neatly guided you further, carefully a few steps into the painter's space, where you now saw the billowing fabric. A background, you realized, and under it a stool, one that looked rather comfortable. Foods off to the side, as if to prepare for company. It was prepped for-

"Mr. Grimes-"

He took you closer and you realized such foods to be your favorite, all little things you'd offhandedly mentioned to him. And it suddenly set in, smoothing across your shoulders.

It was for you. All of it.

"Mr. Grimes," you whispered, a bit astonished, "-I cannot believe such a thing-"

"One more thing," he hummed, guiding you into a room -where as you opened the door, Maggie resided.

In her hands, your lavender ribbon and hanging behind her-

Your lavender dress.

"Mr. Grimes-" you spoke, rather breathlessly, "-I cannot accept such... How did you even-"

"I asked if she could make one," he answered, barely behind you, "-perhaps not an exact one, but one quite similar."

"Mr. Grimes-"

"Please accept it," he spoke, tone slow and open, "-just this once."

You hummed, stopping and turning to look at the dress -it was somehow more elegant, stitching so detailed and a golden thread around the edges. The lace remained much the same color, but its uses differed only slightly -the ends of the sleeves and the bit of a ruffle in the front over your chest. You believed it to be the prettiest dress you'd ever seen.

"It's... It's beautiful," you wiped at your eyes -tears starting to form now.

"And you'll be beautiful in it," he responded from behind you, and you turned to face him -tears littered down your cheeks.

"Thank you," you curtsied, wiping ineloquently at your eyes -your cheeks certainly flushed.

"Anythin' for you."

He hummed, as Maggie pulled you into the room before he could do much else. Before you could, really-

The dress was perfect, as you glanced upon yourself in the mirror. Each strand of hair perfect and each rose of your cheek even, the lavender ribbon peeking out perfectly matching the dress. The dress-

It was as though you were wearing a piece of artwork, all stitching and details you wished to follow until you couldn't anymore. Your fingers traced them absent-mindedly, as your eyes settled along your face -the dips and curves of your jaw, your nose, and the press of your smile. You couldn't stop smiling.

You did look rather-

"Beautiful," Maggie hummed, head peeking over your shoulder, "-You look beautiful, sister."

You smiled, dabbing at your eyes with his left handkerchief -one of the ones he'd given you.

"Too beautiful," she hummed playfully, "-he's liable to faint, you know."

You laughed, a little watery and teary, but you'd have it no other way, "I don't know, I believe he believes me beautiful in anything I wear."

"Certainly," she spoke, "-but it's another to see you so dazzling. Your smile may just tip him over, Y/N."

The room was quiet then, as you looked over yourself with renewed eyes -his eyes, tried to see yourself in his eyes. Suppose he liked the slight crook of your nose, or the obvious tips of your ears, or the bags laden under your eyes -suppose he liked it all.

He loved it all, something in your head corrected.

You stepped out of the room rather slowly, eager to see him but patient enough to see such a look on his face. You'd never been in something so vivid before, nor had you smiled so wide -you were an essence he had yet to see.

Mr. Grimes didn't see you immediately, chatting away with the painter -eyes derailed from the door, but when he did, it reminded you of a day. A faraway day.

"I believe I've fallen in love with you, most completely."

Letter clutched in your hand you had been so scared, afraid he'd not feel the same as he did, the same as you did. It was such a faraway day from then, but you remembered it so clearly -even the feelings, the emotions.

You could tell he was holding back, the twitch of his hands, the dip of his eyes to your lips -he wished the present company was not rather present. His steps were slow to you, careful and measured, blue eyes hovering over you in a misty sort of way. Was he crying?

"I've never seen someone so beautiful in my life," he echoed, accent strong and voice cracking, "-You must know you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You wished to kiss him.

"You're quite handsome too," you smiled, trying to dry up the tears.

He laughed, and something in you fluttered -like it always did. But this time, something settled rather different over his face -something you hadn't quite seen before.

"Marry me," he echoed out like he was lost and you were the light.

"Mr. Grimes, I thought we spoke of this-"

"I'm serious," he spoke through tears, slowly falling to one knee -holding your hands, "-I mean every word. Marry me."

"Mr. Grimes-" you spoke, rather teary once more.

"I ask for your hand," he interrupted, fingers pressed into your skin, "-please. I shall not know what to do if you say no, I can no longer live without you, you must understand-"

"Yes," it bubbled out of your lips, tears choking up through your throat, "-of course, yes."

"I wasn't finished," he laughed, utterly delighted, still on one knee and still darting all over your face, "-I have much more to say."

"I don't need to hear it," you laughed, a sort of unbelievable sort of laugh, "-I love you."

"I love you," he laughed -watery, something shining bright in his eyes, "-more than I know what to do with."

"I'm certain we can find something."

#rick grimes #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #twd #twd rick #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes oneshot #magnolia in may

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theresthesnitch · 1 year

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Pinned

Based on the website mentioned because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I found it. Thanks to @r33sespieces for reading over it for me.

Sirius found the website on a Tuesday afternoon.

He eyed it suspiciously at first. Kids nowadays were terrible about putting everything about their lives online. He could remember the days of the early internet, with a/s/l and the expectation that it was entirely a lie. No one knew who you were on the internet.

So, if this was just one more way for the stupid kids to put their personal information on the internet, then he wanted no part in it.

He clicked anyway.

Sirius found himself flooded with messages. Queer people from all over the world filling the map with queer love and queer experiences. He couldn’t stop clicking on messages.

where you first told me you loved me. we aren’t together anymore but you were one of the greatest loves of my life.

My first kiss with my best friend. We did it for a scavenger hunt photo. We both love each other. But when it comes to being in love, she fell for me too soon and I fell for her too late.

We kissed secretly between the isles of this walmart.

First time I said I was gay out loud.

Learned that I’m asexual, not broken <3

Surrounded by happy out gay people for the first time, I finally felt like it was okay.

I survived this town, and I will survive the rest.

I exist.

Sirius couldn’t stop reading the messages. Tears were streaming down his face. Nothing in his life ever made him feel more valid and more seen than looking at all the pins. He wasn’t alone. He was never alone.

Sirius wanted to leave his mark too.

He considered several options. His parents house, with a celebratory “I survived” message. Or Hogwarts Academy, where he’d first kissed a boy and realized that he wanted to kiss more boys. Or the pub down the road from the Potters’ house, where he’d first told James that he was gay the summer after he left home.

None of them felt as right as Remus.

He hadn’t seen Remus in years, but he still thought about him every day. He fell in love with Remus when they were both still kids–somewhere around age thirteen when Remus punched his distant cousin when he called Sirius the family disappointment. He’d pined for Remus for years before they finally found each other, and dated for a while before they’d managed to fuck it up.

There were a dozen places he could have pinned for Remus, each of them significant in their own way.

Sirius didn’t have to think about it at all. He scrolled through the countryside until he found the tiny, sparsely populated area in Wales where Remus’s family lived. It was here, under the old oak tree in their backyard when Sirius came to visit in after their fifth year, that SIrius had finally confessed his feelings for Remus and they shared the most idyllic first kiss.

Only, there was already a pin there.

We kissed here for the first time, and I realized I’d never want anyone as much as I wanted you. I wish I’d never let you go. I wish we’d tried harder. I wish we could have another chance.

Sirius forgot how to breathe. Remus missed him too. Remus thought of him too.

Sirius had no choice. He had to find Remus. Maybe they could have a second chance after all.

#pinned #wolfstar #wolfstar minific #queering the map #second chances #lost love #muggle au #snitchwrites

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freshlyrage · 3 months

Text

Running Like Water

Chapter 21

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.4k

a/n: Whoa haven't seen you guys since last year... LOL. This is very angst filled, sadly its our last vacation chapter. Back to reality but Javier and Andrea try some new... stuff... this chapter 🍑. If it isn't your thing thats okay!

But (no pun intended) on a less sexy note, Andrea meets some family this chapter.

Sorry for the wait was busy this month having a winter break fling (that's so like me) but back to reality.

Thank you for being so patient with me always.

This is for @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

The two of you leave the studio shortly after Edmond threatened to wring Javier’s neck for the first date joke, well it is our first date. Before that though you were honestly eager to get out of the place, you needed him back in the hotel room, you needed to thank him with your mouth, with the warmth pooling on the tiny thong under your skirt. While Javi explains to Edmond that you are indeed the girl he had vented about when they first met, usually this would have made you a blushing mess but you were practically squirming in the stool. Your earrings catching the light casting a red reflection against the wall. Your eyes follow the light around the room as the two spoke, your mind drifting in places that could only be described as filthy. Edmond jokes that it had all worked out in the end, it took you a moment to catch up with their jokes. You had disassociated but Javier picked up on it and ushered the two of you out of the studio and back out into the Louisiana heat.

“I have dinner reservations so behave.” He whispers before grabbing your hand in a sweet possessive hold. Your brows quirk slightly before leaning into him completely. He seemed to be hyper focused on getting the two of you to the proper place at the right time because his eyes went all squinted while he walked you through the busy sidewalks.

“I am behaving.” You were, sure, maybe it was a bit rude of you to look around the room aimlessly while Javier caught up with his old pal, but you truly didn't mean to. There was something about girls like you, girls who craved to be wanted–once you get a taste–insatiable is the only word to describe you. So insatiable that you couldnt give a fuck about a dinner date with Javier Peña, it was so like you. So like you to feel so overwhelmed with love, a feeling so foreign, so strong that now you can't think of anything else but the thought of him inside of you. Good lord you were soaking.

His cheeks were still red, either from tears or the high sun. Regardless he looks down at you with a teasing smirk that quickly hardens and turns into a disapproving head shake. “I saw you out of the corner of my eye, querida. Wiggling around in that stool.” He says in hush tones, you break eye contact in slight embarrassment. You know that annoys him, when you shy away because you feel his body stiffen. Poor Javi, you think. One day he’ll understand you fully, he knows you better than anyone else but he still isn't used to your self-destructive tendencies of self-manipulation and constantly wondering whether he truly likes you. And despite today being the greatest testament of his devotion for you there was still that part of you that was a girl without a father. How humiliating? You also know he is never truly upset with you, even when he stands up straight and huffs a breath, it's always followed by silence, his space to try to figure you out.

There's a lot to learn, six years apart is too much for anyone. You've become four different people in these six years.

By the time the two of you entered the warmly lit restaurant you've given your brain some time to think of meeting your grandmother tomorrow, now thats a thought to have you quit squirming. The desire you felt so heavily only half an hour before left in an instant at the thought of what's to come tomorrow. As you settle in your seat the thought of your father not being alive crosses your mind, instinctively you touch the bee earrings softly.

You feel Javi watching you with intent, a small frown on his lips as he adjusts his belt buckle while he sits. If your stomach wasn't doing turns from impending doom you would have made a big dick joke, you suddenly didn’t have it in you. You quit touching the earrings and let out a shaky breath before grabbing the menu.

“What’s wrong Andrea?” He asks, stern, almost like it's a statement. Like nothing is not an answer he’ll accept. He knows something is wrong.

“I’m really nervous for tomorrow.” You admit without any tooth pulling. Uncrossing your legs beneath the table, Javi nods firmly he knew how to react to you when you admitted things like this. There's nothing you hated more than someone screwing their brows in concern and pity, he never did that. He just nodded, solid, dependable and able to listen. He doesn't respond so you continue. Brushing a piece of hair from your face you sip the water given. “I also don’t want this weekend to end. I don’t want to go back. I especially don’t want to go back if tomorrow goes bad, I don’t have it in me to explain that to my mother.” There it was, that other part. The sheer embarrassment that could be awaiting you, the possibility of being humiliated by your paternal family and coming home to a mother that will look at your tear stained cheeks and say, I told you so.

Javi clenches his jaw at the slight shake in your voice, and it’s so like him. He puts his large hand palm up at the small table between you two. Your heart grows in your chest and without hesitation you place your own small hand over his. Manicured nails circling the dry lines there, his thumb rises and wedges between two fingers tickling you a spot you never knew tickled. You choke out a giggle and dug your nails into his palm, he winces in fake pain. Ow, he grumbles. You take his hand entirely and lifts it to your face, pressing a kiss to his palm. He smiles, his dimples deepening and his eyes crinkling. “Sorry.” You say and kiss his palm again, “Sorry for attacking you with my nails even though you’ve made me the happiest girl in the world today.”

He shakes his head in a shy little act, wow, you wanted to jump his bones again. “It’s okay I like it when you’re rough.”

“Oh shut up.” You laugh, pressing his palm to your cheek before placing it back down on the table. “And I’m sorry for ruining the mood with my sulking.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” Javier furrowed his brow in disapproval, “If tomorrow doesn’t go the way you plan I’ll extend our weekend, give you time to recover here. Don’t care if it’ll be obvious to everyone that we’re together, we’ll figure it out.”

Your lips quirk in a satisfied smile, you’ll take it. You were minutes away from suggesting the two of you stay in New Orleans until the damn wedding Saturday. The two of you were so in love it was hard to be logical. Hiding your face a smidge as you lift the menu to cover your crimson cheeks. “Okay, that's fine with me.”

“God I wish I knew she was that mean to you–I’m like regretting being her friend a little bit.” You were slurping down pasta with a frown, hearing stories from high school about Lorraine. The more he uncovered, the more you regret giving her grace. Every new piece of information was followed with Javier’s attempt to excuse it. You suppose the both of you have some things to learn, you wanted to tell him that her actions and his faults were not in the slightest bit comparable. Like;

On valentine's day she got drunk and purposefully poured wine on my favorite sweater in front of all my friends. But she was mad because I skipped sunday mass with her family the week before.

Or,

I was really upset with her cheating, but she blamed it on the time I called you pretty in front of her. I guess to her that was emotionally cheating.

You sat in front of him with your mouth agape, or you cursed under your breath before shutting yourself up with carbs. “None of that is normal, you shouldn't make excuses for that sort of behavior. I doubt she does when she complains about you to other people.” You say while dabbing the corners of your lips free of marinara.

He laughs and nods in agreement, “You're right, I want to be the bigger person though. No need to be upset on my behalf querida.”

The 2nd glass of wine gets to you slightly as you roll your eyes aggressively, feeling awfully protective of your boyfriend. You remember which sweater it was, it was the white knitted one he wore to his last christmas at home, he would wear that thing to every holiday. “Whatever, god forbid I feel defensive over my man.” You whisper and bring your glass to your tinted lips. Javier’s lips quirk at its corners, you know he loved hearing that come from your mouth. You noticed it just thirty minutes prior when you told the waiter, my boyfriend would like the same. You picked up on the way he shifted in his seat when you called him baby. For the past 10 minutes you had been slipping the pet names slowly and scattered, he was getting worked up. Look who needs to behave now.

“Hmm.” He huffs, annoyed, turned on, grumpy and everything else.

You bite back a tipsy smile, slipping your pointed heel up his calf slowly, until the outsole skated his inner thigh. He shakes his head and looks to you through a half lidded gaze. “Relax.” His voice deep and striking, loud enough for the other patrons to hear. You nod in agreement and attempt to move your foot back down but before you could make the effort his hand falls between his spread legs and holds your delicate foot in place on his lap. Your breath hitches in your throat, your leg pulled so still your skirt rides up. Saving yourself from the breeze, your left leg tightens to cover the soaked fabric now exposed.

With his right hand holding your heeled foot and his left hand on the table, he grabs his glass and continues at his drink. Your breath is hitched in your throat, you feel his stare. His eyes glued to your chest, your nipples pebbled under the fabric. You don’t listen to his demand, incorrigibly you lean forward releasing some tension with the press of your legs and the hip movement required for you to move closer. “Why are you being so mean?”

His eyes narrow, “Mean? A weekend getaway, museum date and those pretty earrings.” He teases and you nearly laugh, nearly, truthfully you were so turned on you couldn’t care to play these games. You’ve had years to do that. You survey the restaurant, there had only been about ten tables and each paired with a couple or a group of men in suits. Your eyes dart to the family bathroom, Javier follows your line of sight with a smirk. No families, you note. Less guilt for what you’re about to do.

You drop your heel from his hold and wipe the corners of your mouth, “Well, you’ve spoiled me Javi.” You shrug, adjusting your small cardigan to cover your pointed nipples. He laughs a hearty chuckle. Your face falls to straight seriousness, hair readjusted. His nostrils flare at your hardened look.

“Rotten.”

Your eyes shrink with a slight hint of petulance. Like a little girl not getting her way, absolutely not. Eyes scanning the room once more, “Well if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to take care of myself in the bathroom.” You huff before rising to your feet. Feeling the table to your right shooting a glance at your figure. With a strut of false confidence, your knees were buckling with fear he won’t follow you and just think you’re upset with him. It’s the last message you want to get across after he poured his aching soul to you at the gallery.

Javier watches you walk to the bathroom and close the door behind you. Well he watches to make sure no one else was watching because the pencil skirt you decided to wear curved perfectly below your ass, making it apparent to everyone that your behind was a tight little thing. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he waits a few seconds before pinching the bridge of his nose.

He knows you, he knows you’ve been pent up since the gallery, since he put those earrings on you. How could he not know, you practically screwed your brows in bliss every time he took a look at you. Truthfully on their walk to the restaurant he was still reeling from the entire first date thing, he had never lost his composure like that—to cry in front of someone— to cry in front of you. He’d be a lying dog if it didn’t scare the living shit out of him. So scared that he nearly thought about just saying fuck it and getting down on one knee and proposing to you with some fucking earrings.

He knew it before. He knows it now that what you too have is forever, beyond time and circumstance, there was no way you two could live a life with other people. What a discovery to make on a first date.

Anyway those feelings of sheer terror and love, they’re the same in his head, were quickly replaced with every tiny possessive nickname you let leave your red bitten lips. He was fully hard by the time you decided to play footsie with him, he wondered if you felt the strain against his pants through your heels. He decided he was going to fuck you into the mattress when the two of you got back to the hotel but he supposes you had different plans.

His eyes glued to his glass he picks it up and downs it. “Fuck it.” He murmurs before wiping his mustache, adjusting his shirt and heading for a straight bee line for the bathroom.

You smile softly at him through the mirror, “I was starting to think you didn’t get the memo.” Javi nods, his mind set. Silent and brooding behind you. Your confidence seemed to have faded with each passing minute he contemplated whether to follow you or not. “I was afraid you thought I was really upset-Oh Javi.” You shriek the second he tosses your skirt over your ass. Instinctually bending a bit over the sink. Dropping to his knees, his dirty thoughts win as he slightly sinks his teeth into your tan behind. You giggle at the absurdity of it all, but he doesn’t care what it would look like to anyone else. He was a man utterly in love with his girlfriend, and with how soft her ass was.

Javier kisses each cheek of hers and laces each kiss with a bite then a firm tug. Kneading and kisses, his large palms have finally found something that he didn’t completely engulf. Why was it so sexy when his hand covered your entire breast yet even sexier that your ass finally dwarfs him? He’s never been a man above worship, above religion, still he had never believed in a god so clear, so real until he came home and had you. Was it normal to be this enthralled by a partner? Was it just the honeymoon? He really couldn't care anymore about those questions because god, Andrea, he murmurs like a prayer.

With your skirt piled at your hips, the tiny little red thong was fair game for his needy kisses. His teeth graze the string that just barely covered the one part of you that’s untouched, you buck as his fingers spread you open, the loose string falling to the side to expose you there. “Anyone ever touch you here?” He asks with his left hand holding you open, and his right thumb skimming so close. He knows the answer. He wants to hear it. You screw your eyes shut, a small whimper escapes your parted lip. Your heels slip on the tile, he lets up his left hand to hold you steady.

Tossing your hair over one shoulder and attempting to look back at him you whisper, “Never—I want to try but-”

But I’m not sure I want that sort of first time to be in a restaurant bathroom. You think.

He knows exactly what you mean, he knows how delicate this part of sex could be, he knew it's a lot more than a heat of the moment decision. He’d never, not in a place like this. Though, he had other ideas, “Another time, can I taste you here at least.” He taps at your cunt and you eagerly reach behind and slide your panties to the side. Javi smiles when he’s met with his girlfriend’s swollen cunt just for him. Good lord, he did not want to think about having to sneak around again. For the two of you to be limited beyond your control the second you step home. He wondered why he couldn’t just rent a home out here just for the two of you, just until he leaves. Will they be reduced once again to just twice a week, all pent up and hand-covering mouth sex in his bed. He tried not to think, tried.

One thing the two of you have grown fond of is him eating you out from behind. This position was just like the second time, in his room on memorial day. You look over your shoulder, the cardigan slipped low to expose the tan shoulder of yours. With lidded eyes you stare into Javier’s soul as you reach your hand between his face and your bent form. With a shy blush your delicate fingers run across the seam of your cunt and slowly up to skim the tight hole that's been the object of Javier’s deepest fantasies.

“You can taste here too.” You quip, you weren’t sure if people even did that. You could be making a fool out of yourself but you knew after his fingers got close to your asshole, you felt a new pit in your belly. Javier’s eyes raised and he suddenly felt like a kid in a candy store. Never in a million years did he ever imagine a world where you agreed to something like this. He mumbles deeply, Jesus Christ. You didn’t have to tell him twice.

He plunged his face into your cunt first, quicker and less teasing this time, they were in a public bathroom for crying out loud. His licks and sucks are wet and aggressive. His head shaking in between. You drop your head into your chest and the slow build of release. If he kept up this pace you’ll be writhing in climax in thirty more seconds. You're not sure you were ready for the moment he proceeds to eat you out just there. For a moment you wonder if this is really something people do during sex, you’ve had girl friends who have tried anal but none of them ever mentioned their boyfriends eating them out there. You wonder if you're the first people to ever do this- or it’ll feel good at all. You surely weren’t ready, the second his heavy tongue slid up to your place untouched, and you weren’t expecting such a feeling.

You shrieked loud enough for the guests to hear. Javier’s heart sank and paused for a second while you covered your mouth.

“I’m sorry-I’m sorry.”

Javier’s brows tensed, “Is it too much?” He asks lowly, looking up at the back of your head. You screw your eyes shut, and nod.

“No-I just didn’t expect for it to feel so good.” You whisper as if to do damage control for the shriek you let out, with your head dropped in shame you feel his chuckle between your cheeks. Okay, he laughs and continues again. You’re more prepared this time–yeah you two definitely aren't the firsts to discover eating ass. This has got to be popular.

His head moving skillfully, his chin skimming your cunt along with it. Shaking his head and devouring you whole. And oh, it was a feeling so good you were afraid to know what it would feel like if he applied more pressure than a tongue back there. You never saw the appeal in anything to do with anal—suddenly—you suppose it takes the right person. You always told yourself you’d never try any of that unless you were married or something— well close enough. Your knuckles go white gripping the porcelain tops. He parts for a second and spits directly on your ass, parting you to watch it slide down onto your cunt.

“You like being a dirty girl? Yeah, Andrea?” he gets close again to clean up his mess and good gracious you were close. “Letting me eat your ass like this? Used to think you were so shy—now look at what you’re letting me do to you.” He dives in again, this time reaching his entire body leans with it. His hands gripping the tops of your thighs while he moves from your cunt to your ass and back-and back again.

Your forehead presses against the mirror and you catch your own eyes for a moment and you’re absolutely disgusted by the sight. Disgusted in the best way possible. You are filthy, you love it—you loved this. You bend further to give him better access to your clit and you’re a goner. Your ears ring and you fall limp but like always he never lets you fall. He’s at his feet again, pressing your knees together. He unbuckles himself and relieves his aching cock from their confinement. You open your mouth to tell him to put it in but he speaks first.

“I’m gonna come, just let me—fuck.” He grabs himself and fists himself over your bent body. “Let me fuck your thighs really quick—please princesa, let me—” He grits and you bite your lips at the thought. Your heart skips a beat or a few, so many firsts. Why is the thought so enticing?

Okay—please, you murmur and without hesitation he drags his cock between your folds, collecting slip before thrusting. He wipes his eye as an attempt to readjust his blurry mind. The post orgasm clarity will hit him soon, it didn’t matter now he was too pent up to care. He humps you from behind, his length squeezed by your thighs and his tip nudging your overstimulated clit. There was something depraved about the action, being used in this way. Being used and loving the way it feels.

And he’s driving fast, pre-cum spreading at the tops of your thighs. How he made sex so enjoyable was beyond you, all you could do is softly sigh and moan, nearly drooling from your mouth falling open. “Javi please– I-” Perhaps your moans were a bit too loud because his hand snakes up to your mouth, effectively muzzling you. You babble incoherent begs and moans into his dry palm, while his other hand death gripped your hips for stability. It didn’t take many thrusts for you to be coming again, his hand on your hip quickly snaked to hold your thighs tighter against him and with that he finished over the tops of your thighs, painting you perfectly. His own little art piece.

There’s a ringing silence for a moment as he slips out from behind you. You catch your breath, wiping your tears away. Head heavy, too frazzled to adjust to the situation. Javier just ate your ass out in a restaurant bathroom and fucked your thighs. And you came twice in ten minutes. Jesus take the fucking wheel.

“I-I’m sorry I’ve never done anything like that before.” You almost expect for those words to come from your mouth but it aches all the same coming from his. You turn around to him, knowing the sight is probably ridiculous, tear stained cheeks, a wrap skirt hiked up your legs and his come spread at the tops of your thighs.

Your eyes soften watching him fumble to tuck himself away. You could see his jaw clenched, you knew when his mind was on overdrive. This is one of those moments. Like he’s drafting ways to apologize to you.

“I liked it.” You admit in a whisper.

His brows shoot up and he looks up to you. The color in his face returning, as he fastened his belt. “You did?”

You blush, your eyes falling to your thighs. “I did, we should try more stuff like that… it was… really hot.” You admit, looking up at him through your brow bone. His nostrils flare and he’s nodding.

“Okay.” He nods sternly in the same old grumpy Javi way.

Your lips twist at the silliness of it all. “Okay…”

“Alright.” He’s still staring at your thighs.

You giggle, “Jesus christ Javi! Clean me up!”

He jumps in place, “Right sorry.”

It’s safe to say that the two of you were quite full after the whole restaurant debacle. Frankly your last night should’ve been filled with endless love making but Javier could sense your nerves. After tipsy kisses and stumbling into the room the reality began to set in. You struggled to sleep that night, afraid of waking up to a packed room and a car ride to your grandmother's home. He slipped into the shower with you without any advances, you wouldn't mind it all but he reads you, he washes you without lingering touches and only a few kisses. The two of you find a rhythm, drying off, getting into his shirt and some panties. The two of you exchange stories before bed, who knew he was such a softy like you.

“I’m always nervous before meeting old people.” You admit. Its a stupid quirk of yours but man do the elderly intimidate you. You chose teaching because you knew that dealing with the elderly would be far from that area. “They can be so judgemental and old fashioned, its painful– every conversation.”

Javier strokes his hand against your arm, “You're rambling. It's time for bed baby.”

He was right, you had no need to bring that up, you just really didn't want the day to end. Why is that you were so afraid of the thing you yearned for your entire life?

The morning is quiet and gloomy, it rained the entire night so the sky was all gray clouds with peaking sun. The entire room was packed by the time you sat up to rub your eyes. Your stomach is so uneasy you could only take four bites of the waffles he called in for you, no syrup, just butter and powdered sugar how you like it. He’s quiet too as he folds your clothes. You check out at twelve and load his car again. He kisses your temple before opening the car door for you. You nod a silent thanks before you settle into the car seat. Head leaned against the window. Reaching into the dash board for the map, finger tracing until it stops at the road circled labeled, Andrea’s Grandma, you smile to yourself thinking about Javier at his desk circling and routing a way to her grandmother's home the night before their trip.

With fear of rejection you fiddle with the bee earrings in your ears, grounding yourself with the reminder of Javier even when he's right next to you.

The home was fairly close, only an hour away from the hotel. Javi smokes two cigarettes with the low sound of the road below the tires and slow soul music filling the car. It was then when you realized Javier was nervous too. You think of what he told you at La Belle Forme, about his panic attack. It was rare for silence to exist between them not like this. You kiss his knuckles, a few kisses, you suppose you found solace in comforting him.

When the car slowed down you weren't expecting to be approached with large estates with rolling grass and bald cypress trees casting down like curtains. When Lorena called you pictured an elderly woman in a small home, you never envisioned a large white home attached to other small homes. You looked down at the map. 4289 Coventy Court, “Its the small house, the big one is 4287.” You point, it all seemed to be on the same estate though, you'll still have to walk through this strangers beautiful front lawn in order to get to your grandmothers. Javi nods, shutting the car off. Your hands drop to play with the ripped ends of the map.

His palm comes over to your lap and grabs at your fidgeting hands, his hands always cold and dry and large. “¿Estás segura de que estás lista?” He asks so softly, he did that often, reassuring you in spanish. You inhale deeply, looking at your connected hands and then to the house peeking behind the large trees. You nod.

And there it is, right In front of you— a physical manifestation of the answers you’ve prayed to hear. Everything you've ever wanted to know. It could split you completely, could kill you, but it could free you. A small part of you hopes it splits your heart in two so that you're prepared for heartache in November at the hands of the DEA. Who knew Javier could hurt you more than your father? When did you give him that power, you suppose it’s when you realized it was love.

The two of you climb out of the truck and make your way through the cobblestone path, “I’m not going to get shot out here right?” Javi whispers and you cant even itch out a giggle from the coil of nerves in your chest, he doesn’t joke anymore. He trails behind you while you lead the way, like you know where to go— you haven’t had a fucking clue. With every tap of your sneakers on the ground you felt panic rise higher in your throat.

You could feel Javier behind you, keeping his steps slower than your own. Giving you space you weren’t sure you wanted. You appreciated it nonetheless. Like he was ready to run and get the car if anything hurts you. He’s 3 steps behind you once you close your eyes shut before knocking on the light blue door. Your eyes surveying the plants lining the white porch. “¡entra!” A distant voice calls from beyond the door and its the same voice from the phone. Something in you bursts, your eyes dart to Javier in fit of panic. Fuck it. You open the door to the home.

The astounding amount of pastels blind you. An entire rolling carpet of white at your feet, Javier holds his arm out before you nervously put your outside shoes inside this museum piece of a home. You saw her too, out of the corner of your eye. Sat in a wheelchair with hair pressed straight down to her hips, with a book in her lap – the sound of birds chirping splitting your ears as you unlace your shoes with shaky hands. Javier seemed to have slipped his shoes in record time because his socked foot took a step inside before he bent down again to grab your shoes and tossed them outside.

Standing up straight the woman in front of you widens her eyes at the sight of you, her smile splitting her face in two and you arent sure if anyone had ever looked at you with such melancholy before. She was a beautiful woman, well kept from what you can see it seemed like she had a lot of help. For once in your life you feel strong, chin up and nearly smiling. Lorena fully smiles and there it is–You can finally pin point where your bright grin comes from. "Ven aquí! Get over here before I try to walk to you!." She shouts with that same accent you remember over the phone and with that you're padding over to your grandmother. Embracing her for the first time. Receiving kisses to the side of your head, and caresses and you don’t feel sad anymore–or nervous. You sat in front of her and Javier stayed in his lane, quiet and observing. His hand on your while she explained how she found your number.

“My greatest friend Griselda moved to Laredo about a year ago. I had been pushing the poor woman to look through the phonebook for your name– I didn't know if you had our last name or hers. Whatever I found it and tried calling but your mother– you already know.”

You sure did, the conversation was what you expected it to be. She attempts to understand what your life has been like this whole time. You tell her your mother owned a boutique and that your brother was on his last week of being a bachelor, she teared up at that. You almost forgot she was around when your brother was just two years old, she laughs when explaining his biting problem. Her eyes fall between the two of you a few times, you and Javier and your joined hands. The way his were in your lap and how your nail grazed the strong tendons of your lovers hands. She kept the questions Andrea central.

Did you end up going to college?

Yes, University of Miami. I’m a middle school teacher.

She laughs and claps her hands together, she tells you taught for thirty six years. Your heart nearly bursts in your chest.

So are you living at home?

For now, yes. I’m looking to move soon.

Do you like your brother's wife to be?

Oh–yeah. She’s been my close friend since I was in middle school.

She nods, turning to her left to grab her cup of tea. There had been two cups left out. She let you in on how she kept the place so tidy, her home nurse Ms. Cristina, who worked for her every day. She points to her bird cage at the corner of the living room which shows the only non-tidy part of the house full of bird seeds on the floor, They also take of me.

“And this–.” She smiled, waving her finger in between you two. “How did you two meet.”

“Oh!” You laugh, Javier cracks a smile. “We-”

“Uh-No. I want to hear his story. Ha estado sentado ahí en completo silencio, habla, hijo.” She cuts you off in the only way elderly people know how, gracefully and silly all at once. Your cheeks burn red. Absolutely intrigued to hear his explanation. His face softens for a moment before he breaks into a deep chuckle. Rubbing his eye in that same nervous tick that he always does.

“Oh–We were just kids when we met.” He was instantly interrupted by a yelp from your grandmother.

“¡Ay, por Dios! Qué romántico. So you two have been together since then?” Perhaps it was rude but immediately you and Javier look at each other and let out a cackle in unison. Leaning into his shoulder as you giggle while your grandma sits confused, wondering what was so funny about her question. “What-What’s so funny?” She says with a hint of humor in her own tone.

Javier shakes his head and replies, “It took us close to a decade to get here.” His eyes flash to yours, soft and gleaming. He looks at you like this often—always, but there’s a different look, something close to pride. Truthfully, he was overjoyed to talk about you to someone, especially to someone who by some crazy phone call and last minute trip—is your family.

Lorena smiles, sipping her tea with a nod. Her eyes floating to something behind you, above your head. You don’t turn to see what has made her eyes misty and youthful for a moment. “Ah.. one of those. I’m familiar, promise you. What is it that you do Javier?”

He straightens up at the question like it shattered the small world he’s created with you. “I’m a DEA agent, I’m assigned in Colombia starting this November.” It was firm, devoid of laughter and pride. Like a soldier being questioned about deployment. Your grandmothers brows screw in sympathy the second he mentions being away, her eyes falling to your own. You tried to be strong but the reminder chips away at your spirit each time. Five months away. Your eyes drop to your knees.

“Ah… I see.” Softly she points her chin high, a necklace falling out of her cashmere sweater with the movement. She nudges behind you, where her eyes fell previously, you and Javier turn slightly. The image of a man in black and white, eyes light and a stern look. Clad in military attire, and a nose so similar to your own. You into the eyes of your grandfather for the first time. How could you have forgotten? You haven't even asked about him, his name–anything. You notice then that the entire hour you have spent in your grandmother's home you hadn't once thought of your father. Something about the eyes in the photo seared you, What if my fathers dead? “Your grandfather was also named Lucas. He was my high school sweetheart but we broke up after he decided to leave me for the war. Listen, I respect our military but–not for him–absolutely not. He was always leaving, estúpido, estúpido. We split when he was apart, it wasn't very easy to be in contact like it is now. But… I didn't wait, I found someone else but mija… the second he stepped foot on american soil we were married and I was pregnant with your father 3 years later.”

Javier placed his hand on your lower back at some point during her story, thumb softly rubbing into your thin t-shirt. Your eyes threatened to betray you. You know why she chooses to tell you this story, you suppose this sort of thing runs in the family. Leaving and watching the ones who leave. “He died before me, that absolute idiot.” She sniffles and shakes her head. You turn back around, facing her–she had already wiped her tears away. And she does it just like you, palm first and hurried. Who knew the sight of your grandmother crying could fill you with such warmth, you suppose you were never emotional in the same way your mother was. You wondered where it came from, you guess you can say you've got it from your grandmother.

“Oh, I'm so sorry.” You choke on your own words and she waves her hand in a its alright but it isn't motion. She grabs her teacup once more, her eyes stuck to yours until her brows shoot up in shock.

“Oh–your father. It's so like me to get wrapped up in myself, I’m sure you have a million questions. I can settle your nerves and tell you that he is very much alive.” She laughs, she really was a kookie old lady. “He also knows that you’re here.”

“What?” You and Javier blurt simultaneously, the two of you leaning in on your knees. For a split second your cheeks heat at the thought of Javier being this invested but that completely flies out the window while your grandmother nods with a smile.

“This is his estate, you think a school teacher could afford all this? His home was the big one right next door. He’s nervous but he is expecting you. I thought I’d give him time to… speak for himself.” She nods and settles her cup down once more. “I’m not trying to kick you out but he’s probably bouncing his knee for the thousandth time over there”

“You’ve gone non-verbal Andrea.” The two of you kissed your grandmother goodbye with promises of a second visit in the next few months, Javier was micro analyzing your every move. How after the bomb was dropped you had frozen in fear and only muttered 4 more words. Her brows furrowed as the two of them approached the back door of her fathers home. Javier knew what this meant, what this all means. He sees what its doing inside of you, your body is rejecting the truth that, A. your father is alive and B. He seems to be doing quite well for himself. Your grandmother gave the two of you instructions like you were on a secret mission.

Go through the back door

Javi, it's best you wait in the hall.

He will most likely be sat in his office, first door on your right.

You just nodded with a knot in your throat. Javier watches you lead the way in silence and it's killing him to know how much this is taking a toll on you already.

You have eaten in on yourself already, absent in the eyes.

He remembered fathers day being a particularly rough day for you during your summers. How you would call Javier’s house but he’d have to explain that he was on his way out fishing with Chucho. He can't think too hard about all of that, he might crumble himself and he had to be strong, he had to be that for you. You step up and look over your shoulder, nearly tripping–Javier catches you at your elbow and you are trembling.

“Sorry, I’m trying to catalog all the questions I have.” You chuckle and there isn't a bit of humor behind it, just nerves and all. “His house is way too nice. This door knob looks like pure gold.” You attempt a joke but Javier can't seem to laugh either. And like the brave girl you are, you don't hesitate this time, you twist the doorknob pushing the door open. Ahead of you was a grandiose hallway, white paneled walls with tiny intricate floral designs.

The door to his office is already in your view, a long ottoman right outside the door like a waiting room. It felt nothing like a home, like a sterile office or a Homes and Gardens spread. Javier selfishly thinks of how their home will look one day, it will never feel this cold, not in the Louisiana heat. He’d settle down with you in Louisiana. He decided this weekend, he’d like to watch you bask in under the cajun sun with a belly.

The two of you stand side by side in front of a door with no imperfections but a carving of the letter L on the wood. Your brows furrow, “Okay.” You exhale, turning to Javier knowing this is where you part, knowing that whatever goes on behind those doors could hurt you in a way he fears he can never fix. So maybe he’s just as scared, he nods silently and firm. Still putting his act up for your sense of security, he knows you can read right through it, he also knows you love that he does this for you.

He can see it on your lips, see the 3 words, the words he knows you tried to spill out twice on this trip. He shakes his head and grabs your face in a chaste kiss. Your hands hold at his shoulders as you rise on your tiptoes to return it deeper. He doesn’t let you stall, he steps away. “I’ll be right here.” Javier juts his chin toward the ottoman, and he watches you disappear into the room.

Sitting down with a strain in his lower back from the drive and his body's reaction to the thought of the ride they have to take once this is all over. Javier leans his head back, his eyes facing the ceiling. Touched with a heavy weight and the lingering thought of maybe one day having one of these moments with his own mother, if she’s out there. He busies himself with an attempt of remembering her face, drawing her in white lights behind his closed eyes that he was too damn scared to open, scared to be present. Scared of not being strong enough for you. Afraid of opening his eyes and seeing a blackhole ready to swallow him whole, engulfing himself in his own grief that he’s shoved down trying to be a man for you.

He sees your face at first, angled cheeks he first sees you now, a longer face–lips full, a nose with a tiny slope and teeth always threatening to split your lips in a smile. He also sees what you looked like in 1980, rounder cheeks, the face of a shy girl. He remembers your cheeks always being pink. His chest constricts when he pictures that same young face full of tears at fault of his own fears. That's when he makes out his mothers face, eyebrows a light-light brown, so light they always seemed barely there. Her freckle below her eye, her eyes clad with glasses and quirk between her brow. Of disapproval for all things involving their life as a family.

Javier snaps his eyes open at the thought. Straightening up, attempting to now hear what was being said behind the door. His eyes adjust to the bright light of the hall, it really felt like a waiting room. Javier blinks away the floaters.

In front of him is a single picture hung on the wall.

It's an image of your father, he sees the resemblance immediately. But that isn't what catches his eye. Javier's heart drops nauseatingly fast at the sight of two young girls-twins, in the photograph. And in cursive in the far corner,

Best Dad Ever

He’s up and hugging you before you could take in that this is really happening. The hug is tight, it's unfamiliar, it's strangling and you attempt to hug back to make it feel loving but it just isn't there yet. You want to pinch yourself, you've dreamt up this moment. You hugged your own aching body to sleep countless nights wishing for a hug from your father and now that it’s here, you can't even register the difference between him and a stranger.

He holds your face for a moment with his eyes misty, your chin quivers then. He was a splitting image of your grandfather. Eyes a hazel, his hair shaggy and long. Like he doesn't belong in a home this large, you close your eyes for a moment. Overstimulated with the situation, your father cradles your face for the first time since you were a premature newborn. He even calls you beautiful a few times and you’ve never felt stronger for not melting into a puddle of tears. Perhaps you were just too happy.

It was the happiest moment.

You sit in front of him and he has a sheet in front of him. You couldn't be bothered talking about yourself again but you do anyway, he leaned in with every small fact. He beams with a laugh when you tell him that little Frankie was expecting a baby and wedding. He claims that these past years he wondered what you were doing with your life, once your eighteenth birthday approached he says he stayed up the entire night wondering what this next step would look like for you.

“It seems like you've done well for yourself–I'm sorry Andrea, I’m sorry I wasn't there.” You were the only person in tears in the room but you couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed. The tears were only joyful, those sorts came rarely for you. You allowed them to flow without shame.

It’s okay dad, it's okay. You whisper, “My mom–she says she left because you were–”

“An addict.” He cuts. “I was, I got clean the second she fled with you. I called my mom and she sent me to a rehabilitation facility in New York. It’s where I lived most of my life, where I built my business. Where I met my wife.” He smiles to himself and you smile too. What a privilege it is to be loved by someone else. “She isn't home today, told her we would be meeting today and she decided to not overwhelm you so she’s out. I hope you don’t mind.”

You reach out for the box of tissues at his desk, dabbing your eyes. “It's okay–I'm sorry that my mom did that– leaving without notice, it-it kills me when I think of it.” You wipe again as more tears fall, god why was it so difficult to talk when crying. You think of the day after your birth often, you think of your father asleep in a hospital chair, you think of him waking up in an empty room. Your heart chips away slowly but then you look at his face again and he looks just as confused.

He straightened up and his jaw clenched. You were to oblivious to notice the change in his demeanor.

“Andrea– I knew she was going to leave– I- I encouraged her to… I was too sick. I wasn't ready then– I waited six years until I had kids.”

You swear the feeling was akin to being cut by the sharpest blade, sliced slowly down your sternum and the weight of the world on your shoulders. There you are, in front of your father, bleeding out, being drained in front of him. Your head feels light as everything you thought you knew turns on its head. Your eyes fall to your knees, staring into the denim of your pants, trying to register if any of this is real.

What? You whisper.

“Oh Andrea–Melissa–your mother. She sat in that hospital bed and cried, she begged me to get clean for you, but she didn't know how all of that worked. I had to do it for myself, and I did. I asked her to leave. I wasn’t ready, sweetheart.”

The name stung, you sat there, you were an open wound in front of your father as he explains that he made the choice to reject you.

Your chin quivered in a new way, no longer happy. No longer tears between teeth, “I’m really confused.”

“I forgave myself for that decision in rehab. I found god and I absolve myself from that guilt through years of healing, Adalina and Adare’s birth helped me free myself from that decision. I knew you were taken care of I had to–”

“I-I wasn't taken care of. I wasn't loved. I was ignored–I-I spent the holidays alone. I was raised by a nanny–When-when I fell off my bike I relied on my brother's best friend to take care of me. I needed you but I was never angry at you for not looking because I thought you were left completely in the dark.” Each word came with a sob so deep, you weren't sure your body could handle a heartbreak like this. His lips thinned and his brows creased in sympathy that didn't feel genuine. You had sisters, sisters with names awfully close to your own. "Did-did you know where I was?"

"I had you address for several years, yes." Cooly he says it. “Andrea–I'm really upset to hear that. I had assumed you were okay, you never looked for me.”

You shook your head with closed eyes, tears staining your neck. “I shouldn't have to–I’m the child…” You whined, regressing to a little girl, you couldn't help it. This was the worst pain you've felt. “I needed you– I needed a dad.”

“I understand, I understand the importance of a father in a young woman's life–I've got two of my own–But I cannot be sorry for the decision I made twenty two years ago.” How could he be so cold, so analytical. How is it that he talks about the situation like he’s just an observer?

“Three, you have three daughters.” Your voice sobers, its anger this time. You were so upset that he couldn't see this the way you do. Your eyes burn into his and there isn't anything, there's nothing. You began to wonder how he could be the product of a woman like Lorena. “You had me on January 14th 1964, you watched my mom carry me for 7 months before she couldn’t– I’m your daughter too.” You spit without a shaking breath.

His face tightens and he nods, “Technically speaking yes-”

“Oh give me a fucking break!” You cuss, jumping to your feet and he jumps in his seat.

“Please do not cuss in my home.”

You were red hot, fuming as your eyes finally took in the catholic iconography throughout the office. And the many, many pictures of your sisters. Wiping your tears with your palms, fast like you want to hide from him that he even made you cry in the first place. “You are a pathetic person. I feel so ridiculous having wasted so many years wanting you. I’ll see my way out.” You turn and he’s following you, repeating your name but no apologies. You swing the door open and Javier is there at his feet already, with a tense face. You see it, he heard it all and he’s angry.

“Please Andrea, let's just pray together.”

You cackle and glance at your boyfriend. “Let's go Javi.” You storm past him, swinging the backdoor open.

The second the rolling front yard and southern sun hits your skin you begin to sob. Chest wracking yet silent as you walk away from your fathers home. As you walk away from someone else's father. You chest hiccuping as you blurily lead yourself down the path, Javier's steps quickening behind you. Your cheeks hot and stung with tears, head pounding you knew you looked like a swollen hot mess. You hug your own shaking body all the way to the car. Climbing in the passenger's seat with more tears.

You aren't sure if you could ever be okay.

Javier circles the car with his heart in his throat, hearing each word and feeling the cuts deep. He sits and thinks, she won't be able to handle this. He knows you, he knows you enough to love you. He knows you are strong, he also knows no child is strong enough to face rejection from a parent. So he stares at your father before you have walked out the home, he contemplates killing him there. He wants to hurt the man for making you ache so badly. Call him crazy or irrational, but he thought it for a split second. Thought of hurting him.

Javier decides taking care of you was far more important than his anger.

He walks behind you,

It felt like a huge joke, like a fuck you. The beautiful scenery of the estate, the birds chirping and the world still spinning, and you're there, hugging your own body while you silently weep ahead of him.

He doesn't start the car when he gets in. He stares ahead, sick to his stomach at the sound of your cries. His eyes glued to the steering wheel, his peripheral catches you shifting to lean your temple against the window. The car was hot, sitting out in this sun. Hot enough to burn you once your elbow touches a belt buckle but the heat felt trivial. Javier glances at the map, prepared to drive back into New Orleans and extend their weekend, take you away for more days. Allow you to be detached for some more time, this was far too much for you.

“I want to go home Javi.” You whisper between tears, “It was…dumb of me to look for a family out here.”

There it was again, your eagerness for a complete family. For someone to see you, understand your pain, he heard you beyond that door. He heard you talk about being left alone, celebrating holidays with only yourself. He heard you begging for sympathy from your own blood from your own family. He heard your voice so small when you begged him to see you as his own child, as his own family.

Javier panics, he’s so overcome with emotion he isn't sure he has the words to comfort you. He can't get out what he's tried to tell you all weekend. You will always have a family with him, you no longer have to search. But it doesn't come out from his mouth.

Instead, he reaches his hand over to you and between his thumb and his pointer he rubs the earring he gifted you. The earring, the reminder. Without words he tells you, I’ve got you. He watched you the past two days rub the thing as a nervous tick, he sees your brows furrow and your chin quiver once more before you cave and lean your head against his hand. Your cries regulate and calm with each pass of his thumb against the delicate little bee in your ear. Javier watches you with blurred eyes and he remembers meeting you for the first time. He remembers putting bandages on your knees and peeling oranges for you and diving into lakes and biking, and blushing and kissing and leaving. And And And,

“Andrea, I really, really love you.”

#javier peña #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña smut #ao3 #fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena x reader

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 11 months

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I Wanted to Be

A Ron 'Slider' Kerner Imagine

Description: Kids, family, all of those things that people always talk about as being the be-all, end-all, goal? Those things have never been on Ron Kerner's list. All he wants to do is fly. What happens when an old friend's little sister calls him for help?

Everything changes.

Warnings: Dead-beat dad, Mentioned Pregnancy, Mentioned Childbirth, Tooth Rotting Fluff

Word Count: 2939

A/N: This is another Discord fueled thought. @mayhemmanaged and I were talking about how we thought that Jake was either Ice's son or Slider's. I had a sudden urge to explore that thought and here we are!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

Texans have a saying or cautionary tale for nearly everything. Everything, it seems, except what you can tell your best friend's little sister when her no-good husband runs away from her and the baby she's carrying. When she'd called him, sobbing, he hadn't known what to do. What can you tell a twenty-five year old nine month pregnant woman you haven't seen in close to a decade? In the case of one Ron Kerner, mostly known as Slider nowadays, you don't say a word. Instead, you get emergency leave and hop onto the nearest transport home.

The tiny town of Cistern is exactly as he remembers it, hot, dry, and dusty. The sole bus trundles through town just as he pulls into the solitary gas station and steps out. It feels weird being back here. As much as Cistern hasn't changed, he knows he has. A quick stop at the pump station for fuel that sloshes sluggishly into the near empty tank of the truck he'd rented in Austin, and he's off again. Driving west a ways and then north until the only things he sees are scrub and the odd glimpse of cattle.

The turn-off to the Petersen ranch looks just like he remembers it, though the sign says Seresin now. Was that the name of the idiot who ran away? In all honesty, Ron can't be pressed to remember. All that matters is the girl waiting on the porch when the truck rattles to a stop. She looks the same as he remembers. Little Rebecca Petersen, not so little and decidedly not a Petersen anymore, but god does she not remind him still of the little thing that used to run around behind him and Danny, all knees, toothy grin and covered in freckles.

That grin, at least, is exactly the same. So is the teasing tone as she greets him as he walks up the front stairs. "Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in! If it isn't Ron Kerner, the big-shot Naval Aviator. What brings you back to sleepy old Cistern?"

"You know what." He can't help the sober turn to his voice as he hugs her gingerly, not sure of where to put his arms, not when the bulge of her belly is in the way. God, doesn't he wish he'd never said those words as soon as they left his mouth, though. Because that smile is gone, like the sun hidden by the clouds.

"You're here because of Brian." Her voice is tired, so tired that Ron can't help trying to make the girl he promised he'd protect smile again.

"Naw, Becks. I'm here for you and this little thing. Only in part for him."

It's words that he didn't know were true until 3 days later when he's standing in the maternity ward of the hospital and being handed a tiny squalling infant with a shock of honey hair and the tightest grip he's ever felt. The newly named Jacob Daniel Seresin seems to be just as enamored of Ron as Ron is of him. Say what you will about the little guy's deadbeat dad, but he made an awfully cute baby.

That instant shock of attachment stays with Ron for a long time afterward. He looks forward to receiving the letters Rebecca sends monthly, filled with polaroids of small Jake as he grows bigger and bigger. He can track every milestone on that little body from how he grows to the first tooth that comes painfully into that little mouth.

But he does not actually see the boy or his mama again for nearly five years. Things have changed considerably over that time. Ron's raked in another promotion, making him a full lieutenant. Ice met a girl and made her his wife, and to top it all off, they're both in Texas again. So on the first long weekend he gets, Ron hops into the old Ford truck he'd put together when he turned sixteen and drives straight up to Cistern.

This time, he drives up to the Seresin house to hear giggling and gets out of his truck just in time to catch a little boy in just a pair of shorts as he goes running past. It's the light dusting of freckles and toothy grin that he'd recognize anywhere which clues him into exactly who he's holding.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm your Uncle Ron. Dunno if you remember me." His voice is gruff as he turns the giggling brat upside down like he's looking for a way to turn a little robot off. Through giggles, he's gratified to hear the boy introduce himself as Jake. This time, the Rebecca he sees in the kitchen of the ranch house she grew up in and where she's raising her son is more like the happy teenager he'd left behind when he enlisted with her big brother. It still irks him that he couldn't protect Daniel. But he's going to protect Rebecca and Daniel's namesake as fiercely as he can.

"Hey, Becks. Y'missing something? I caught this little gremlin running around out there. Is this what you're looking for?" He can't resist tickling the bare tummy of the boy in his arms just to hear the musical giggles.

"Mama, Uncle Sly's here!" The piping voice of the little boy standing there all of two feet tall wearing just shorts is enough to crack even the crustiest aviator's stone heart. Rebecca's boy is a dusty, golden skinned marvel with his sun-bleached blonde hair and huge slightly gap-toothed grin. It feels like home, this place. That weekend, Ron spends more time out on a ranch than he has in years. Rebecca may have managed to keep the ranch going, but who's going to teach Jake everything he needs to know when his daddy isn't around? Anyways, that's Ron's rationale.

Soon after that, though, he's given orders. He's shipped all over the world, flying for the Navy. It seems like his star is on the rise, and while he's Lieutenant Commander and Captain Kerner in short order, he still stays Uncle Sly for one little boy who turns into a teenager back in Cistern seemingly overnight. Ron does his best to show up for all of the kid’s biggest milestones, but even he can’t hop onto a helo every time Jake has a baseball game or wins an award at school. Those weeks, Ron does his best to call and talk to the kid as much as he can.

He talks to Rebecca on the phone enough to know that the kid's struggling with something, something he won't talk to his Mama about. So the next time Ron's home, he heads to Cistern, as always with gifts in hand for the boy he loves like he is his own. Unlike prior snatched moments, Seresin Ranch is crackling with a tension Ron's never felt before. Jake's on the front porch, and Ron's suddenly struck by how grown up the boy seems, especially with how tall he is and the new manly breadth of his shoulders.

"Hey, Kiddo." As he tugs the kid into a hug, Ron can feel some tension leave those still small shoulders.

"Uncle Sly." Something's not right. Jake's not smiling today, not at all.

"What is it, kid?" A sudden jolt of fear rushes through Ron. "Where's your mom, kid?'

"She's in there, Uncle Sly, in the kitchen. With a man who's claiming to be my dad." The rage that burns in his chest is unlike any other that Ron's ever felt before. Sure enough, when he stalks into the kitchen, it's to see the one man he'd never wanted to see menacing Rebecca ever again.

"Brian." That one word is all it takes for Rebecca's shoulders to relax. Fifteen years have not treated Brian Seresin well. Not at all. His hair is graying and greasy, he's got a paunch and he's obviously drunk off his feet if the way he lists back and forth is any indication. "What are you doing back in Cistern?"

Ron's quick to gather Rebecca back behind him, knowing that Brian Seresin would never be bold enough to try to get to her, not through him, anyway. Jake’s followed him in, as always his shadow

"Wanted my woman back, Kerner. And my kid." He sniffs, wiping away yellow-tinged mucus on the leg of the dirtiest jeans that Ron's ever seen. "S'not fair, y'know? That you got to keep her and the brat while I was off. D'she treat y'well? She's great in bed, ain't she?"

It takes every fiber in his being to not deck the man for what he's saying about Rebecca. Thankfully Jake's holding his ma, otherwise he'd have launched himself at the fool to get his share of the beat down. It’s at that moment that Sly is glad they’d sent lawyers after Brian Seresin after Jake was born because it means he doesn’t have a claim on Rebecca or Jake anymore. They have the denial of parental rights and a divorce agreement to prove it. It doesn't take much more than a quirked eyebrow to get the man to spill the entire sordid tale. How he'd lost a lot of money and wanted to claim what he believed he was owed from Seresin Ranch.

"Call Sheriff Weatherby, Becks." When Ron finally speaks, the calm in his voice surprises even him. He sounds Ice-cold, which he guesses is what you get for spending the better part of a decade flying with the same person. "We've got an intruder on Seresin Ranch."

It doesn't surprise him in the slightest that it's Jake who picks up the landline and dials up Sheriff Weatherby, not at all. It's hours later, once one Brian Seresin has been carted away and Rebecca is asleep, that Ron finds Jake again. The kid's sitting in an old tire swing Ron had set up years ago, rocking idly while staring up into the endless expanse of stars in the sky above.

"So, that's him, huh? My pops, the man who walked out before I was even born?" He sounds so torn up about it, this gangly teen boy who loves his Mama to distraction and who would do anything to protect her. That's something they have in common.

"Yeah, kid." Ron doesn't try to hide the anger in his face, not now.

"Why did he come back? Why didn't he just stay away?" Ron's hand is gentle on the kid's back as he tries to think for a response.

"I dunno, kid. I wish he had never come back. Your Mama isn't the type to cry. But every time I've heard her cry it has been because of that man." The rage building in his chest causes a near imperceptible shake in his hands.

"Why didn't you ever marry Mama, Uncle Sly? You love her, I know you do. Then you can come home to us more often, can't you?" That one innocent observation is enough to have his entire world reeling. What would it be like? Having Becks to come home to? To have this kid, her son, as his own? Is he so easy to read that a teenager can tell what his most closely guarded secret is?

"I dunno kid. But enough about me. What's eating at you?" Ron's a little scared of the answer he's going to get.

"I want to fly, Uncle Sly. Like you do, like Uncle Daniel did." Jake's green eyes are all Rebecca's, all Daniel's and Ron can see the boy he loved like a brother in Jake's face. "D-d'you think I can do it?"

"It's dangerous, kid. But yeah. If there was anyone who could do it, it'd be you. You’ve got your mom’s determination and all of her support, too. Just don’t forget that you’ve got people who love you waiting for you, and you’ll be all set."

Those are obviously words Jake holds close to his heart. Because, before Ron's hit Vice-Admiral, Jake's already at the academy. He's taking Annapolis by storm, making his Mama and his dad, because thanks to the kid's prodding it's Ron and Rebecca Kerner now, incredibly proud. Ron's happy to find he has to wipe away tears when he sees his son, his son, get his wings a few short years later. Then there's another Kerner's star on the rise. His son’s.

He keeps a finger on the pulse of every deployment, every test, and beams with pride to see Jake graduate from Top Gun. That pride sits warm in his chest even as he gets a call from the one California number he'd memorized that he could never forget.

"Mr. Iceman! How're you doing?" The relationship between pilot and RIO hasn't changed over the past years. Neither of them flies anymore, but the bonds they built over 30 years ago haven't changed.

"It's about your kid, Sly." Ron can hear the hoarseness creeping into Ice's tone even now.

"What's going on, Tom?" After a life's service to the US Navy, Rear Admiral Ron 'Slider' Kerner isn't surprised to hear that Jake's been selected for a special detachment. The dad in him, though? He's terrified shitless. Nearly 30 years of loving that boy doesn’t feel like enough all of a sudden, not when Jake's going to be sent on a mission so dangerous that talking about it feels like a jinx. Even the heads up from the COMPACFLT doesn't help.

It's a tense few weeks in Texas. Ron terrorizes the base in Corpus Christi, his mind in Miramar with his son while his body is in Texas. Rebecca is equally distraught. Then Ron gets another call that fills him with sadness all over again. It is Sarah calling, "Hey Ron. Just wanted to tell you that he's gone. Tom's gone. The cancer. It came back with a vengeance. The doctors couldn't do anything. He passed away this morning."

During the entirety of the service, Ron can't help but feel like he would've given anything to see his best friend again one more time before he died. It's sad reconnecting with the rest of their 1986 cohort at the bar later. It’s even worse seeing his son stand somberly kitted out in his own whites across the way from him. He doesn’t, can’t go near him, mainly because nobody knows that Jake is Rear Admiral Kerner’s kid. But he can't help but feel like Tom would've wanted him to hug his boy instead. So that's what Rear Admiral Ron Kerner does. He hugs his son, tight, as many times as he can before he leaves. He watches from the docks as the carrier departs and waits with bated breath.

Rebecca channels her nerves into baking. She fills the house they rent off base with pastries, cookies, cakes and pies, most of which are Jake's favorites. Then it’s a waiting game. Ron calls in every favor he has in order to get more information on the mission Jake’s on, really for anything he can get. As it turns out, there is very little information that even an admiral can get. So all he can do is hold Rebecca close and pray. It’s frankly the longest three days of his life. He’s more tense than he was even during the Leyte Gulf incident, which feels like a world, a lifetime ago. That first call from Jake they get has his knees weak. The relief coursing through his system is too good to be true. So’s the first look he gets of his son when the carrier docks two days later.

The milling crowd of families lets out a roar of excitement when the first of the ship’s crew sets foot on shore. Ron wraps an arm around Rebecca, and keeps an eagle eye on the waves of departing sailors looking for aviator green flight suits. The crowd clears piece by piece and they still haven’t seen their boy or any of the aviators. They’re some of the only people waiting, and Ron can feel Rebecca’s tremors as she clutches at her necklace and rears up onto her tiptoes every once in a while. She sags against his chest and that’s when Ron finally sees their golden boy. He looks exhausted, but he’s safe, he’s home. Rebecca runs right for him first, and Ron can’t help his grin when he sees how tall Jake is in comparison to his Mama. The kid’s not shy about his love for Rebecca either. He introduces her to the aviators and then Ron’s being beckoned forward.

“And this is my pop, Admiral Kerner.” He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face and god if that doesn’t remind Ron of Daniel again.

“Hey, kid.” Ron can’t help the fond grin on his face or the amusement when he sees Jake’s squadron rise into salutes the minute they hear his title. There’s a face in his squadron that Ron didn’t think he’d ever see again. There’s also somebody nearby who he hasn’t seen in decades.

“Baby Goose. Mav.” Ron’s nod is slight.

“Hey Sly. A kid huh?” Ron can’t resist smiling as he hugs the shorter man.

“Yeah, Mav. I had to catch up.” Watching Becks fawn over Jake again is everything he’s ever wanted.

“He’s a good one, you know, Sly?” As Ron stands shoulder to shoulder with Pete Mitchell again, watching their boys realize that they’re closer than they ever could have known, Ron knows one thing. He may have never intended to be a dad, but standing at the docks thirty years later, he knows he wouldn't have wanted to do anything else.

Taglist:

@mayhemmanaged, @desert-fern, @cassiemitchell, @dakotakazansky, @sarahsmi13s, @roosters-girl

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #ron slider kerner #ron slider kerner x oc #slider x oc #ron kerner x oc #the one where slider is jake's dad #exploring slider a bit more

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saltygilmores · 8 months

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 21- Lorelai's Graduation Day, Aka The Best Episode That Ever Episoded, My Heart Will Soon Be Asploded. Part 2

Read part 1 and all other commentary here

Yesterday I realized I've been doing these little insane ramblings of mine on Tumblr for over a year now! If it took me a year to watch two seasons, I guess I'll see ya'll in September 2024 for the conclusion of season 4. Anyway, Lorelai is about to have the Consequences Of Her Actions thrown in her face in just a moment, which is something I enjoy seeing.

Luke and Lorelai have to kiss and make up in this episode or the next, I would think? I don't remember any unresolved animosity between them going into the third season. But what do I know after not seeing this show for 3 years.

How's that "Trying to avoid someone in a small town" thing working out for you, dear?

Lorelai: "I guess it was inevitable we'd run into each other. It is a very tiny community." Ya think? Lor: How's the diner? Luke: It's still there. Except in your absence, an extra table opened up for somebody who will actually pay for their food. Lor: Hey Luke, do you think we could talk? Luke: No, I gotta go. Although I haven't watched Teach me Tonight in years, I can still go off of what other people have told me about what went down and Luke is pysssssed.

There has GOT to be some kind of Emmy award for fake food presentation. Rory has shown up on Gramma and Grammpa's door step wanting to talk about something. Seems as if she's going behind Lorelai's back to invite Emily and Richard to her graduation ceremony and she makes a pitch to them. Again, my memory is foggy but I do know they attend the ceremony, I think Emily arrives with a professional photographer? Which annoys Lorelai., and pleases me. Rory: As you know, Mom's been going to business school for three years. What??? Huh? 3 years? Someone please school me on whether this "Lorelai goes to night school" was actually mentioned any time before the last few episodes, or if this is just something that was made up in the name of TV Convenience.

Debatable. Later that day, back at the Gilmore abode... Lorelai mentions she is going to Hartford Community College. Did I google whether or not such a school exists? You bet your sweet bippy I did. The answer: there is no such place (although there are two community colleges in Hartford).

I'm at a payphone, trying to call home, all of my change I spent on you... Let's just enjoy little bit of Literati On The Phone apprecation.

ARGH! My little lovesick stepcousins!!! 💔🐶💔🐶

The next day at Chilton, Rory is so lovesick for her long distance stepcousin that her mind is completely lost in outerspace even while her local lover Paris Geller rambles on about authors and half eaten bananas. It matters not, but how did Rory ever get away with playing hooky?

NO NO NO NO. NO. WHAT? NO! WHY! NO!

Going years between viewings is a game of Memory Roulette for me and honestly that's what makes this fun. Like, what insipid detail will I remember at the same time that I'm forgetting something vitally important? More importantly, what horrible surprises have I let lapse in my memory? When should I be wary of Dean/ and or Crusty lurking around the corner? The answer is always. As you can see, you can never let your guard down and say "Huh, I haven't seen Dean and/ or Crusty in a while", because they can strike at any time.

Okay, okay, calm down Salty. The future is incredibly bleak on the Christopher front after this episode, but in this particular episode, he Lores his way through a 1 minute phone conversation and that's the end of him.

Look, Lore, I know we're often at odds with each other and normally I'd say something like "I hope you open the basket and a nest of angry hornets flies out at you", but this time LORE, I'm imploring you, do not open a box from Crusty Hayden.

Michel says he refused to touch the package which is good because you don’t want to get your fingerprints on it and become an accomplice in a CrustyCrime.

So, a bowling ball or a human head.

A BOMB? No, no, he's not that smart. All I know is it better not be a fucking engagement ring or something (a heavy one)

Other contents of the CrustyBasket: A youth hostel card, a disposable camera, a manual for job hunters, an application to join the Army (She really could use some humbling by a nasty drill seargant who doesn't put up with her crap, so I'd advise she keep that), a DVD of The Graduate. Okay, okay, I get his shtick here. Haha, Lorelai is an adult graduate so it'll be a hoot to give her stuff that's like, for a teenage graduate instead. So funny. (oh the irony that a high school graduation is something she barely scraped by on realizing for no other reason than you planting your Crusty Sperm in her).

However, based on Lore's reaction to the necklace, this thing is still emotionally weighty and she is not amused. To her shock and dismay, (He claims) it's even real pearl and not just something that dropped out of a gumball machine like the QuarterOnAString Dean gave to Rory.

THE NERVE. He can't come to the graduation because of reasons and we will take it and not question his motives, as this may be one of the last (nearly) Crusty free episodes in a while. Ugh. But with him and Dean both out of the picture for the rest of the episode, the Stepcousins can finally begin their big city adventure. Stay tuned for part 3!

#denise rewatches gilmore girls #jess mariano #rory gilmore #gilmore girls season 2 #lorelais graduation day #crusty #milo ventimiglia #hot dog #stepcousins in the city #stepcousins eating hot dogs

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zandra-lang-cave · 9 months

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Molly's posible depression

I didn't think about it until I saw this fanfic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45957685/chapters/115676548

( I love it. It inspires my mind, that isn't an easy thing to do, believe it or not)

I won't explain everything, but it basically gives a lot of insight about what could go on in Molly's head through the perspective of everyone around her.

After I read it, I gave a rewatch to the show, and a lot of stuff took a turn in my head and in my view of molly. In this post/essay, i will explain why Molly's depression is not such a baseless idea as it might seem. Here are some examples that can be symptoms/reasons for depression.

She has moved a lot for her entire life

That doesn't look that bad at first sight. Specially when the show doesn't really pay attention to the life of molly begore Brighton. But if you really look more closely, it's really sad.

If you count all the pins the macgee's had, they move at least 23 times. I say at least because molly just put the places she remembers moving, but they have probably moved more when molly was a baby/toddler, so she doesn't remember. Let's assume this are since when molly was 4-5 since that's when she probably started to remember the places they have moved.

Molly is just 13 years old. Doing the math She has moved to 23 places in 9-10 years.

Moving just once in your life can change your mind a lot. especially for a child. They need stability to be able to develop the best they can, and moving to a completely new environment even just once can affext that development.

I move from my home contry to the US when I was arround 9-10 years, and even though I knew it was for the best, the whiplash affected me all through my teen years and I just recently started to feel comfortable in my home, almost a decade later.

So just imagine a kid in their formative years, moving to a new city, and going through the process of adapting to a new environment, just to move again in a few months.

Lack of friends/community

This is a big part of the show, though a suttil one, and it applies to the whole family, not just molly. The macgees are a very social family not just molly, everyone of them trive in community. They do volunteering together, they support molly to construct the banshell, they join in town parties, and events not has attendees but has staft.

But that say, none of them have any friends before Brighton. And until the Chen's arrive they didn't have any close friends.

Darryl has 2 friends he mentioned, but we never see, and Sharon and Pete have libbys mom, but that one is more of a "our kids ate friends, let's get along" type of friendship.

Molly makes a big deal of both scratch and libby being their best friends, scratch specially when she calls him her "forever friend." And lets remember her entire family makes an entire dance for the chen's, it was a big deal to them to get them to be friends with them.

They haven't had any friends or community in such a long time that they are emotionally deprived, to the point they go to extreme lengths to ensure they forever home can be the best place it can be. It's not a bad thing on paper, but it's not a good thing if we think of it logically.

Molly's controlling tendencys

A big part of Molly's personality is how controlling and pushy she can be. The entire episode of snow day show this at his peak, but there were tiny examples before and after. When they make a movie and molly dismiss her friends complain saying "if I'm the director it's still our movie", her helping all her class with the props and costumes (she 100% volunteer for it), the relationship with her mom and grandma, libbys bat mitzvah, etc.

Well, that can be seen as a coping mechanism. She lacks stability as she grew up, so taking control can be subconsciously comforting.

Again this is something I can relate, I lack stability in my childhood (for different reasons) and in my teens I crave has much control in my life I could get (I didn't have it which leaves me with more unrelated issues but still I salty about it) it's just a comfort being in control when you are use to not having it.

There are probably more examples for Molly's possible depression symptoms/reasons, but this are the biggest I could think at the moment. I will make a second post if I remember anything else.

Now the biggest counterargument would be "she is so smily and happy, she is not sad she can't be depress." To that, I answered, depressed people can look/act happy. Most of the time, they do.

Using myself has an example, I pass through a "happy depression," and I basically pretend to be happy to not worry my family. I didn't wanted to feel what I felt so I would do things to not thing about, I would read fanfiction all day, work on school, read books, see TV an unhealthy amount of time just not to feel anything but the "happines" those things give me. In family gatherings and school, I would act friendly and "normal." I didn't even let my grades slip cuase at the time they were the most important thing in my mind. There was no reason for anyone to believe I was depress.

I kept that for around 5 years, the "happy depression" going on an off but never leaving completely, I never addressed it because in my mind and everyone around, I was "happy." Until the pandemic hit, and it destroyed me emotionally. I know that happen to alot of people but I mean it, It destroyed me, I couldn't use school has a distraction because it didn't kept me occupied enough, the little time I spend outside of my house was rip away.

I could no longer avoid thinking and feeling, and that turned the "happy depression" into a full mental breakdown that I had just recovered less than a year ago. And not even fully cause I keep falling back into avoiding my feelings from time to time. Just now, I can recognize it and fix it before it turns into "happy depression" again.

Hum, acting happy to avoid others to worry, filling yourself with activities that make you "happy", acting has if everything is totally normal.

Those are things molly can and has done.

So yeah, depress molly. More likely than you believe. I already loved her before. Even though i couldn't relate to her, i related more to scratch. but after this realization, I relate to her a lot, and I appreciate that. I don't think it would ever be acknowledged or even mentioned in the show, but the fact I can see it, it gives me comfort.

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #molly mcgee #disney #character analysis #headcanon #idea #i love this girl #but man she is a mess #and it makes me feel comfortable #but also call out #disney cartoon #disney shows

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ellaenchanting · 1 year

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On Big Clangy Emotions and the Lack of Guidebooks

This came up in another context tonight so I thought I would write it all out.

When I was 18 I fell for a girl. Hard. I had experienced really strong friendship with girls before but none quite like THIS. I didn't understand what was happening. Queer representation was so rare in media and in my small town experience that I didn't have the mental framework to put together "crush" or "love" from what was happening. I just knew I felt really really intensely - wanted to be with her all the time, thought of her constantly, would make up all sorts of excuses to fall asleep on her dorm floor, etc. I thought of it as a really strong, soul bonded friendship. I didn't know what else to consider. I didn't really know how to manage something so unexpected and strong and unnamed. I didn't know how to have good boundaries, how to talk about it, how to avoid being creepy. I really tried to manage myself and my feelings but- at a weak point I kissed her. All hell broke loose. She dropped out of college the next day. All of our mutual friends soon stopped talking to me.

I haven't seen her since.

I don't know if knowing more about myself or more about what queerness could look like would have stopped any of that from happening. Maybe everything would have happened the same way regardless. I think of her occasionally and there's still pain there- like a tiny hook in my heart. A hook from a girl I haven't seen in over 20 years. A hook from a girl who is largely a made up facimile in my head by now. A girl who I hope never thinks of me. She never wanted there to be a hook and, if she knew about it, she definitely wouldn't want me to have it anymore. I try and wish her well when I think of her- imagine that she's happy and doing well.

I've been hooked a few times in doing kink. Mostly, like with the long ago girl, because I wasn't expecting it and didn't have a framework to really acknowledge or discuss what was happening- to know what to watch out for in myself. Also like with the college girl, it's happened entirely with people who didn't mean to hook me- people who meant kindly and would take their hooks back immediately if that were in their power. People who couldn't have known I'd react so strongly because I couldn't have known I'd react so strongly. You can only know that from experience.

Part of having a weird and unconventional sexuality is having to figure this kind of stuff out way later than everyone else. Most people have their first big love (and the girl still feels like love to me) before they're 18. Even if they don't, there's tons of movies/culture/advice showing you what it's supposed to look like and how it's supposed to go. Most people have a really strong sexual component to those feelings that helps guide then- or push then- into knowing how they feel quickly and less ambiguously than my weird gray-aceiness whateveritis sometimes allows. Most people aren't finding new and expansive parts of their sexuality in their late 30s and 40s- tripping up over the same things that, if they were more normal, they might have been experiencing and learning to cope with when they were teenagers.

Through some bumps and bruises, I feel like I have a working model for what a healthy, casual kinky relationship looks like for me now - what boundaries work, what unspoken expectations are normal, what words apply only in context, etc. I wish I could pass that wisdom on to new kinky people- provide rules and boundaries and goal posts- but I don't know how because what I had to learn feels so individual. I can talk about mirror neurons and rapport and the potential love spell of looking too long into someone else's eyes and I know all of the things that are universal but - on some deep, unconscious level they still feel like a traps that only I will fall into.

I guess now I'm just better at choosing my traps- and controlling how fast and how far I fall. Being caught can be really exciting when you're prepared for it- and you've learned how to catch yourself if need be.

I don't know if any of you out there can relate. If you can, I hope reading this brings you some comfort. I hope writing it does that for me.

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ilikereadingactually · 26 days

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Something Kindred

Something Kindred by Ciera Burch

i went into this book not knowing what to expect, just because i requested the galley so long ago and had forgotten what it was about, which made everything a delightful surprise! it's queer, it's spooky, it's honest and frank, and it's so satisfyingly put together. a compelling read!

one of the highlights for me was how real and deep each character felt, even the ones who didn't actually have much time on the page--and at the same time, Jericka's limited POV was so precisely written that i shared her sense of outsider-ness. the tension between her present, moving back to a tiny town she doesn't remember, and her past there that she's just discovering, was perfectly balanced for me. and what a great combo of deeply reality-based interpersonal problems within Jericka's family, and sad and creepy emotionally-based supernatural happenings introduced by her new friend/crush Kat! i was so delighted when both of these elements started to connect, pulling together throughlines of home versus freedom, and processing trauma and grief through art.

also?? it's very hard to write honest and difficult conversations between people who have deeply hurt each other. i often find them too perfect and astute, or too trite and stereotypical. Burch has found the sweet spot, for me anyway, where each difficult conversation feels real and emotionally charged but also doesn't drag on. characters are honest about their complicated feelings, and nothing is solved perfectly, but it gets better.

(also also...i love ghost stories. i love photography in stories. i love these things together SO MUCH!)

the deets

how i read it: an e-galley from NetGalley, i am racing just ahead of all the pub dates, so many books in the spring!! also this was a fast (but satisfying) read, so i zoomed through it in an evening. looking forward to picking up a physical copy of this one!

try this if you: need more gentle queer Black girl romantic storylines (who doesn't), love multigenerational family stuff, dig haunted small towns, or are into books about loss.

some bits i really liked: so much beautiful imagery!

There are hundreds of thousands of stars in the sky, and it looks like a few dozen have fallen to earth. It takes me a moment to realize they haven't. That these are the lightning bugs she was talking about. They move in unison, flitting this way and that, forming circles of light around each other and around me and Kat. It's the most magical thing I've ever seen. Beyond them is real night. Even with the stars and the lightning bugs glowing their brightest, a person could lose themselves in this darkness. We lie down, facing the sky.

---

A picture of Gram on the couch layered over a shot of a close-up of the schoolhouse. A dull yellow flower exposed over the shadows of the woods. Mom covering up her childhood self, somehow midlaugh in both pictures, years and years apart.

pub date: April 2, 2024!

#books and reading #booklr #bookblr #book recs #book reviews #queer speculative fiction #queer ya #something kindred #ciera burch

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

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it's possible that I just haven't seen it if there is, but how is there yet to be a steddie gilmore girls au with steve and eddie as rory/jess respectively I MEAN

Steve as the kid who technically comes from money but who lives up until his teenage years without seeing any of it because his grandparents and mother are estranged; Steve who is definitely a mama's boy but who has grown up with an absent father; Steve who maybe gets into that fancy private school because of athletics but whose mom knows they're still going to need more money than what the scholarship covers if they're gonna afford uniforms and books and the commute and things

Eddie as the kid who looks like trouble, who leans into looking like trouble because if that's what people expect from him might as well give it to them; Eddie whose parents were never abusive, but just weren't ready to be parents and didn't know how to handle a kid as smart and thus willing to push the boundaries as their son; Eddie getting sent to live with his dependable and respectable, kind of a loving hard-ass of an uncle in some tiny town that's frustrating on any number of levels for a kid who's used to doing what he wants when he wants it; Eddie who is so fucking smart, but can't stand to sit through school; Eddie who will latch onto someone interesting just because they're interesting and not let go

And the tiny town where everyone is up in everyone's business??? the Ensemble Cast of it all?? the teenage romance that very much doesn't work because they both have to get their heads out of their asses and grow up a bit before they can really see where they fit together???

I'm just saying-- parallel timeline fic about the badboy and the scholarship jock fumbling around each other as teenagers vs. coming back together with all that shared history as adults thank you for understanding

#it's been many years since I watched that show but listen #steddie #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dot post

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icemankazansky · 1 year

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Being a newbie in the TG fandom is hard. There's the burnbook, the callouts blog, there're people lurking to start shits everywhere, all I want to do is to discuss characterisations and ships with someone and to post my works. And I do look up to the elders of the fandom because I think you guys are cool, I enjoy your fics and edits, I know maybe it's just the overthinker in me but sometimes it feels like the likes of me are not too entirely welcome for some weird guts feeling reasons.

I want to say first and foremost: You are entirely welcome here. I can only speak for myself and the pre-TGM Top Gun fans who I know personally (which is most of them), but we are thrilled you are here. We want to talk to you about characterizations and ships. We want to see your works! We are very excited to have new people with whom to share this fandom we love, and we are so, so fond of so many of the new people we've met already.

But I will also say: I understand how you feel. I have been in fandom for a long time, and honestly, I have never seen anything like this. Honestly, I think it's a tiny part of this fandom who are running these nasty blogs, starting these fights, and terrorizing people on their blogs and in their asks. But they're LOUD. It was a complete surprise and very upsetting when this stuff started. It was kind of like this: The Top Gun fandom was this small, old neighborhood fairly removed from major cities. We knew all our neighbors; some of us lived there for over a decade; some of us helped build the neighborhood. It was very peaceful, warm, and inviting. Then we heard they were building some big suburbs nearby, with all the things that come with it: New schools, shopping complexes, chain restaurants, automatic car washes. It was going to be a change, but we were excited to have new neighbors, and we welcomed them. They moved in, and for a while everything was nice. There were growing pains and more traffic, but there were fun, creative new people to meet, and Starbucks and big movie theaters and cupcake boutiques.

Then things began to shift. Some people in the big, shiny new suburbs began to look around this huge city they had built up all around us, and decided, "You know, this town is great, except for that old section. It's an eyesore, so rundown, dated ... it's affecting our property values, and it's the cause of everything that's wrong around here." And they didn't just whisper about it between themselves. They held town hall meetings and posted public declarations about it all over town. (It wasn't just anonymous people bitching about us on those cruel, cowardly burn book blogs. They were in the tags on their private blogs talking about how the older part of fandom was ruining everything, how there had been no good fanfiction written before TGM came out... They named us individually in hate posts. They came in our asks and left harassing comments and death threats.) And we're just sitting here in our cozy little cottages where we've lived for years, like ... you don't need to come here. You can stay in your shiny suburbs and just ignore this part of town, instead of throwing bricks through our windows and graffitiing our houses. But they don't. They haven't.

And so we've had to put bars on our windows and hire a neighborhood watch. I understand that, as a newcomer to fandom, it can be intimidating to see fandom elders making posts addressing new people in fandom and asking them to respect our neighborhood. But we're addressing a very small percentage of fandom who are actively terrorizing us, who are actively working to make this fandom a negative place. That's not you. You are welcome here. We want you here. Please post your work. Please come talk to us. We will help you find your way around if you like. We'll introduce you to our friends and good restaurants. We are happy you're here.

This is an open invitation to you and anyone who needs it, but please always feel free to send me an ask or message me privately if you feel unsure about how to make your way around this fandom, or if you just want to talk about Top Gun or anything else. Honestly, I am so happy to speak to you, and I want to help in any way I can.

Carly

#asks answered #top gun fandom problems

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californiaboytoybilly · 4 months

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HoHoHoe Week - Day Five: Up in Lights (Christmas party) Pairing: Cheerscoops / Chrissy x Steve Tags: Semi-Public Sex, Unsafe Sex, Eating Out, Creampie, Fingering, Exes-to-Lovers, Getting Back Together Ao3: Link WC: 3.3k, 1/1 Chapters

(Oops I put feelings in my porn again-)

"I didn't know you could get more beautiful."

Chrissy didn't register that she was no longer alone until a familiar voice spoke up from behind her. She spun around, surprised, cheeks already beginning to flush.

Steve.

"You don't need to say anything to that; I just-" A tiny pucker appeared between his brows, "I haven't gotten to speak to you all night. Thought you deserved to know, you look…" He breathed out a wistful sound.

Suddenly, she felt a little wrong for how devoutly she'd been trying to avoid him all night. It wasn't that she didn't want to speak to him. It was the opposite if she was being honest with herself.

Things had just been so complicated the last time they saw each other; it had seemed to be for the best.

Steve was unable to understand why she had to leave. Why she couldn't stay in Hawkins. Stuck here himself because he'd inherited a business he didn't care about but had always known he'd have to handle one day. Chrissy, unable to voice that every second she spent at home felt like it killed a little bit more of her spirit. That she loved him, but she couldn't survive this town.

She missed him these last three years. Of all places, she hadn't been expecting to see him at her father's corporate Christmas party and from the moment he'd crossed her sight, a bone-deep longing had settled into her body.

"You clean up nice yourself." She said with a small smile, trying not to succumb to old comforts and rest her head against his chest, reaching out with two fingers to straighten his tie up instead. She wasn't sure she'd seen him in clothes this formal since prom.

"I didn't know you were back." He said, glancing down at where her fingers lingered a moment too long on his chest.

Chrissy turned her gaze down to her feet. "Only for the weekend," she said quietly.

"A weekend is better than none of you at all."

Oh, that one stung a little. Steve must've seen her wince because he quickly backpedaled. "I didn't mean-"

Chrissy sighed, shaking her head. The intricate strawberry blonde curls she'd spent painstaking attention to this morning bobbed with the movement. "No, it's okay. I…”

I missed you too, she thought. She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. Would that be cruel? She'd been the one to break his heart; what right did she have to miss him?

"I'm leaving." He said, changing the topic before she could spiral about it.

Chrissy paused, confused. "What?"

"I'm leaving Hawkins. This was…" Steve scrunched his nose slightly, "I'm here because I sold the shares of my dad's company to your father. He didn't tell you…?"

"He doesn't bring you up to me." She said carefully. Steve looked a little stricken, and she wanted to rephrase, but he kept going.

"Well… that's the important part, I guess. I'm not staying here." It felt like there was something else he was trying to say, something layered under the words, but she couldn't bring herself to seek it out right now. "So I'm glad you're here. Didn’t feel right saying goodbye to this place without you there.”

Chrissy could feel herself melting. Why did this one boy have to constantly do his utmost best to be irreplaceable? The way his big hazel eyes locked on her, soft and affectionate, was her tipping point.

Steve made a noise of surprise when she moved faster than her brain could veto the decision. Soft, glossed lips pressed against his with a familiarity tinged with longing. But he was frozen and decidedly not kissing back. Oh god.

Embarrassed at her behaviour, Chrissy hurriedly pulled back with an apology on the tip of her tongue, face scarlet and eyes burning.

"Don't you dare say sorry," he said, barely taking long enough to get the words out before he apparently caught up with what had just happened and pulled her back in.

She'd forgotten what this was like. What he was like. How every single one of her senses would be filled with him when he kissed her.

His big, warm arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her close until she could feel every breath he took pushing against her chest. The same cologne he'd always worn clung pleasantly to him, dragging her back to days long gone, laying in bed together and feeling young and in love.

It was as easy to get lost in him now as it had been then.

It didn't take long for the innocent press of lips to take on a hint of desperation that only usually came to her in the dead of night when her bed was empty and her memories too vivid. But now, he was here. She didn't have to imagine what it would feel like under his touch again.

Maybe this was stupid. It probably was. The most likely way this would end was two whirlwind days of passion before she returned to her city apartment, crawled into her too-cold bed, and cried her heart out all over again. But she didn't have it in her to stop this. Not when this was everything she'd craved for three long years.

Let the gingerbread fall where it may later.

Chrissy gasped as she was picked up, her thighs meeting the cold wood of a desk mere seconds later. She shivered, toes curling in her fancy shoes as Steve stepped between her legs and leaned back in to kiss her again.

Was the air warm, or was she? Ripples of wine-coloured satin clung to her skin as he thumbed at her hips through her dress, his tongue sweet where it brushed hers with the taste of the sugary punch bowls on every table.

Chrissy slid her hands up his sides, careful not to press too lightly. She knew from experience Steve was incredibly ticklish.

She pulled his lips between her teeth, keeping it clasped as she broke the kiss and pulled his tucked shirt free of the slacks he wore. Steve's eyes scanned her face, taking in her wide, round eyes and kiss-bitten lips when she freed his own.

He groaned as she slipped her hands under his shirt, scratching her nails up and over his hips with a soft little "please?" aimed at him through her lashes.

His face was the definition of 'how could I possibly say no to that?' as he looked between her and the door, briefly leaving her alone on the desk as he moved towards the door.

She didn't so much as have time to question his actions or be disappointed before she heard the lock click, sticky sweet warmth flooding her abdomen and travelling rapidly down. Shit, this was really happening.

Steve crossed back to her side of the room, eyes dark and lips swollen in a way that made her want to bite him all over again. He, however, clearly had other plans. "Are you sure?" He asked, eye contact never wavering until she shyly nodded her head. "Please…" She repeated.

Steve kissed her again, this time slow and burning, but it didn't linger long. A soft sigh escaped her throat as another series of kisses were pressed to her ear, neck, and shoulder before he brushed the strap of her dress away.

It felt so lovely that she briefly closed her eyes, only to find that he'd slid to his knees upon reopening them.

As his mouth brushed over her thigh, Chrissy took just a second to properly acknowledge that this was the riskiest thing she'd ever done. She was at a Christmas party, about to get eaten out and fucked by her ex-boyfriend she'd once thought she'd marry on somebody's desk.

Life was really throwing her some curveballs lately.

Thinking time was over, however, as he pulled her baby blue cotton underwear off. She was a little embarrassed to have been wearing them, but in her defence, she hadn't exactly been expecting anybody to see under her dress tonight.

Still, the contrast between her slinky red elegant outfit and polka dot panties had Steve trying to bite back a smile as he- not remotely subtly- shoved them in his jacket pocket.

The sight alone made her clench tight as a throb of want shot through her core. She placed her hands behind her on the desk so she could shift her hips forward. Even the thought of what he might do with those later had something purring, and she didn't see any cats around.

"Almost forgot about the tattoo," Steve said, fingers brushing over her inner thigh. She snorted out an indelicate laugh, turning her face towards the ceiling.

It was a tiny little stamp of a tattoo, so close to her bikini line that you weren't seeing it unless she wanted you to. A little salamander silhouette pulled from a random flash tattoo machine the day of her eighteenth birthday almost six years ago now.

"You shouldn't have! You were the one who dared me to get it." She couldn't help but grin.

Steve's own smile was a little too soft to not look out of place kneeling between her thighs. It made her squirm for a variety of reasons. "Well, I stand by that dare. It's a good memory."

If he made her cry when he was supposed to be-

Almost as though he read her mind, he fell silent and spread her legs further apart. His eyes drank her in like his favourite meal had been served, and fuck, he needed to touch her or close his eyes this second before she actually died.

She impatiently rolled her hips, earning a bemused little smirk before he finally gave her what she wanted.

A soft whimper escaped her as his tongue spread her open, a pointed little flick of the tip in just the right spot making her entire body shudder. Chrissy's head dropped back, a pant of breath following. The distant thrum of Christmas music drifted through the background, and she hoped it was loud enough to keep the other partygoers in the dark because she didn't trust her ability to stay completely quiet.

His fingertips curled into her thighs where he held them, just tight enough that she hoped they would leave a bruise behind. Something to remember this by when she was alone on Monday.

A little taste of the man she wasn't entirely positive she'd ever completely move on from.

Who could blame her when he had a tongue like that?

Chrissy reached down to thread a hand through his hair, biting down on her lower lip hard to muffle herself as he shifted, the pad of his ring finger circling her entrance teasingly as he sucked hard on her clit.

She cried out softly, the sole arm holding her up shaking like it was going to give out.

The stretch of the digit pushing into her, thicker than two of her own, was accompanied by a delicious burn that had her legs shaking. He curled it like he was beckoning her, stroking at her walls, playing her body like an expert. Like he remembered everything she'd ever liked.

He just might kill her, right here on this desk. She hadn't been touched by anyone in so long, nevermind touched by him.

It took barely a minute more and the very tip of his second finger before she started to beg. "Please, Stevie. Need you in me." She slurred, feeling drunk on the fireworks currently going off inside of her.

As fucking delicious as his mouth and hands were, she needed more. She needed him.

Steve groaned into her, once again making her thighs spasm with the vibration. "You're going to kill me." He echoed her earlier thoughts. If she wasn't so desperate, she might've taken a minute to be proud of the effect she clearly still had on him.

He got to his feet fluidly as she suddenly found herself empty, only the promise of more to come keeping her from whining as she clenched around empty air.

She'd asked him to stop yet it felt like her world might end from impatience now that he had listened.

Chrissy batted his hands away from his belt as he fumbled the clasp, fingers only a little clumsy as she popped the gold button and pulled his zipper down. Her mouth watered at the sight as he fished himself out of the confines of his dress slacks. She wondered if he could still recover as fast as he had at twenty one.

If she wasn't so eager to be full of him, she might've dropped to her knees right then and there.

She watched as a conflicted expression crossed his face, then annoyance. "Shit..." He muttered, eyes darting towards the door. "I left my jacket out there. I don't have protection."

Chrissy tried to hide the way her teeth ground together at the thought of him bring protection to this party to begin with. He hadn't known she'd been here, was there some other girl who he'd been hoping to go home with?

... that wasn't fair of her. She had no right to be jealous of who he may or may not want to sleep with. Still, he was here. With her. She was his choice. If that made her preen ever so slightly, that was her own business.

"Don't need it." She said, fluttering her eyes with mock innocence as she pulled him back in between her legs with a firm grip on his tie. Steve looked like he was going to ask so she beat him to it.

"I'm on the pill. Don't need protection, I want feel all of you." She licked over her lip, waiting for his answer.

But he was a gone man.

Instead of saying anything, she watched as his chest rose and then dropped in a sharp exhale. "I don't know what I did to deserve this." He mumbled, looking briefly skyward- or... ceiling-ward? -as though in thanks to karma herself.

Messy, eager lips slotted back against her own as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against her, sliding it through her slick teasingly for barely a moment before she felt him start to push in.

Oh god.

She'd forgotten that he felt even bigger than he looked, a feat she hadn't realized was possible their first time together.

It felt like he might split her apart as she babbled something incoherent against his lips, eyes pricking with tears.

"Too much?" He sounded strained as he leaned back just barely an inch, clearly using all of his willpower to go slow. She shook her head furiously, a half sob bubbling from her lips.

"If you stop right now, I'll never forgive you." She threatened breathlessly, her eyes rolling back in her head as another inch pressed into her. Fuck!

Her dainty gold rings glinted in the low light as she lifted her hand to curl around the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together as he bottomed out. They shared quick breaths, dilated eyes meeting in the shadowed space between them.

The chemistry they'd always had definitely hadn't dissipated with time. She just may have wanted him now more than ever before.

After a moment, she relaxed enough that the last little spike of pain started to receed. "Move-" She pleaded, "I can take it."

She didn't need to ask twice, a strangled sound forcing it's way out as he pulled almost all the way out and then fucked back into her like she'd lit a fire under his feet.

"You feel so fucking good." He grunted, eyelids fluttering as set a quick pace that had her little tits bouncing with every single thrust. Chrissy felt herself go pliant, body too melty to hold herself up anymore. Reluctantly, because the intimacy of their shared sounds was something she was loathe to lose, she let go of the back of his neck to lower herself down.

The cold wood made goosebumps rise on her skin, hair hanging over the back and swinging with each jolt of her body.

Now free to wander, her hands ghosted up her silk encased sides until she reached the neckline of her dress, pulling it down just enough to roll a petal pink nipple between her fingers.

"A-ah! Fuck please, just like that, keep doing th-" Chrissy tried to keep her voice down as best she could as her abdomen tightened, every inch of her skin flushed and hot.

Steve looked about as put together as she did with his bruised mouth, mussed hair and half lidded eyes. He hadn't once taken his eyes off of her since he pushed in, making her feel like a treasure. A pretty thing to be revered, admired.

It only stoked the flames hotter.

Flames which were rapidly bringing her to the edge, so worked up from his tongue and the lead up alone that his finger was hovering on her trigger already.

It wouldn't take much more for her to fall to pieces.

He seemed to know that in the same way that he knew her body all these years later. Like she was his favourite book he'd long memorized, able to quote any scene on a whim no matter the time it had sat untouched on the shelf.

His hips snapped faster, the wet, smacking sound of their bodies meeting filling the room. She felt drool pool at the corner of her mouth, which was a little slack as an unintelligable littany of pleading poured from her without end.

"M'so close. Please, baby." She slipped, too needy to register what she'd said.

Steve's eyes flew open at the pet name, face crumpling as though he'd been wounded, thrusts out of rhythm and getting messier by the second. She knew what that meant, and she was right there with him.

"Want to feel you come inside me-" She barely managed to get out, but it did exactly what she wanted as the coil inside of her snapped and her orgasm crashed into her with a force that seemed to shake her down to her very bones.

She felt him shudder as he stilled, buried so deep inside of her as he came that her delirious mind could almost convince her she could taste him.

The only sound in the aftermath was their laboured breathing as they both came down, Steve almost folding himself in half to press his face into her stomach as he tried to get his grip back on reality.

After a moment, when some of the brain fog started to clear, Chrissy finally spoke up. "If I'm losing this again on Monday, you better be spending all day tomorrow at my hotel." She mumbled, brain still too drowned in endorphins to veto her too honest words.

But Steve had more surprises than even she could have imagined, chuckling as he slowly stood back up straight on uneasy legs.

"I mean, I told you I was leaving Hawkins." He said, making her brows furrow. "Tonight?" She asked, trying not to let the sad lump in her throat ruin the glow currently buzzing through her.

Steve shook his head. "No I mean..." He looked nervous, holding out a hand to help her sit back up to see him better.

"I'm moving to Portland. Next week, as soon as the lawyer stamps the paperwork. Already got an apartment lined up."

Portland.

Portland?

"But... wait, I live in Portland." She said, almost as though she'd forgotten before. Steve shook his head, so incredibly fondly, and reached out to brush a lock of hair back from her face.

"I know. That was the main appeal."

Chrissy's eyes widened, tears pooling at her lashline almost immediately as his words really sunk in.

For the first time all night, she realized this might not just be a stolen moment doomed to crush her heart later.

She could keep him, this time.

Maybe coming home for the holidays wasn't so bad after all.

#steve harrington #chrissy cunningham #cheerscoops #haircheer #harringham #chrissy x steve #steve x chrissy #st fic #stranger things rarepair #hohohoe23 #day five: up in lights

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