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twogyuu · 6 months

Text

not really magic

Pairing: Vernon x fem!reader

Synopsis: In which Jeonghan runs out of babysitter options, so he drops Nina off with Vernon and his girlfriend. Little do either of them know, just maybe the little girl is more capable of making them confront the questions of their future than most adults.

Genre: Fluff, mild angst, good helping of crack, established relationship, featuring ex!JJK

Warnings: Profanity, McDonald's PlayPlace

WC: ~6.3k

A/N: It's Nina from Wonwoo's Tasty Milk (and Cereal) causing chaos again! This has been in the works for a hot minute! Unedited and VERY cringe-y, cheesy, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! I'm kind of embarrassed to be publishing it tbh, but it's the most I've written in forever so I'm just publishing it and then running/hiding💀🤡 The thought that two people are mature enough to talk about these mundane things just makes me feel some type of way T^T

This wasn't inspired by any particular song, but kyungsoo's 'somebody' and sundial's 'rollercoaster' are quite fitting for this fic. Happy reading :)

. . . .

It was a well-known fact that Vernon was not very good with children.

He was not unkind or inconsiderate towards them by any means, but he simply didn’t know how to interact or communicate with them.

And to be frank, though you were a little better than him, it was only by a margin because you had younger siblings at some point (they’re now grown) and kid cousins. It has been a while since you’ve been around children in general – he’d imagine you were rusty to some end.

Consequently, it took him by surprise when Jeonghan called and you agreed to watch his four-year old daughter on Saturday while Jeonghan and his wife were at yet another wedding of their in-laws.

To be fair, however, Wonwoo and Leah were also attending, so their usual babysitter was already not an option. The backup, Mingyu and his best friend (cough, cough – situationship), were out of town attending a music festival. Seungkwan, the backup to the backup, was hosting someone’s bachelor party. The only other father of the group, Minghao, had his hands full with growing and surprisingly, wild twins. Seungcheol was an expecting parent – his wife could go into labor at any moment. The rest of the crew was only slightly less reliable than Vernon and you.

He guessed that extra one percent must count for something.

There was no doubt Jeonghan and his wife were still nervous about leaving Nina with the two of you – and rightfully so.

Vernon and you were relatively young – in age, spirit, and well, your relationship. At least from what Jeonghan could observe, the two of you were clearly not ready for kids, whether they be your own or Jeonghan’s.

Vernon was terrified and he had a feeling Mr. and Mrs. Yoon were too.

They perhaps trusted Vernon a little less than they did you because while Vernon was standing and staring down at Nina by the front door of your apartment, Jeonghan’s wife was going through a laminated sheet of instructions and tips with you in regards to caring for Nina in the next six hours. Hands on hips, Jeonghan was standing over his wife’s shoulder, offering supportive nods and stern, unhelpful ‘mhm’s’ to back her up.

“Hello,” Nina finally squeaked, peering up at Vernon.

She was definitely Jeonghan’s kid – it was in the eyes: brown, round, and innocent, but with a hint of mischief glaring in the corner of her irises.

“Hey,” Vernon greeted back casually.

“Where’s Uncle Wonwoo?” she asked. Her eyes wandered from the tall man and glossed over the unfamiliar apartment.

“Uh,” Vernon panicked and stalled in his reply.

Why the heck was she asking about Wonwoo? Vernon can’t remember already knowing his babysitter by name when he was four.

“Uncle Wonwoo has a giant teddy bear in his house!” she marveled. Her tone was quick to dip into disappointment. “But I don’t see him here.”

Vernon felt his breath grow more shallow. By the power of Boo Seungkwan, he hoped this kid wouldn’t already start crying on him.

He had to make her feel better. How do people make kids happy?

Games? They like games, right?

“Do you wanna play rock, paper, scissors?” Vernon blurted.

Nina peered up at him again, face twisting as she processed the situation and her emotions – confused, curious, and amused.

He would take it.

Vernon silently held out his fist to the girl, waiting for her to take the bait.

“What are you guys doing?” your voice floated into the vicinity, breaking the silence and awkwardness.

Nina and Vernon looked over to find you standing with Jeonghan and his wife on either side of you. Vernon noted how the way his wife was dressed in a light blue and him in a dark suit, was eerily reminiscent of an angel and devil on your shoulders.

“He asked if I wanted to play block, paper, scissors,” Nina explained quietly. She looked back nervously at Vernon.

Granted Nina had not been around Vernon and his girlfriend a lot, her uneasy behavior around Vernon did not go unnoticed by Jeonghan. Nina was smart: wary of strangers, but never shy like this. Perhaps shy wasn’t the right word, but there definitely something going on in that little head of hers. As if she was calculating and observing, trying to decipher Vernon.

You raised a curious eyebrow in the direction of your boyfriend.

“It’s rock, paper, scissors, Nini,” Jeonghan corrected his daughter softly. He skirted around you to come pick her up, a quiet grunt leaving his lips when he heaped her up into his arms. Nina curled into her dad’s chest.

“We’ll be back in a little while, baby,” Mrs. Yoon walked over to the father-daughter duo. She rubbed the little’s cheeks with the back of her finger to soothe her.

Nina lifted her head from her dad’s shoulder and whispered a little too loudly. “What if they’re not fun like Uncle Wonwoo?”

“Nina,” her mom chided.

“Dang, little girl,” you said under your breath.

Vernon bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the urge to laugh. You were blunt for better or for worse.

Jeonghan, her father a little more understanding knowing Vernon for longer, rubbed the little girl’s back. “They’ll be . . . just fine.”

. . . .

Vernon was not sure what Nina did exactly when she went over to Wonwoo’s place, but it must’ve been comparably better than what she was doing here.

Shortly after Jeonghan left, the little girl dumped out the contents of her bag and began to busy herself with the rather few activities she brought along: a coloring book and a set of markers, a hard-covered picture book with a dog on the cover, a doll, and five pieces of those giant Legos. She burned through each item pretty fast – Vernon figured you could only stack the different colored blocks in various order so many times before you got bored.

It was fortunate that Nina already had lunch before coming over and her mother had packed a simple snack of apples and peanut butter to bridge her to dinner. However, as the clock ticked closer to 6PM and the little girl was growing bored, you could also tell she was getting hangry.

Vernon had tasked you with entertaining and playing with Nina. It wasn’t fair, but he figured Nina would like you better than him. He would just observe from afar and take some notes for next time.

“Can I ask you something, Miss Y/N?” Nina wondered aloud. She brushed her doll’s hair with a small purple plastic brush.

Sitting criss-crossed across from her, you hummed and nodded. “Sure, squirt – what is it?”

You didn’t think much of it. A four-year-old’s questions can’t be that deep.

“Are you and Uncle Vernon like my mommy and daddy?” she looked up at you innocently. “And like Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Why did mommy tell me to call you ‘miss’ instead of auntie?”

You choked, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you glanced over your shoulder at Vernon. Sure enough, his eyes were lifted from his phone and boring holes through your back – not without the slightest smirk and quirk of an eyebrow. He waited patiently for your answer. The question was honest and innocent – he wasn’t sure what was so funny about it to him or embarrassing to you, but it was.

“Um, kind of,” you replied slowly.

“Huh?” she crinkled her nose.

“Uncle Vernon is, err . . . my boyfriend,” you explained, wondering if she understood the concept of stages in relationships.

“Boyfriend?” Nina repeated. “Like . . . a friend boy?”

“N-no! No, no!” you exclaimed. Now, you didn’t want to give Jeonghan’s kid the wrong idea about being friends with boys meant a romantic relationship. “N-not . . . really.”

“Then you’re like mommy and daddy?” she said more certainly this time.

“No,” you sighed, “Your mommy and daddy are married. Wonwoo and Leah are engaged – they’re going to get married. Uncle Vernon and I . . . like each other a lot but we. . . aren’t there yet.”

“Will you get married?” Nina asked innocently.

“Um,” your voice trailed off, feeling your heart race at her bluntness. That decision wasn’t entirely up to you, but how did you explain that to a four-year-old? Gosh, why did she ask such hard questions in the first place?

The fortunate thing about being four was that your attention span wasn’t very long.

Nina huffed, setting her doll onto the floor. “Miss Y/N, I’m hungry,” she rubbed her tummy. “Can we eat?”

You let out a small sigh of relief. Classic Yoon: puts you in your doom, but somehow also saves you from it.

“Sure baby,” you reply, you threw Vernon a quick look over your shoulder. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

“Um wait–” Vernon rose from his chair.

“Yay!” Nina cheered. She stood up excitedly and grabbed your hand. Despite her immense effort, not surprisingly, you don’t move much. “Does Uncle Vernon cook well? Uncle Wonwoo doesn’t, but Auntie Leah does.”

“Y/N, hold on,” Vernon jogged over and grabbed your other hand.

You paused in your stride and peered at him through your lashes. You waited patiently for him to continue. Nina looked up the same and impatiently swung your linked hands around.

“Um,” he played with your fingers quietly. His cheeks felt warm as he confessed, “We . . . I-I, um, haven’t gone grocery shopping yet.”

“Oh,” you said softly, putting the pieces together slowly. “So . . . what you’re saying is you don’t have food?”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Vernon,” you started. There was a scolding tone to it. “I told you to grab a few things before Nina came over.”

“I know, I know! I just got carried away with work and stuff,” he explained.

You pulled your hand away from him, pressing your lips into a thin line. You can’t believe he didn’t do it! You had reminded him three days in advance and all the days to follow after. Per usual, your mind spun to the future. If he could pull through for this, what did it mean for when the two of you live together?

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, Nina suddenly let out a high-pitch shrill. “Yay!”

You both startled and looked down at the little girl, confused.

“Let’s have McDonald’s for dinner,” she stated firmly.

Nina grinned wide. There was a mischievous glint in her dark brown eyes, one that was all too reminiscent of her father’s.

She was a Yoon through and through, alright.

. . . .

A quarter pounder, double cheeseburger, large fries, twenty pieces of McNuggets with one of each of the special sauces, Fanta, topped with a chocolate milk that Nina was sipping on was spread out on the two square tables you pushed together to hold all your food. This looked like it could feed a family of six, yet you were only three people. Originally, the plan was just to get Nina a Happy Meal, you and Vernon with your own individuals, but the little girl insisted on additional McNuggets and fries too – when you were in the bathroom.

You were quick to learn that Vernon had little to no immunity to the little girl. It was understandable, but you hated playing the “bad cop” and disciplining her.

“Wanna see a magic trick, Nina?” Vernon asked with his mouth full.

She grinned at him, excitedly.

Vernon’s expression mirrored her own and held up a McNugget in front of his palm. “Watch carefully.”

Nina nodded while stuffing a fry into her mouth.

There was a dramatic pause, his free hand covering then uncovering the McNugget like he was casting some sort of spell on it. You too found yourself curiously watching from the opposite end of the table, your chewing slowing.

His hand blocking the view of the McNugget, though you could clearly see his face from where you were sitting, he quickly stuffs the piece in his mouth. Vernon smiled brightly, with his mouth closed as he chewed, clapping his hands together as if he just puffed it into Dragon Land instead of his mouth.

Nonetheless, Nina being a kid and equally fond of your boyfriend, marveled excitedly.

You scoffed, shaking your head, mumbling a quiet ‘seriously’ under your breath. Vernon must have heard it though – his eyes flickered up at you momentarily while taking Nina’s hand in his own.

You reached over and adjusted Nina’s tray. “C’mon Nina, finish your apple dippers – we gotta go.”

She turns her attention away from Vernon and back to you. She stared at you with wide-eyes, mildly creepily – you knew this look. It was reminiscent of when Jeonghan knew he just pissed off his wife, but she doesn’t know yet, and he was trying to butter her up before then (it never works though).

Nina’s chubby little fingers clung tightly onto your forearm, nails digging into your skin as she jumped and whined.

“Miss Y/N, do we have to go so soon?” she asked cautiously. She craned her neck towards the PlayPlace to one side of you. “Can we stay a bit longer? If I finish my Apple Dippers?”

Now you finally understood why Nina wanted to not only eat from McDonald’s, but also in it.

“Nina,” you grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down, “There’s a reason why your mommy doesn’t let you go inside the playground.”

“PlayPlace!” she was quick to correct you.

You huffed and repeated after her, “PlayPlace. Nina – we’re not going to disobey your mommy.”

“Why?! Daddy does it all the time,” she protested.

You heard Vernon snort from the other side of the linoleum table. He was halfway through another Mcnugget, doing his best to suppress the grin forming on his face.

“Your daddy and I are not the same,” you told her. “Besides,” you wrinkle your nose, “It’s disgusting in there – feet and all.”

“Miss Y/N!” she threw her head back in a howl.

She gave you her best puppy eyes, but you didn’t budge.

As if a light bulb went off in her mind, she perked up and let go of you. Timidly, Nina circles around and approaches the other side of the table. Hands clasped behind her back, her fingers tangling with the strings that pulled her dress back, she peered up innocently at Vernon and offered him a friendly smile.

“Uncle Vernon?” she asked. Her tone was completely changed from when she was begging you just seconds earlier.

“Hm?” he hummed, oblivious as day to the little girl’s advances.

“Will you play with me?” Nina continued.

“Uh,” Vernon’s eyes flickered up to you and you simply leaned back in your seat, getting comfortable as you crossed your arms over your chest.

To be frank, taking care of Nina with Vernon did not feel like it was with Vernon. From home to here, you were the little girl’s main companion on top of making sure she was safe, hydrated, and well-fed. Vernon trailed the two of you like a lost shadow. You were annoyed at his lack of contribution, to say the least. It’s not that you didn’t like Nina and you were trying to be understanding of Vernon, but taking care of a child (and low-key him) was difficult – your sanity mattered to! You weren’t Wonowoo – you could only say and take so much about Pokemon!

Perhaps it was already too soon to be thinking about this, but it was difficult to ignore the voice at the back of your head, nagging about what this meant for you and Vernon in the future. Granted you both have only been dating for a little over a year, the question of marriage and kids were far and few. When they did arrive, it usually was in the form of a loose tease from Seungkwan about how the two of you were hopeless as parents. Vernon would just shake his head and laugh it off.

He never seemed to take this topic quite seriously. Your passing comments about cute kids at the zoo or how the Penguins of Madagascar showing was filled with children and their parents, were taken lightly, when perhaps you didn’t really want them to be.

You knew you wanted at least one kid, but did Vernon?

You needed to ask and you were aware, but you thought it was probably pretty ridiculous to bring this up already. I mean, this might not be forever, right?

A lot has already changed in this year.

A lot can change in a year.

Your internal struggles aside, you were interested to see how Vernon handled Nina on his own.

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked again, “Pretty please? I’ll eat all my apple dippers!”

“But your mom and Y/N . . .” his voice trailed off as he echoed your concern.

“It’s okay! Mommy’s not here and I have you and Miss Y/N! And there are nets and mats,” she pointed out to him.

Vernon hesitated – why was it so difficult for him to turn her down? He was an adult after all.

“I mean,” he rubbed the back of his head and looked up at you again. “I guess?”

You smirked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Maybe, out of spite, you’ll let this one go for once. Vernon can explain to Mrs. Yoon why her daughter reeks of feet and grease when they come to pick her up later tonight.

“Whoo!” Nina cheered as she ran back to her seat next to you. She started shoving the last of her apple slices in her mouth in a haste, not even caring for the caramel dip.

“Slow down, Nina,” you warned.

“Uncle Vernon is the coolest!” she shouted instead. She grinned happily with pieces of apple stuck in her teeth, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

. . . .

It was an instant regret for Vernon.

Currently, he was trapped in one of the blue plastic cube bridge pieces at the very top. He was far too grown for the PlayPlace and could not bulldoze through it like Nina. While the little girl easily maneuvered her way around the maze, Vernon could hardly crawl through it. He tried to curl into a small ball and waddle through, but that wasn’t helpful either. The extra creaking with each step was also not very reassuring. The only nice thing was that there weren’t other children in the PlayPlace right now; no douchey eight-year-old to hurry the fuck up.

“Uncle Vernon, come on!”

But, there was Nina.

Her head popped into view, the netting separating him and her. “You’re so slow! We have to climb through all of this before Miss Y/N tells us to go!”

Vernon shifted uncomfortably, feeling his neck tighten from the cramped position he was in. “Maybe we should go,” he tried.

“Nope, nope!” Nina shook her head furiously. “We’re already inside! There’s a slide at the end.” She curled her fingers through the netting and jumped excitedly. “We can go down and run back in before she sees us.”

Vernon followed her nervous gaze towards you down on the floor. You’re seated at the same table the three of you were just eating at, scrolling through your phone. Despite your calm expression, Vernon could definitely tell, something wasn’t sitting right with you.

“Let’s go!” Nina shouted.

“Nina, wait–”

However, the little girl was already crawling down the narrow corridor at the speed of a lab mouse trained to recognize a maze.

Vernon sighed, sparing you one last glance before he continued. You’re watching him this time though. It was comical the way the contraption creaked again and the corner of your lips tweaked up as if to mock him.

He looked away and followed in the general direction Nina had headed. He really shouldn’t be in here – what if one of the screws were loose and all just collapsed with one misstep?

Vernon felt guilty for thinking such thoughts knowing Jeonghan’s daughter was in here with him right now. He had to keep her safe! He can’t be manifesting these disasters. Turning the corner towards a light, Vernon decided that the goal would to slide out of here with Nina and not go in. Maybe, he could say it was because he would get in trouble with you or something.

“Boo!”

“Agh! What the fuck!” Vernon shouted. He tumbled towards an opening, hand resting on his chest. Searching his surroundings, he found Nina beside him, giggling.

“Language!” he heard you shout in the distance.

“Fuck!” Nina repeated. She hid a chuckle behind her hand.

“Don’t say that, Nina,” Vernon scolds her breathlessly.

“But why?” she asked. “You did – do people say it when they’re scared? Fuck!”

“Oh my god – Nina, stop,” he shook his head anxiously. “Th-that’s only a word, adults are allowed to say, okay? If you say it in front of Miss Y/N or your parents, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

“I can say it with you though, right, Uncle Vernon?” she whispered. “Fuck!”

“No, you cannot,” Vernon stated sternly. He looked at the opening. This must be the slide. He pointed to it and told the little girl, “Let’s go down, okay? I’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Aw,” Nina whined, “Already?”

There was another groan from the equipment – louder this time. He cannot stay here much longer.

“Yes,” Vernon nudged her towards the opening. “You first, I’ll be right behind you.”

“Fine,” she pouted. Her short arms hang onto the top rim, swinging back and forth to build momentum before launching herself down. “Whee!”

When Vernon heard her land on the other side, he stuck his legs, one by one, into the tube and tried to push himself down.

Key word – tried.

He got stuck after sliding probably two feet. Vernon groaned and threw his head back. “Seriously?”

“Uncle Vernon?” Nina’s voice echoed through the slide. “Are you coming?”

“Y-yeah,” he used the heel of his Converse to nudge himself a little further. “Just stuck.”

“Oh no!” Nina cried. He heard her step into the slide again. “Should I come help you?”

“No, no, no!” Vernon exclaimed desperately, “Go back to Y/N – I’ll be out soon. Promise.”

The last thing he wanted to happen was for Nina to be crawling up and he suddenly crashed into her.

“Okay.”

He let out a small breath of relief when he heard a soft landing of her shoes on the foam carpeting. Vernon inches down slowly, finally gaining some traction. He started to speed up with the combination of pushing with his hand, pulling himself forward, and static. When he saw the clearing, relief washed over him.

However, as luck would have it, of course, he’s too damn tall for the opening. Vernon was cramped at the opening, knees tucked and arms squeezed between his body and the plastic. His neck was craned to the right – he could hardly look up at you and Nina who were hand-in-hand watching him.

“Um,” he smiled sheepishly, “Help?”

Nina was a little faster than you, rushing over to his aid. Her added weight as she climbed onto the landing must’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back because Vernon heard a sickening crack and his arm suddenly felt a little looser and freer.

Well, fuck.

. . . .

“Y/N!”

You were bent over, hastily adjusting Nina’s sweater before the three of you left McDonald’s. You were irritable after quite literally breaking Vernon free from the PlayPlace slide. It was embarrassing to have to explain to the teen McDonald’s employee that your boyfriend created a crack in the slide, when there was a sign that quite literally said no one older than eight years-old was allowed to enter the contraption.

When you look up, your eyes immediately widen as you’re greeted with the sight of your ex, Jungkook.

His hair was a little longer now, and permed, the tips of his bangs hanging over his bright doe eyes. His fashion didn’t seem to change – still sporting the simple jeans and baggy t-shirts; a plaid flannel was tied to waist. What took you aback, when perhaps it shouldn’t have, was the petite girl in a white sundress who wrapped her hand tightly around Jungkook’s arm when she saw you.

All thoughts of Nina, who was standing between you and Vernon, fled your mind. You stiffened, unsure of how to respond and what to say, other than a strained ‘hi.’

It wasn’t that Jungkook has a sore spot in your memory – in fact, your breakup was mutual and as good as anyone could ask it to be. After four years of dating since high school, you realized you both grew into different people, and therefore, apart in college. It was a mutual loss of feelings for one another, a mutual agreement that you should go your separate ways. Of course, you were sad for a short bit, but nothing of a heartache.

Nonetheless, there was a part of you that wished he didn’t see you when you were upset with your current partner. Jungkook probably did not have those sort of malicious thoughts, like ‘didn’t know how good she had it with me,’ and it was most certainly all in your head.

Or perhaps it was you? You wanted to show him you were doing well, but you couldn’t fake it at this moment.

All in all, the reappearance of your ex, only made you feel more insecure for some reason. Maybe Vernon wasn’t the right person for you even if deep down you wanted him to be. You knew your break up with Vernon would be much worse than the one with Jungkook.

“Nice to see you again,” Jungkook tried. His eyes flickered to Vernon – they weren’t close, but they knew each other peripherally from mutual friends. Jungkook quickly added, “The both of you.”

“Likewise,” Vernon piped up in a neutral tone.

“Um,” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, looking from Vernon to you and back. Momentarily, he glossed over Nina, an idea of the situation clearly forming in his head. “Are the two of you . . .?” his voice trailed off.

It must’ve come as a surprise to see you and Vernon together like this for neither of you were close in university. This relationship was almost a surprise to you and Vernon, yourselves. You couldn’t blame Jungkook for being puzzled.

At this, Vernon reached for your hand and cleared his throat. He gave you a firm squeeze, resting his free hand on Nina’s shoulder. To be frank, Vernon didn't care what idea exactly Jungkook was getting – the point was, you were together. Boyfriend-girlfriend, husband-wife, father-mother. Jungkook could think Nina was somehow your kid and he wouldn’t mind.

“We are," Vernon finally answered firmly.

You turned to your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh,” Jungkook said softly. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“Thanks, I am too,” he looked back at you nonchalantly before nodding in Jungkook’s direction. “On that note, we should be on our way.” He ushered Nina towards the door. “Enjoy your meal.”

. . . .

When the three of you returned to your apartment, you started preparing Nina for bed. It was clear to Vernon that something was bothering you – you were quiet for the rest of the evening, diving head first in taking care of Nina. And to be honest, something bothered Vernon too since encountering Jungkook.

Vernon did not envy others, nor did he claim to be perfect. It wasn’t that he was jealous of Jungkook and the unknown, presumably happy past that you had with him. What happened, happened and you were with Vernon now. He’d like to think you were satisfied with this relationship just as much as him. Nothing would change that. Vernon was content with who he was, who he had become, and who he was next to you. Nonetheless, Vernon was only human – insecurities were inevitable despite his best efforts.

He knew this turbulence making him solemn was irrational. You had not given him a reason to doubt you and he never did to begin with. Despite knowing this, it didn’t make this feeling any less real.

Did you regret breaking up with Jungkook? Was Jungkook a better boyfriend than Vernon?

From what Vernon has heard through the grapevine, Jungkook happened to be every girl’s dream in university. Good-looking and adventurous, yet still respectful and caring.

Vernon thought he looked alright, but his style was unconventional. He liked to take the city bus around at night if that counts as being adventurous?

For fucks sake, Vernon was no Jeon Jungkook. Vernon was in fact just stuck in a slide today.

Though he knew it was unproductive to ponder these things, it was what kept him preoccupied as he put Nina to bed.

“You should kiss Miss Y/N,” Nina stated randomly.

Vernon furrowed his brows at the little girl.

“She looks sad and you do too,” Nina explained. She laid her small hand over Vernon’s. “That’s what daddy does when mommy is sad.”

“I think it’s time for you to go to sleep,” Vernon sighed, pulling the blanket up to cover her chest.

“Do you love Miss Y/N, Uncle Vernon?” Nina asked.

God, the gall of kids – always asking the hardest, but most important questions obliviously.

“Miss Y/N said earlier that you’re her boyfriend,” Nina continued. She kicked her feet under the covers. “Do you have to love each other to be boyfriends? Kind of like mommy and daddy are mommy and daddy because they love each other? Or Uncle Wonwoo and Auntie Leah? Miss Y/N didn’t tell me earlier when I asked about getting married.”

Did he love you? Did he want to marry you?

Vernon hesitated to answer and to be frank, he hated that he was. However, it wasn’t because he didn’t – these questions of the future were just overwhelming and he enjoyed what you had now. Alas, if things were to progress, he’d have to have answers to them soon.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know, kid,” Vernon mumbled. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Nina.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, turning and making his way to the door.

“You should still kiss her, Uncle Vernon!” Nina whispered in the dark. “Good night!”

. . . .

When Vernon exited your bedroom where Nina was residing for the rest of the evening, he found you sitting on the kitchen counter. Your head is hung, eyes swarmed with questions like his own. Your legs swing back and forth, gently knocking against the cupboards. There’s an open bag of Cheeze-Its sitting next to you.

Vernon walked over, quietly and cautiously. He knew you knew he was present, but didn’t acknowledge him. Tenderly, Vernon reached for your hand, loosely weaving his fingers in between your own. Eyes slowly rising to look at you, he mindlessly ran thumb along the side of your hand. He offered you a wistful smile as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his other hand. His touch lingered across your cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked softly.

You paused for a moment, eyes flickering up to the ceiling before falling to your lap again. You let out a heavy breath. Your heart swelled, appreciating how he always made these kinds of moments feel a little easier.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“For what?” Vernon asked despite having a pretty good idea of what you were referring to.

“What happened at McDonald’s, running into Jungkook,” you explained, “Today.”

He hummed in understanding. “What about today, exactly?”

It was hard to hold your gaze – it was scary, but he knew he had to. He tried his best to put on an encouraging expression, knowing that this conversation, and further, this relationship would not go anywhere if neither of you were present, physically and mentally, and trying to avoid it.

Only the ticking of the wall clock filled the room, deafeningly so. It was slowly drowned out by the sound of blood starting to rush in his ears, tension growing thick with each passing second.

Your voice barely above a whisper, you took a shaky breath and confessed, “I like you a lot, Chwe . . . and,” you inhaled sharply, squeezing his hand. “That terrifies me.” You swallowed harshly, “Because what if you don’t feel the same? Or we want different things? I think I’d be . . .heartbroken.” A melancholic chuckle left your lips and you shook your head. “That's why sometimes, I feel like I treat you like such - we get too close and I push you away.”

The fear in losing him was evident in the terror that etched its way in between the space of your brows. Vernon was sympathetic; simultaneously, his heart swelled like a balloon rapidly being filled with water to the rim, threatening to burst at one final drop. The adrenaline that rushed through his veins felt like that of being confessed to by a middle school crush behind the bleachers of the soccer field, except, well, you and him were already together.

“I was worried there for a second,” Vernon stated truthfully.

Your eyes whipped up.

He played with your fingers. “I thought you were regretting dating me for a sec.”

“Oh?” you said softly.

“I was kind of not the best boyfriend today either and then we saw Jungkook and I thought maybe you felt differently about me,” he explained.

“Vernon, no!” your hands reached up to cup his face.

“I mean, can you blame me?” he chuckled half-heartedly, “I got stuck in a slide when you told us not to go.”

“I think today,” started slowly, “Made the both of us think a lot about us and what the future holds.”

“So, it wasn’t just me,” Vernon acknowledged quietly. He thought to himself momentarily before continuing. “What do you want?” You stared at him owlishly, your desires on the tip of your tongue, but fearful to share them with him. “We can’t move past this if we don’t talk about it.”

When you still didn't reply, Vernon offered, “I can tell you what I want?”

You nodded once.

“I think dating you for a few more years sounds okay,” he started, staring off to the side. He nodded, better affirming his words.

He paused, making you grow anxious – does that mean he planning on breaking up with you?

“And then, maybe . . . being married sounds nice too – nice is an understatement,” the words felt unfamiliar as they fell from his lips, but he kind of liked it. “It seems far away, but I’d really love that.”

This was something he hadn’t told anyone before because he never felt quite the same with them as he did with you. It wasn’t just easy and comfortable being with you – it was something more. It was in hard moments like this, where these conversations were difficult, but you both still managed. It was in lighter moments, where he could enjoy your company and feel relaxed. It was everything in between.

Call him corny, but maybe the word ‘love’ can’t encompass it all that he felt for you.

His face stretched into a grin when you chortle and shake your head. Playfully, you push him away, but Vernon was quick to catch onto your wrists. “You did really well with Nina today.”

“I think she liked you more than me,” you mumbled.

“What do you think of Nina?” he asked.

“She’s Jeonghan’s daughter, alright,” you joked.

“She did suggest I kiss you tonight,” Vernon remarked, remembering his chat with the little girl before this.

“Well,” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Do you . . . want to?”

Vernon answered by leaning in, lightly pressing his lips against yours. It’s fleeting, but still filled with the same sincerity as every other passionate kiss you’ve shared before.

“If you want kids though, I’m not sure I’m ready for them yet,” Vernon said when you pulled away.

“Oh with how you broke that slide, that’s certain,” you joked.

“Does that mean you do?”

“A family? With you?” you wrinkled your nose playfully. “Nonsense.”

He knew that look – when you don’t really mean what you say, but rather the opposite. Despite all the angst prior, this conversation was surprisingly easy to have. Maybe that was the lesson to be learned: not perfection, but just doing.

Vernon chuckled, about to lean for another kiss when suddenly Nina’s familiar shrill shattered the moment. He jumped away from you as if you were delinquents caught by your mothers making out in the kitchen.

“Mommy said we shouldn’t sit there like that!” she squealed, her fingers pointing at you on the counter.

"Nina, you're supposed to be sleeping," you scold.

“We shouldn’t sit there like that though,” Vernon acknowledged. He walked over and helped you down, not without pulling you into his side though. You’re a little stunned with him being so affectionate suddenly – not that he never was, but he usually showed it in other ways, smaller gestures like the kiss he’s pressing into your temple now.

Nina eyes the both of you curiously, the situation being pieced together slowly in her tiny head. It was visible when she put it all together, her eyes lit up.

“Are guys getting married now!?”

Or not.

. . . .

Epilogue

“Hey dad,” Nina tapped Jeonghan’s forearm. Pushing a piece of kimchi between his lips, he hummed softly and glanced over at his daughter. “Do you want to see a magic trick? Uncle Vernon taught me.”

When did Vernon start learning magic tricks?

“Sure,” he nodded, curious to see what his friend taught his daughter.

With her training chopsticks with Ryan Bear on one end, she holds up a slice of pork in front of her hand. Shielding it with her other hand, she stuffed the piece of meat quickly in her mouth and shouted, “Ta-da!”

Jeonghan swallowed his food harshly and narrowed his eyes at his daughter. “Squirt – what?”

“Did you like it?” she grinned happily, returning to her food.

“You j-just . . . ate your pork though?” Jeonghan stated.

“Mhm! Magic!” Nina chirped. She giggled happily and took Jeonghan by surprise by shouting, "Fuck!"

Jeonghan nearly spat his water out, the profanity ringing in his ears. "Who taught you that word!?"

"Uncle Vernon too!" she kicked her feet happily.

Jeonghan ran a hand over his face and mumbled under his breath, “Oh dear - Yoon Nina, in this household, we do not use that kind of language do you hear?"

Nina's joy simmered down and she shrank back, nodding understandably. She knew when her dad used that voice, she shouldn't push her boundaries further.

His wife popped her head into the room upon hearing his brewing.

Jeonghan sighed exasperatedly and turned to his wife, "I think we should stop hiring my friend’s as Nina’s babysitters.”

#vernon x reader #vernon fluff #vernon angst #vernon scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst

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mavrintarou · 1 month

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[1:52 PM] Sakusa Kiyoomi

I'm a day late - but I wasn't satisfied with all my drafts. Happy belated birthday to this cutie!

Warning: funny misunderstanding & smut (18+)

Kiyoomi watched Y/n dance her heart out with Alice, his twelve-year-old niece on the dance floor to one of their favorite KPOP songs. Alice was born a dancer and at an early toddler age, was inspired by KPOP and has been in dance classes and competing since she was five. The moment he told Alice that his girlfriend was a professional dancer, she challenged Y/n to a dance-off, not believing her uncle or Y/n.

Of course, Y/n proved to Alice, earning her respect and honor. They became best friends after that with Y/n taking Alice as her disciple.

When Kiyoomi had first met Y/n and as they exchanged information about themselves, he couldn’t picture the sweet girl in front of him to be an ex-professional dancer. It wasn’t that he did not believe her, it was just that he did not peg her as a dancer.

On their first date, she wore a knee-length skirt with a white button-up shirt tucked tidily with an oversized cardigan over and some brown scuffed loafers. She looked like the kind of girl who would spend her entire day in a coffee shop in Paris.

Not the girl who knew the choreography to BTS’ songs or just about any KPOP song he had randomly suggested, she knew the dance moves or could learn it within an hour.

Y/n refused to show him any videos and he couldn’t find any either when he searched for her.

He began to beg her to show him some moves when they were alone one night.

“Please,” he looked up at her with soft begging eyes.

She inhaled sharply before standing up, whipping off her cardigan, and walking over to his small portable Bluetooth speaker. Her back was to him as she paired her phone to the device and Kiyoomi’s living room boomed with upbeat music that he often heard at the club.

Y/n turned around and stalked towards him.

Kiyoomi swallowed, sitting up straight, and watched with attentive eyes. His jaw slightly dropped as Y/n stepped in front of him with her back towards him and slowly lowered herself down until she seated on his lap and began rocking her ass against his crotch.

God, she was giving him a lap dance.

She reached for his hands and placed them on her waist before guiding them up to her breasts. Her hips moved with the beat of the music, making him feel every bit of her.

Y/n leaned forward and rocked along the length of his thighs before shaking her ass before him.

“Oh, fuck… Y/n…” he was at a loss for words.

She turned around and straddled his lap before reaching for her shirt and tugging it off. She reached for his hands again and slid them inside her sports bra, his palm pressed against her warm soft tits.

“Y/n,” Kiyoomi gasped, looking at her with dark eyes. “Shit… I need you… kiss me please…” He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

Y/n met his eager lips, moaning softly. Her fingers reached his waistband and he lift his hips so she could tug his joggers down enough to free his hardened cock. Her hands clasped around his cock, squeezing and stroking him.

Kiyoomi pulled his hands away from her tits to pull down her yoga pants.

Pushing away from him, Y/n stands up to kick off her garments before sitting back down on his lap, now grinding skin on skin.

Kiyoomi’s thighs tremble pathetically as if this is their intimate session.

After what seemed like an eternity, Y/n lifted her ass and reached for his cock, aligning it with her pussy before settling down.

Her soft moan was enough for him to cum. With her warm pussy wrapped around his cock, he became a puddle of mush at her hands.

His fingers dug into her hips, begging for her to move yet at the same time, holding her still as he wanted to savor the euphoric feeling of her. Y/n has recently gone on birth control, giving them the freedom to have condom-less sex. Giving Kiyoomi the freedom to cum inside her.

Rocking her hips slowly, Y/n turned to look over her shoulder. “Faster? Or slower?”

Kiyoomi could hardly control his breath, let alone his mind. He wanted both but couldn’t find his voice.

“Okay then, I’ll just take the lead…” Y/n’s voice is teasing. She continued to rock and roll her hips to the sound of the music, which had become deaf to Kiyoomi’s ears. His eyes are locked and concentrated on how Y/n was bouncing on his cock.

His eyes shut and a low grunt vibrates from his throat. He was close but he wanted them to cum together.

Kiyoomi’s grip on her waist tightened as he still her movement so he could take control. He pumped into her pussy, thrusting hard and fast.

Y/n lost her balance and fell backwards, landing her weight on him but Kiyoomi didn’t mind. He easily lifted her to continue to keep pounding into her pussy, his right hand hiked her right leg higher while his left hand found her clit, rubbing it fast.

“Omi!”

Growling, Kiyoomi restrained himself until Y/n came first and he second. Her walls fluttered around his cock, squeezing and milking him.

Setting her leg down, he wrapped his arms around her, locking her to him as he breathed in her scent.

Everyone has a past they don’t speak of. Not Kiyoomi, but he thinks he can understand why Y/n refused to allow him to see any videos of her dancing. He struggled to comprehend the idea of witnessing her dance so intimately with another man, other than himself.

If it were any other woman, he doubted he would overlook her past or former career.

Yet, he discovered himself forgiving Y/n and still desiring her, despite her past as an exotic dancer.

But he needed to talk to her about it, it was eating him up.

After two weeks of contemplating how he would broach the subject, he eventually sat down with Y/n one evening.

“I need to get this off my chest,” Kiyoomi kept his eyes on her, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable at all. At the very least, she looked at him confused yet patiently waiting for him to continue. “I want to be transparent and tell you that I can look past your exotic dancing career but I don’t ever want you to return to that kind of –“

“What? Hold on, Omi…”

“No, please let me finish,” he silenced her, reaching for her hands and holding them. “I have never felt so assured about someone until I met you and now I understand when people say that the moment you meet your person, you are willing to do everything for them. I am willing to do anything for you, but all I ask is for you to never return to that kind of job again. I will do my best financially support you and if there is anything else… aside from exotic dancing… I will fully support you.” He exhaled deeply, looking deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Y/n.”

Y/n’s eyes shimmered before she tightly shut them, then let out a brief giggle before erupting into laughter.

She lunged herself at him, hugging him. “Oh, my Omi… I love you too.” She felt him relax, his arms wrapping around her. Y/n leaned back and cupped his face, “but you are so silly, Omi. And I think I just loved you even more.”

Kiyoomi didn’t receive her message, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that she loved him.

“I’m not an exotic dancer at all,” she clarified, giggling as her shoulders trembled. “I’m a professional dancer, but not an exotic dancer in the slightest. What gave you that impression?”

His expression shifted instantly as he grasped her message. “Wait, you’re not an exotic dancer?”

Y/n shook her head.

“But you gave me – you gave me a lap dance…”

The room filled with only Y/n’s laughter. “Oh Omi, you asked me to show you some moves and that’s why I gave you a lap dance, not that I’m an exotic dancer.” She threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him. “You’re so funny! Is that why you have been pouty all week?” She leaned back to look at his face.

His brows knitted, “you noticed?”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose and lips. “Of course, I wanted you to be comfortable to talk to me.”

His hands rest loosely around her waist. “Those moves were incredible, I’ve never had a lap dance before and afterwards all I could think about was that… you were an exotic dancer and that’s why you didn’t want me to see your videos.”

Y/n grabbed her phone and searched for something before turning her screen sideways.

For the next ten minutes, she showed him various videos of her competition and Kiyoomi was awed, shocked that the woman in the video dancing amazingly was the same on his lap.

Kiyoomi leaned back against the couch and covered his eyes, embarrassed. “I can’t – I can’t believe I thought you were an exotic dancer...” he looked at her, “so… have you given anyone else a lap dance before?”

Leaning against his chest, Y/n shook her head, “nope, you were the first.’

“And last? And only?”

“Last and only,” Y/n assured, kissing his pretty lips.

. . .

E/n: Kiyoomi in love is something else.

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa fluff #sakusa smut #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x y/n #sakusa imagines #haikyuu x y/n

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glitchtricks94 · 2 years

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TWST Guys Bringing You Home!: Heartslabyul Edition

Welcome to part one, I'm planning on writing all the dorms + Idia. Ortho will just be included with him, personally, since Ortho is too adorable to ever defile in any manner outside of being a cute little brother. Headcannons, headcannons, headcannons! Let's start this off with some cottoncandy fluff, shall we? Not gonna lie, I felt like a mom gushing about all her chaos children over tea writing this. I hope you enjoy these headcannons, and let me know your thoughts. I love interaction and would love to hold a conversation with you guys. Anyways, sit back, relax and have fun. -Glitchtricks Word count: 4k

Ace Trappola

Oh, this is such a delight to see. Little Ace is in love! Ace is super awkward and very defensive, and yet somehow little ol' you broke down all those walls of arrogance and faux confidence, such a special darling you are. So, how would he be if he decided to bring you home to meet his family?

Two words: Nervous. Wreck. Ace is a disaster before bringing you home to meet his brother and father; he's sweating, internally screaming, his anxiety is spiked, and you have to handle everything with your usual grace. Ace has some bad anxiety, which he confided that he coped with it by being all snarky with everyone, i.e. being a dick way too often. You didn't mind though, but you did gently encourage him to come to you if he felt too overwhelmed by everything, just in case he needed to vent. How sweet! There was a lot of texting back and forth, nights cuddling on your near dinosaur era furnishings of Ramshackle, and plenty of kisses on his temples, Ace had calmed down enough to not feel like an anchor was being dropped on his chest at the thought of bringing you home. He was ready to announce you as his to his family!

Oh dear, sweet Seven, he couldn't have predicted any of what happened... First, his brother decided to do the worst thing ever and brought up Ace's old view on dating and how his first girlfriend got ghosted. Ace wanted to die then and there, even being collared by Riddle was more tolerable than this hell... "Hey, (Y/N), you know my baby bro here had a gal before you, right?" "Oh? He did?" You said, your pretty eyes widening. "He's never mentioned her before..." "Dude, please, don't...!" Ace quietly pleaded, humiliation seeping in like a cold rain. "Yeah, he went out a few times with this one girl in middle school. She'd always go to amusement parks with him and stuff, topping it off with a Ferris wheel, but he ghosted her." Ace's brother continued, sipping on his tea. "And why's that?" You prodded, sipping your own tea as you shot a small glare at your boyfriend. You shared stories of your exes, but why didn't he? Did he not trust you? You didn't know whether you should feel hurt, or pissed. You chose to feel pissed. "Got bored, 'cording to him, she was just bland beyond her coffee tastes and liked a lot of stuff that just didn't click with him. She was pretty, but had as much depth as a piece of paper." The elder Trappola explained. "Her friends called him out for his shit, and he swore off dating, too much of a hassle in his opinion, so I'm surprised he decided to go out with you, much less bring you home." "I see." You hummed. Ace knew he was in the dog house and was now preparing to ask Sam if he sold flowers and romance stuff to try and make it up to you when you both got back to Night Raven.

Well, at least pop likes you! Can't wait to have you as an in-law! During dinner, Ace's dad smiled and chatted all about his boys, saying how proud he was of Ace for bringing home such a sweetheart like you! You ended up forgetting the upsetting conversation from earlier given how jovial Mr. Trappola was, he was like that one cool uncle that was trusted with looking after the baby, or that one cool barbeque dad your friends might have. Card tricks were shared, food was eaten and conversation was exchanged, if at a little of your boyfriend's expense. Funny stories were shared, like that one time he accidentally hit his brother in the groin with a bat as a kid when he came home for the holidays, or that time Ace got pranked by his dad with a classic; pouring soap on his head while he was rinsing out his own lather. "My hair was never as silky as it was after that." Ace laughed, starting to loosen up as he threw his arm around your shoulder. You leaned over and pecked his cheek, making both your faces bloom red as you both grinned happily. Overall, you're basically already known as the best in-law ever even before Ace put a ring on it. He's already planning how to ask a few years down the line, though~!

Deuce Spade

Another cute boy, who's mildly awkward when in love. Oh, how sweet! He took a lot of time learning how to properly approach you. didn't he? Deuce is beaming with pride having you on his arm, smiling that cute little boy smile he shows off when he's excited. He loves holding your hand in his as you stroll about the rose gardens of Heartslabyul. You knew he was close to his mom, having ditched his old delinquent days after hearing her crying on the phone to his grandmother, and he often talked about you to her, sometimes while you were sitting right there! Oh, how your cheeks reddened hearing him spout compliments about you to his mother. Both you and Deuce were arranging to meet his mom and grandma, in fact Deuce wanted to introduce you as soon as possible! You're one of the most important people in his life, so he wanted to share you with his familial circle asap. So, how does this all go?

Oh, honey, grandma practically fell in love with you on first sight. You met Deuce's grandma and mom at the same time, the two sitting at the dining room table in Ms. Spade's home, sipping away on their tea. It was a little awkward with Ms. Spade, but granny practically pounced on you when Deuce said you were his significant other. She was just smiling up at you, going on about how much of a cutie you were the whole while. It was quite nice, talking over tea, Deuce smiling happily as he had an arm respectfully wrapped around your waist. Needless to say, mom relaxed a bit seeing how her mother was reacting alongside her baby boy.

Deuce didn't know why he didn't expect the baby pictures to be brought out... Baby books, baby books and more baby books. You were surprised by the sheer amount that Deuce's mother loved to do scrapbooking, it was like there was a mountain of baby books from when your sweet card soldier was growing up! There had to be about six books sitting on the coffee table. Everyone had gathered into the living room after tea, Ms. Spade excitedly flitting about the place like a child on sugar, gathering all these books to stack, Deuce slowly turning red seeing his old baby books being yanked out again. You sat next to Deuce, holding his hand with your fingers interlaced. "Here's when Deuce was two, he always played with his food, he was such a messy baby!" Ms. Spade gushed, showing off a picture of baby Deuce smiling up at the camera; baby food was smeared all over his smiling face, his hands caked in the stuff and the bowl on his little head, his pretty jade colored orbs shimmering with joy. "His little smile is infectious!" You chirped, smiling warmly at the picture of your darling boyfriend. Deuce buried his head in your hair, hiding from his embarrassment.

Deuce felt like melting into your embrace at this point. You made his night. After a fun dinner filled with embarrassing stories from when Deuce was young, warm hearty laughter and sweet gazes exchanged with your boyfriend, the two of you settled into bed, you sneaking out of the guest room grandma insisted you stay in to steal some kisses and snuggles. You settled into Deuce's arms as he kissed your rosy cheeks, tangling your legs with his under the covers. Looking into his eyes, you've never seen him look so happy since he got an 86 on his history exam. "I love you so much, baby." Deuce whispered sweetly, your heart fluttering in your chest. "I love you too, honey." You replied, your own voice laced with the sugar of your love for the jade eyed boy. "I wanna say thanks for coming with me to meet my mom and grandmother, it meant a lot to me." "Deucey, it's no trouble!" You chirped softly, smiling up at your lover. "I'm just happy they like me." "They love you, you fit perfectly into the family!" Deuce laughed, his shoulders shaking. "It's honestly a relief that you get along, I was scared things would go wrong. But, I guess I panicked for nothing." The navy haired first year continued, turning to gaze at you with so, so much love. "You're perfect after all." Deuce was gonna be the death of you, he was always so sweet. You could mark this day as a sweet, sweet success: Your boyfriend was happy, grandma loves you, mom thinks you're perfect for her son, and everything felt like utter bliss. So, without saying another word, you sealed your night with Deuce with a kiss...~

Cater Diamond

Cater being in love honestly isn't surprising; being in love is such brand booster! Cute Magicam couples? Yes please! Being real though, Cater's honestly a major handful for you, because under that cheery "Caycay is gonna slayslay" vibe that the 3rd year carries, he's honestly a complete wreck and is terrified that you'll get tired of his anticks. Shocking how he and Azul aren't besties in that regard. However, he had no need to fear! The marvelous S/O was here to save the day: Cuddles, kisses, spicy ramen and at home spa treatments were being rapid fired from your heart to claim Cater's love and destroy his anxiety! So, with the day saved, you and your lovely boyfriend could be free to talk about a tough topic; when are you gonna meet his family? Cater ended up laughing at your question and told you to start packing your bag, he's going to talk Crowley into letting you have a weekend getaway! Even if he disliked his sisters!

Already he was regretting life... Cater's sisters immediately burst out to greet their baby brother after his mom called, and the first thing they do? Tell you that your shirt is super not cute and Cater should go buy you another one. "It's what a good boyfriend would do!" The eldest sister said, folding her arms over her chest. "Yeah! It's what our boyfriends did!" His other sister chimed in. Cater was here less than five seconds and already he felt like blowing a gasket... "But this is my favorite shirt. That I bought myself." You said, crossing your arms over your chest. "You don't get to tell me what to wear, so shush." "Way to stand up for yourself, honey bunny~!" Cater chirped, smiling at you as he led you inside with an arm around your waist. The ginger boy swore he fell even harder than when he first started dating you in that moment.

Cater was internally screaming at how his sisters acted and just wanted to go home. Oh, and mom didn't really like you, so there's that. The room was a bit tense as you sat and shared tea and some lightly burned pastries made by Cater's sisters. Cater himself was suffering the overly sweet baked goods and planned to just spend the after noon there. "So, how did you and my son meet?" Mrs. Diamond asked, eying you with a sharpened gaze. "Oh, I met him at Night Raven. My friend had gotten into a predicament and I ran into him while he was painting his dorm's roses!" You explained, a warm smile coming to your face as your boyfriend started to blush softly. "He was so cute and charming, still is, honestly." "Awww, babes, stop!" Cater giggled, nuzzling your cheek against his, making you laugh in turn. "I see." His mother huffed. The rest of the time was awkward to say the least.

You could tell your boyfriend could finally breathe after you left the house. Dad wasn't around that day, bit too busy with his banking job, so you didn't get to meet him; not that you really cared, Cater's sisters ruined a good chunk of the afternoon and made your poor honey work himself to the bone! Cater dropped the cheap, fake smile on his face when you both made it out of the house, his anger flaring up as he started muttering various rants under his breath. "Caycay, do you wanna get some lunch? There's a nice ramen place we could go to." You gently suggested, wanting to make your sweetheart feel better and ease his stresses. "It's that reaaally nice one you saw on Magicam the other day. The one that Vil praised" "That...That sounds wonderful honey bunny." Cater sighed, looking at you with a tired grin. Without much thought, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, making his heart flutter. So over lunch, you both came to terms that the fam might not dig on you, but that didn't matter to you or Cater. You had each other, and that's what mattered most to you two lovebirds.

Trey Clover

You have such a good man on your hands, even if he's a touch shy with his affections. When you first broached the topic of meeting his family, Trey was taken aback. He adored you to no end, and he could see a future with you, even if it'd be long distance for a few years, why hadn't he thought of showing you off to his family? "Of course I'll introduce you, darling." He said with a warm smile, leaning down to press a peck on your cheek, "How about we visit this upcoming weekend? I'm sure Riddle can hold it together long enough."

It was a really sweet reception when you showed up. Trey's parents were told about you ahead of time by their eldest, given how he's the responsible boy he is, so you were greeted by a small banner and a custom cupcake in your favorite flavors. The banner that was hung read "welcome home!" in bold, glittering rainbow letters; it tickled you pink! You felt at home already when Trey walked you up to the bakery, and the feeling intensified when his little siblings ran over, cheering over their big brother being home and asking if you were the person mom and dad talked about on the phone with Trey. Already you loved Trey's family, they were adorable in your eyes! "I hope you're ready for the insanity that's my family." Trey playfully remarked, pulling laughter from everyone around him. You hugged your boyfriend with a smile on your face. "I look forward to every minute we stay here."

Trey loved baking alongside you, but you and his family? Talk about heaven! Trey had to help out in the family business still, given his parents ran a bakery that had opened for lunch, so alongside the sweet smells of cake, the occasional smell of crisping pepperonis and melting cheese filled your senses. You found it odd at first, but your boyfriend's father swiftly explained that a demand for some more dinner and lunch friendly goods should be offered and they complied, if only a touch. You were surprised by how willing Trey's parents were when offering your help to ease the rush, helping your darling make and top some sugar cookies with oversized chocolate chips. You ended up swiping kisses from your boyfriend while his mom worked the front of house and his dad prepared the pizzas to be sent out. It seemed the more homely setting brought out the more affectionate side of your lover; small coos of adoration left his lips, tiny kisses peppered your cheeks, and skin to skin contact was through the roof as he guided you by taking your hands into his. It was all so romantic and sweet.

It had to be a bittersweet departure after your little weekend of fun was over, but everyone loved you. You had your bags packed back up with Trey, the luggage sitting in the foyer as you ate a delightful breakfast, feeling right at home as you sat next to your beloved. Trey was holding your hand under the table as you two dug into the fluffy blueberry pancakes his mom and dad had made for everyone, one of his little brothers quickly getting your attention. "(Y/N)?" The little boy called out quietly. "Yes, little one?" You asked, your voice a soft coo. The 3rd year glanced over at you as you interacted with his baby brother, watching carefully. "Will you come back with our big brother again soon?" "Well, that depends on both me and your big brother, dear. I'd love to, though!" You replied, flashing a smile to the little guy, who hugged you. "I'm gonna miss you..." He whined. "Me two!" Trey's sister piped up. "Me thwee!" The youngest chimed in, Trey and his parents chuckling at your interactions. "You have quite the partner here, Trey." His father spoke, looking at his son in pride. "You really do, sweetie, you better try and hold onto them!" Trey's mother spoke, smiling warmly. "They're a keeper!" "I know." Trey replied, looking at you now hugging his younger siblings, warmth bubbling in his chest. "I plan to treat them right." Overall, you had a new home in the Clover family, and your boyfriend's thinking of ways to properly propose to you after the trip. Never hurts to plan it out!

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh god, oh no, this one hurts. This will never ever end well if he picks the S/O... You knew Riddle had some problems he was trying to work through, you understood, truly! And Riddle was eternally grateful for your presence and influence in his life, you had to be the best thing to ever happen to him! You were his angel sent from the stars. Which is why he dreaded introducing you to his mother. He knew his father would've been okay, and he honestly has zero issues showing you off to him! If he was actually at home that is...He was currently abroad when Riddle accidentally let it slip that he was dating. So, in came the demands to meet you to make sure you were good enough for her baby, and the news that you two were going to his house for dinner.

You both had pits in your stomachs when you showed up to the Rosehearts household... You were greeted by the intimidating visage of Riddle's mother, who was standing in the yard with her arms folded tightly over her chest, her eyes boring into you. "Hello, mother." Riddled greeted, closing himself off to your presence and tensing up, his shoulders stiff; a telltale sign that he was stressed. You had to bite back the urge to coo and coddle him like you normally did when he was upset. "Riddle." His mother hummed looking at you with disdain. "Why is your...companion here dressed like that?" She asked sharply, making you feel embarrassed. You had asked Rook of all people to style you, but it appears it's simply not up to par with the impossible standard's Mrs. Rosehearts held. "We had asked one of our fellow classmates to dress them in the finest clothes they had available." Riddle spoke. Riddle's mother tsked. "I thought that I raised you better than this, they look terribly tacky, and I thought you would've had better tastes. Come. Dinner is waiting now." Riddle clenched his fists, feeling sorrow well up in his chest as he looked at you apologetically. You rushed forward, hugging Riddle from behind and kissing his cheek to reassure him. It was still quite the sting hearing his mother act so harsh, though.

Dinner wasn't much better either... You made sure to study proper etiquette with Riddle before you came here, but none of that seemed to matter as you choked down the bland food. Seriously, who doesn't bother to season meet and just serve nothing but tomatoes, onions and iceberg lettuce for a salad...? You tried your best, but Mrs. Rosehearts just eyed you in disgust, biting her tongue but looking at Riddle with a disappointed gaze. Riddle himself couldn't tell if sorrow or anger was bubbling up in his chest. You explained you were from another world when she asked where you were from and she looked at you like you just spat on her when you told her you were magicless; despite her already knowing that. She made Riddle tell her about you after making him nearly break down in tears over the phone last night. "Pathetic! I raised my son better than this, and yet you're barely passing, have no magic, and carry no knowledge of anything worthwhile! You're nothing but a waste of his time and my own!" The harpy of a woman shrieked. Oh, that was it, he picked his side of the fence...

Riddle felt a cord finally snap as all of his years of strict, lonely suffering drove him forward. "Why can't you just be happy that I finally found someone, mother?" Riddle hissed, catching the attention of his present parent. "Because, your selection was terrible! I could pick you a much better partner." Mrs. Rosehearts said, you feeling like you could start crying. "No! I-I don't want anyone else, much less an arrangement where I'll feel nothing for the other party!" Riddle barked angrily, slamming his fist on the table as he stood up. "I want who I fell in love with! I want my rose! I want to stay with (Y/N)!" "When will you see that you're worth more than them?!" "They've been nothing short of an angel to me, fixing the damage you caused!" Riddle yelled, his face bright red from anger. "They're worth far more than me from where I stand!" "Then you can just take that garbage and get them out of this house, you and I will start studying to find you a suitable-" "If they leave, I'm leaving with them, in fact, that's a wonderful idea!" Riddle bellowed, you looking up at him and rising from your seat. Rushing to his side, you tugged him out of the house as Riddle's mother screamed at you two from the kitchen and out the door, Riddle yelling that she won't take you away; he's had so much stripped from him, he refuses to lose you. This entire situation was a disaster, but you knew your precious prince loved you so dearly. Once you two made it back to his dorm, Riddle looked exhausted. You asked him what you could do to ease his struggles after he changed into his pajamas. "My rose, tonight, I just want to forget everything, rules and all..." Riddle whined, looking at you with tired slate grey orbs. "I just want to hold you in my arms and wake up to your face..." "Of course, my love." You cooed softly, kissing his cheeks as you both crawled under the covers of his bed, Riddle curling into your form instantly. Under the warmth of the duvet, everything felt right; you were his and he was yours, and no tyrant was ever going to rip you apart. Riddle had proven his iron clad love belonged to you and you alone.

#twisted wonderland x reader #heartslabyul #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #heartslaybul x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #riddle rosehearts #twst headcanons

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norvtown · 2 months

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god kristen applebees makes me feel so insane, everyone thinks she's so immature and inconsiderate when really she's in survival mode and has been for so long that she's struggling to even take care of herself let alone be the last saving grace for a literal god, and everytime she tries to open up and actually be honest with someone they come away thinking she cant take anything seriously or shes not thinking about her future, when really no ones stopped to consider that maybe she is taking everything really seriously and really hard, and is just struggling with expressing it and dealing with it healthily because shes a teenager who lost her family and whose only real support system is the uncle of the ex girlfriend she left on not great terms, on top of being told that she's failing her entire school career which literally no one is helping her with, and everyone keeps telling her she just doesnt wanna put the work in and she's such a fuck up for letting two gods die, when really how fucked up is it to be told that you're the chosen one of a god who your toxic family uses to shame and demonise parts of you, and to evangelise for this god at such a young age, and to be told that you just werent 'trying hard enough' to maintain your belief in that god by your ex girlfriend who you really thought got you and your faith OH MY GOD no i just cant i just cant kristen applebees i love you i believe in you OH MY GOD

#kristen applebees #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #im drunk and ill delete this tmrw if it doesnt make sense xoxoxxo

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andvys · 1 year

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We'll burn the sky | part five

Warnings: 18+, smut at the beginning, angst, mentions of drugs, substance abuse and readers dad's death, cheating (not on reader)

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader | Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Summary: Things are going great on tour— maybe a little too great.

Author's note: Get ready for some agonizing pain, my friends

series masterlist

Eddie woke up to an empty bed and cold sheets.

Furrowing his brows, he stares at the empty spot for a moment. Anxious thoughts fill his mind and he wonders if you regret what happened and escaped before you had to face him again. The smell of your shampoo and your strawberry scented body wash lingers on his pillow, it’s comforting.

The images of the previous night come rushing back to him. His hands tingle as he remembers the way he touched your bare skin, the way he made you moan with just the touch of his hands, the way you begged and asked for more before he flipped you over and gave you what you wanted.

The tension was growing between you from the first moment you met. And so were his feelings.

He didn’t touch you out of temptation, he touched you out of love. All these feelings that he has been pushing back all these months finally boiled over and there was nothing he could do but to give in.

He knows it’s wrong to feel this way when he still belongs to someone else and he hates himself for it, he turned into something he used to despise; a cheater. He did something that was done to him before, he knows how much it hurts to be betrayed like that and yet it didn’t stop him from doing all these things.

Chrissy was his first girlfriend, his first love.

She was the one he always wanted, the one he used to daydream about, the one he used to pine after but she never saw him. He was nothing but thin air to her for the longest time and when she did notice him, he felt as though he was on top of the world but Chrissy wasn’t what he thought she was and deep down he knew that but he only saw the obvious things.

Eddie was a freak and Chrissy was the queen.

Eddie was bullied and she was dating his bully.

Eddie was poor and selling drugs to help his uncle with the bills while she didn’t even have to lift a finger. Not only did she grow up rich but she was also surrounded by wealthy people, including her ex boyfriend; Jason.

Eddie treated people with kindness, even the ones that didn’t deserve it and she.. Well, to Eddie she always seemed like a kind and sweet girl but the poor boy was always blinded by his love for her. He didn’t see the way she looked down on his friends, he didn’t notice how rude she was being to his uncle, he didn’t realize why she never brought him to her place.

He was blind to so many things when it came to Chrissy. He was blind to the way she stared at Steve for a little too long, laughing at his jokes a little too loud.

Eddie was just happy to be with the girl of his dreams– or what he once thought was the girl of his dreams but his feelings already started to change when he picked her up after her best friend’s house party, one night. She was crying, holding her jacket close to her chest as she stared down at the ground with tears streaming down her face. Eddie had never been more worried in his life than he was at that moment, he thought that something happened to her, that someone hurt her but when he jumped out of his van and ran towards her with a concerned expression on his face. He grabbed her face and wiped her tears as he asked what happened.

All she did was look at him with a guilty look in her glassy eyes, ‘I’m sorry, Eddie.’ is all she had to say for him to understand what had happened before she called him.

Eddie swore that his heart broke that night.

The girl he loved with all he had, betrayed him in the most painful way.

For the longest time, he stood frozen in place and stared at her with a shocked and heartbroken look on his face. He didn’t hear her voice, he didn’t feel her touch, all he felt was the pain that took hold of his heart. And when he looked over her shoulder and found Jason staring back at him, his heart hurt even more. Not only did she cheat on him but she also did it with the guy that made his life a living hell.

His eyes were filled with tears but he didn’t say anything, he only took a step back and looked away from her. She took a step forward and reached for his hand, ‘it didn’t mean anything… Eddie, please.. I’m sorry.’ He should have pushed her hand away, he should have left her there with Jason. ‘Please, forgive me.’

The fool he was, he forgave her. He even took her home that night and took care of her, he wiped her makeup off and held her in his arms as she dozed off like nothing happened.

He blamed it on the alcohol, he blamed it on the weed, he blamed it on Jason.

But Chrissy wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t high either, she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew that she was hurting him.

While she was having sex with her ex boyfriend, he was at home writing a song for her, something that he did out of love, excitement and happiness– the happiness that she had ruined in him.

Sleepless nights followed that awful night and Eddie realized how much love truly hurts.

He should have left her, he shouldn’t have given her that second chance, he deserved better but he was a fool.

His feelings changed more and more when he moved to California.

He learned more things about himself, he got to know himself in a different way, he has grown in character after leaving Hawkins.

Chrissy stayed the same. Still caring about the meaningless things in life. The perfect clothes, the perfect status, the perfect friend group, the perfect future, gossip.

Deep down he knows, they aren’t right for each other. There was not even a single moment where he had a genuine and deep conversation with her, all they ever did was movie nights, getting high and having sex that wasn’t even exciting to him. She talked about her future, about her dreams and her wishes, not even caring about what he wanted. Not even caring about the pain she put him through that night.

A moment of realization of what his future would be like made him panic. He didn’t want to live her life. He wanted to live his life, he wanted to fulfill his dreams. Perhaps that is why he abruptly made the decision to leave Hawkins.

He should’ve left more than just the town he grew up in, he also should’ve left her but he couldn’t, not when she was looking at him with those big and sad eyes of hers as she watched him pack his bags. He should have broken up with her but back then he believed that he still loved her and that she loved him.

He was never one to break someone’s heart but look at him now. He is not just playing with her heart, he is also playing with your heart and he is setting himself up for a big disaster.

But can he stop? No.

Could he have stopped the loss of his feelings for her? No.

Could he have stopped himself from falling for you? No. How could he?

How could he be in your presence and not fall in love with you?

“Fuck…” Eddie mumbles under his breath as he slaps his hand over his face. He hates himself for doing all of this. He needs to stop, he needs to come clean about everything, he needs to tell you the truth and he needs to tell her the truth. He needs to break up with her but he doesn’t know how. Doing it over the phone would be a shitty move but waiting till he gets to Indiana is even worse.

You will find out about her when you get there and that thought leaves him feeling scared and anxious.

The moment he steps into the kitchen area and finds you standing with your back to him as you fix yourself a cup of coffee, he forgets about everything he wanted to say and do, though.

His mind is blank and his heart flutters as he watches you. He can’t even stop himself from walking towards you and wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you back into his chest and kisses your neck, “good morning.”

You flinch a little, surprised at his affection.

You didn’t know what to expect but for some reason you didn’t expect this. You felt a little guilty and ashamed for what you did the previous night.

If there was one thing that you promised yourself before you joined the band, it was not to sleep with any of your band mates but here you are, 20 days into the tour and Eddie already made you cum around his fingers twice.

A smile appears on your face as you turn around in his arms, “good morning, Eddie.”

His eyes light up and he has to restrain a groan as he sees the way you look at him.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask as you move closer to him, pressing your chest against his. He might have had the upper hand last night but today, you will have it.

Eddie’s eyes widen and a surprised look crosses his face as he feels your hand sliding down his stomach.

“Y-Yeah,” he whispers, looking around the empty area, he figures that the others are still sleeping, thank god.

“Yeah?” you smirk as your fingers reach the band of his boxers. You can feel him, his dick is already hard. You didn’t get to touch him the way he touched you last night and you were dying to return the favor.

He nods, eyelashes fluttering as a sigh escapes his lips when you start to palm him over the thin material of his boxers. He places his hands on the counter behind you, caging you against it as he leans into your touch.

“F-Fuck, y/n,” he sighs, “what are you doing?”

For a moment, you admire him and how pretty he looks. His messy hair falls down his shoulders, his eyes almost black, lips plumper than usual in the mornings. The little moans and whimpers that fall from his lips so beautifully make your stomach flutter.

You stand on your tippy toes, mimicking his actions from the night before. Your lips finally touch the sensitive skin on his neck for the very first time.

Eddie’s eyes flutter closed, his heart begins to pound heavily in his chest, his breathing stutters and he moans your name like it’s the only thing he is meant to do. Your touch, your lips, your smell, your voice, you, you drive him crazy.

“Returning the favor,” you whisper against his neck, “is that okay?”

“Mhmm,” he mewls as he holds onto the counter tighter. He forgets about everything, “more than okay, baby.”

You chuckle at the pathetic moan that left his lips after those words.

Your hand slips into his boxers and you grab his hard and aching dick.

“F-Fuck… oh fuck.. baby.”

Eddie doesn’t even remember anymore what it feels like to feel someone else’s touch but his own. The fact that it’s you who’s touching him like this, makes it all even better.

You brush his hair back with your free hand and Eddie tilts his head to give you more access to his neck. Another moan echoes through the empty area as you begin to jerk him off.

“Shhh, you gotta be quiet,” you mumble, “or do you wanna get caught, pretty boy?”

He repeats your name over and over again as you jerk him off faster and kiss his neck harder, as you bite and suck on his skin, marking him as yours.

“F-Fuck,” he sighs as he bucks into your hand, “your hand feels so good…”

“My pussy would feel even better, Eddie.”

He whimpers at your words, dick twitching in your hand.

Smirking, you grab his cheeks and force him to look at you, “you want that, huh?” you ask him. His eyes shot open, surprise flickering in his pleading eyes, “you want to fuck me, don’t you?.... I know you do. I know you jerk off in that little bathroom after every show, I hear you moan my name. I know you watch me change, you fucking perv.”

His eyes widen, cheeks growing red.

But the smirk on your face tells him that you enjoy it just as much as he does, “it’s okay, baby,” you whisper as you lean closer to him, lips brushing against his, he whines pathetically as you move away again after he tries to connect your lips, “uh-uh… no kisses for you.”

He wants to question it, his brows furrow and his lips part but before he can even form a sentence, he feels himself getting closer and closer and he can’t do anything but shut his eyes and hide his face in the crook of your neck as his lips find their way to your shoulder.

“Please…. please..” he mumbles.

“You wanna cum, Eddie?” you ask as you hold him tighter, “you wanna cum all over my hand like a desperate little slut?”

He nods, whining and whimpering at your words.

“Cum for me then,” you order as you nibble on his neck, “be a good boy and cum for me.”

That’s all it takes for him to cum, painting your hand white with his seed. He moans and whimpers against you, body slumping against yours as he breathes heavily.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder.

You giggle, rubbing his back with your hand as you let go of his softening dick. You slip your hand out of his boxers and he groans at the sight of the mess he made, “shit..” he says, blushing.

He turns on the water, grabbing your hand, he pulls you off of you and holds your hand under the running water to clean it.

You can’t even help but laugh at the sight of him. He gives you a side eye, knowing that you’re laughing at him. His cheeks are red, his hair messier than before, his boxers are sticky, he is a mess and if anyone is about to join the two of you in this area, then they’ll easily figure out what just happened.

“Shut up,” he mumbles with a small smile on his face.

You bite down on your lip and look down as he begins to dry your hand off.

“Didn’t expect your morning to go like this, huh?” you whisper, giving him a teasing smile.

No. Not at all. If anything, he would have loved to have a repeat of the previous night but this? This was too good.

He shakes his head and he leans closer, annoyed at your dominance– no matter how hot it is, he wants to be the one in charge.

Eddie throws the towel on the counter and places his hand on the small of your back to pull you closer. Leaning down, he moves your hair back, “next time, I’m gonna make you scream.”

His husky morning voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Yeah? How so?”

“I’m gonna eat your pussy, fuck you with my tongue and fingers until you squirt all over my face.”

You gasp, squeezing your thighs together in an instinct.

He kisses the spot he covered with hickeys, “you’d like that don’t you?”

Your eyes flutter closed as he pulls you flush against his body, you nod, mewling at his words.

“You know what else I’d do?” he mumbles against your skin.

“Hmm?”

He gives your neck a soft peck, “I’d split you open with my cock, I’d fuck you so hard that you’d remember nothing but my name.”

“Eddie–” you rudely get interrupted by the sound of a door opening. You jump away from him and lean back against the counter as you reach for your mug.

Eddie chuckles as he sees your flustered expression.

“Good morning–” Gareth halts in his tracks and his words get caught in his throat when he lays his eyes on the two of you. There is nothing obvious about the two of you, well aside from the flustered expressions on your faces and your awkward cough but Gareth seems to figure it out pretty quickly. He keeps it to himself though and smirks to himself as he runs his hand through his messy hair that looks like a bird's nest, “why do you look so flustered, y/n?” he asks as he walks closer.

Eddie chuckles to himself as he takes a step back, subtly trying to hold his hand in front of his boxers.

“I’m not flustered,” you mumble before you take a sip of your coffee.

Gareth snorts, “right.”

He tries to reach for the coffee pot but you slap his hand away.

“Hey!”

“You stole my room again, asshole!”

“Oops.”

Tour day 30

I never thought that I would love being on tour so much but it’s amazing… Well, it’s amazing when Gareth isn’t stealing my room to hook up with his groupies in my bed.

We arrived in New Orleans today! I’m so excited to be here. We’re going out for drinks tonight and tomorrow we’re having a concert before we leave for Miami! Eddie if your future self is reading this, I hope you know that I’m very excited to see you shirtless at the beach ;)

You close the diary and throw it on the bed before you walk towards the big mirror to check your outfit one more time. The leather pants hug your hips perfectly, that red cropped top that you bought yesterday goes well with the rest of your outfit. You run your fingers through your waves and adjust the necklace around your neck.

Turning away, you’re just about to reach for your boots when a knock on your door interrupts you.

“It’s me,” Eddie announces on the other side.

A smile tugs on your lips as you walk towards the door, opening it, you lean against the wall, “hey there.”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes the sight of you in. He sees you in your sexy little outfits all the damn time and yet he still feels like the wind gets knocked out of him whenever he sees you.

You giggle to yourself as you turn around after inviting him into your hotel room.

Eddie blinks as he follows you inside. His eyes widen even more when they fall to your ass, the leather pants are made for you.

“Fuck,” he sighs quietly as he clenches his jaw.

“You ready to go?” you ask as you bend down in front of him to put on your shoes.

A groan falls from his lips as he stares at your curves. Tearing his eyes away from you, he clears his throat and nods, “y-yeah,” his voice shaky as he speaks.

He wants to touch you again, he wants to feel your bare skin beneath his body, he wants to kiss your neck, mark you up all over again but after that night and the next morning, you gave him no sign of wanting a repeat. You continued to tease him, giving him those eyes, touching him subtly, whispering suggestive things into his ear but whenever he made a move you pulled away.

You are teasing him, playing games with him and he can’t say that he hates it.

“You look good.”

“Thank you, so do you,” you smile as you face him again.

He smiles at your compliment, “yeah?”

You nod and walk towards him, eyes meeting his, you reach your hands up to his hair, running your fingers through his curls to smooth them out more. Eddie smiles at your action, unable to keep his hands to himself, he lays his hands on your hips and pulls you closer.

You continue to fix his hair, furrowing your brows as you do so.

A loving smile appears on his face, his eyes flicker with happiness. His heart feels warm and safe when he is around you.

“You know, I’d rather stay in tonight,” you mumble as you pull your hands back.

“Really?” he asks, “why? You were excited to go out earlier.”

You shrug, placing your hands on his forearms, you look back into his eyes, “I always get way too excited and I find joy in getting ready but the moment I’m supposed to leave the house, I regret making plans.”

Eddie chuckles, dimples appearing in his cheeks, “I know that feeling all too well.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he nods as he rubs circles into the bare skin on your stomach, “I’m a homebody too, Sweetheart. But we’ll go out, you were so excited to be here, we’re here now, so let’s go out, just for a little bit, okay?”

You pout.

He looks at your lips, your very kissable lips.

“And then we can have a sleepover and watch movies, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds very good,” you smile, “oh and Gareth can’t steal my room tonight,” you snort.

The menace that he is, Gareth continues to bring Groupies on the tour bus without you noticing until it’s too late. At this point, the only private room there that was meant for you doesn’t belong to you any longer.

“Let’s go.”

The night was eventful as always. Between concerts and sleepovers with Eddie whenever you made it to one of the hotels, nights out with the band are your favorites. You’ve been with the boys for months now and you have already formed bonds with them but even more so on this tour.

Gareth is more like the annoying younger brother to you, always pranking you in some way and annoying the ever living shit out of you but also being kind and sweet when he wants to be.

Jeff seems to be the wise and protective friend, distant at times, especially when he sees Eddie acting affectionate with you but an amazing friend nonetheless.

Johnny is the fun and careless one, just vibing along and not caring about a single thing.

Eddie, he is the special one. There are no words to describe your relationship with him but special or magical might come close to it.

A frown settles on Eddie’s face when he sees a guy coming up next to you at the bar. A hungry gaze in his eyes as he eyes you up and down before he taps your shoulder. You turn away from the bartender and look at the man next to you. He hopes that you’ll turn away, get your drinks and come back to him but instead, you smile at the stranger and accept his hand as he seems to introduce himself to you.

Eddie swallows harshly, a weird feeling settles in his chest.

Jealousy. That is what he feels when he watches you talk to the guy. That’s what he felt when he saw you kiss that fan in Dallas. Hot rage, jealousy and possessiveness.

“You can’t keep doing this, man.”

“Do what?” Eddie asks over the loud music, still not looking away from you.

Jeff sighs, “whatever you do with her.”

Eddie clenches his jaw, eyes burning and heart aching in his chest the longer he stares at you.

“It’s not fair to her, it’s not fair to either of them but especially y/n.”

Jeff was against this from the start, not only because of the relationship Eddie is still in but because of the mess it’ll get all of them into when you and Eddie fall apart.

Eddie blinks, chewing on his lip, he reaches for the beer bottle as he turns to look at his friend, “I know, Jeff.”

“Then why do you keep doing this?” Jeff asks with a confused expression on his face, “why do you keep leading her on?”

“I’m not leading her on,” Eddie objects, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah? Did you break up with Chrissy then? Did you tell y/n the truth? Does she know about–”

“No,” Eddie hisses, interrupting his friend, “she doesn’t know anything and I-” he hesitates, rubbing his chin, he looks down. Drowning out the loud voices and the music in the background, “I didn’t break up with her yet.”

“Jesus,” Jeff sighs, shaking his head, “what the fuck, dude?”

He can’t believe that Eddie is doing this. It’s not like him to do something like this. He knows how much he suffered when he found out about Chrissy’s infidelity. For the longest time Eddie thought that Chrissy was just using him to spite her parents and Jason or that she was using him for the drugs, he cried about it to Jeff and now here he is, doing the same things that hurt him. He cheats, he lies and despite his protests, Jeff believes that he is using you.

“You are using her.”

“No, fuck, no!” Eddie shakes his head, looking at his friend in anger, “I am not using her.”

Jeff can only laugh at his words, “right,” he mumbles, “then why are you still with Chrissy?”

Eddie avoids eye contact, he looks down at his hands again, ignoring the way his heart aches in his chest when he thinks about the way you will react when you finally find out the truth.

No words leave his mouth.

Realization crosses Jeff’s face and he scoffs angrily, “you’re doing it to spite her? To get back at her?”

Eddie furrows his brows, head snapping up and eyes meeting his, “what–” interrupted by your angry voice as you slam the new beer bottles on the table in front of Eddie.

“Disgusting.”

He looks up at you, concern and worry appearing in his eyes. The look on your face is angry, disgusted and downright pissed as you look back at the guy, you just left at the bar, flipping him the bird before you sit down next to Eddie again.

Jeff raises his brows at your action, watching the way you drink your beer in an almost aggressive way.

“Uh, you okay?” he asks.

Eddie stares at you and then back at the guy, glaring at him already.

“That guy,” you pause, pointing at the blonde asshole with your manicured fingers, “that asshole, flirted with me, was all nice and sweet and tried to get in my fucking pants.”

You don’t notice the angry look on Eddie’s face as you speak.

“Not the first time that happened but okay, keep going,” Jeff laughs with an entertained look on his face.

“And then he mentions his girlfriend,” you exclaim, “his fucking girlfriend, Jeff! What a piece of shit does that?”

Eddie pales at your words, he turns away from you, eyes widening and heart pounding in his chest.

“God, I hate men like that.”

Jeff glances at Eddie.

“I hope he gets his heart broken or something, stupid bastard.”

Eddie swallows harshly, blinking, he feels his throat tightening, his chest aching and his eyes burning.

He is screwed, so so screwed.

Tour day 31

Y/n, if you’re reading this. I’m sorry for everything that happened and that is going to happen. -Jeff.

Forgot what day it is, oops.

I hate hotel rooms, the beds are comfy and the rooms are nice but I hate them. I can’t sleep and it’s driving me crazy.

I prefer the bunk in the tour bus. My pillows and blankets still smell like strawberries, I think it puts me to sleep or something. -Eddie

Tour day whatever..

I never loved life the way I do right now, everything is just so perfect! Oh and by the way, you guys made my life better. I love you all :) -y/n

November, 30th, 1988

So Gareth accidentally fucked someone’s girlfriend and got into a fight with her man. Fucking idiot. Y/n and Eddie got drunk and got matching tattoos, idiots part 2. -Johnny.

The light from the tv illuminates the darkened room, the faint voices from the movie echo through the room. The smell of weed, alcohol and clean sheets linger in your nose. Eddie’s finger trace the skin under your shirt, leaving goosebumps everywhere on your body.

Feeling Eddie’s eyes on you, you turn away from the tv, you glance at him and a smile appears on your face. His doe eyes lighten up when you move closer to him, “hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he smiles as he places his hand on your lower back and pulls you closer.

Unlike the night in his bunk, there is nothing sexual about tonight, no heavy tension is lingering in the air, just comfort and safety.

You reach for his hand, sliding your fingers through his, you intertwine them with his. Eddie gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he continues to look into your eyes.

Blushing, you smile and close your eyes as you try to hide your face behind your hair.

“Hey, don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he chuckles as the hand on your waist leaves to brush your hair out of your face. His palm lingers on your cheek and his face grows serious for a moment as his eyes flicker down to your lips, the lips he has yet to kiss.

You stare at his lips the way he stares at yours.

You want him and he wants you, it’s simple and yet it isn’t.

“Eddie?”

“Yes?”

“You make my life so much better,” you whisper, unaware of the pain he will put you through. He is gonna ruin your life and you don’t even know it yet.

“You make my life so much better too,” Eddie whispers with the urge to break down and cry.

You smile at his words, you’re too high and too drunk to notice the pain behind his voice.

“When I came to California, I never thought that I would get here and I never thought that I’d meet someone like you.”

Someone so special.

“I never thought that my life could be this good.”

“I feel the same way,” you whisper.

Eddie closes his eyes as he feels your hand touching his cheek, enjoying the feeling of your touch.

“I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Eddie feels like home to you and that is something you struggled to accept for the longest time. It’s not easy for you to be vulnerable around someone else or to let feelings in.

Love is a complex and painful thing. You’ve seen what it did to your dad, it put him through agonizing pain, through suffering and through the darkest times and eventually he couldn’t take it any longer and put an end to it.

That is what genuine love does to you and you never wanted that for yourself, you never wanted to fall in love but now it’s a little too late for that.

You look into his dark eyes, your heart skips a beat and all you can think is that this is gonna hurt.

December 5th, 1988

We’re in New York, baby! And we have two shows here, I’m so excited. -y/n

You have never seen a bigger crowd than there was tonight. People were screaming, cheering and calling your name. Your heart was pumping wildly in your chest and the smile on your face just wouldn’t fade away.

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off of you, his heart swelled and he felt proud of the band, of himself but especially of you.

This was his dream.

To perform in front of large crowds, to sing and play for the people and celebrate with them. To be here, perform in New York City.

He made it, all he ever wanted is right here in front of him and he can’t even begin to describe the happiness that is flooding through him.

But as he watched you sing, as he touched your body when you came closer to him, as he looked into your eyes and sang the song that you have written together, he realized that his dream just got so much bigger. He doesn’t just want this anymore. He wants you in his dream, forever and not just by his side as his band mate or his friend, he wants so much more than that.

The love you have described to him all these months ago, the night at the beach is exactly what he feels now, what he feels for you.

He wants it, he wants it all with you.

So as you stand beneath the night sky, leaning against the railing on the rooftop as you stare at the bright city lights. Eddie thinks of all your moments on stage, of the nights you spend together, of all the hours you have spend working on the album you are performing in front of thousands of people now, of the smiles you give him, of the way it feels to touch you, of the way you make him feel so safe and at home.

He realizes just how deep his feelings really are. There is love and then there is something deeper than that and that is what he feels for you.

Your eyes twinkle, a content look is resting on your pretty face, you took all the makeup off after the concert. You’re wearing one of his hoodies and he can already feel the excitement forming when he gets to wear it after you and smell your scent on it.

The wind blows through his hair and his bangs fall in front of his eyes.

You turn to look at him and chuckle, the sound leaving butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

You take a step towards him and brush the curls out of his face, fixing his bangs too. Eddie stares at you and suddenly he feels his heart racing, his breath hitches in his throat. He blinks, eyes flickering down to your lips again. He wants this, he wants you so bad.

The shift of energy isn’t very hard to miss.

The air around you two feels different tonight and leaves you feeling vulnerable.

Eddie can’t hold himself back any longer.

He cups your cheeks, lips twitching when he sees the surprised look in your eyes, you know what he is about to do, it’s what you’ve been waiting for all this time, it’s what you have both been waiting for.

“Eddie,” you whisper as you bring your hands up to his wrists.

Before he can change his mind, he grabs you harder and leans down and for the first time, his lips touch yours and Eddie kisses you the way you have never been kissed before.

The little gasp that tore from your throat only makes his heart race even more. He kisses you gently, softly and slowly at first.

You melt so easily into his touch as you start to kiss him back. Your smooth lips move against his so perfectly.

Eddie’s knees almost give out as he feels all kinds of emotions rushing through him.

No one has ever made him feel that way before. No one has ever made him feel these things just from kissing alone.

He savors the moment, he savors your touch, your kiss, your scent, your taste, you.

And as you pull away from each other, you stare at one another with big eyes. His thumb lingers on your bottom lip, his brows are furrowed in confusion.

How can a kiss make him feel such things?

How can it feel like the first time that he has been touched? How can he feel so whole from an innocent and gentle kiss?

You become more and more perfect to him.

Eddie can’t even help it, he pulls you in for another kiss but this time, he slams his lips against yours and kisses you roughly and passionately.

You whimper at the feeling, once again he caught you off guard but you quickly start to kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer and closer until your chest is pressed against his.

He deepens the kiss and moans when he feels your hand disappearing in his hair, tugging and pulling at his messy curls.

His hands slide down to your waist and the small of your back.

Your tongues meet and you both moan at the feeling as the kiss grows rougher and rougher.

Your breathing becomes heavy and you both get breathless but neither of you care, you just want this moment to last forever. The kiss grows more desperate and rough the longer it lasts.

Eddie whimpers and you smile into the kiss at the sound.

Kissing you feels like heaven.

Kissing you feels like a drug that he can’t live without, like he will die if he stops doing it.

God, he loves you.

That night and the kiss was only the beginning. Once he got a taste of it, he was unable to stop. He used every chance he got. He kissed you before each show, after each show when you were both running on adrenaline, using the changing room backstage to make out with each other.

You slept in his bed, in his arms, after making out for the longest time.

On your off days, Eddie takes you out to eat or to get drinks and each night it ends with the two of you tangled in the sheets, kissing each other like your life depends on it.

You are happy and so is he.

Both you and Eddie are too blinded by the excitement and the happiness to feel the storm brewing.

December 12th, 1988

We just left Pittsburg and we’re in Cincinnati now. I don’t know what to say but, life is fucking good. I can’t wait to go back to Hawkins and show all those assholes that we fucking made it. -Gareth.

A gnawing feeling settles in your stomach and you don’t know why, maybe it’s because of all the Christmas decorations and the fact that each day that passes brings you closer to Christmas or maybe it’s because something bad will happen.

Either way, you feel awful and you can’t even explain why.

“Hey,” Jeff nudges your shoulder, “are you okay?”

You look up at him and give him a small smile, “yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” he asks, knowing that he won’t get a genuine answer anyways. You hide your feelings, all the time.

“Yes, I promise. I’m just tired.”

He nods, he looks over your shoulder, glancing at Eddie who talks to Rob, the tour manager.

“Well it’s a good thing that we’re here now,” Gareth grins as he comes up next to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, he holds your hotel keys out for you, “I can keep Eddie’s keys since he’s gonna stay with you anyways,” he says, wiggling his brows.

You roll your eyes at your friend, not noticing the disapproving look Jeff gave to Gareth.

“Shut up,” you mumble, snatching the keys out of his hand, “I’ll give those to Eddie.”

“Why?”

“Because those are his keys?” you mumble, raising your brows.

Gareth smirks at you, “yeah but you share your room all the time. I hear those giggles and your screams ‘Eddie stop!’” he mocks you with a high pitched voice.

You shake your head, slapping his shoulder, “I don’t sound like that!”

He snorts, “uh, yes you do!”

Jeff shakes his head and walks away with a sigh, taking his suitcase on the way to the elevator.

“Wait up for me, Jeff!” Gareth yells out to his friend with a frown on his face. He grabs his bag, “see you at soundcheck, rockstar,” he says to you as he follows Jeff, “hold the doors open asshole!”

You shake your head as you watch him almost trip over a small dog, mumbling an apology to the owner of the dog. The woman gives him a disapproving look, especially when she sees his attire. Leather jackets and plaid shirts must be a rarity at these fancy hotels.

You turn around to find Eddie and Rob walking towards you.

“Sam wants you to give him a call, kid.”

You nod, “I will.”

“He was worried,” he says as he takes his sunglasses off, the ones he doesn’t even need considering there is not a single trace of sunlight outside.

You frown at his words, “why?”

Rob gives you a pointed look, flipping through the magazine that he’s holding in his hand.

You give Eddie a questioning look but he only shrugs, looking as clueless as you do.

“Here,” Rob mumbles as he holds it out for you.

Raising your brows, you sigh and take the magazine. A collection of pictures of you and Eddie at different bars and after parties with drinks and cigarettes in your hands are all over the page.

You laugh as you read the headline, “is the fame and the rockstar life too much for the young, rising star?” you mockingly say, “will she carry on the legacy of her father by following the same footsteps and get lost in drugs and alcohol?”

You hold the magazine up, “really?” you scoff.

Eddie raises his brows, eyes filled with uneasiness as you continue to read the article that mentions your father’s death.

You hide your feelings well, another person wouldn’t even see the pain or the anger and the sadness in your eyes but Eddie can see it.

He can see right through you.

“Really, Rob?”

Rob shrugs, his dark eyes looking back at you with concern.

“This is bullshit, man. You know they always come up with some dramatic stories. Do you even see any drugs here?” you ask, pointing to the pictures that were taken of you.

He shakes his head but the worry stays in his eyes, something that concerns Eddie. Rob looks as though he knows something.

You roll your eyes, “whatever. I’m gonna get some rest.”

He nods, “alright, and don’t forget to eat, you got a long night ahead of you.”

“Okay.”

Eddie takes your bags before you can even reach for them, “I got it, Sweetheart.”

You smile at him, “thanks.”

“Soundcheck is at 4pm!”

Eddie gives him a nod before following you to the elevator.

He feels uneasy and worried about the article and he doesn’t even know why. He knows that you don’t take drugs, except for the occasional joint you both share. You’re not exactly a drinker either, only having one or two beers whenever you’re out. You’re responsible and careful, despite what is written about you.

There is nothing to worry about, right? Yet, the weird feeling stays as the day drags on.

You spend the day together, just as Gareth said, Eddie didn’t really need his hotel room. He stayed with you, showered in your bathroom, took a nap with you in your bed and you both got ready together as well, the way you usually do before a concert.

Eddie painted your fingernails red and you painted his black, giggling as he kept kissing your neck.

“Stop,” you giggle as you hold the little bottle in your hand, trying to prevent the nail polish from spilling all over the couch in your backstage area, “I’m gonna get this everywhere.”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your skin as he continues to pepper your neck with kisses, “you smell so good, baby.”

Your eyes flutter and a breathy sigh escapes your lips as he finds your sweet spot.

“And you look so good,” he whispers, placing his hand on your bare thigh, his fingers brushing the hem of your short leather skirt, “I could just eat you up.”

“Eddie,” you whisper, biting down on your lip.

The way you say his name will never not make him melt.

You put the bottle away, pushing him back, he gives you a confused look.

You smirk at him, laying your palms on his shoulders, you straddle him.

His eyes widen and a smirk tugs at his lips as he stares at you. Your top pushes your boobs together nicely, he licks his lips, groaning as you grind down on him before you slam your lips against his.

“Mhmm,” he mewls, grabbing your waist tightly as he kisses you back.

You moan into his mouth as his hands move down to grab your ass.

A knock echoes through the room but you ignore it, you keep kissing each other.

“Guys, we gotta get out there in 10 minutes!”

You giggle as he groans in annoyance.

“10 minutes, he said?”

You nod.

Eddie smiles at you, “that means we still got 5 minutes.”

You yelp as he gets up with you in his arms, tightening your arms around his neck as he carries you over to the door. He places you on your feet and pushes you against the door, sliding his thigh in between your legs. He stares at the hungry look in your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mumble, biting your lip, you slide your hands down to his chest, grabbing his necklace, you look at him with big eyes, “you’re so hot, Eddie.”

He cups your cheek, placing his thumb on your bottom lip, his dark eyes bore into yours with an intensity that leaves you squirming beneath him, “so are you, you are the fucking hottest.”

He moves closer, leaning his forehead against yours, “I’m crazy about you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“You do things to me, Sweetheart,” he murmurs as he pecks your lips again.

You can’t tear your eyes away from his.

“There’s no other like you.”

The look is one of love and adoration but you don’t see it.

“I fucking adore you,” he mumbles against your lips before he kisses you again until you’re nothing but a moaning and squirming mess, he leaves you breathless the way he always does, he leaves your skin feeling on fire, your heart racing and your stomach fluttering.

A small smile lingers on your face as you walk out of the room with his hand in yours.

He smiles down at you, stopping you with a gentle tug on your hand. Just as he is about to reach out to brush a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, he gets caught off by a loud voice, calling out his name. His smile falls, his body tenses up and the look in his eyes is one of terror and shock, before he can even react, his hand is ripped out of yours and he stumbles back as a pair of arms are flung around his neck and lips that don’t belong to you meet his.

Confusion is written all over your face as you stare at the unfamiliar girl in Eddie’s arms. For a moment, you think that it’s some crazy fan that sneaked her way backstage to meet her idol, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened but that usually only happened to Gareth with his crazy fangirls.

But as you watch Eddie wrap his arms around her waist in a way that he would only do to you, you realize that she is not a crazy fan and she is not a stranger to him either.

She places her feet back on the floor and wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him with a big smile on her face, “hi baby.”

“Chrissy.”

You furrow your brows as you stare at the pair in front of you, heart already dropping to your stomach, eyes burning as you blink.

Eddie looks over her shoulder, his guilty eyes lock with yours. The fear and the worry is so clear in his brown eyes, he looks pale and scared. He glances at her and then back at you and that’s all it takes for you to understand.

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arlana-likes-to-write · 4 months

Text

That Part by Lauren Spencer Smith

Summary: You and Kate have been dating a little less then a year but you couldn't help but think about a future with her.

Warning: pure fluff, Kate has anxiety, engagement, small mention of death

Note: thank you @sycamorelibrary754 for helping me with the ring lol

These moments were your favorite, quiet, peaceful moments with Kate. Inside your shared apartment, you weren’t an ex-HYDRA soldier turned adoptive daughter of Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill, and she wasn’t training to take over your uncle’s mantel. You both were normal humans enjoying a slow Sunday morning. Kate’s head was in your lap, head turned to face the TV to watch the morning cartoons. You were reading, one hand holding the book while your free hand through your black hair. The book was a simple romantic comedy. You enjoyed these stories because they allowed your brain to have a break from the darkness that you fought every day. The characters were cheesy, and the plot was easy to predict, but it made you feel all warm and fuzzy. At the end of the story, the characters have a happy ending.

Happy ending. You glanced at your girlfriend, whom you’ve only been dating for a year. Maybe it sounded weird, but you wanted the picket fences, an arch around the entrance, and two IKEA twin beds for the kids. Your relationship started rocky, and both were unable to admit their feelings for one another. Your moms could have been more helpful, too. They made it clear that you were off-limits to all the new trainees. It was humiliating, but it didn’t deter the archer. You caught her staring at you; a blush would overtake her cheeks. When she asked you out, you kept it from your parents until your aunt caught Kate kissing you good night. It was better to tell them yourself than to come from Yelena. They took it well, surprising, but gave Kate the shovel talk. “Where did you run off to?” The sound of Kate’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Her voice was a few octaves deeper in the morning. You hummed, letting her know you heard her but were confused by her question. She chuckled, moving onto her back to look up at you. “You stopped playing my hair like 5 minutes ago. So where did you go?” She asked again, taking your hand in hers and kissing each finger. You smiled.

“Just thinking about you. Us,” she dropped your hand so it rested on her heart. It was beating fast, her anxiety skyrocketing. “All good things, I promise.”

“Tell me,” she said, sitting up and turning down the volume of the TV. You pressed the bookmark to the spine to avoid losing your place. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”

“It’s going to sound crazy out loud,” you admitted. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” She took both of your hands in hers.

“I would never laugh at anything you say.” Sighing, you bite your lip and focus on your connected hands. It was a stark contrast. Her hands were rough, callouses on her fingers from years of training to be the best. On the flip side, you were smooth. HYDRA used your brains, not your strength. You created the battle plan for every operation. You may not have pulled the trigger, but so much blood was on your hands. You sighed again.

“I was thinking about you, us, our future. I never expected to have a life like this, you know?” She squeezed your hands for you to continue. “When you hold me, I see the end of our movie where you kiss me surrounded by friends and family. I know it sounds lame, and maybe you don’t feel the same. I can’t wait for that part.”

“Would you take my last name, or would I become a Romanoff-Hill?” Your eyes shot up to look into her blue ones. Her eyes were calm but bold, warm but cold with little specks of green. They were windows to her soul. You chuckled.

“Kate Romanoff-Hill is a bit of a mouthful,” her hands moved up your arms and to your waist. It was easy for her to move you onto her lap.

“It is, but I like the sound of it,” your hands went to the back of her neck. “Are you saying you would say yes if I ask you to marry me?”

“Ask me anyway; I don’t care,” you leaned closer. “The only thing I care about is if you’ll meet me there.” It was the consent she needed to capture your lips with hers. Kissing Kate was your favorite. It made your stomach drop and your heart race against your rib cage. It made you feel at home.

There weren’t many things that scared Kate. She fought against HYDRA agents, enemies that threatened to disrupt the balance of peace and aliens from another planet. She wasn’t scared. All of her years of training have led her to these moments. However, she was out of her element here. She sat in front of Natasha and Maria in a conference room. She asked if she could speak with them privately after training. Dating you caused the archer to get closer to the Black Widow and Deputy Director; she saw them in a new light. More human, not the soldiers they were known for. During movie nights, Natasha liked to be held by Maria. Dinner would take a little longer sometimes because the couple would start dancing; you inherited that from them. Kate knew it was a privilege to see them like that. “What’s going on, kid?” Natasha asked. They were intimating, and she knew they would do anything for your best interest.

“Right, sorry, I know you have other things to do, and I’m taking up your time, so I appreciate that -”

“Kate,” Maria cut off her nervous rambling. “Breath.” She did just that, a few steady, deep breaths in and out.

“I want to ask Y/n to marry me,” Natasha let out a surprised noise from the back of her throat. “I had this whole speech planned to ask for your blessing, but my anxiety is getting the better of me,” she managed to get the couple to smile. “I am probably not the person you thought would be dating your daughter. I am impulsive, rash, and sometimes reckless, but I am so in love with her that I can’t see my future without her by my side. So I am asking for your blessing.” The room grew silent. Kate was positive Natasha could hear her heart beating against her ribs.

“Kate,” Natasha said. “You are spontaneous but also devoted, loyal, true to your heart. So you are the perfect person for our daughter.”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you gave it to me,” Kate admitted. Natasha’s eyebrows went to her hairline. “I was given it like a 50 - 50 chance.” Maria chuckled.

“You make her happy. It would be foolish of us to take that away from her.”

“I’m so excited!” You said, probably for the 100th time, but Kate couldn’t care less. Your smile was infectious, and it was dampening the nerves in her stomach. They were going to St. Petersburg to visit Melina and Alexei; it would be the archer’s first time meeting your grandparents on Natasha’s side. She was nervous, especially since your parents and Yelena were coming along. The cherry on top is that Kate would ask you to marry her. She was a ball of nerves; if you noticed, you weren’t paying attention. “Melina had a new litter of piglets. I can’t wait to hold one!”

“Keep an eye on her, Kate Bishop.” Yelena teased. “She’ll try to bring one home again.” You rolled your eyes, sticking your tongue at your aunt.

“She almost got away with it, too,” Natasha called from the cockpit. “Until her bag started oinking.”

“It happened one time!” You defended. Everyone laughed as Kate put her arm around your shoulders and kissed your head.

“I’ll get you a pig one day, baby,” you wiggled in your seat and leaned against her. Yelena chuckled.

“You are whipped, Kate Bishop.” The archer flipped her friend off, and you giggled at their interaction.”

“Omg!” You shirked. “They are so cute, babushka (grandma).” You were leaning against the wooden pen as Melina was inside handling them. The piglets were skittish about new people and hid behind Melina and their mother.

“Are you going to try to steal one?” She asked. You huffed.

“No, I already got told no on the flight over. But,” you lopped your arm with Kate’s. “Someone did promise me they’d get me a pig.”

“I said one day, sweetheart, not today,” you pouted. “Besides, I don’t think we have enough space in our apartment.” Introducing Kate to your grandparents went without a hitch. Alexei made her swear they would spar before she left to test her strength and dedication. You were holding after a few bottles of vodka; the man would forget that. You saw Melina’s lips cruel up in a smile.

HYDRA and the Red Room’s paths rarely crossed, but you heard her name whispered among the higher-ups. After your adaptation, you learned Melina wrote your training program. It was hard for her to overcome that guilt. “Would you like to hold one?” She asked, standing up with a little piglet in her arms.

“Do you even have to ask?” You held your arms out so your grandmother could place the tiny creature in your arms. Immediately, you brought it closer to your chest. It amazed you how animals and humans were born so small and vulnerable. They relied heavily on those around them until they were more robust and capable of caring for themselves. At one moment, you were this small. Instead of caring for you, your birth giver gave you away. A slight squeal pulled you out of your thoughts. The piglet was getting comfortable. You looked up at Kate, staring at you with a soft smile. “Sorry, I got lost in my head for a second,” you handed the little one back to Melina. “You’re starring,” you said to Kate. “Do I have pig shit on my face or something?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I just think you are the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Kate thought it was impossible to fall in love with you more, but seeing you in St. Petersburg was a different you Kate got to fall in love with. There was a softness in how you acted around Alexei and Melina that you’ve never shown her. Kate was curious to know if she knew you were doing it. It was how you hung onto every word during Alexei’s ridiculous stories or your face lit up when Melina surprised you with a gift. It was adorable to watch, and Kate knew your parents loved to see it too, even though Natasha complained they were spoiling you. Kate was so in love with you, and she couldn’t wait to ask you to marry her.

You were curled up near the fireplace, reading one of the many books Melina had. Kate was 90% sure it wasn’t in English. “Hi, pretty girl,” Kate said, placing a new log on the fire. It wasn’t cold in Russia, but Kate learned you liked to have one every night. You smiled and lifted your head, asking for a kiss. Kate was never one to deny you that. She kept it quick as your family was in the kitchen. “I have a surprise,” Kate whispered. “Can I steal you for a moment?” You quickly shoved the bookmark in its place and took her hand. Kate led you upstairs, ignoring the thumbs-up Yelena sent her way.

On the first night, you showed Kate your favorite spot. It was through the window on the second floor to the flattest part of the roof and the perfect views of the property. You told her that Natasha and Maria had a heart attack when they found you asleep in the same spot. Kate opened the window and helped you to climb on the now-decorated roof. She heard you gasp as she joined you. A blanket with pillows and fairy lights lite up the dark space. There was a cooler filled with your favorite desserts. “You did all of this for me,” you said. Kate nodded. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” Kate chuckled. “Sit. Melina helped me make your favorites.” The older Black Widow was overjoyed when Kate approached her for help. Your favorite was the pitchy Moloko, a thick but light cake with a rich chocolate ganache glaze. She made medovik, a famous honey cake, and varenye, a traditional dessert with various fruits and berries cooked with sugar. Melina helped Kate make her favorite, syrniki, a fried cottage cheese pancake topped with apple sauce. You made it for her when she first started dating, learning quickly Kate preferred to savor desserts over sweets.

With your belly filled with sweets, you learned heavily from Kate and looked up at the stars. She had to admit she was jealous of the life Alexei and Melina built for themselves out here, away from all the fighting and bloodshed. Clint walked away from it, too. She could as well. “Thank you for this,” you broke the silence. “And for meeting the rest of my family.”

“No place I’d rather be, sweetheart,” she honestly said. As long as you were by her side, she would be home. “Actually,” Kate pulled away from you, smiling at your whine of protest. “I have one more surprise.” Carefully, she pulled you to your feet and took both of your hands. “Y/n Romanoff-Hill, ever since I saw you in training, I knew you were going to be trouble,” you giggled, a small smile on your face. “Even with your parent’s clear order to stay away from you, I couldn’t. I knew I needed to be in your life. I didn’t expect to fall head over heels in love with you.”

“It’s my charm,” you teased. “I get it from my moms.” Kate huffed out a laugh. Tears were forming in the corner of your eyes.

“You are the light at the end of the tunnel—my saving grace. I keep fighting to return home after the mission,” Kate said. She got down on one knee and took the ring out of her pocket. “Will you marry me and make me the happiest person in the multiverse?” She asked. You gasped, and your free hand covered your mouth as Kate opened the small jewelry box. Wanda helped her pick out the ring with your mom’s and aunt’s approval. The ring was more contemporary, with a square-cut diamond in the center and the bands intertwined with diamonds on the side. Tears were freely falling down your face. All Kate needed was your answer.

“Kate Bishop,” you whispered. “Of course, I’ll marry you.” The archer let out a sigh of relief as you pulled her to her feet. With shaky hands, she put the ring on your finger. It fit perfectly. You were quick to kiss her. Your lips tasted sweet from the chocolate and salty from your tears. You ended the kiss, keeping your forehead against hers. Kate could feel your breath on her lips. “I’m going to be your wife.” Wife. Wife. She was going to marry you. Holy shit. Kate laughed, lifting you and spinning you around. Your laughter was music to her ears.

“Come on,” she said. “I know some people are excited to hear the news.”

Your right hand was tightly in Kate’s. You were getting married. You had a wedding to plan and a dress to buy. Holy shit. “So,” Natasha smiled. She was the first to see you descending the stairs. It got the other’s attention. Instead of answering, you showed her your left hand.

“Finally!” Yelena cheered. “We can get drunk!” You laughed at your aunt’s antics and made your way around your family to show them your ring. It was beautiful, exactly what you dreamed about.

“Congratulations, squirt,” you turned around, surprised by the sudden voice.

“Uncle Clint!” You said, running over to the man and throwing yourself in his arms. “What are you doing here?” The man rolled his eyes.

“Do you really think we would miss your engagement?” This time, it was Wanda appearing through the door. “The others are coming.” You looked back at Kate, who had a sweet smile.

“You did this,” she shrugged.

“I had some help to make it happen.” Clint walked over to Kate and hugged her, kissing her on the side of her head. When you first met Kate, you told one person of your feelings for the archer. That was Wanda; you told her you would disobey your parents and date her. Now look where you were, surrounded by your family, celebrating your engagement. Kate wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. She swayed to the music that was playing.

“Where did you run off to?” She asked, kissing your neck.

“Just thinking about us,” you responded similarly when she asked you that Sunday morning. “Can’t wait for the next part.”

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop #kate bishop imagine

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wheresarizona · 11 months

Text

Learning to Live Part 20

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

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

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

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

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

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

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

Javier had opinions about the local police.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, none of the Smiths worked for the Sheriff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” he answered.

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

Javier scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

They have to protect their cargo.

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

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

“Yeah.”

“Good, we know they’re supplying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He scoffed. “You’re joking.”

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

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

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

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

Find a problem to solve.

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

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

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

He thought about it more rationally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not to go to a store… yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Javi, what’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t know that.”

“I know,” he sighed again.

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

“I know… But I want to do this.”

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

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

“No, baby.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were smiling big.

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

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

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

“I promise, Cielito—I pinky promise.”

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

“I love you, too, and I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure it did.”

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

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

“Very true.”

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

“How was your morning?” he asked.

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

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

“A good man.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m just excited,” he laughed.

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

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

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

He pointed beside you. “Second drawer.”

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

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

He had a warm expression.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for trusting me,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gracias,” you also said, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, twelve chiles.”

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

“Chucho?”

“Yes?” His attention turned to you.

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

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

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Who’s everyone?”

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

“Yes… and that means?”

What were you missing?

“You don’t make tamales alone…”

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

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

It felt like a record scratched in your brain.

“What people?”

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

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

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

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

You hoped they’d like you.

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

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

There was doubt in the back of your mind.

“You’re sure they like me?”

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

That made you feel better.

“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”

"You won't."

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

"You did."

"I did?"

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

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

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

“You won’t. What’s next on the list?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A rookie mistake.” You shook your head.

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

“Oh god, poor little guy!”

The pile of chiles was getting bigger.

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

“He loved his mom a whole lot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

“Are you a betting woman?”

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

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

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

“We’ll see what happens.”

“Yes, we will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She answered on the third ring.

“Hey, babe!”

He smiled. “Hi, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

His smile fell.

“Maybe… a little?”

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

“Just graduated from UT.”

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

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

Sighing, he replied, “I’ll… try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Cielito, I do.”

“Okay…”

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

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“You do really like my cooking.”

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

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

His brows furrowed.

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

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

He smiled. “Is he with you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He heard his dad laughing in the background.

“I really fucking love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A cool children’s lunch box.”

“I guess it’s kinda cool.”

“Stop lying to yourself—you love it.”

“I don’t love it,” he grumbled.

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

“I won’t forget. I love you.”

“I know.”

He chuckled. “Smartass.”

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

“Bye, Cielito.”

“Bye, Javi.”

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

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

God, he loved her.

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

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

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

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

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

Because she loved him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did she say?”

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I can.”

“May I ask a favor, Mija?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I hoped we would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you?”

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

“You can call me Lupe,” she interjected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sí,” he answered.

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

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

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

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

Swallowing hard, you asked, “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The anger left their faces, replaced with fond looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he replied.

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

“Not bad.”

“That’s good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, baby,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A really great job,” Rebeca agreed.

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

“Close your eyes!” Cielito said.

“What?” he asked.

“Close your eyes!”

“Okay…?” he replied, closing them.

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

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

He snorted. “I’m not gonna hate it.”

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

“I won’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it crazy, though?

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

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

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

She stroked her fingers through his hair.

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

He smiled. “Pop would love that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

“I highly doubt he’ll let me.”

“You should still ask.”

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

“Deal.” He nodded.

“You feeling better?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was frowning, feeling sad he missed it.

“I liked to fold,” he sighed.

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

Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that.”

Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss.

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

“I really fucking love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask him,” he murmured in your ear.

“Ugh, fine, hey Pop?”

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

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

“Thank you, Mija,” Chucho said, smiling at you. “I’m happy to have another kid, and who knows, maybe I’ll finally get those nietos (grandchildren) I want soon.”

Javi was in the middle of taking a drink and choked, coughing into his arm while you patted his back.

“We’re waiting until we’re married,” you told him. “And gosh, we’d probably want to have a house, too. There’s no space for a baby in the apartment.”

Chucho was nodding his head. “Of course, of course, if anything, Javi’s got his room here, and I’ve got the spare bedroom we could turn into a nursery, so that’s an option.”

It made you grin.

“That’s so sweet of you, Pop. We appreciate it.”

“Anything for my kids and future grandkids. Now, you had a question.”

“Oh, yes! Would you ever maybe possibly let me drive the Mustang…?”

“Sure.”

Your mouth fell open, Javi saying loudly, “What?!”

“But I’d be your passenger,” Chucho continued. “You can drive when we go to La Tapatía for the flan—it’s the least I can do.”

“Can I drive the Mustang?” Javi asked.

His father met his eyes. “No.”

“¿Por qué (Why)?” he said in rapid Spanish, his tone laced with anger. “¿Por qué ella puede conducir y yo no (Why can she drive and I can’t)?”

“Ella me está haciendo el flan de tu madre (She is making me your mom’s flan). Por eso. (That’s why).”

“¿Qué tengo que hacer (What do I have to do)?”

The older man thought about it for a second before a big toothy smile appeared on his face.

“Cuando te casas con ella, puedes conducir el Mustang (When you marry her, you can drive the Mustang).”

Javi sighed loudly. “Esta bien (Fine). Estas bien agresivo (You’re very pushy). Me voy a casar con ella (I am going to marry her).”

“Yo sé, Mijo, pero no lo suficientemente pronto (I know, Mijo, but not soon enough).”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you want your grandkids. You’re gonna have to hold your fuckin’ horses and wait.” He took another drink.

“I’m not getting any younger.” Chucho’s attention went back to the barbecue, flipping meat and vegetables.

“I’m aware.”

The two of you migrated over to where everyone else was, standing off to the side as they all talked in Spanish, Javi’s arm around you, his finger drawing circles on your hip.

“I can’t wait to get home,” he whispered in your ear for only you to hear.

“Why’s that?” you asked just as softly.

“So I can spread you out and eat your pussy for an hour or two.” He nipped at your earlobe, your breath catching in your throat. “But first, I want to fuck you nice and slow—want you to feel how I stretch you open and make you squeeze my dick when you come. Gonna pump you full of me.”

You could feel your heartbeat in your cunt, squeezing your thighs together.

“Javier,” you gasped. “We are with your family. Stop making me horny.”

“Yeah? Your panties drenched? If I stuck my hand inside those stretchy fucking shorts I love, would I feel you all wet for me?”

You were, and you hated how smug he sounded.

“Of course, but we’re going to be here for hours. Don’t rile me up.”

His hand moved from your hip to squeeze your ass.

“Maybe I want to rile you up. Have you dripping for me and needy. Get you so fucking horny that we barely make it into the apartment, and I fuck you right there on the floor.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You fucking love it. You don’t give a single fuck where I do it as long as I fuck you full of my come—you love being stuffed.”

“Javier,” you hissed.

“Yes, mi amor (my love)?”

“You’re being a goddamn menace.”

“I’m being your menace.” He kissed your cheek.

A tiny child was suddenly hugging your legs, looking down to find Javi’s cousin, Danny’s toddler, holding her chubby little arms up for you to pick her up, bending to do just that. The little girl was wearing a pink sleeveless dress, her little bit of dark hair pulled up in two pigtails, sitting her on your hip.

“Hola (Hi),” you greeted her with a smile. “¿Cuál es tu nombre (What is your name)?”

She was rubbing her hands together, not looking you in the eye.

“So-feee-a.”

“Hola, Sofia (Hi, Sofia). Tu nombre es muy bonito (Your name is very beautiful). ¿Cuántos años tienes (How old are you)?”

“Dos (Two)!” she announced, holding up two fingers. “Sí, dos (Yes, two)!”

“Muy bien (Very good). Te estás divirtiendo jugando con tus hermanos y primos (Are you having fun playing with your siblings and cousins)?”

“Sí, corren rápido (Yes, they run fast).”

Looking over at Javi, there was a soft look on his face, you asking him, “¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

He was just staring, your eyebrows creasing, jabbing him in the side with your elbow, “Javi?”

“What…?” he asked.

“¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”

“Oh, uh, corren muy rápido para ti?”

Nodding, your attention moved back to the child. “¿Corren muy rápido para ti?” you asked her.

“Sí, muy rápido (Yes, very fast).”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry) ¿Cuál es tu color favorito (What’s your favorite color)?

She tugged on her dress. “Rosadooo (Pink)! Y amarillooo (And yellow)!”

Her answer made you giggle.

“También me encantan esos colores (I love those colors, too).”

Sofia frowned. “Tengo sed (I’m thirsty).”

“Oh, um, Javi.” You looked at him. “Can you tell her we’ll take her to her mom?”

He set his beer down on the grass, straightening and holding out his arms. “Ven aquí, preciosa, te llevaremos a tu mamá (Come here, precious, we will take you to your mom),” he said in that sweet voice he always used with the animals, taking the child from you.

He held her easily in one arm, hearing him speaking softly to her in Spanish as he walked her over to her mom at the picnic table—your eyes had gone wide, gulping as you took him in, your ovaries going haywire at how perfect he looked; how natural, thinking those broad shoulders of his would come in handy to carry more than one baby.

Oh.

Oh no.

You had to fan yourself with your hand, it suddenly feeling very hot, doing your best to ignore the ancient, primal part of your brain screaming that he was the perfect man to father your children, and he needed to put one in you right that second—the temptation to toss your birth control when you got home was too damn high.

Dear god, was this baby fever? Were you experiencing baby fever?

The way arousal was burning in your gut and making your pussy throb with need told you, yes, you did, in fact, have baby fucking fever.

You were so unbelievably horny, annoyed it was at the most inopportune time, needing to go splash some cold water on your face to calm yourself down.

Javi was returning to you, your eyes darting away as you said when he was close, “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Pointing with your thumbs toward the house. “I’ll be back.”

He was in front of you, his hands rubbing your upper arms, your body shivering at the contact.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Fucking fantastic, not horny at all, no siree, perfectly fine. I’ll be back.”

“Okay…?”

You practically bolted away from him and into the house, passing the guest bathroom to go to the one in Javi’s room. Two of his tías and a daughter-in-law were in the kitchen making side dishes, their husbands in the living room, relaxing in the air conditioning, and watching something on the television.

Safely locked away in Javi’s en suite, you took care of your needs and washed your hands, leaving the faucet running and turning the temperature as cold as possible. Leaning over the sink, you splashed some water on your face, which helped a little, still feeling on edge as you walked over to get a small towel out of the in-wall cabinet to dry off.

The sink was turned off, staring at yourself in the mirror. “We will get married, we will buy a house, and then we will have babies,” you said out loud. “Don’t you dare give in just because your boyfriend is a goddamn DILF without the children. Oh, god,” you whined. “He’s going to be such a fucking DILF! Why does he have to be so sexy?! We can’t even fuck until later. Focus!” You pointed your finger at yourself in the reflection. “No babies, no matter how fucking tempting it is, no. Cool your fucking jets. You’ve got this.” Nodding your head once, you turned to toss the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, squeaking in surprise when the hulking figure of your boyfriend was right there, immediately invading your space, his hand on your jaw as he crushed his lips to yours, his other arm wrapped around your back—walking you backward, kissing you like his life depended on it, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth to tangle with your own, your hands landing in his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.

He kicked the door shut, his lips not leaving yours as he reached behind him to lock it.

The horniness was back at full force, wanting him, no, needing him to ease the ache between your legs, snaking your hand down his front, finding his cock hard under his navy blue slacks, his boxer briefs making it stretch up at an angle toward his belt, Javi groaning as you stroked him over his pants.

He pushed you back against the bathroom counter, his hips pressing into you, moaning as his tongue plundered your mouth.

A moment of clarity hit you, remembering where you were and the many people outside his bedroom door, reluctantly breaking the kiss to say, “Javi, your family’s in the other room.”

Kissing you again, his words were muffled, “I locked the bedroom door.” He squeezed your breast, his other hand grabbing your ass.

Pulling back again, he chased your lips, moving your head to dodge him. “We can’t fuck with them out there, Javier.”

There was a grumpy expression on his face as he stared at you. “Why not?”

“They could hear us?”

“They won’t—we’ll be quick and quiet. Nobody will know.” He licked his plush lips, your attention drawn to them.

There was his bedroom and the entryway separating you from everyone else, so as long as you weren’t too loud… Christ, were you really thinking about fucking in a house full of people? Yes, you were, knowing Javi would make it so good—remembering how he said you didn’t care where he did it as long as he came inside you, which was apparently true, your resolve disappearing in an instant, wanting him so fucking bad nothing else mattered.

“Fuck, okay—a quickie, Javier, and you better make sure I’m not too loud,” you said, poking his chest. “God, I’m so fucking horny.”

His mouth was on yours again, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his lips moved to your jaw, saying into your skin, “I know you’re horny, baby—” He nibbled on your chin. “—could tell outside.” His mouth was against your neck, kissing down it, his hand moving between your legs, making you moan when he rubbed over your sex. “You think I’m a DILF.” He sucked on your pulse point before his head popped up with a confused look, “What the fuck is a DILF?”

“Oh god, you heard my pep talk.” Embarrassment had you covering your face with your hands, Javi immediately prying them off, looking at you fondly.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Cielito,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I loved the pep talk—we needed the pep talk ‘cause seeing you with the baby fucked me up, too. You didn’t answer my question, what’s a DILF?”

“You know a MILF is a mother I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is a dad I’d like to fuck—you’re a fuckin’ future dad I’d like to fuck.”

He kissed you, smiling into it. “You’re in luck,” he said, ending the sentence with a nip to your bottom lip. Stepping back, he spun you around to have your front to the counter, his body flush with yours, seeing you both in the mirror with his lips at your ear, his dark eyes meeting your gaze in the reflection. “You get to fuck me,” he said in a deep timbre that had tingles moving down your spine.

“Good,” you replied, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. “I need you to fuck me, Papí.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, seeing his throat bob as he swallowed. His body left yours, pulling you with him as he took two steps back. “Arms on the counter, baby,” he rasped, his big hand sliding up your spine and gently pushing you forward, bending at your waist to rest your forearms on the countertop beside the sink. “Fucking love these shorts.” His hand came down hard on your asscheek in a loud smack, your cunt clenching, gasping his name.

“You’re also gonna love what’s under them,” you purred.

Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, his gaze was on yours in the mirror, smirking under his mustache. “The red one?” he asked.

“You’ll see.”

He tugged the bike shorts down, the air cool as it hit your bare skin, Javi sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on the red thong you’d worn, unable to keep himself from squeezing handfuls of your ass. “I love you so fucking much—fuck, it’s pretty.” He glanced up to continue, “Thank you for spoiling me today, mi amor (my love).”

Smiling, you replied, “You’re welcome, Javi. Now please fuck me.” You wiggled your hips.

“Are you needy for me, Cielito?” he asked, his hands going to the front of his pants, hearing the clink of his belt and the teeth of his zipper coming apart.

“Needy in the sense that I need your dick inside me right now, and we can save the ass worship for later.”

He chuckled, his slacks and underwear getting shoved down his thighs. “I’ll put my dick inside you, then,” he said, using one hand to pull the soaked fabric of your thong to the side, spitting on the fingers of his other to slick up his cock.

Anticipation was thrumming in your veins, your pussy weeping for him, needing Javi to fill your achingly empty center in the way only he could satisfy. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the tip of his length to your sopping entrance, gasping yes as he started pushing in, your head dropping between your shoulders, resting your forehead on your crossed arms in front of you. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, cursing under his breath as he slid home in one smooth thrust, making you moan when he bottomed out—it felt so fucking good, his thick cock stretching your tight walls, carving out space inside you while your cunt tried to suck him in deeper, feeling so goddamn full.

The hem of his dress shirt was brushing against your ass, Javi pulling almost all the way out, and thrusting back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, setting up a punishing pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”

This was going to be hard and fast, the goal to get off as quickly as possible.

You could hear the wet slap of his hips connecting with your ass, the flesh jiggling—his hand landed on your asscheek hard enough the smack echoed in the small room, your pussy squeezing him tight as you moaned. Looking up, you saw him behind you in the mirror, his mouth slack, eyes dark and half-lidded, his attention on you, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, seeing the flush crawling up his chest to his beautiful neck, the taut skin glistening in sweat.

“Does it turn you on, baby,” he asked through his teeth, pistoning into you, “thinking about me as a dad?”

The beginning threads of your orgasm were starting to weave in your belly, feeling the familiar heat growing.

He slapped your ass again. “Answer me, Cielito.”

“Yes,” you gasped, your words stuttering from the pounding, “Fuck, it’s so good, Javi. It turns me on—turns me on so fucking much,” you babbled. “You’re fucking me so good. Harder, Javi.”

“You want it harder, mi amor (my love)?”

“Yes.”

Bending over your back, his arm went under you and across your chest, pulling you up to stand. His thrusts didn’t wane, shoving your shirt up your chest one-handed to reveal one bra-covered breast, tugging the cup down to pinch your stiff nipple, the sensations shooting straight to your pussy.

He kissed the side of your neck, grunting in exertion.

“You really want it harder?” he asked breathily in your ear.

“Yes, Papí,” you moaned.

His big hands moved, grabbing your biceps near your elbows, pulling you back as he thrust forward, fucking you so hard your mouth was open, gasping out moans. Your mind was a pleasure-addled mess, unable to think about anything except how good he was fucking you—the knot in your belly was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, until euphoria exploded outward from your core, coming with a shout of Javi’s name that was quickly muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shhh, Cielito—such a good fucking girl for me” Your cunt had clenched up so tight his rhythm slowed to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he worked you through your high. His head was beside yours, speaking in your ear, “I know it’s good, baby—need you to be quiet, just ride it out.” He kissed your neck again, his free hand rubbing over your stomach and up to squeeze your breast. “I love you so fucking much.”

Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving after climaxing, Javier waiting for her cunt to stop fluttering around him, his throbbing cock slowly moving in and out of her, it wetter where they were joined.

He loved watching her come and knowing he was the one that got her there, pride always swelling inside him that he made her feel so good.

She was saying something, not making out the words with his large hand over her mouth, quickly removing it.

“What’s that?” he asked, kissing just behind her ear.

Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him in the mirror.

“I said I love you, too,” her rough voice responded.

One sentence, and it had his body going warm, unable to keep from smiling at her with how fucking happy she made him.

He was close to his end, the heat in the base of his spine threatening to explode with how fucking gone he was on her. All he could think about was everything she’d done for him that day, all of the things, big and small, showing him without her saying it how much she loved him, and he wanted to give her the entire fucking world—it was more than what she deserved, but that wasn’t possible so he was settling with giving her such good dick, it made her drool.

“You’re cute when you’re fucked out of your mind,” he said, placing a kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Her aftershocks had finally ended, and it was his turn. “I’m gonna move you,” he told her. She gasped when he pulled out, getting her closer to the counter where he turned her to face him, bending to tug down her shorts and underwear, impatiently taking off her shoe to get one of her legs free. When he stood back up, he gripped her bare thighs, grunting as he lifted her onto the counter's edge, spreading her legs to make space for himself.

She was wide open for him, seeing the puffy lips of her pussy shining in the light, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wishing he had time to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, Javier taking his place in the cradle of her thighs, quickly sheathing himself back in her wet heat.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, slowly rocking deep inside her.

Her legs wrapped around his middle to lock at the small of his back, her cunt warm and welcoming, beckoning him to come, feeling the build low in his belly.

There was a need to have her like this, his lips smashing into hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he started moving faster. His hand held her face, the other pushing her shirt all the way up her chest to get both of her breasts free from her bra, palming the bare skin and tweaking her pebbled nipples while his tongue slid along hers in the way he knew made her toes curl.

Her soft sounds and his rougher ones were quieted with their mouths being connected, his hips swinging into her with strong, even thrusts, hearing the wet suck of her pussy, the slick friction of her velvety walls pushing him closer to his release.

She put all of her weight on one of her arms, her free hand grabbing his hair to pull his head back, her lips wetly trailing along his jaw, her voice saying into his skin, “It’s so good, Javi—you feel so fucking good inside me.” Her tongue licked up the column of his throat, and it had his eyes rolling back, his rhythm stuttering for a second.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, her mouth sucking a mark on his jugular. “You’re gonna make me come.” The muscles in his abdomen were beginning to tighten.

His pace sped up, able to tell he was fucking her good when her head fell back, and her sounds started getting loud enough he had to cover her mouth again.

“It feel good, Cielito?” he asked roughly. “You like knowing you’re gonna make me come? That this pretty fucking pussy is gonna milk me dry? You love that I’m gonna give you what you want and fill you up—stuff you full of my come?” He licked his lips. “Bet you wish you weren’t on birth control.” Her moan was muffled, squeezing her eyes shut, causing a jolt to run through him.

Seeing her earlier with the baby had ignited a fire inside him, something instinctual telling him he needed to give her one of her own—that they needed one of their own, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he fucked his come deep inside her. From the look on her face, she was also feeling some type of way, which was why he’d followed her into the house, her pep talk confirming he was right. There had been no way for them to wait until they got home to fuck, he was too riled up, and she wasn’t any better.

She looked at him, her eyes glazed over in lust, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, looking absolutely fuck drunk as she tried to say something he couldn’t make out, still fucking in and out of her.

He lifted his hand.

“What?” he asked through heavy breaths.

She sounded wrecked. “Fuck a baby into me—please,” she begged.

The sentence was his undoing, a strangled noise ripping from his throat, his head falling against her shoulder, his balls tightening, and cock thickening—two more quick strokes before he was burying himself to the hilt, sinking his teeth into her flesh over her shirt as he came so hard his vision went white and he lost hearing in his left ear.

He rolled his hips, working his spend as deep as he could get it, the overstimulation causing a whispery hiss to leave his lips before he finally stilled, his body so relaxed he slumped into her. A euphoric haze came over him, his mind as slow as molasses.

Her free hand stroked through his sweat-damp hair, her nails scratching lovingly along his scalp, which felt so good, he was humming appreciatively.

A few minutes passed, and she finally broke the silence to croak out, “Well, that was unexpected.”

His ear was still ringing, lifting his head to look at her. “What was unexpected?” he asked.

“The sex—” She delightedly smiled, poking his nose. “—and your massive fucking breeding kink.”

Confusion came over his face.

“My what?” he asked.

“For a man who has had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot, it’s always surprising when you don’t know a sex thing.” She pushed some of his hair off of his forehead. “Your breeding kink; it gets you off thinking about knocking me up.”

He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, looking away from her.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to know…” He scratched at the back of his neck.

Her hand gently moved his face to meet her eyes, her brows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

Letting out a long sigh, he answered truthfully, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I’m fine with waiting,” he quickly added. “Really fucking fine with it, especially after this morning, but the fantasy…”

“Really gets you going. Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve got a massive breeding kink, too. I like to imagine you getting me pregnant when we fuck, and also, the whole there being a one percent chance that you actually could really gets me going.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over her thighs. “So, it’s okay..?”

She smiled, resting her palm on his cheek. “Oh yeah. It’s more than okay. We can have our fantasy for now, but my god, imagine how good the sex will be when we’re actually trying.”

That had arousal stirring in his belly. “Fuck,” he breathed again. Cupping her cheeks, he said, “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky with you, but you’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. Eres la mejor novia del mundo y soy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado (You’re the best girlfriend in the whole world and I’m happy to share each moment of my life by your side).” He kissed her softly, murmuring into her lips, “Siempre has sido tú, incluso antes de conocerte, y siempre serás la elegida porque eres el amor de mi vida y tú eres la única para mí (It has always been you, even before I knew you, and it will always be you because you are the love of my life and you are the only one for me).”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile.

“I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world, and I’m happy I get to spend my life with you and have your babies.” She pecked him on the lips. “It’s cheesy,” she continued. “But before I met you, it felt like something was missing in my life, you know? And now I feel like everything is right—you feel right; you were what I was missing,” she said, poking him over his heart. Javier grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles, listening to her speak. “So, you’ve always been it for me, always, and life just waited for us to both be lost before allowing us to finally find each other.” She shrugged. “You’re it for me, Javier Peña—you’ve always been it; yesterday, today, tomorrow, a year from now, it’s always going to be you because I was meant for you, and you were meant for me. In summary, I love you so fucking much, too.”

He chuckled, kissing her a little harder this time, feeling so happy he thought he might be floating.

He knew she was the love of his life—knew it with every fiber of his being, and he would spend the rest of his days with her just to prove it.

When your lungs begged for air, you broke the kiss, Javi smiling so big his dimple was showing, the love for you clear in his gaze.

“Today was good?” you asked.

“Today was fucking amazing.”

“Good, good,” you nodded. “Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?” His hands were skating up and down your bare thighs.

“I have another surprise for you that can’t happen until tomorrow…”

“Baby, you’ve done so much. I don’t need anything else.” He quickly kissed you.

“Oh, you’re gonna really fucking want this.”

His eyebrow lifted, looking curious.

“What is it?”

“Well, after a lot of thinking and working up my courage, I thought maybe you’d wanna try fucking my ass?”

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña/reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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bl00dst41ned · 7 months

Text

*.·:·.✦ my little secret (jude bellingham 'series' pt.2) ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jude bellingham x female oc (Mariah)

summary: in which jude finds out what he's missing

author's note: part 2 is out, part 1 is here. taglist: @everlyjay, @barcagirly (don't know if you wanted to be tagged but didn't know what you meant with your repost) you can still ask to be tagged.

series masterlist

word count: 696

It was another day at St Georges’ Park. The English team was back for the international break. Jude sat at lunch, Trent at his left and Marcus and Bukayo in front of them, in the middle of a conversation.

“Aye, Jude, you remember Mariah ?” Marcus started as he kept his eyes on his phone.

Jude’s head rose, confusion written on his face.

“The girl you disrespectfully dumped after cheating on her” Trent described with no facial expression.

Even though Jude was his friend, he never forgot to remind him how wrong he was in this situation.

“Oh, umm yeah why?”

Marcus turned his phone around showing them an Instagram post.

mariahsworld Self care day to celebrate Tamara’s five months of living. Thank you for choosing me as your mom, I love you 💕

Within a second, Jude had gone on her account via his spam since she had him blocked on the main page and viewed the post. He then went to click on her story seeing even more pictures and videos of her and her baby.

Jude kept his eyes on the screen as if he was hypnotized.

"Waow, I didn- just waow" He mumbled, lost of words. "She definitely turned a new page"

He kept scrolling as Mason and Declan sat at their table. The two instantly noticed Jude’s concentration since he didn't even noticed them.

"Jude what's wrong?" Declan asked as the young man finally noticed them.

"Nun- his ex he threw away for a one night stand now has a baby" Bukayo cut him off with a teasing smile on his face, ruining Jude's attempt to change the subject.

"Mariah?!" Surprise was laced in Declan's voice at the mention of the girl. "This cannot be real"

Declan went on Mariah's page, seeing all the posts with the little girl on it.

"Five months...."

"Tamara is a such cute name" Mason intervened.

Declan had noticed a detail about the little girl's date of birth that rose his attention.

"When did you guys break up already ?"

"A little over a year ago, maybe a year and a month"

Declan's eyes widened as it all came together in his head. If little Tamara was five months, then Mariah had to get pregnant a year and two months prior. And if they broke up a year and a month ago...

"Mate," Jude nodded his head indicating he was listening "Is that your daughter?"

"Wh- No, i-it can't be, she didn't tell me anything"

As unbelievable as it sounded to him, Declan's theory had intrigued Jude. He stared at the picture of the baby while thinking. Not able to get his mind right, Jude needed external advice.

Jude

*sent an attachment*

bro look at this

Jobe

Mar had a baby ?!

waow didn't expect that

Jude

jobe, this might be my child

Jobe

……

Hahahaha

stop playing I almost believed you

Jude

I'm being serious

Jobe

How serious?

Jude

As serious as serious can be

Jobe

ooh tell me all about it

Jude

stop joking pls I'm in deep shit

so Dec did the maths

the baby is 5 months

plus the nine months so we have 14 months right ?

Jobe

Good you can do basic maths

Jude

anyways

we broke up around 13 months ago

therefore ?

Jobe

mum's gonna burn you into ashes

and throw them in the bin

you're dead asf

Jude

no shit 🙄

but it's not what's important rn

I need confirmation

Jobe

for what exactly ??

you're the cheater from what I know

Jude

who knows ?

Jobe

bro you're nuts

she would not have done that

but looks like I'm an uncle 😝😝

Jude

jobe please be serious

you sound like liyah rn

she's getting into your head

Jobe

what did you just say about my girlfriend?

Jude

you can't fight me

Jobe

for my girl ?

I'll beat you tf up 😍🥰🔪

your potential daughter looks so cute tho

Jude

JOBE

we are digressing

what should I do ?

Jobe

bro….

text her

Jude

she blocked me

Jobe

okay ??

if you actually care, you'll find a way

Jude

why is everybody so rude with me ?

Jobe

Jude

STOP WITH THE MEMES

you're becoming just like your girl

Jobe

as I should

Jude

….

bye

Jude exited his conversation with Jobe going to DM Mariah on his spam.

yo it's Jude

i think we need to talk

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #my little secret series #football #football fic #football imagine #football x oc #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jobe bellingham x oc

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ghostofhyuck · 3 months

Text

Taguan ng Anak series 6

Ex-lovers! Chenle and reader

Summary: Going home after studying abroad, Chenle wonders how are you and how well are you coping with the breakup because Chenle is surely not taking it up well.

But to his surprise, you seemed to be coping well especially when he found you playing in the park with a kid that resembles him so much.

cw: mentions of pregnancy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were the first thing he wanted to see.

The moment the plane landed, Chenle just wanted to remove the seatbelt, jump off the plane and run all the way to your place just to give you the biggest hug ever.

Which is something that he can’t actually do because you two are no longer a couple and it was him who broke up with you.

Maybe a better thing to do was stop by a flower shop, buy a huge bouquet of pink roses, knock on the door of your house, kneel and ask for forgiveness. Chenle can do that. It’s much better than just coming through your life again after breaking your heart.

But he couldn’t help but feel guilty at the same time. You were loving, supportive, and understanding. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, so it hurts that rather than having remorse for him, you gave him your sweetest smile and hugged him one last time when Chenle decided to break up with you. Eventually, it was Chenle who cried to sleep that night. He hates that he has to call things off with you just because he has to study abroad.

Chenle has no choice. This is for his future and it was a huge opportunity, it’ll be a waste if not only he rejected it but if he doesn’t do well in his studies. And it’s not like you’re a distraction but Chenle doesn’t want to let you down if he ever becomes busy.

He explained it clearly to you, and that his intentions of breaking up with you were just shallow, and you were understanding enough to accept it. Wishing him good luck in his study and that you’ll support him no matter what.

“If ever,” Chenle nervously said. “If ever I return, is it okay if I pursue you again?”

You only smile, “Let’s see about that Chenle, you’re not the only one who wants to excel too.”

Right. Chenle’s not even sure if you’re there. From what he heard, you moved to Seoul because you got accepted to have a masters in a well-known university. He doesn’t have the courage to ask your friends about you, afraid that they might get the wrong idea.

As Chenle entered the arrival area, he couldn’t help but feel nervous. The air was cool and summer was near. It was the perfect season for him to go home. Chenle tucks his luggage closer when he hears screaming.

“Welcome back!” his friends greeted. Chenle couldn’t help but approach them, letting go of his luggage and hugging them one by one.

“Look at you! Still the same as ever!” Jeno shouts, ruffling his hair.

“Auntie and uncle are preparing your favourite meals, Jisung stayed behind and offered to help,” Renjun explained.

“We all know that he just wants to take a bite while no one’s looking,” Chenle commented, making everyone laugh.

“Should we get going now? Auntie said to bring you home as soon as possible,” Mark said, swinging the keys of the car.

“Of course!”

“Let’s go!”

“Everyone’s waiting for you!”

Chenle stops. Making them stop too.

“What’s wrong Chenle?” Jaemin asked.

“Everyone?” Chenle repeats.

His friends looked at each other, confused. Chenle wanted to bring up you but then again, he remembered that he doesn’t have the right to.

“She’s here Chenle,” Mark answered. “She went home a few weeks ago, said that it was her semester break.”

“We did invite her to your homecoming but she said she’ll think about it,” Donghyuck added.

“No, it's fine!” Chenle shrugs, cringing internally at how fake he sounds. “I mean, I broke up with her, it’ll be weird that she’ll show up to my house.”

His friends shared weird glances with each other. Chenle knows he’s being judged by his friends but he couldn’t care less about it.

“Come on now guys, I know you guys are hungry too,” Chenle said in defeat. His friends in the end, just brushed off what Chenle said earlier.

When they arrived at Chenle’s place, it’s already crowded with people. Their neighbours are waiting for his homecoming. The moment Chenle entered the house, strangers hugged him and welcomed him, asking him how his study was and whether he’ll go back again or not. Not even minding his jet lag, Chenle greets the people with ease, answering their questions and entertaining them as much as possible.

But Chenle couldn’t help but think of you. Sometimes he would look at the entrance of their house, waiting for you to come or perhaps pass by. And yet, a part of him knows that the possibility of you coming here and welcoming him would be small. You two are ex-lovers, Chenle should take note of that one.

“Ma! I’ll go out for a moment!” Chenle said, grabbing his jacket that’s laying on the couch.

And there’s that part of him where he knows that the two of you ended up without any resentment. You weren’t angry when he broke up with you, so why would you not be bitter enough to join the party? Maybe you’re too shy to go, or maybe you’re too busy. His friends did mention that you’re just there for a semester break.

“What!? Where are you going!” Chenle’s mother asked, her voice hovering over the guests.

“Just outside!” Chenle answered and before his mother could rebut, Chenle had left the place.

“Don’t worry auntie, we all know why he went out,” Renjun assures, taping the woman from the shoulders.

“That kid, it’s not like he’s going straight to her house right?”

Renjun could only shrug as an answer.

Your house was about ten blocks away from Chenle’s house. It’s a bit farther but Chenle didn’t mind if it meant seeing you again.

“Cairo! Cairo, come here!” But it seems like Chenle doesn’t need to go to your house when you seem to be closer than he thought.

Just across the streets, the residential park resides. It’s small but enough for a kid’s playground to be placed. There’s a bunch of benches beside and trees enough to give shade. It’s still the same as ever; you’re still the same as ever.

As Chenle approaches you, he couldn’t help but be mesmerised at how long it has been ever since he saw you. You changed a bit but it’s still you, he remembers how bright your smile was and your laugh — it’s still music to his ears.

But he couldn’t help but notice that you’re not alone. You’re with someone — a kid who resembles him so much. Chenle felt like he was seeing things but no matter how many times he tried to squint, the kid just resembled him so much.

“Chenle?” and if it wasn’t for you noticing him then maybe he’ll be frozen there the whole day.

“Hey…” Chenle clears his throat, not knowing what to say.

“You’re back — I mean, I was informed but oh my god! You’re back!” you said with glee. It’s been a long time since you saw Chenle, you were surprised that he’s here since you were told that there will be a welcoming party.

“Can I ask you a question first,” Chenle asked instead, caughting you off-guard. “Who’s that kid?”

Chenle saw how your smile faded away. For a second, you glanced at your son before shifting your glance at Chenle. They do resemble a lot.

“Is he…mine?” Chenle asked.

You could only nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Chenle, you know why I didn’t tell you,” and for the first time, Chenle hears a tone of bitterness from your voice.

Truth to be told, it was you who asked if the two of you could talk. You wanted to inform him about your pregnancy before he leaves to study. At first, you were scared when you found out that you’re pregnant. You two have always been careful. But you did remember that time where you had unprotected sex — you remember wanting to be more close and intimate with him. Savouring every moment with him because in a few months, he’ll be leaving.

It’s not like you wanted to tie him to you, but you don’t want to hide it from it. But when you two talked, Chenle broke up with you first.

It didn’t surprise you either. Weeks before his flight, Chenle was agitated, as if something was troubling him. He couldn’t even look at you without feeling guilty. It had you troubled too, but sooner or later, you found your answer.

You weren’t able to tell him the truth, instead you understand why he called things off and shrugged it off like the fool you are. You didn’t resent him for what he did to you, and you know that maybe having a baby would be too early for the two of you.

But Cairo became a sweet bundle of joy to you. Your parents were angry at you first but they were left with no choice but to help you in raising Cairo. They’ve grown to love Cairo and became the best grandparents for him.

“So when you asked me if we could talk, you were about to tell me that you were pregnant?” Chenle asked, shocked.

“Yeah, but you went ahead and broke up with me,” you replied.

“I’m sorry, I…I didn’t know, when I asked you about what you wanted to say, you shrugged it off, telling me it’s not important,” Chenle explained.

“Well, it’s not really important,” you laughed.

“Hey! Don’t say things like that! Of course it was! I should’ve asked you about it, but I was just too scared,” Chenle could only look away, guilty. “I hurt you too.”

“No, I understand why you broke up with me Chenle,” you smiled. “It was my choice to keep Cairo too, it didn’t matter to me if he grew up with just me as his parents.”

“Well it matters to me!” Chenle shouts, surprising you.

“Remember when I asked you if I ever return, can I pursue you again, well I’m here to do it,”

“Chenle…”

“Seriously, I know that you said that we’ll see about it but I know that you didn’t say no, so I’m here to pursue not only but also Cairo.”

“Are you serious?”

“When was I not serious to you?” he grabs both your hands and smiles at you.

“And if I don’t want to?” you asked.

“Then I’ll just try harder until you give in eventually.” Chenle promises.

#nct #nct dream #nct fic #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream chenle fic #nct dream chenle fluff #nct chenle fic #nct chenle imagines #nct dream chenle imagine #nct chenle fluff #nct chenle

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toournextadventure · 11 months

Text

everyone but her pt.29

Summary: Wednesday's ex makes an appearance and you're not happy about it. Neither is the voice in your head. And things only go downhill from there.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, murder, hallucinations, injuries, police Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Joel?” You asked.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Joel said, his eyes still glued to Wednesday. Why was he looking at her like that?

“Since that second summer at Camp Chippewa,” Wednesday said with the slightest tilt of her head. Why was she looking at him like that?

“Camp what?” You asked. Everyone seemed to be trying to follow the conversation same as you; it didn’t make you feel any better.

Your migraine got worse.

“You staged a getaway again, same as the first summer,” Joel continued.

“What is going on?” You asked.

“Come join us,” Wednesday said as she moved aside.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself as you watched him sit right by your girlfriend. Why was he so eager? What the hell was he doing?

He made her tilt her head, the voice in your head growled, loud and booming. It almost felt like it was rattling your brain inside your skull before pulverising it with a meat tenderiser. Even though it worsened the migraine, you knew the voice was right. This Joel character, whoever the hell he was, had made Wednesday do the equivalent of a smile. You could barely even do that.

You watched - and seethed - as Joel and Wednesday started talking as if they had known each other for centuries. She doesn’t talk to you like that, the voice said when Wednesday started rambling about whatever thing she had learned in her Lit class that, coincidentally, he was also taking. They were bonding.

Get angry, the voice said when Wednesday very nearly smirked at something he said. She didn't, but she nearly did, and that was bad enough. Images flashed in your mind, images of your hands around his neck. It would be simple, you only had to reach over the table. You just looked back down at your food and stabbed your spoon through your rice.

"Seems Wednesday finally has a friend," Divina said from her spot beside you.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

His pulse weakening beneath your fingers as you squeezed harder-

-you blinked to clear the image away. You didn’t need to kill him, especially if he was a friend of Wednesday’s. She didn’t have many friends, you needed to calm down and let her live. Wednesday Addams had no keeper, and even if she did it certainly wouldn’t be you.

“How do you two know each other again?”Ash asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You stabbed the spoon into your food once again; you weren’t hungry anymore.

“My Aunt Debbie deceived my parents into forcing Pugsley and me to attend a summer camp a few years ago,” Wednesday said with another tilt of her head. You roughly grabbed your coffee, suppressing your cough when the liquid was still just a bit too hot when it hit your throat.

“You have an Aunt Debbie?” Bianca asked.

“Picture a grown Enid, but more homicide and mania,” you said with a shrug. Not that you had met her yet, but you had heard stories. After all, she had married Wednesday’s favourite Uncle.

“We were always in trouble for not being like everyone else,” Joel said. He needed to quit looking at Wednesday before you ripped his eyes out of his skull.

“What rebels,” you mimicked, ignoring the look Yoko sent your way. “Practically anarchists.”

“Wednesday was my first kiss, actually.”

You choked on the coffee you had just attempted to drink. She was what? With wide eyes, you looked up to see Wednesday looking at you with a passive face, aside from the slightly lowered brows. Oh she was not giving you that look, not when you were just told Mr. Happy Go Lucky over there had kissed her.

“Oh shit,” Yoko whispered.

Even with your eyes glued to Joel, you could feel everyone else’s eyes on you. Watching you, waiting to see if you would snap. Is that what your life had turned into? One where everyone was just waiting to see what would be the straw to break the camel’s back? Worried that just one wrong thing would cause you to break and lose your temper?

They should be worried, the voice in your head taunted. You’re a loose canon.

No you weren’t.

A liability.

No.

A death wish.

“So you two were together?” Ajax asked, his eyes still closed from the hangover no doubt plaguing his body.

“As well as two children can be,” Wednesday said.

“For about a year and a half or so,” Joel said with a nod. He wasn’t even giving you the respect of looking at you.

A death wish.

“We were, what, 12? 13?” Joel asked as he looked at Wednesday with the beginning of a smile.

Tick tick tick.

“I believe so,” Wednesday said with a slight nod.

“Shit,” Yoko mumbled again.

You’re gonna snap.

“And you actually, like, had a good time?” Kent asked Wednesday.

Tick tick tick.

“I would say it was rather enjoyable, yes,” Wednesday answered.

Boom.

You slammed your hands on the table and stood up quickly. The ringing in your ears grew with each second that seemed to crawl by at an agonising pace. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a full breath. It felt like you were trying to breathe underwater, each breath heavier and more painful than the last. You were acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on you as the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Defend what’s yours.

“Hey,” Divina said softly. You couldn’t help but flinch when her hand rested on your forearm. She can go too. “You okay?”

“I’m gonna head out,” you managed to choke out past the lump in your throat.

“Are you feeling ill?” Wednesday asked.

Finally she was looking at you with something other than indifference. Outwardly it would almost seem angry, but you could see the lack of a glare in her eyes. She wasn’t looking up at you, but looking at you with the slightest downturn of her lips. You knew what care looked like on her, and for the first time all day, it was what she was showing you.

“I have a pocket pharmacy,” Joel said quickly, “did you need something specific?”

Kill them all.

“I’m good,” you said harshly. Break his spirit. “I’ll see you guys at the dorm.”

“Did you-”

-you didn’t wait to hear what Yoko was going to say before leaving the booth and heading out of the little restaurant. You gave a tense goodbye wave to Chung on the way out the door. The migraine continued to pound against the inside of your skull, worsening when the sunlight hit your eyes.

Go back in there and show him who’s the boss.

“Shut up,” you said through clenched teeth as you started walking aimlessly down the street.

The voice continued to rage inside your head, mixing between threats and images that, try as you might, you couldn’t shake off. The sound of Joel’s gasps for air or the feel of him desperately trying to claw your hands off. It was too much, you didn’t want to hurt him.

Yes you do.

“I don’t,” you said aloud again, ignoring the look a random woman gave you as you walked past her.

Your feet carried you until you reached the taller buildings in town; the high rises that truly weren’t very high. With only a quick glance around, you stepped into one of the alleys and stopped midway. Your fingers shook as you slid your shirt off and unbuckled the harness, exhaling through your nose at the sudden lack of pressure against your back.

Stop running away.

There was a slight pressure in your back as your wings expanded before you pushed yourself off the ground, propelling straight into the sky until you could land on the top of the highest building. It was a nice place, plenty secluded and you had even managed to sneak a few things up there. There was only one door and it was always locked, so you could keep your things nice and secret.

Breathing continued to be a struggle as your feet touched the rooftop and your wings folded back securely in place. The tips of a few feathers brushed against your arm and you frowned for a moment. It was about time for a dust bath; they were feeling a little unkempt. A problem for another time, of course.

You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth in front of one of the walls that was covered in the reflective glass. Sometimes, during the summer, it nearly turns you into a roasted chicken. But now, during the middle of winter, it was a nice change of pace and-

-a familiar head of unruly curls reflected off the glass.

Your body turned so quickly you nearly slipped on the slick gravel. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest when you saw him in the glass, looking at you with such pity you wanted to scream. Tears didn’t bother welling up in your eyes, instead just pouring over until you could feel them nearly freezing on your cheeks from the temperature outside.

“What have you done?” Nicky asked with a tilt of his head and a frown.

You shook your head frantically. You hadn’t done anything, that’s why you were up there. So you wouldn't do anything!

He’s right, the voice said.

“I’m so disappointed,” he said.

The glass shattered before he could open his mouth again, the sharp sound causing you to flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. A pain radiated through your hand. For a fleeting second the migraine vanished before coming back with a vengeance. You choked back a cry before opening your eyes.

Nicky was gone.

The panel of glass was in shards on the ground, now nothing more than a metal backing. Something warm dripped from your hand. You let your head fall and saw the red dripping down your fingers to the gravel below. It was almost hypnotising. Beautiful even.

He’s disappointed in you.

“Stop,” you mumbled as you lifted your hands to cover your ears.

He knows what you did.

“Please stop.” The lump in your throat grew with the tears that continued to fall onto the gravel, mixing with the droplets of blood.

He would hate you.

You tried to say something but the words got caught, coming out as nothing more than a strangled sob as you fell to your knees. The gravel dug through your pants and into your skin, but all you could feel was the weight of Nicky’s disappointment weighing heavy on your shoulders.

It was unclear how long you sat up there on the roof, covering your ears and crying, the cold winter air burning your lungs with each shaky gasp. You were barely even aware of the air getting more crisp, stinging your cheeks and nearly freezing the tears to your skin.

At one point you just let your hands drop and rest on your thighs. Your left hand was caked in dried blood that cracked when it moved. It didn’t hurt anymore, not really. It just rested on your leg as you stared at the gravel, focusing on the singular black pebble you had found in your daze.

"Y/N?"

You didn’t even flinch at the voice behind you; truthfully you weren’t even surprised she had managed to get through the locked door. It was on par for her, that was for sure. Had she brought her new toy with her? Was he going to follow her every move as if his life depended on it?

You do the same.

Yeah. Yeah you did.

“Mi amore,” Wednesday said in a voice so soft you felt a fresh wave of tears fall.

A pair of soft hands held your face firmly before you actually saw Wednesday in front of you. Her eyes were wide and looking over every inch of you. She would hate what she saw, you knew that much. You looked pitiful and weak and broken and that wasn’t acceptable.

Joel isn’t broken.

“You’re freezing,” Wednesday said in that painfully soft voice that you were growing to hate.

She uses it because you’re weak.

“Enid made stew,” she said as if she wasn’t watching you kneel on the precipice of a breakdown. “It should help warm you up.”

She straightened in front of you without letting go of your face. The slightest pull indicated she wanted you to follow, but you just couldn’t get up. Nicky’s face was stuck in your mind, that look of disappointment haunting you. It left your head reeling and had your mouth filling with saliva; you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Cara mia?”

Don’t, you thought, don’t call me that. Her eyes were gentle, and all she had to do was tilt her head before you choked out a sob. As uncharacteristic of her as it was, her hands left your face to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you forward until your head rested on her stomach and you had her unspoken permission to cry.

You’re weak.

That simple fact made you cry harder into Wednesday’s stomach, your hands lifting to grab her jacket so tightly you felt the skin split on your knuckles once again. It was right; you were weak. You couldn’t even handle her seeing an old friend again without completely losing every bit of sanity you had left. How were you going to do anything for her if you couldn’t even do that?

And the fact that she still held you tight while you cried? Showed such a shameless display of weakness and vulnerability when you knew she hated such things in people? Especially such visible displays of those emotions. And yet there you were, crying into her clothes with blood on your hand because you couldn’t stand looking at a fucking piece of glass.

“Would you find comfort in talking about it?” Wednesday asked when you finally settled into little more than the occasional sniffle.

Would you? Possibly. But how could you admit anything that had been going on in your mind? The voices, the jealousy, the insecurity. Nicky. There was no way to talk about any of it without coming across as crazy, and you weren’t crazy. Or maybe you were, you weren’t so sure anymore.

The migraine got worse.

“No,” you said with a long exhale through your nose before pulling back. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Very well,” she said.

She stilled for a moment, and you wondered if she was going to berate you. Tell you to straighten up, keep going, move on. That’s what your dad would have said. It’s what your mom would have said too. Her family was unusual with emotions, maybe she was going to tell you the same thing.

But then you felt her lips press to the top of your head, lingering for far longer than necessary, and it was your turn to freeze. When she pulled away, her gaze had softened and you were looking at your Wednesday. Your Wednesday, who secretly enjoyed receiving affection and even found pleasure in giving it back.

“If you would wish to talk about it, you may,” she said with a tilt of her head. “I would appreciate forewarning so I may prepare,” she blinked once, “but you may.”

You looked up at her. Well, you tried; truthfully she wasn’t much taller than you even when you were on your knees. Just the sight of her was enough to have your heart trying to jump out of your throat; even at night, in the current situation, she looked stunning. No contrast at all to the dark sky above her, simply blending in with the natural beauty surrounding her.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked.

“No,” she said quickly.

“What?” You asked with furrowed brows. “Why not?”

“We are on a freezing rooftop in the middle of winter,” she said, “you can kiss me at home.”

“Bet you kissed Joel in the middle of winter,” you grumbled as Wednesday steadied herself to help you to your feet.

“Not on a freezing rooftop.”

“So you did kiss him in the middle of winter,” you said quickly.

You were upset. Drastically upset, and nothing was going to change it. But the tension of the situation was getting to be far too much, and you were far too tired to keep up with it. Nicky’s face faded into the back of your mind and, though he was still there, he didn’t seem quite as disappointed. At least not at the moment. You could work with that.

“Is Joel the reason you stormed out of the restaurant?” She asked with her own raised brow. “Because if so, it’s rather immature.”

If anyone else had been around, they would have thought she was treating you like an imbecile. And she was! But the slight tilt of her head and the smallest tug at the corner of her lips was a dead giveaway. No one else would have noticed except possibly Enid - and the rest of the Addamses of course - but you did. It eased that ache that had settled in the hollow of your throat just enough to be tolerable.

“I’m not scared of some nerdy kid,” you grumbled even as you reached over and pulled Wednesday to the ledge of the rooftop. She was going to hate you in a moment. “I’d beat him to a pulp.”

“Do not fly me down to the ground,” Wednesday warned you with her genuine, murderous glare. It was lovely.

“Payback for kissing someone before me,” you said with a cheeky grin as you held her close to your chest and tipped backwards over the ledge.

She didn’t scream, which was an improvement from the past few times you had forced her to fly with you. But she most certainly gripped you with nails that could sever a jugular, and the sting of them digging into your skin was rather delicious. There was no doubt when you landed that you would have crescent shaped wounds on your back. It was okay though; it was hot.

“You’re a menace to society,” Wednesday said as she attempted to fix her now-windswept hair.

“But I’m your menace to society,” you said with a shrug.

She simply grabbed your hand, intertwined your fingers, and started pulling you to the dorm.

It was a quiet walk, and most of yours and Wednesday’s walks tended to be. And as much as you wished for her to talk, to say something to keep you out of your head, you kept your own mouth shut. After all, you certainly had nothing to say, so how were you going to expect her to keep up the entire conversation on her own? It was Wednesday Addams, not Enid; it simply wasn’t realistic.

“So,” you started. “You and Joel, huh?”

“Do not start,” she said with a quick shake of her head.

“You know about Ash,” you grumbled, “why can’t I know about him?”

“Because I wasn’t the one who looked like they would murder the other one.”

“You know I have issues,” you said with a huff. “Besides, I didn’t do anything!”

“I will not be the cause of a murder,” Wednesday said as she squared her shoulders. “At least not this one.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll find you someone worthy of your murderous hands,” you said.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she huffed, but nonetheless stepped closer to you until her arm was pressed against yours.

“But like, back to you and Joel.”

“Do not-”

“-hey kid.”

Both you and Wednesday slowed to a stop before turning around to see who had called out. A police officer was quickly approaching. Your eyes instantly fell on the way his hand was resting on his gun. It was too dark outside for anyone to come by and see what was happening, if anyone came by at all. As discreetly as possible, you pulled Wednesday slightly behind you until you were between her and the cop.

“Miss Smith?” He asked, his eyes on you.

“I go by Johnson,” you said quickly, your eyes darting between his gun and his face.

“I have orders to bring you in for some questioning,” he continued as if you hadn’t just corrected him.

“About what?” You asked. Behind you, Wednesday squeezed your hand.

“You were at the Pi Beta Phi party last night, correct?” He asked.

“Yeah?” You said slowly; an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. “Why?”

“Two young men were found murdered this morning,” he said with a raised brow. His hand tightened around the gun. “Witnesses say you got into an altercation with them during the party.”

“Shit,” you sighed.

“I need you to come with me for questioning,” he said with a shrug.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not at this time,” he answered a little too quickly.

You turned your head just enough to look at Wednesday, who was glaring at the cop without the least bit of shame. In other circumstances you would have admired it, joined in, even. But now? No, she needed to behave and you very much needed to get him away from her. There was no way he was going to treat a Latina properly, with or without witnesses.

“Call Señor Moreno,” you said as you stepped back, “and I’ll see you at the dorm.”

Wednesday gave you a singular nod before letting go of your hand so you could finally walk off with the officer. She looked furious, but more importantly she looked scared. It always appeared differently on Wednesday; she straightened her shoulders and held her chin higher than usual. You didn’t blame her, you were scared too. But you hoped she would just head home and wait for you.

The police officer opened the back door of the cruiser and helped you in; it was far too tight of a space for you and your unharnessed wings, but you supposed you could make do. He didn’t say a word as he got into the driver’s seat and sped off. You barely had time to see Wednesday through the window as you passed, heading straight for the police station.

You thought back to the previous night on the drive. They had been pricks, and you didn’t even feel the least bit sorry that they were dead. But you hadn’t done it and everyone knew it. You had been with someone the entire night aside from maybe five or 10 minutes, and how could you have killed two people in that time? At a party? It wasn’t possible.

They’re targeting you, the voice in your head said tauntingly. They know you have a record. True, but it hadn’t been you. Everyone knew it, and the police would know it soon enough too. They were just going to ask their questions, realise you were innocent, and let you go back home as if nothing had ever happened.

The sounds of the station were enough to have your skin crawling when you finally arrived; your last experience hadn’t been a pleasant one. You could almost even feel the sharp sting of Erin’s fist again. But you stood tall and followed the officer, letting him lead you to a small interrogation room that was too tight and had your head reeling.

“Have a seat, kid,” he said before pulling his own chair up. You sat quickly.

“Gonna read me my Miranda Rights?” You asked before he could even get settled.

“You’re not under arrest,” he said with a shrug, “you’re free to go at any time.”

“If you end up arresting me without reading me my rights, you’ll lose a case.” You sat back and crossed your arms over your chest. Cool it, you thought to yourself, you’re sounding too defensive.

Don’t cool it, the voice argued back, make it worse.

“I can tell this isn’t your first rodeo,” the officer said as he mirrored your position.

“It’s not,” you said; you readjusted your jaw and broke eye contact first. “Please ask your questions so I can go home.”

“Did you have an altercation last night with Mr. Burton and Mr. Holland?” He asked, getting right into it.

“I got into a fight with two frat boys last night, yeah,” you nodded. “But I didn’t stop to ask their names.”

“What was the fight about?”

“They were being homophobic pricks to my friends,” you said. “As well as throwing around a few choice insults about Outcasts.”

“So you started the fight?” He wrote something down on a piece of paper. You did your best not to look.

“They started the fight when they called my friends faggots,” you corrected. “I only retaliated physically after they threw an insult at me as well.”

“But you started the physical altercation?” He asked as he looked up at you.

Lie, the voice in your head said. It’s a trap. But you didn’t want to lie; if you could tell the truth and prove that you hadn’t done anything, then they would let you go. That was how it was supposed to work, right? Innocent until proven guilty? You hadn’t done anything wrong and you knew it, you weren’t going to let them just take you down a second time.

“I threw the first punch, that’s correct,” you said with a nod, immediately clenching your jaw to try and ease the anxiety bubbling up in your chest.

“And what injuries did you inflict on them?” He pushed.

“I cold cocked one of them, headbutted the other,” you started with a sigh, thinking back to what had happened. What had you done to them? “A few more punches.” Oh yeah. “And I kicked one of them in the balls.” You had to fight not to smile at the memory.

“You kicked him in the testicles?” The officer confirmed with an uneasy face.

“Yes sir,” you said simply, “pretty hard, actually.”

He squirmed in his seat and exhaled harshly through his nose.

“Can someone corroborate that story?” He asked.

He doesn’t believe you.

“A lot of someones,” you said quickly. “We all live in the same dorm, I can give you their names.”

The officer nodded and started jotting on his piece of paper. At the go ahead, you gave him the names of everyone you thought wouldn’t be targeted by the police; you made sure not to mention Wednesday, Bianca, or Yoko. If anything were to go downhill, they would be the first to be brought in for questioning. No, you would rather die than have the cops after them.

“And do you have an alibi for the entire night?” He asked after getting everyone’s names and numbers.

“Those same people,” you said with a gesture of your head toward the sheet of paper. “I was with at least one of them all night.”

“And after the party?” He asked.

“We all left at the same time and went home,” you said. “And I slept with my girlfriend all night.”

“And all of these people will tell me the same thing?” He said with a raised brow; he still didn’t believe you. “That you were with them at the party and after?”

“Yes,” you said with the utmost confidence you could manage to convey. “Because it’s the truth.”

The officer sat back in his chair again and stared at you. He’s testing you. You knew that, you could tell, but he wasn’t going to win. You had nothing to hide. There was nothing they were going to find, and you were going to go home and go to sleep with Wednesday, just like every other night. They weren’t going to trick you like they had after Nicky.

“That’s all the questions I’ve got for you tonight,” he finally said, causing your shoulders to visibly fall. “If I have any more I’ll give you a call.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod as you stood up from your seat. The officer did the same. “Thank you.”

“Hey kid,” he said before you could start walking down the hall; you stopped and looked him in the eyes. “For the record, I don’t think you did it.”

“You don’t?” You asked incredulously.

He’s lying.

“I knew those boys,” he said with a shrug, “they were always causing trouble.” You nodded once in acknowledgement. “Go on home, it’s late.”

“Yes sir,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded at you and gave you a polite smile before gesturing forward, following you through the hallway until you were at the reception. You gave an awkward smile and wave as you exited the station and inhaled the crisp winter air. It stung, but at least it wasn’t suffocating.

He was lying, the voice said, he believes it’s you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled to yourself as you made your way down the street, heading directly to the dorms.

You very much needed a long night’s rest. Wednesday had better give you that kiss.

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