#that alternative look wishes it were that cool

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 17: Alone

Summary: Your pack has left on their first deployment since you joined them, leaving you alone on base.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, nightmares, PTSD, trauma, just super depressing overall.

A/N: I'm so ready for these next two chapters, you have no idea. Things are happening, things are gonna happen, it's just...so good. You'll see 🤭. They're pretty heavy chapters emotionally, but don't worry fluff will be coming very soon. I won't leave you hanging too much for too long.

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“We'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. Dr. Keller will take you to and from meals and anywhere else you may need to go. If you need anything, contact Kate. We'll call when we can.” 

He leaves you with a kiss to your forehead. You’re forced to stand there and watch his back as he boards the plane, the ramp closing and sealing you off from them. They all looked guilty, as if it was their fault they had to leave, as if they were suffering as much as you at the idea of parting, even just for a short period of time.

You don't sleep that night. You lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling until far too late when you decide to abandon it for John's room instead. You slip under the covers, disrupting the immaculately made bed as you surround yourself with his scent. You’re on edge, the barracks far too quiet, far too empty. Every little sound has you tensing, holding your breath. The door is locked, yet it’s not the same without your pack there to protect you. If you scream, no one will hear you now. 

You manage to fall asleep at some point in the early hours, your mind plagued with horrible nightmares of monsters devouring and tearing you apart. 

You wake with the sun, dragging your feet back to your room. You miss the quiet sounds of your boys getting ready in the morning after their workouts, taking extra care not to be too loud. Now you wish for it. You want them to be loud and wake you, because then they’d be here with you. The hallway feels too empty, the barracks too large. You’ve spent plenty of time alone in the barracks, but it’s never felt like this. They’re not just across base from you, they’re probably in an entirely different country. 

You stare at their closed doors, all four of them feeling like voids knowing the rooms behind them are empty. Even Ghost’s closed door feels particularly empty. 

You shuffle into your room, locking the door behind you as you get ready for the day. You’re not quite sure what you’re going to do, now that you don’t have them around. You suppose you could just go about your day as you usually do while they’re at training, except you won’t have their inevitable return to fetch you for meals to look forward to. 

It’ll be days before you see them again. 

If you see them again. 

You force that thought back into the recesses of your mind. You won’t entertain it, not now while you’re still trying to process the fact that they’re gone. Even if it is a possibility. 

You’re sitting on your bed when the knock comes, clutching your phone in your hand. You don’t want to be without it, in case they call. You don’t want to miss a chance to talk to them, especially if it’s your only chance. Or a call from Kate telling you something happened.

You open the door, Dr. Keller standing in the hallway with a small smile on her face. It doesn’t feel strange having her in this space, even with the rest of your pack gone. She’s been here before, and you trust her. 

“How are you doing?” She asks as you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. 

“I don’t know.” You say, letting out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” 

“I don’t blame you. Feels strange, being alone here, huh?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It’s too quiet. Too empty.” 

“I bet.” You follow her out of the barracks and into the cool morning air. “Let’s get some food in you and then you can take it easy for the rest of the day. I know this is a big adjustment, and it happened rather suddenly.” 

“Was gonna happen eventually, though.” You say. “For the three months I was with the CIA, they drilled it into my head that their job would always take priority over everything else. Still sucks.” 

“It does. Separation is hard for everyone in a pack, even if it’s short term. Add on the stress of their jobs and I can only imagine what it’s like.” 

“I’m trying not to think about that.” You say. 

“I think that’s the best thing you can do right now.” She squeezes your arm. “Come on, we’ll get the food to go and we’ll eat in my office. I usually do that anyway. It’s much quieter than the mess.” 

You get your breakfast, following Dr. Keller to the medical center. You are silently glad you won’t have to eat in the mess without the protection of your pack. The stares from the others might have been your tipping point, and without Ghost to scare them off, you’re sure it would have only been worse.  

“Make yourself at home.” Dr. Keller says, letting you into her office. “You can sit at the desk to eat, if that’s more comfortable. I don’t mind.” 

You take her up on the offer, sitting in the chair across from hers at the desk. She moves some papers out of the way before taking a seat herself. It feels almost strange, being so informal in her office, but then again, she’s always been more laid back with the formality between the two of you. 

“If there’s one thing I miss, it’s good diner food.” Dr. Keller says as the two of you begin to eat. 

You stare down at your porridge for a moment, having gotten used to the change in food over the last almost nine weeks. “I miss a lot of things.” 

“Would you ever want to go back and visit America?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m sure they’d take you, if you asked.” She smiles as you stare up at her in surprise. “I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do, if you asked. They care about you a lot.” 

“I’m starting to realize that.” You say. 

“Good. It’s reassuring to see such strong, natural bonds forming between all of you, despite how the situation came about. You’ve made a lot of good progress already, even with the few bumps in the road.” 

It falls silent between the two of you as you eat, finishing your breakfast. Your stomach churns with anxiety, hand closing around the phone in your pocket as if it might ring at any moment. It makes you sick, the thought of what they might be doing, what might be happening right at this very moment. 

“Can I ask you something?” You break the silence, needing to take your mind off your swirling thoughts. 

“Of course.” She says, looking up from the papers she’d been looking through. 

“Since I’m your only patient, what do you do all day?” You ask. 

She smiles. “I do a lot of things. After our sessions I log the notes I take and read over them, I make sure your medical chart is up to date, I read through a lot of studies and journals on new research and methods that may be helpful, I talk to colleagues all over the world, including here on base, and I sometimes go around the medical center and sit in on meetings and classes to keep my skills sharp.” 

“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting your skills here?” 

She shakes her head. “No. Before I took this job, I was caring for sometimes over one hundred omegas at various institutes. It was a high stress environment with long hours. While it was fulfilling work, there’s a high turnover rate for Omega Specialists in that field for a reason. Being a private doctor is a bit of a relief after that, and truthfully, the pay is considerably better.” She folds her arms on her desk, leaning forward. “It’s no less fulfilling than working at institutes. It’s nice to have the time to put together the best care plan for you and your needs.” 

“It is nice having an Omega Specialist to myself.” You say. “There were several at the institute, a lot of students doing their residency. They weren’t always...good at their jobs. A lot of them were just going through the motions, doing what the more experienced specialists told them to do.” 

“Unfortunately that’s rather common with residents.” She says. “Most of them don’t make it past residency. Like a lot of specialities in medicine, it takes a certain kind of personality to succeed as an Omega Specialist. Not everyone has it in them. I wish more schools and programs would take notice earlier before they get to their residencies and steer them down a different path.” She smiles at you. “Now my question for you. Would you rather hang out in here today, or would you prefer to go back to the barracks? You won’t hurt my feelings either way, nor will you be a bother.” 

You think about it for a moment. While your knee jerk answer is to go back to the barracks, what are you going to do? Sit alone in the silence and worry until it makes you sick? Sit in the rec room and watch TV alone and worry about your boys until the next meal time? As much as you want to be alone, you also don’t want to be alone. 

“I’d...like to stay here, if that’s okay?” You finally say, making your decision. 

“More than okay.” She smiles. “Make yourself at home, do whatever you’d like. Watch YouTube videos, dig into some books, take a nap. You won’t bother me in the slightest. You’re always welcome to hang out in here.” 

You look over the titles on the bookshelf, picking one that looks interesting before settling on the couch. You spend the day with Dr. Keller, relaxing in her office and going to meals with her. It doesn’t calm the anxious thoughts by much, but at least the loneliness is abated a bit. 

You return to the barracks after dinner, debating whether you should sit in the rec room or just go to your room. The rec room feels too open, too exposed without the safety of your pack, so instead you choose to retreat into your room, locking the door behind you. 

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as tears gather in your eyes. Another night without them, another night without the safety and comfort of their presence around you. Another night knowing they’re not on the other side of the wall, a knock or a yell away. 

You fight the panic starting to bubble as you get ready for bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of something happening, someone breaking in, someone taking advantage of their absence to get to you. You know it’s an irrational fear. Most of the alphas on base ignore your existence, aside from the couple incidents you’ve had with them. The most they do is stare, though that’s to be expected as an omega. 

What if they’re holding back something more sinister, though? What if the only thing stopping them is your pack? This would be their opportune moment. 

You’re shaking, eyes wide in fear as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you’ve learned a few ways to defend yourself, but could you really utilize them? If the moment called for it, could you defend yourself enough to get away? Where would you go? Dr. Keller won’t be in her office all night. Could you run and seek protection from another medical professional that was still working? Could you find a different high ranking official on base and hope they’d help you? Could you go for the guards at the gate and hope they help you? 

Or would it be safer to run for the woods? Try to lose whichever alpha decided to attack you and hope you don’t get lost in the trees? You would just have to survive the night, and Dr. Keller would notice you missing come morning. What would she do, though? Call Kate? It’s not like the guys could just come home and help you. Would Kate even tell them something happened and put them at risk of getting distracted? What if something happened to them because of you? 

You turn the shower on as cold as it will go, stepping under the spray in your pajamas. You sink to the floor of the shower, letting the cold water snap you out of your panic and prevent you from distressing. No one’s coming through the door, no one’s going to try and hurt you. 

Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach up to turn the water off. Violent shivers rock your body, your hands and feet numb. You take deep breaths, feeling more awake and aware than you have since yesterday. 

The panic has dropped to almost nothing, your shaking now due to the fact you’re freezing. You strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them in the tub as you wrap a towel around yourself. You’re still shivering violently as you change into warmer pajamas, opting for one of John’s shirts and sweatpants. 

You slip under the covers of your bed, piling every blanket you own on top of the covers before tucking yourself against your giant bear. You won’t sleep, but at least you’re not panicking anymore. 

The days begin to blend together without the routine of your pack to keep you steady. Dr. Keller comes to get you at the same time as you expect for your breakfast, and then you spend all day with her, sitting in her office, keeping yourself occupied while you wait for an inevitable phone call. It will either be your pack calling to check on you, or it will be Kate with bad news. 

You’re not sure which is worse. The anticipation of a call from your pack letting you know they’re all alright, or the dread that it will be Kate telling you something happened to them. 

You’re still not sleeping well, the anxiety and the worry you might miss their call meshing with the nightmares that were already plaguing you before they left. You’re exhausted and strung out, the worry beginning to eat you alive. You’re constantly on edge, every little sound close to sending you spiraling. 

Your thoughts have slowly shifted from missing your pack to ruminating about the fact they might not be coming back. It’s a risk you’re well aware of. The kinds of things they do put them at risk, every deployment carries the risk of one, or all of them, dying. One thing goes wrong, one small freak accident and your entire pack could be taken from you. 

You’re not sure you’d survive that. 

Most omegas don’t. 

“Still nothing?” Dr. Keller asks as you sit there, staring at your phone for what must have been an hour at least. 

You shake your head. “Nothing.” 

“Sometimes no news is good news.” She says. “I know you’d prefer to have any news at all, though.” 

“I can’t stop thinking...what if something bad has happened?” You say, fingers trembling from gripping your phone so hard. 

“Kate promised she’d call if something happened, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.” 

“She’s a woman of her word, I can say that much. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re very capable soldiers. They wouldn’t be in Spec Ops if they weren’t, much less on a highly specialized team.” Dr. Keller stands up, moving to the closet. “It’s still hard, not knowing where they are or what they’re doing. I remember when my brother told our parents he was enlisting. Our mother cried for a week straight.” She pulls a pillow and a blanket out of the closet. “I still don’t think she’s completely forgiven him. It’s hard for omegas when someone leaves the pack, even temporarily, especially if you can’t have constant reassurance that they’re alright.” 

Your brows pinch in a frown at her words as she kneels on the floor beside the couch. “Your mom was an omega?” 

She nods. “And dad was a beta. Wound up with two beta children, though I don’t think mom complained much about that. We grew up in a big pack with lots of people around us. I think mom would have been worse off if it had just been her and dad.” She sets the pillow on the couch, gently prying the phone from your fingers. “Come on, lay down.” She directs you. 

You do as she says, laying down on the couch, resting your head on the pillow. She covers you with the blanket, tucking it up around your neck. “Is that why you’re so good at this job?” 

She smiles, setting your phone on the arm of the couch above your head. “Maybe. I think it gave me more empathy for omegas and the struggles you face every day.” She gently squeezes your arm. “They’ll be alright. They’re probably just as worried about you, as you are them. But, you need to get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, just laying with your eyes closed will help.” 

You tilt your head, glancing up at your phone. “What if I fall asleep and it rings?” 

“Then I’ll make sure you get a chance to answer it.” She says, squeezing your arm again. “I promise. Get some rest.” 

You let out a breath, not wanting to risk falling asleep, but you close your eyes anyway. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming on, the nightmarish images the anxiety feeds your brain flashing before your eyes. What if they’re lying dead somewhere right now? What if something’s happened to Kate and she can’t tell you? Would you ever find out? Would you ever know? 

Despite the anxiety prickling through your body, the warmth of the blanket begins to lull you into a false sense of security. Perhaps it’s the sheer exhaustion from your lack of sleep over the last couple weeks, paired with the exhaustion from your constant worrying, but you find yourself slipping between sleep and consciousness as you lay there on Dr. Keller’s couch. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help it as you begin to drift off to sleep. 

Screaming. It’s loud, piercing your ears. Something’s holding you, hands clutching at your form desperately. It hurts, nails biting into your skin, fingers gripping too hard, yet you don’t care. 

“You won’t take her from me! I won’t let you!”

You’re crying, sobs wracking your body as you cling just as tightly to the form holding you. 

Hands grab at you, squeezing and pulling, trying to free you from the constricting grip around you, but it won’t let go. You cling to it just as desperately, afraid of what will happen if you let go. 

You know what will happen if you let go. 

“She’s no daughter of mine.” 

The words bite into you, slicing through your skin straight into your very soul, the prickling pain of your own flesh and blood rejecting you making your skin crawl. How could he just let you go like that? How could he turn against you so easily, over something you have no control over? 

Pain erupts across your entire body. Something snaps, your ears ringing from more screams. You’re being pulled away from the safety of the hold around you, your body going cold as the warmth around you disappears. Hands close around you, fingers ripping into you as you're torn from your mother’s hold and into the unknown. 

“Easy, easy.” 

You’re gasping, breathing wheezing as tears choke you. 

“Deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow.” 

Your breath hitches, catching painfully in your chest. 

“You’re alright, you’re safe.” 

You force your eyes open, blinded by tears as something is tucked into your arms. You squeeze the bear against your chest, hiccuping as you fight for control over your emotions. You’re on the couch in Dr. Keller’s office still. You’re not at what was once your home, not stuck in the nightmare you’ve lived over and over. 

Slowly breathing becomes easier, your sobs quieting to sniffles. The tears still spill down your cheeks, dampening the fur of the bear in your arms. 

“You’re alright,” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back gently. 

You slowly push yourself up to sit, pulling your knees against your chest. You press your palms into your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. Dr. Keller shifts her position, sitting next to you on the couch. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” She asks quietly, watching you as you try to calm yourself. 

“Since my heat.” You say, voice rough from crying. You wrap your arms around the bear again, holding onto it tightly. 

“You haven’t said anything about it.” She says gently, shifting slightly so she’s facing you. 

“I didn’t want to.” You say quietly, shame burning through you. She’s not reprimanding you, yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t be having them, I mean...it’s not even that bad compared to...compared to what the others have gone through. The kinds of nightmares they have.” 

“It might seem that way to you, but trauma is still trauma. It might not be the worst thing someone else has gone through, but it is the worst thing you’ve been through.” 

Her words give you pause. You’ve never quite thought of it that way. The kinds of things your pack does, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve done, are far worse than anything you’ve experienced. The things you’ve experienced may pale in comparison, but they’re your experiences. No one else’s. 

“If you want to talk about them, that’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Keller says, leaving things open for you to decide what to do. 

You don’t have to tell her. She won’t force you to do it. She won’t force you to do anything, to say anything you don’t want to. It might be nice, though, to let someone know, someone neutral, someone who won’t tell anyone else. It might be nice to finally put into words the things that are eating you, have been eating you. 

You lay back down, curling up into a tight ball on the couch. You hug the bear close to your chest, letting it ground you. “My nightmares, they’re always about the day I left for the institute.” You start, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had them in years.” 

“You were sent early after your presentation, right?” She asks. 

“The day after.” You answer. 

“Being sent to an institute can be traumatic when done within the normal time after presentation. I can’t even imagine what being sent that soon was like.” She lets out a breath. “Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, the brain and body hold onto it, because we don’t feel safe enough to process it in the moment. The brain can hold onto it for years, until we finally feel safe enough. Then the brain can start to try and heal from that trauma without us even realizing it.” 

“You think that’s what’s happening?” You ask. 

“It’s possible. Going through your heat successfully, being claimed, building close bonds with your pack, all could aid in helping you finally feel safe enough to process that trauma. Things usually feel worse as the brain works through the trauma, which could be why you’re having nightmares about that event suddenly.” 

“Is there anything that will make them stop?” You ask. 

“There’s some things we can do together that might help the process. I’m more than happy to help you with it, if that’s what you’d like to do. If you decide to, I think it will be a good idea to set up appointments at least twice a week, at least at first.” 

“What are we gonna tell John?” 

She gives you a look. “Well, I’d advise telling him the truth. I think you should tell your pack about your nightmares. They can at least offer you some comfort and understanding. Of course, that’s entirely up to you and what you want to do.” 

You let out a sigh, getting comfortable on the couch again. Dr. Keller adjusts the blanket over you, squeezing your arm gently. 

“Think about it.” She says. “We can talk about it more after they get back and things have settled back to normal again.” 

You’re brushing your teeth when the call comes. You quickly spit into the sink, not even bothering to rinse your mouth before you’re answering, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You hadn’t even checked the screen to see who was calling. You’re just anxious to hear from someone after days of silence. 

“Hello?” 

There’s a beat of silence before the voice on the other side responds, the audio distant and slightly garbled, but you hardly notice. 

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

You fight back a sob, your inhale shaky as relief floods through you. “Alpha.” The title slips through your lips before you can even catch it, your body nearly vibrating at hearing John’s voice after so many days. 

“I’m here. We’re all here.” He says, distant voices sounding in the background. 

A smile tugs at your lips, happy tears blurring your eyes as you collapse on your bed. “Missed you.” 

“I know, we’ve missed you too.” 

You move to your bed, flopping down on the mattress in relief. “You alright? Is everyone alright?” 

“We’re alright. Few bumps and bruises, but nothing we haven’t had before. How are you holding up?” 

The urge to spill the truth to him is strong. You’ve been depressed and worried and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that you haven’t panicked about something. You’ve been having horrible nightmares and haven’t been sleeping. There’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you’re afraid it might kill you if you don’t see them soon. 

“I’m alright. Sad cause I miss you a lot.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” There’s a sound on the other end, something you can’t make out and the line buzzes for a second. For a moment you’re worried you were disconnected, but John’s voice cuts through the noise again. “We’re finishing up here soon, and we’ll be home in a couple of days.” 

You can’t help but sigh in relief at his words. They’re alright. They’re all safe, and they’re going to be home soon. You’re going to get to see them soon, touch them again, smell them again. “Hurry back.” You say, your voice shaky with emotion. 

“We’ll try, sweet girl. We have to get going, but we’ll be back before you know it.” 

Saying goodbye doesn't hurt as much as you expect it to. Maybe it’s the relief from hearing their voices, from knowing they’re really alright paired with the knowledge that they’ll be home soon. Two days doesn’t seem so far now that you know that’s all that stands between you and seeing your pack again. 

You roll over in your bed, pressing your face into the pillows. Nothing smells like them anymore. Not their shirts that they scented before they left, not your pillows or stuffed animals. The couch in the rec room, and even John’s bed have started to smell more like you. 

The first thing you’re going to do when they return is get a big whiff of each of them, even if you have to tackle Ghost to do it. You want to refresh their scents all over everything, roll around in them until they’re the only thing you can smell. 

For the first time in days, you manage to sleep that night. It’s not much, but it’s a deep, nightmare-free sleep, aided by the relief from the constant anxiety that has plagued you. 

You update Dr. Keller the next day on the news of your pack’s imminent return. You elect to spend the afternoon in the barracks instead of her office, the building suddenly not seeming quite so empty now that you know they’re coming home soon. You clean up John’s room, making his bed again after you’d made a mess of it trying to sleep. They’re all going to be tired when they return, and you want to help them in any way that you can. You pick up your room as well, even though you know you likely won’t be spending much time in it for a while. You’re going to latch yourself onto them and not let go until the ache in your chest has disappeared. 

You bristle when the knock sounds at your door. You glance up from where you had been sorting the clothes you’d stolen from the guys from your own so you can get them to scent them again. You’re not expecting a knock yet. It’s too early to be Dr. Keller coming to get you for dinner, and she would have announced herself like she has been, if it was her. 

That means someone else is in the barracks. Someone you don’t know. 

Your mind races as you try to think of who it could be. You don’t know many others on base, and certainly no one that would enter the barracks just like that, unless it’s an emergency. Is there an emergency? You’re almost certain if there was an emergency on base, then there would be alarms going off or something. There’d be some sign that something was happening, but it’s quiet outside, or at least, there’s no noises you’re not expecting. 

The knock comes again, louder and sharper. Whoever is on the other side is obviously not going to just go away. You debate calling Dr. Keller, telling her someone is outside your door, getting her to help you on this, but instead you grab your phone, holding it in your hand as you move towards the door. 

You unlock it, holding your hand on the handle in case the person on the other side tries to force their way in. They don’t, so you open it slowly, just enough that you can see out. There’s a soldier outside your door. A woman. You don’t recognize her, but then again you don’t see many women on the base, and you don’t pay much attention to the other soldiers. 

Maybe you need to start paying more attention. 

She’s a beta, you can tell just by looking at her. She’s wearing scent blockers, keeping her scent from projecting into the barracks to erase the fact she was here. 

She says your name, staring at you with hard set eyes. “General Shepherd is waiting for you.” 

It takes you a moment to process what it is she’s saying. You’ve never met any of the higher ups on base. The person with the most authority you’ve met is John, but you know he’s only a Captain. There’s others above him, but you weren’t any concern of theirs, so you have never bothered to meet them. Even in your time with the CIA, the person with the most authority that you met seemed to be Kate. You hadn’t even been given names of anyone higher up than her. 

Apparently something’s changed. 

Something in the back of your mind begins to tingle. Something isn’t right about this. You should have called Dr. Keller, or even Kate. You shouldn’t have opened the door so recklessly. 

“But, I’m not supposed to-” You begin, unsure of what to do now. 

“It’s a direct order from your superior.” The woman cuts you off, her tone sharp and impatient.

You’re not a soldier. The only superior you have is John and he’s certainly not behind this. 

You wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Not right now. 

“Okay, okay.” You say, stepping back slightly from the door. “Let me just get some shoes on.” 

You close the door, staring down at your phone. You debate calling Dr. Keller or even just sending a text, but you don’t put it past the woman outside to barge in if you don’t hurry. You can feel the panic rising, the thought of someone invading your space so carelessly making the back of your neck tingle. So instead you slip on a pair of shoes, shoes you know you can run in, before you open the door again. 

She’s still standing in the hallway, stiffly at attention. Her gaze pierces into you, making your skin crawl. You close your door behind you, slipping your phone into your pocket. She doesn't say anything as she turns on her heel, walking down the hallway towards the door. You follow behind her, having to walk quickly to keep up with her. You’re reminded of your early days on the base when you would be escorted around by Ghost. 

You’d take those times back over this right now. 

Your palms start to sweat as you leave the barracks, dread starting to fill your stomach as you realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, leaving with this stranger. She could be taking you anywhere to see anyone. You’re not even sure General Shepherd is a real person. 

The thought of being led blindly into a room of alphas like a lamb being led into a den of hungry wolves nearly makes you panic, your steps faltering just slightly as you debate running. You could make it to the medical center quickly from here if you sprint the entire way. Would she chase you if you took off running? Would you get in trouble? Would the guys get in trouble if you did? 

You don’t want anyone to get in trouble. 

Especially not with this being the first time you’ve been on your own. They’ve put a lot of trust in both you and Dr. Keller in their absence. If you get into trouble while they’re gone, that might change things. You could ruin everything you’ve built by misbehaving. 

The woman leads you to a building you haven’t been in before, leading you down a clinical-looking hallway to a door. She pauses in front of it, turning to face you. You stare at her, still on edge. What if this is a test? What if they’re testing you to see if you’d just blindly leave with a stranger while they’re not there to protect you. 

You’ve made a big mistake. 

The woman holds out her hand, and you stare down at it dumbly. “Your phone.” 

You continue to stare at her hand for a moment, trying to swallow the nervous panic rising within you. You don’t have much of a choice now but to obey. Your hands are shaking as you pass your phone over, the woman pocketing it before she opens the door. 

It’s bright inside, the LED bulbs burning your eyes. You’re uncomfortable and uneasy, a dangerous mix for an omega, but the person inside doesn’t seem to care. He stands from his seat, towering over you. He screams alpha before his scent even hits you. You’re thrown back into the memories of your father, the way he carried himself, the way he stood. Back straight like a rod, hands clasped behind his back, face pressed into a stern line. 

He’s in uniform, decorated with more patches and pins than you could put a name to. Army, you think, judging by the color of his jacket. It looks like General Shepherd is a real person after all. 

You try not to flinch as the door clicks closed behind you, sealing you in this room with an unknown alpha. Though it’s only one, you still feel like the helpless lamb standing before a hungry wolf. 

No one will hear you scream. No one will care. 

“My name is General Shepherd.” He says, his voice gruff and laced with authority. “I am the acting commander of Task Force 141.” 

You’re not sure if you should say anything, or even bother introducing yourself. He probably already knows you well, even though you’ve never met him before in your life. 

“I was one of the driving forces behind the omega initiative, and I decided the 141 should be one of the first to participate. I also signed the approval for you to be assigned as their omega, did you know that?” 

You shake your head. “N-No sir, the CIA didn’t give me any names.” 

“Good.” His lips twitch in what you assume was supposed to be a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves any. “They weren’t supposed to. I’m sure you’ve learned that confidentiality is everything in this line of work.” 

“Yes, sir.” You try not to flinch under his gaze, piercing and probing. The back of your neck is tingling, every single instinct in your body screaming at you to run, to escape, to get somewhere safe. 

“I came here today to ensure your pack was doing as they were instructed. I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. You’re getting along well with them?” 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. There were some...bumps along the way, but we all get along fine now.” 

“Good.” He closes the file on the table, taking a step closer to you. You fight the urge to take a step back, not wanting him to invade your space while you’re so vulnerable. “The success of this program is imperative to the future of the military and its functionality. You’re doing important work here with the Task Force.” His hand lifts, slowly pulling the collar of your shirt to the side so he can see your mating mark. 

You fight the urge to lift your hands and wrap them around the back of your neck, the instinctual urge to protect yourself nearly winning out as he stares at your mark. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the fear-driven adrenaline making your fingers tremble. Half a second and he could scruff you, half a second and he could overpower you. 

No one would know. No one would care.  

“I’m satisfied with what I’m seeing so far. Of course, the true measure of success will be their efficiency in their current task.” He steps back away from you, moving back to the table. “How have you been adjusting to them being gone?” 

“It’s been difficult,” You say, breathing for a second to collect yourself. “But I know separation can be a rough adjustment at first.” 

His lips twitch again in a twisted smile. “You’re a smart girl. That’s why I chose you for this position. You’re doing good work. Your efforts will change the course of military history, hopefully for the better.” 

Something about his words don’t sit right with you. 

You’re trembling as you exit the room, led out by the woman that had brought you to the building. Your breaths are heavy as you try to keep a grip on the anxiety threatening to overtake you. Your hand is trembling uncontrollably as she give you your phone back, your knuckles going white as you clutch it to your chest. You’re sweating, the cool air chilling your skin as you step outside. 

You barely remember the walk back to the barracks, numbly following the woman as she leads you back to your safe space. It doesn't feel so safe anymore, now that she’s breached it. She entered without permission, breaking that trust that’s so sacred to packs. 

She doesn't even seem bothered by it. 

She pauses outside the door to the barracks, staring down at you. You fight the urge to race inside and lock yourself in the safety of your room before she can change her mind and enter again, or take you somewhere worse. You stand your ground, meeting her gaze. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She says, as monotone as she had been the first time she spoke to you. 

You finally realize what it was that made her seem so off to you as you think over her words. 

She’s American. 

“Thank you for escorting me.” You say politely, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Have a safe trip home.” 

You quickly enter the barracks, speed walking down the hall towards your room. You want to burrow under your covers and hide until the guys return and you can feel safe again. You pause in front of your door, staring down at the handle. The back of your neck is prickling again, anxiety burning hot in your veins. Your hands have begun shaking again, clinging to the phone still pressed against your chest. You fight the urge to hyperventilate as you stare at your door, half of your brain telling you to run and the other half stuck, staring in shock and disbelief. 

Your door is ajar. Open just a crack, just enough to be noticeable by looking at it. 

You always close your door. You always ensure it’s shut every time you leave the barracks, even when the guys are home. You remember shutting it before you followed the woman out of the barracks. You remember distinctly listening to the click of the handle as you pulled it shut behind you in the quiet of the barracks. 

You stare at the gap, the line of the frame visible. It’s open. Your door is open. 

Someone was inside your room. 

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@daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader

[iceunhie]

“and i can go anywhere i want just not home” : genshin men

premise. home is where the heart is—perhaps it's why they feel so empty whenever they're away from you. or, what it's like when they miss you while they're/you're away.

featuring: kazuha, lyney, wanderer, neuvillette.

notes: gn!reader (you/your pronouns), welcome to the depths of my drafts, you can tell where i got lazy and when i got motivated tbh 💀 an attempt at humor (i am unfunny) reblogs are appreciated! like usual, might make a part 2 idk

...alternative title: 3 twinks and a dragon

NEUVILETTE: wait, why's it raining so hard?! 😱 “oh, it's just the monsieur sulking ^^”

neuvilette finds that one of the most inconvenient things granted in his power is the fact that his emotions can be broadcasted live over fontaine at any given moment.

subsequently, it's pouring; buckets of rain that clearly weren't on the daily weather report yesterday. he can see parents ushering children into their homes, the melusines providing umbrellas to those who had the unfortunate problem of not bringing one at the side.

all in all, fontaine is as is, but neuvilette feels even emptier than before.

it's probably because of you. it's definitely because of you. as fleeting as the rain on a summer day, you'd come and went, wishing him well before you'd leave for liyue for a short vacation.

2 weeks....

(the rain showers even more, heavily pouring over the nation.)

his shoulders tighten uncharacteristically, and if you were to see him, you'd tell him he'd resemble a sad fontainian otter with its seashell taken away.

. . . .

BONUS:

"i'm back- GAH! why are the streets flooded?!"

"oh, mx. [name]! welcome back! i'll tell monsieur neuvillette that you're back now!"

two hours later, the sun shines back again as if it hadn't poured consistently during the entire duration of 2 weeks. the people of fontaine rejoice.

KAZUHA: like a bird longing for the sun to shine again (the most normal) 😭

kazuha isn't the type to brood. he isn't, because he knows he has nothing to brood about. well, most of the time, anyway.

this, however, is partly because you're usually with him, you in all your glory, nourishing him with affectionate kisses and letting him feel the breath of fresh air he desperately needs after a long, enduring trip on the crux.

the days you aren't there however are the days he finds himself most appreciative of his reclusive nature. as the rock of the ship against gentle waters make it sway, kazuha thinks of you.

you, you. were you at liyue, doing well as he hopes you always are, trudging away as you work wonders in the kitchen, preparing meals and watching day turn to night, waiting for time to pass, missing him too?

he hopes you are. (he feels like every time you're gone, a part of him can't erase the sense of homesickness. even if liyue wasn't his home, you are the closest to it.)

"you look a bit blue these days, kazuha. missing a certain someone?" a certain captain guffaws, to which the white haired vagrant can only smile to, though the smile betrays his rather dour mood. beidou's tease is only indicative of his longing.

he does miss you. a whole lot. he misses the way you run up to him as he finally steps off the crux's arms, embracing you with fervor and inhaling the cool scent of your hair. only then, kazuha thinks, he could really feel at home. "only a fool wouldn't miss the one they hold most dear to them."

beidou pats him on the back, sympathetic of his plight. he feels a bit embarrassed. beidou always saw through him. "gotta tough it out, kid. just a few more days and we'll be back to liyue in no time."

he wasn't a kid—beidou knows this, but she felt the need to emphasize so, what when kazuha looked akin to a kicked puppy waiting for its owner in the rain. "I'm well aware."

and so she's gone, warbling an old sailor's tune, leaving kazuha to deal with the ache of you behind.

he also misses a lot of things about you whenever you're gone. though temporary as his wanderlust may be, because he promised you—"i will always return to you"—this has brought him to associate everything he sees in your likeness.

is it the poet in him? perhaps. but loving you is as natural as him taking in the sights of nature, as lovely as the moonlit nights he spends, alone, and without you.

tough it out, as beidou says. that's difficult.

watching as the moon seems ever perpetual in the sky, kazuha only hopes he can tough it out well.

(when he comes back, he's thinking of running towards you this time.)

. . . .

"welcome back, kazu-" you don't even make it to the harbor's docks before you're being tackled and literally thrown off your feet. "what the fuck are you doing?!"

or should you say, swept off your feet? you feel every ounce of shame right now, and burying your head in the crook of kazuha's neck. profanity aside, it's hard not to be ashamed when almost every person with a pair of working eyes can see you being carried by your lover.

you can hear the playful whistles and cheers of the crux crew from behind, and beidou's knowing, knowing smile.

"i'm home." kazuha's breath is close to your nape, and you feel the soft press of his lips to your neck. you flush. face him, and you see his dreamy, lovesick eyes.

if he was looking like that, how could you be ashamed? you laugh, even if you see people side eye you into oblivion. brush your noses together, and close your eyes.

"welcome home, kazuha."

he smiles. the day is bright today.

BONUS:

"kazuha?"

"mm, what is it, love?"

"if you do that ever again i will literally drop dead on the floor from the shame, so don't make it a habit."

"haha, i wouldn't dream of it."

(one voyage later, you find out kazuha is a liar.)

LYNEY: 😐 'insufferably insufferable,' given by lynette

if lynette could choose between smelling every perfume in emilie's shop (and put herself through an attack to her very delicate senses) and seeing her brother mope like a deflated balloon over his absence in fontaine, she'd pick the first option.

you are to blame. rather, maybe it's her brother's utter lack of propriety, proclaiming just how much he misses you with almost enough talk to make her want to rip her cat ears out.

or maybe she'd actually claw at him. lyney was just that infuriating. is this what they mean by love changes a person?

(if so, then lynette reckons her twin has changed for the worse.)

okay, she was exaggerating a bit, because she loved you very much and considered you family as well—but she would gladly dropkick lyney any time. they'd been stationed at poisson for a while, set by father. it was cleanup for the remnants of the prophecy, but it provided them sufficient time away from the court of fontaine, away from distractions.

and, in lyney's mind, it also means he's away from you. in lynette's opinion, he should've stayed. that way, she won't get to listen to him prattle on and on about—

"do you think [name] will still love me even if i've been away from them for far too long? ahh, and lynette, these rainbow flowers, do they need a bouquet matching their eyes instead?"

and of course, her brother being the drop-dead love-drunk fool he is (bless your heart for being able to tolerate her sappy and corny brother) has not. stopped. talking. about. you.

you'd probably accept a bouquet with a dead fish in it if it meant lyney gave it to you, but lynette doesn't voice it out. in a corner of her mind, she wonders if she should just actually become a clockwork meka so she could voluntarily tune herself to tune out lyney's voice.

she crosses her arms, putting her (4th) dessert aside. "they'll like anything you give them. and there's no way they'd get sick of you just because we're away for a week, lyney."

her brother sighs, dreamily looking away at the sky. probably thinking about the flutter of your eyelashes and your smile that makes a magician want to bottle it up and never let it show to anyone else—

blergh, she was beginning to let lyney get to her.

"a week is far too long for me." lyney sulks. lynette resists the urge to roll her eyes. you and me both, brother.

"what if they might be in danger somewhere I can't reach?"

but because she's such an amazing sister (factual), she lets go of her temporary reprieve and comforts her utterly hopeless (factual?) brother.

(for your sake too. because lyney has changed. though she may say it's for the worse, that's not true at all. in fact, it's the opposite.)

"relax, lyney." her tone is sincere this time, that in which always gets lyney to look up to her. they're children again, and lynette is facing her older brother, and they're hand in hand together. "[name] will be fine. as long as it's from the heart, you know that they will cherish anything you give them."

because it's you, someone that accepted them, every part of them. lynette doesnt show it much, but it's one of the reasons why she's so fond of you. she grateful, really, that you love her brother.

thankfully, (to her great relief) it seems the hint that you'd rather have him home without anything than not be home at all, has gotten through lyney's mind. he goes silent, and lynette takes it as a successful mission success. another lovesick crisis averted, her brother's relationship with you stabilized.

at last, peace.....

. . . .

"alright then!" lyney says enthusiastically, with an unhappy lynette and a sheepish freminet in tow.

"let's commence operation steal their heart the moment we finish this mission!"

"the what now?"

lynette facepalms. she shouldn't have said anything....

BONUS:

"uh, lynette, what's that?"

"headphones."

"why?"

"....noise cancellation."

freminet looks at lyney, who's pacing around the room, muttering to himself as his grip on the rainbow flower-marcotte bouquet tightens.

"oh." lynette nods at him wearily.

WANDERER: warning! ⚠️do not approach, he bites (scowls) 😨

there are many times when wanderer wants to bash his hat and let it squash the traveller's flying companion, and today was one of those times.

"hey, hat guy! why are you looking even more scary than usual? your scowl can be seen from miles away!"

he can hear her irritatingly cheery voice in the distance, undoubtly exposing him to the eyes of others. damn it.

"paimon, shh...!" aether silently prays to whichever god may hear (hopefully nahida), because for someone so small, wanderer was emitting a very ominous aura not akin to an aura of death.

"quit your nonsense, you-" wanderer barks back, insult at the tip of his tongue, but he tempers his temper (heh), going quiet instead. "forget it. i don't want be pissed off even more from that disgustingly chatty pet of yours."

"what did you just say to me?! urgh, you, you- ugh, paimon can't think of an ugly nickname! help out here, traveller...!"

"i think you should just let it be this time, paimon..."

he ignores the chatter of the two—mortals—thumbing at his vision, and then tenderly at the little doll he's sewed in his likeness, as well as.... your doll.

(you gave it to him once as a keepsake, in exchange for him sewing you the mini him he painstakingly made. when you got your wish, you made the two dolls kiss, saying something so ridiculous as, "that's us now!" his face burned the entire way back home.)

instead, he finds his thoughts lingering to you. you'd seen him off, staying back at sumeru city with nahida as company, leaving him to escort the traveller and paimon to the desert to clear out some ancient ruins. how boring.

you kissed him breathless back there— much to his chagrin at seeing nahida's knowing smile; but he finds himself longing for your voice and your hands in his hair more than ever. at least then he'd be able to solve the ringing in his ears from paimon's voice.

he's long stopped denying his erratic, tumultuous feelings, but he misses you. unbearably, because at least you were better than the two he's forced to babysit accompany.

and he also misses how you would take shelter in his hat in the sweltering desert heat, kissing his cheek when he flew you around to explore the pyramids, and when you would hold his hand as you complained about how long you two would be walking up, all sand and sweaty.

(he'd tease you about leaving you for dead, but was always the first to worry whenever you get dizzy from heat. a walking contradiction, this one.)

"hey, wanderer, you there?"

"you're a little red. are you overheating?woah, so puppets really can do that.... ah, you're spacing out, too!"

ugh. "what am i, a tea kettle?" he scowls, crossing his arms.

he's already counting the days he can finally return to your arms.

paimon stomps her feet at the nonexistent ground, "we're just a tiny bit worried, you know!"

"yeah? well you should do me a favor and shut your mouth a little. otherwise you'll end up overheating from the amount of nonsensical words you spit out."

"this guy's a real piece of work, only being kind to [name], jeez..." to his glee, the pixie mutters angrily. something about being a meanie and insufferable. well deserved.

aether watches the exchange with the soul drained from his body. 800,000 mora, 800,000 mora.....

. . . .

"uh... wanderer?" you chuckle nervously, not knowing where to place your hands as he buries his face head-first into your chest the moment he's home, allowing you to gently caress the soft strands of his hair.

"..."

"so are you gonna talk about it, or?"

"just let me hold you, will you?" he bites, but there's no bite at all. you kiss the top of his head as his ginormous hat is taken off his head completely. he nuzzles deeper into you. "....i missed you."

that shut you up real quick. you try to hide the giddy smile you have, but he lifts his face up to see it anyway.

"i missed you too."

BONUS:

"[name], is that an insect bite on your neck?"

"huh?!"

aether squints at you, "what kind of insect leaves that big of a bite-" his eyes pop out. turns red. "oh."

you look away. one less pure soul in the world.... sorry, aether.

(in a corner of the house of daena, wanderer sneezes.)

more hsr content soon, also for very important reasons: do you think sunday would let you bite the wings by his ears yes or no

© 𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐈𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

#mhie's spirals #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #wanderer x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche x reader #lyney x reader #genshin drabbles

[nanamis-baker]

Bake Date

Summary: You and Nanami attempt to bake your favourite bread.

Pairing: Sorcerer! Nanami x f! reader

Content: Fluff, baking and kneading, suggestive, implied smut at the end | Basically me combining my love for baking and for Nanami :P

WC: 3.3k

A cool autumn breeze swirled around you, sending loose strands of hair whipping against your face. The rhythmic tap of Nanami's shoes was the only sound that cut through the crisp night air. You clutched the paper bag from "Golden Crust" - the golden logo a warm beacon in the twilight. Inside, a small victory awaited.

This wasn't any ordinary bread. It was a celebratory indulgence for You and Nanami – the elusive Herb Focaccia from Golden Crust. The kind that boasted of secret recipes passed down for generations, its aroma a legend in itself. You could already picture the golden-brown crust, flecked with a hint of sea salt. Beneath it, the promise of fragrant herbs - rosemary, thyme, a touch of oregano - swirled in your imagination. Every bite was whispered of a symphony of flavours, dancing on your tongue.

Golden Crust's Herb Focaccia was a rare treat. They baked it in small batches, and it vanished from the shelves quicker than a blink. But tonight, after a hard-fought victory, you and Nanami were the lucky ones, clutching a piece of that culinary magic. It was a small celebration in itself.

A cool autumn breeze sent a shiver down your spine. Sensing your discomfort, Nanami shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. "Thanks," you mumbled, glancing up at him “But won’t you get cold?”. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as he shook his head. "We're almost home anyways, sweetheart," he replied, his voice a steady murmur as the familiar silhouette of your apartment building rose in the distance.

Nanami unlocked the apartment door, stepping aside to let you in first. Inside, the warmth of your apartment welcomed you like a hug. Nanami helped you remove his coat, his touch sending a spark through you. You couldn't help but let out a small sigh of contentment.

Without wasting a moment, you went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the fridge, a triumphant grin spreading across your face as you emerged with a selection of cheeses – creamy ricotta, a sharp pecorino romano, and a wedge of fragrant goat cheese.

You sliced into the Herb Focaccia, the golden crust giving way to reveal a fluffy, herb-infused interior. Working quickly, you arranged the slices on a plate, the bread filling the room with its savoury aroma.

Just then, Nanami wandered into the kitchen, his suspender gone and his sleeves rolled up. "Wow," he breathed, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him, as he looked at the arrangement of cheese and sliced bread. "That looks amazing,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your neck.

Finally, the moment you’ve been waiting for. You took a bite of your hard-earned bread, letting the flavours explode on your tongue. A soft moan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. The combination of textures – the crisp crust yielding to the soft, pillowy interior, punctuated by the sharp tang of cheese and the fragrant whisper of herbs – was pure magic.

"This," you breathed, a dreamy smile on your face, "is absolutely delicious."

Nanami, who was watching you with a hint of amusement in his eyes, reached for a slice. He took a bite, his expression mirroring your own for a brief moment before settling into a satisfied nod and a soft smile.

"It is," he agreed, taking another thoughtful bite. "A shame they always sell out so fast. Wish we had some alternative..."

Wheels turned in your head as you said as a mischievous glint sparked in your eyes. "What if we tried making this at home, huh? We have the next two days off without any missions – the perfect time to try something new!”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. The corners of his lips twitched into a barely-there smile. "Baking, huh?" he drawled, his voice laced with a playful challenge. "We're both about as experienced as Gojo is with manners."

You swatted him playfully on the arm. "Hey!" you protested, a grin tugging at your lips. "That's exactly why it'll be fun!"

He hesitated for a moment, the playful glint in your eyes mirroring his own amusement. A genuine smile finally bloomed on his face. "Alright," he conceded, stepping closer and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Considering it's our break, we might as well give Golden Crust a run for their money."

Sun streamed through the living room window, casting a warm glow on your furrowed brow as you scrolled through endless online recipes on your iPad. Despite what you said yesterday about enjoying a break, you did have a mission today, although a different mission – to find the perfect Herb Focaccia recipe.

"Aha!" you exclaimed, a grin replacing your frown. "This one seems promising," you announced, turning to Nanami who stood beside you, already waiting with a pen and a grocery list. He was a picture of casual comfort- clad in jeans and a light sweater.

Nanami glanced over your shoulder at the recipe. "Looks doable," he agreed, jotting down ingredients. "Straightforward, and with good reviews – that's a good sign."

With the shopping list complete, you and Nanami left for the grocery store. Navigating the aisles together, you tossed bags of flour, yeast, and a bunch of fragrant herbs – rosemary, thyme, and oregano – into your cart.

Nanami surprised you with his surprising knowledge of flour. As you reached the flour section, he paused, expertly selecting a bag. "Hold on," he said, "for focaccia, bread flour is actually better than all-purpose. It has more gluten, which gives it that nice, chewy texture."

You smiled, impressed by this unexpected expertise. "So, we have a baking wiz here, huh?" you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow.

Back in the apartment, you unloaded the groceries, setting the ingredients out on the counter. Nanami followed suit, carefully placing the bag of flour beside the yeast and herbs. The flour bag held a secret – a small hole lurking at the bottom, waiting to cause trouble.

As Nanami plunked the bag down with a satisfied thud, a white explosion erupted. A cloud of flour billowed out, engulfing you both in a powdery embrace. You coughed, momentarily blinded by the sudden snowstorm.

For a beat, the kitchen was covered in flour-dusted surprise. Then, as the dust settled, a giggle escaped your lips. It quickly escalated into full-blown laughter, and Nanami joined you soon, the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, filled the space.

As you were wiping away the tears of mirth from your eyes, Nanami said, “Well, that’s quite a start,” a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Nanami brushed the flour off his T-shirt; he had ditched his sweater before you two started baking. He looked so relaxed, despite the dusty start you had. His eyes were playful, crinkling in the corners that made your heart skip a beat. You reached up, standing on your tippy toes to ruffle his hair, ruining his perfectly combed hair. Nanami looked at you, his eyebrow raised, “What? You had flour there!” you chuckled.

Nanami shook his head as he picked up the iPad and pulled up the recipe. "Shall we continue, now that the flour is out of my hair?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. You nodded, a grin still plastered on your face, and pulled out a set of bowls, ready to tackle the recipe together.

The kitchen was filled with Nanami’s voice as he read out the instructions. You, meanwhile, were busy measuring out the yeast. As you poured it into a bowl of warm water and sugar, a peculiar aroma tickled your nose. Nanami’s nose scrunched at the smell.

"That...smells interesting," he remarked, a hint of laughter dancing in his eyes. "Is that what activated yeast is supposed to smell like?" You shot him a playful wink "Maybe, maybe not, sweetheart- We will find out soon enough," you said, as you stirred the mixture, covered it, set it aside and put a timer, waiting for the yeast to activate.

Nanami chuckled. He turned his attention to the dry ingredients, carefully measuring and sifting them into a separate bowl. You watched him work, captivated by his meticulous movements. "You're surprisingly good at this," you observed after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence.

Nanami glanced up, a hint of red creeping up his neck. "I may or may not have watched a few baking videos last night," he admitted sheepishly. A wide smile bloomed on your face. "Aww, Kento, that's so sweet! No wonder you're a pro already!"

Nanami gave a small shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just trying to make sure we don't end up with a complete disaster," he mumbled, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Besides, a little preparation never hurt anyone, right?”

A ding sounded in the kitchen, interrupting the two of you. It was the timer, indicating 15 minutes had been up. You reached for the bowl containing the yeast, lifting the cover with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

The yeasty mixture had indeed transformed – a frothy golden cap bubbled on top, emitting an aroma stronger than before. It wasn't unpleasant, exactly, but...unique. "Well, that certainly looks...active," you remarked, offering Nanami a playful smile. He leaned in for a closer look, a hint of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Active enough," he agreed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Following the recipe, you poured the olive oil into the yeast mixture, stirring gently to combine. Then you tipped the wet ingredients into the dry ones. With ease, Nanami took the lead. Using a sturdy wooden spoon, he began folding and mixing the wet and dry ingredients until a shaggy dough emerged. It was a glorious mess – a tangled web of flour, water, and flecks of golden yeast.

Stepping aside, Nanami gestured towards the countertop, while he continued mixing. You nodded in understanding and dusted the surface liberally with flour, creating a snowy landscape for the dough to come. He carefully tipped the shaggy mass onto the floured surface.

Nanami’s fingers dipped into the gooey mess, strong hands worked on the dough. You watched, captivated, as the dough began to transform under his touch. Slowly, the shaggy mess yielded, becoming smoother and more elastic with each press.

A blush crept up your cheeks – a reaction you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the focus completely breaking his usual stoic demeanour. Or perhaps it was the way the flour dusted his dark hair, making him look both domestic and surprisingly…sexy.

And his arms- God his arms. His forearms spoke of strength and control. The muscles bunched and flexed with each deliberate movement. A network of veins ran up his arm, a subtle map that you have traced so many times with your lips, hidden beneath the sun-kissed skin. His hands, surprisingly gentle moments ago while mixing, transformed into instruments of purpose.

Long fingers dug into the dough, drawing it in, pushing it away, folding and stretching it. Suddenly, Nanami's voice cut through your thoughts, laced with amusement. "Seems like someone's getting a little jealous of the dough," he teased, his gaze meeting yours. He had swapped his usual glasses for a wired frame style that somehow made him look even more devastatingly handsome.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you stammered out a defence. "I was just...concerned you might be a little too rough on the dough," you mumbled, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

"Don't worry, darling," he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "I know exactly when to be rough. Not that you need any reminding."

You met his gaze- your cheeks were definitely red now. A slow smile spread across Nanami's face as he witnessed the effect of his words. "Besides," he added, leaning in a little, his voice playful again, "I think our dough is ready to move into the oven.”

Right. The dough. Baking with Nanami. You mentally shook yourself back to reality. Clearing your throat, you reached for the iPad, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite yourself.

"Actually," you started, consulting the recipe, "I think we need to let it rise for a bit." You grabbed a bowl and began coating the inside with olive oil. Nanami, a hint of a smirk still lingering on his lips, picked up the dough and transferred it gently to the prepared bowl before covering it with a clean kitchen towel as you set the timer.

An hour melted away and you and Nanami approached the bowl, a shared look of anticipation passing between you as you lifted the towel.

A gasp escaped your lips – the dough had risen magnificently, its volume nearly doubled. It puffed proudly, a smooth, elastic surface begging to be pocked.

You turned to Nanami, who had something similar to... pride, in his eyes. It was something unexpected, and warmth bloomed in your chest.

You watched Nanami lean on the counter to grab the iPad, his T-shirt riding up ever so slightly, his back visible, causing you to draw a breath. He straightened up, seemingly unaware of your reaction, and read out the instructions for the next step. Following his lead, you grabbed the baking tray, coating it with olive oil, creating a glistening canvas for the dough.

Lifting the risen dough, a surge of accomplishment welled up within you. It felt light and airy- the result of your combined efforts. Together, you and Nanami gently placed it onto the oiled tray, your fingers brushing briefly with his as you spread the dough evenly.

A comfortable silence settled once more. Following the recipe, you used your fingertips to create gentle indentations in the dough – dimples to welcome the olive oil, as mentioned in the recipe. Nanami took over next, as he drizzled a light stream of oil over the surface. Then, he sprinkled some sea salt and a generous amount of herbs on top of the dough, adding a visual and aromatic flourish.

Finally, you carefully covered the transformed dough with a damp cloth. "There," you announced with quiet pride. A satisfied smile tugged at Nanami's lips as he set the oven to preheat. The air crackled with unspoken anticipation as you both turned towards the next step – letting the dough rise again before baking it.

You and Nanami sat in comfortable silence, waiting for the oven to preheat and the dough to rise.

A soft ding interrupted the silence. The oven timer blinked at you, announcing the 25 minutes had flown by. The dough was ready for its transformation.

Nanami grabbed the oven mitts and put them on. You carefully peeled back the damp cloth, revealing the risen dough in all its glory. You passed on the tray to Nanami's gloved hands and he slid the tray into the warmth of the oven, the door shutting with a soft thud.

Silence fell once more, but this time filled with anticipation. The oven hummed as Nanami wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head. "Let's see how this turns out," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

The aroma of toasted herbs hung heavy in the air, a warm, inviting fragrance that eclipsed even the lingering scent of flour. The focaccia had emerged from the oven a golden beauty, its surface dappled with sea salt and herbs.

You set it aside to cool, a necessary but agonising wait. Nanami disappeared into the fridge, emerging with a selection of cheese you'd used yesterday- creamy ricotta, a sharp pecorino romano, and goat cheese. You, in turn, busied yourself with a simple balsamic vinegar and olive oil dip, the sharp tang a perfect contrast to the richness promised by the cheese.

Finally, the moment of truth arrived. With a practised hand, you sliced into the focaccia, revealing the fluffy interior generously infused with herbs. You bit your lip, a nervous flutter in your stomach. So far, so good. Everything had gone according to plan.

Arranging the slices on a plate, you added the cheese and the dip, creating a vibrant tapestry of colours and texture. You and Nanami exchanged a look, both reaching for a piece of bread at the same time.

The first bite was a revelation. The focaccia was warm and yielding, the texture a delightful contrast to the crisp golden crust. The herbs, released by the heat, danced on your tongue, a symphony of flavour that mingled beautifully with the salty tang of the cheese and the sharp sweetness of the dip.

Nanami broke the silence, a slow smile spreading across his face. "It's delicious," he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise and a hint of awe.

You returned the smile, relief and joy washing over you. "It really is," you agreed, savouring each bite.

The twist here? It tasted nothing like Golden Crust's legendary focaccia bread. It was a completely different beast, with its own unique flavour profile. But that didn't make it any less delicious. In fact, it was a delightful surprise, as you both weren’t expecting this turn of events.

Nanami took another bite of the bread, this time with cheese, “I don’t know which bread I like more, the golden crust one or this one,” he admitted, his brows knit together as if he were choosing between the two options.

A surprised laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Really?" you asked, a playful glint in your eyes. "Golden Crust has some serious competition then, huh?"

Nanami chuckled, taking another bite and savouring the contrasting textures. "Honestly," he began, "they're both fantastic, just different. Golden Crust is all about that classic, reliable flavour, but this..." he gestured to the plate, "this has a certain... ineffable quality, a unique charm that's hard to put into words. It's like a combination of flavours and textures, each bite a delightful surprise. It's fresh, unexpected, and bursting with flavour."

The rest of the evening unfolded in a comfortable rhythm. You and Nanami devoured the focaccia, exchanging bites of cheese and dipping the bread into the tangy balsamic vinegar mixture.

As the golden light of dawn began to peek through the kitchen window, a comfortable silence settled between you. Nanami, with a tired yet contented smile, stacked the empty plates while you cleared the countertop. After cleaning the kitchen, you turned the lights off and made your way to the living room.

Exhaustion finally caught up to you both- it was surprisingly tiring to make bread. You found yourselves on the living room couch, nestled against Nanami's side. His arm wrapped comfortably around your waist, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your skin.

"We should try that again sometime," you murmured, reaching out to brush a stray streak of flour from his cheek.

Nanami hummed in agreement. "Yeah, it was a great first attempt."

The smell of herbs in the air was replaced by something else. Leaning closer, you teased, "Maybe it's because of your kneading skills. You have good hands after all."

A flicker of something more than amusement danced in Nanami's eyes. He scooped you up in his arms, surprising you with his sudden movement.

"We are definitely covered in flour," he said, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Desperate need of a shower, even..." He paused, the air thick with unspoken desire. "And if we're continuing this..." his voice dropped even lower, "...maybe I should practice those hands more."

Laughter bubbled up from your chest as he carried you away towards the bathroom, the promise of something sweeter hanging in the air.

a/n: There it is- my first fanfic! (and of course, it's a Nanami fanfic). Would LOVE to know what you guys thought of this!

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #kento nanami #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #tasha's works ✍️

[torialefay]

hello! can i please request hyunjin + #11? ♥️ shy reader x bad boy (with soft spot for reader) hyunjin? 🫠

here you are baby <3

🍭 Don't Cry, I Thought You Liked It 🍭

• you didn't know what to expect... it was your first time after all.

• in the 2 months that you'd officially been dating hyunjin, your world had become completely different

• every week, he introduced you to something new. you knew how kissing worked, how blowjobs worked, and how sex worked, but they weren't things you'd actually TRIED before. and sometimes, that change can be scary.

• from looking at hyunjin on the outside, you'd have thought he'd make it even more scary.

• his face was always stone cold and you could barely get him to crack a laugh at anything. he was just so. fucking. cool.

• effortlessly cool.

• which is why when you found out that he was interested in you- inexperienced and unassuming- you thought it was a joke.

• but here you are, a few months later, with your now boyfriend about to bury his face in between your legs.

• "alright my love, you've got to tell me what feels good for you, okay?" he said, taking your hands in his.

• "okay jinnie, i will do my best," you took a deep breath. all of this was so new to you. you didn't know at all what to expect.

• "look down at me so i can watch and make sure you're enjoying yourself, baby" he said sweetly. once your eyes locked onto his, he sent a sweet smile to you.

• hyunjin slowly started working his way with kisses up your thighs, alternating back and forth between which one.

• when he got to your pussy, he licked softly at first, up and down. nothing too specific. he just wanted to gage your reaction.

• it felt different. not BAD, just different.

• his eyes locked with yours in a questioning look, as if asking "is this okay?"

• you nodded, wishing so badly you could close your eyes to focus, but then again... this view.

• you honed in on your boyfriends face as he started to move from licking up and down you to focusing his attention more around the clit.

• you almost jumped off the bed when he found the sensitive spot and sucked it into his mouth.

• god he looked so FUCKING HOT.

• still holding both of your hands in his, he sucked in on your clit and held it there, rubbing his tongue around it in a circle.

• "mmmm" you let out a soft moan, trying to keep your eyes focused on him. his blonde hair had fallen down in his face slightly, highlighting all the way down to where his mouth rest on top of you.

• "ahhh so that's how my girl likes it," hyunjin smiled and said as he popped off. "tell me how more pressure feels now baby. get ready for me, okay?"

• you braced yourself as he brought his pretty lips back down to the same spot, but sucked even harder to the point that.... was- was he biting?

• you couldn't tell, but the pressure was overwhelming to the point that it just felt too fucking good.

• you felt your stomach bunch up as hyunjin started flicking his tongue on your clit, letting out a few deep chuckles and how much it made you writhe.

• you tried to pull your hands away from his, just to be able to control some form of your body. but he wouldn't let go. instead, he grabbed them tighter and held them down by your side, pinning you down so that he could finish you off.

• "uhhhh right there," you said, about to cry from the pleasure. it was too much. it was too intense.

• you began to buck your hips up into his face as best you could. you needed ANY amount of friction you could get.

• hyunjin wasn't having it though. he could have giggled at the site of you. his perfect girl starting to get so naughty for him. maybe he was getting to be a bit of a bad influence.

• "jinnie. i think i'm gonna cum," you whispered, as you felt a jolt run up one leg, then the other.

• he still didn't let up, he just continued to suck and suck and rub with his tongue until you were completely gone.

• you couldn't help yourself anymore.

• "jinnie-" you cried out. "i'm cumming, oh fuck," you cried just a little louder.

• your back contorted up in pleasure, your legs splayed out in every direction before trying to kick hyunjin to get him off of you. of course he was determined to stay latched on though. to lick and suck and kiss until you were a crying mess.

• you kicked yourself around every way you could think of, but he wasn't letting you go. tears built up in your eyes again as you felt another wave of orgasm come over you.

• it crashed hard as you felt your body violently shake and your mind go blank. your clit was so sensitive at this point that you didn't know what to do.

• big tears started to come out now as you came down from your second high. there was nothing else you could do.

• hyunjin pulled off of you, finally satisfied with his work.

• "don't cry pretty baby, i thought you liked it," he smirked.

#skz hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hwang hyunjin #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin oneshot #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids #stray kids imagines

[co-reborn]

All Over You

Tzuyu x Male Reader

view in AFF

3,059 Words

A/N: Churned this out in about 2-3 weeks, hope you guys will like this simple fic

A/N2: Thank you to @capslocked for helping look through the draft and giving feedback

''God, you have no idea how much I missed you.” 

That’s all you’re greeted with when you open the door. Tzuyu hastily steps into the hotel suite and pushes you against the wall. Her prim and proper mask cracks when she meets you. No longer a simple office worker, just a needy girl aching for you that she lunges at you so desperately.

“We've got work to do, Tzuyu,” you tease, “Contracts to discuss.”

“Fuck all of that. I want you now.”

You look into her eyes. They’ve lost some of their innocence, now ruined by you from the previous time. They dart up and down, her focus alternates between yours and your lips, unsure of what she wants next. 

The decision is made for her—you grab her shoulder and swap places with her, pinning her. 

“I want you too, princess.”

You kiss Tzuyu and she reciprocates immediately. She moans into the kiss and tries to pull you closer.  Her hand reaches behind your head and the other wraps around your back. Doing the same, you hold her hips tightly against yours as well as take the opportunity to reacquaint yourself with her body, cupping her clothes breast and gently squeezing it. However, unlike the other night, you don’t have the whole day, so you blindly lead her away from the entrance and to the bedroom.

A few bumps against furniture and walls later, you make it to the bed where you take a seat and Tzuyu straddles you, still hungry for your lips. How you wish to bunch her skirt around her waist and get her to ride you there and then, but she has other plans. She breaks the kiss, dismounts your lap and steps back. 

With a coy smile, she begins to strip. First to go is her miniskirt. She unhooks the fabric and unzips it. When it drops to the floor, you’re met with her luscious thighs and her bare, glistening pussy. You find it incredulous that Tzuyu would be bold enough to not wear any panties beneath that skirt. God, how far has she fallen? 

Her fingers reach between her legs and begin to stroke across her lower lips and the first bits of pleasure start to stir within her. With her free hand, she undoes the buttons on her blouse, struggling to do with her attention now split.

“I was touching myself at home.” Tzuyu dips just the first knuckle of her finger into her pussy and hums. You take off your top, heart thumping harder and more blood pumps to your groin.

“Was thinking all about you, about that night—” Her blouse now joins her skirt on the floor and her bare breasts are exposed to the cool air, nipples already stiff with arousal. No bra either. You smirk upon realising your devilish influence on her. 

“—when you showed me how good sex can be.” 

Tzuyu pinches her nipple while inserting the rest of her finger into herself, eliciting a airy moan. You unbuckle your belt and undo the pants’ buttons. A tent is already visible and Tzuyu starts to finger herself when she catches sight of it.

“What else were you thinking about, princess?”

“I was thinking about how much I needed you again, how my fingers can’t make me feel as good, and how he can’t compare to you.”

As her sinful memory replays in her head, she inserts another finger into her pussy and continues to pleasure herself. With shaky legs, Tzuyu steps back to lean against the wall to support herself. As her fingering grows more intense and her digits press against the depths of her inner walls, her breaths become heavier. When you finally remove your pants and pull down your boxers, she gasps. She stares and admires your naked body, then glances below to your twitching cock before falling to her knees between your spread legs. 

“Fuck, I need this so much.”

Tzuyu grasps your cock and strokes it at a gentle pace. Practically drooling over your cock, she couldn’t resist planting kisses all over it, or diving lower to lick your balls, or pressing your shaft against her cheek. Tzuyu is simply breathtaking, drop dead gorgeous, an adorable girl next door, yet built with a body made for sin, and here she is, kneeling before you, perfectly indulging in it with her mouth and tongue toying with your cock and tainting her pretty face with it.

“You know, I tried initiating something with him a few days back. The high that you gave me, fuck, I needed it again. But I’m so upset. He didn’t want to fuck me. What a dumbass.” 

Tzuyu pouts and strokes you faster, causing you to groan. You reach for her head to stroke her cheeks. Disappointment washes away, her face lights up at the affirmation and her eyes glisten with pride at the good job she’s doing.

“Yeah, what an idiot. Don’t worry, princess. I would fuck you any time you want.”

Just the words she wanted to hear, Tzuyu smiles and nuzzles your cock one last time in response before she takes it a step further and wraps her lips around your swollen tip. You’re already leaking with precum from hearing her dirty confession and watching her touch herself. Her tongue laps it up as best she can but with how turned on you are, it doesn’t matter as you just leak more. However, you know you aren’t the only one leaking. She hasn’t stopped touching herself this whole time while she put on her masquerade. You’re sure her thighs are stained with her slick, a small pool even forming on the floor.

Your thumb sweeps across her face and she looks up to you. Just a nod of your head and Tzuyu knows what you want next. With constant eye contact, she holds the base of your shaft and lowers her mouth further down. Slowly, each inch of your cock enters her mouth. Her soft, muffled moans only send delightful vibrations across your length and further elevate your pleasure. You watch Tzuyu take in your whole length with little struggle, all while she tries her hardest to maintain her mask of innocence. 

Mouth full of cock, she looks so downright dirty, especially when her lips curl into a slight smile. You don’t even realise when you begin to grip the bed sheet or when you start to hold your breath. You just know how good it is to have your cock buried inside her warm mouth. You’re stroking her hair, holding her in place, even occasionally pushing her lower onto you, and she doesn’t struggle a single bit. Apart from the constant soft, wet sounds of her fingering, there’s no other sound in the room for the next while. 

After a delightfully long time buried inside Tzuyu’s mouth and throat, she lets your cock slip out. It’s now covered with a thick sheen of her saliva, the perfect lubricant for her hand to twist around you. She takes a few moments of recomposing herself before she resumes going down on you. Her lips form a perfect seal around your girth and she bobs her head up and down your length with varying speed, sometimes taking it slow and nice, other times letting your tip hit the back of her throat in quick succession. You do nothing but watch as Tzuyu gets deeply engrossed in the blowjob and shifts closer to you and the hand working on her pussy begins to slow until she abandons it to grab onto your hip to take your cock with more force. 

You relish in the pleasure she’s giving you but you’re greedy and want more. No more taking it slow. You dictate her pace, forcefully bobbing her head fast just the way you like. Your eyes are glued on her and you try your hardest not to shut them. You can’t help but exclaim, “God, you feel so fucking good. You like sucking me off? Because I fucking love it when you do.”

A quick nod, then a loud ‘pop’ when your tip is released. Tzuyu kisses your cock all over until she reaches your balls, then she gives it another deep lick from the bottom. She worships your cock as if it's an addiction, a constant craving. “I love it. I love your cock. I love your cock in me.”

Tzuyu deepthroats you one last time before shuffling backwards. She looks up to you with a lewd smile, an expression that you’ve loved since she first gave in to your sexual prowess, her eyes practically pleading and begging for you. Your cock twitches, already missing her touch again, and you’re eager to take things a step further.

“Mmm. And now, I’m so—” Tzuyu briefly wipes her saliva off with the back of her hand. “So pent up. I need you.”

“And what do you need me to do, Tzuyu?”

Hands neatly on her thighs, she waits for you to take charge. “Please. I need you to ruin me now. Please just do anything.” 

That is a given long before she stepped into the suite. You promised this meeting from last time and she agreed to it knowing the prime objective was to fuck again. Just as she wants you, you too crave to see her again. 

“What a foul mouth you have, princess.”

“Only for you. Anything for you.”

‘Anything’ is tempting. She’s surrendering herself to you. Tzuyu is all yours to take for the rest of the day, and you’re definitely going to use every part of her possible.

“Then I better punish that mouth of yours. A dirty, sexy princess like you needs to be treated right.”

With that said, you get off the bed and step out of your pants that’s still bunched at your ankles. Tzuyu tilts her head further up to your towering figure, a final “please” comes out of her mouth as a whisper and that’s the last words she’s going to utter in the next long while. You hold onto the back of her head, grab a fistful of hair and pull her closer into your crotch. Your cock aligned perfectly at her lips, you press forward. Normally, you would have asked her to open, but you want to see those plump lips forced wide, want to see Tzuyu forced to take your cock.

They part for you and in a smooth motion, you’re buried deep in her mouth once again. When you pull away, you yank her by the hair off your length. She yelps in pain but it’s quickly interrupted by you shoving your cock back in and pulling her closer. In and out you go, roughly fucking her face, just the way you like and just the way Tzuyu has come to enjoy. Her pretty face is now an utter mess with tears streaming down her cheeks and drool seeping out the sides of her mouth. 

“You were craving to be ruined all along, right princess?” 

You press her right into your crotch and rub your cock all over her cheeks to make an even bigger mess of her face. Tzuyu can do nothing but squeal, enjoying your rough treatment, a wordless affirmation to you.

“Thankfully, I’m not like him. I know how to appreciate a sinful body like yours.” 

You then slap her face with your cock while she obediently remains kneeling, unmoving, taking it while quietly moaning each time you do so. 

“Use me. Ruin me. Please, I’m begging you.” She repeats it like a mantra.

Your hold on her head grows harsher, almost pulling at her scalp, your hips thrusts harder, faster and deeper each time. Your roughness causes Tzuyu to start gagging and start to struggle. Despite that, you can tell she’s getting off from it, her muffled moans are growing more frequent, her hand creeping closer to her inner thighs and her pussy.

You want to see her fall apart so you give her your approval. “Go on princess. Touch yourself.”

Tzuyu must have been waiting for those words. Two fingers immediately dive straight into her pussy and she fucks herself as fast as you’re fucking her face. Her other hand reaches for her chest and tugs at her erect nipple. A fire is lit inside her, an urgent chase for her orgasm has begun. You have no clue how long it has been since she arrived at the suite and began to suck your cock but Tzuyu’s trembling, aching, awaiting her first release of the day and frankly, so are you. 

“I’m going to enjoy ruining you again, princess.” You sigh. “We’re going to make a mess of this suite. I’ll make you cum and squirt all over while I cover your body with cum.” You bury yourself deep inside her, cock hitting the back of her throat. You bend down and spit, “Or would you like it all inside you instead?”

“Ye. Peasee.” She tries to pull away from you. “Anything, everything for you.”

You muster all your willpower into holding on. Your eyes shut and your head tosses back, watching the stunning beauty for any longer might unexpectedly push you off the edge. However, the physical view is replaced with a mental one. You ponder the many options, the several different ways you would love to desecrate Tzuyu’s body. Where do you want to fuck her silly next? Pinning her against the front door sounds tempting. Who cares if the rest of the guests complain? They’re just jealous. Heck, you would carry her out to the lobby, show off what a catch you got.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to fuck you proper. I’ll give you what he can’t. A soft intimate fuck, I’ll worship every part of you, treat you right, make you wish I was your lover instead.”

Tzuyu can’t help but to fall further into the depths of her sin. You just know how to press her buttons. It’s so difficult to say no, to push you away, especially knowing you can back it up. Is that what she wishes for? For you to be with her every day, fulfilling all her sexual desires in the comfort of her own bed, for you to fuck her whenever she wants, giving her all the cum she wants and breeding her when she craves it.

“Or would you like something else, something more? I could bend you over the balcony railing, everyone can see us, they can all hear how good I’m fucking you, but no one would know what a dirty cheater you are.”

Fuck, that’s so filthy but why does she like the sound of that? So hot and tempting. Her imagination goes wild and images of her crying out loud while you’re drilling flashes into her head. So many people by the hotel pool, seeing her naked body thoroughly used like some common slut. And you’re so rough, one hand tugging her arm, the other groping her ass. What if… Just what if…?

“Just cum for me, princess. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

And more. 

More.

The word echoes between her ears. It’s on constant replay. Tzuyu isn’t even sure what exactly she wants other than for you to fuck her over and over again and fill her with all the cum you can give her. She’s going to go back home after today, body used in ways she never imagined was possible, her boyfriend none the wiser of the debauchery she took part in the whole afternoon.

Does she even leave the hotel by the end of the day?

A third finger briefly enters her pussy and she starts to palm her clit. So many thoughts cross her mind and her orgasm eventually creeps up to her. When you hear the splashing of her fluids all over the carpeted floor, you open your eyes just in time to watch as Tzuyu crumbles under the blissful pressure. 

Still, she doesn’t stop, her fingers continue to thrust into herself, her mouth still takes your cock, all while her pussy continues to gush and make a small puddle between her thighs. 

When her orgasm finally stops, she turns her focus on you, looking up and making eye contact. She grasps your hips and fuck herself down your cock in tandem with your thrusts. There’s no point in holding back now. The sooner you cum, the faster you can move on to the next course. A few more thrusts into Tzuyu’s mouth. Her lips seal harder around you, her tongue slides along your length. She stares into your eyes, beckoning for you to give her your cum, give in to your own desires. You go in a trance while looking at her, unable to think straight for much long, and before you know it, the dam bursts and you’ve lost control, falling back onto the bed and bringing her head along with you

You shoot your load into Tzuyu’s mouth and sigh in pleasure. She swallows what she can but with how much you’re cumming for her, it becomes too much very quickly and she chokes. Your body weakens and you let go of her head, allowing her to pull away immediately, while you press against the bed to support yourself. 

Hands hurriedly replace her mouth as she rapidly strokes you to maintain stimulation on your cock and points it to herself. She catches the last few spurts of your cum with her face and chest, moaning in appreciation at its warmth as it taints her pristine skin. Tzuyu is a princess thriving in lust, body absolutely ruined, the mix of sweat, saliva and your cum all over her pretty face, her nipples red from all the pain she inflicted on herself. Royalty shouldn’t be violated like this.

Even though a small wave of exhaustion hits you, you know there’s no time to rest, not when there’s more to enjoy. It certainly helps that Tzuyu is eager for more too. She gulps the rest of your load and moans at its taste before flashing a lewd smile to you. Your dick quickly hardens under her grasp with her persistent strokes and she straddles your lap soon after, inserting it into herself. 

“So,” Tzuyu whispers while she nuzzles herself into the crook of your neck, “what’s next for your princess?”

******

A/N: How the fuck did this end up being 3k words??? I don't know honestly

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #twice #twice smut #chou tzuyu #tzuyu smut

[aemxnd]

the fire king | aegon ii targaryen x velaryon wife!reader

Aegon needs to have his own way for once. 

Inspired by a filthy anon request for Aegon with absolutely no limits…

WARNINGS: consensual non-consent/dub-con, basically p0rn with very little plot, canon typical incest, v fingering, squirting, physical force, p in v, language, praise, degrading, mention of virginity loss, overstimulation, aegon going from cute to angry to cute again, slightly fluffy if you squint, absolutely not proofread sorry not sorry

WORDS: 5.5k

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Fuck this. 

Aegon’s mind rattled through the infinite curses that could spill from his tongue in that moment, yet his immutable standing as King of the realms forbade him, an invisible gag clutching at his lips.

Fuck. This. 

The council meeting had dragged on with no tangible progress, supporters whining about Rhaenyra’s uprising from her Dragonstone seat, hapless solutions to an impending battle floating in the stagnant air and looming like a stormcloud in the room. Although he’d resigned himself to his fate as their chosen heir to the Iron Throne, it brought Aegon no joy to bear witness to the endless bickering in his name. No matter how hard he protested, his mother or grandsire would soon interject with an alternative, alluding that they knew best and it would be wise to follow their instruction. A king in nothing but name, Aegon had no true command over his own destiny. Compliance came first, contentment came second. 

Fuck all this. 

Aegon’s fingers danced over the glass orb perched before him, the pad of his thumb gliding over its cool, smooth surface his only distraction from the banality of his position. Like his idly occupied digits, memories swirled of a more peaceful time spent in the bowels of the Street of Silk, when a simple cloak could conceal his identity yet the mere mention of his name would open doors closed to all but the onetime prince of the realm. Although such heady freedoms had been snatched from him with the placing of the crown upon his silver curls, there was only one thing such halcyon days of his life lacked: his Queen.

Betrothed to the youngest of Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys Targaryen’s heirs since the Driftmark succession, the pairing sought to publicly immortalise the union between High Tide and the Red Keep, or at least in the eyes of the slowly perishing King Viserys who longed for peace between his Targaryen offshoots before he departed his mortal body. Little did the two factions expect the couple forced together for political appearances would fall so deeply in love as Aegon and the Lady Velaryon. From the moment their eyes first met over the grand banquet at the succession, every interaction between them seemed as natural as breathing. From chaste brushes of fingers as they clanked goblets in toasts to Aegon’s uncharacteristic soft giggles as his gaze dropped comfortably to his chest before snapping back to lose himself in her lilac eyes.

The Lady Velaryon brought out the best in the drunken prince in the blink of an eye. He swore off cups and promiscuity that same night, resolving that no amount of bitter wine and fleeting company could rival the ecstasy coursing through his veins when his betrothed looked upon him as if he were the only man in the known world. 

The star-crossed lovers were wed the next day, saving their first kiss for the moment they were announced man and wife. Aegon stepped nervously toward her, reaching a hand to cup her cheek and capturing her lips, two jigsaw pieces slotting into place. In the years that followed, his lady wife guided Aegon through his father’s demise, his council’s enforcement of his claim to the Iron Throne against his father’s final wishes, and the ensuing rise of incurable ill will between House Targaryen’s fiery branches. Throughout the rumbles of conflict that would surely melt down the Iron Throne, the only constant in his life would be the Queen at his side, hands clasped at her front and a comforting grin dancing across her lips. Whatever troubled waters he faced in the day, he could always retire to his chambers to the calming brook of his wife’s arms. Although the therapeutic steady stream would soon burst into a fierce waterfall once Aegon’s hands fell upon her irresistible frame, their tidal waves colliding together among the sheets and crafting a devastating tsunami in their wake.

“Your Grace?” The distant voice of the Hand called through Aegon’s dream-like stupor, snapping his consciousness back to the dimly-lit council meeting hall. Vision focusing slowly on the Hand’s figure standing bolt upright across the table, his countenance expectant yet determined all at once. “What do you suggest, your Grace?”

“I… uh…,” Aegon stuttered, gaze darting around the table for a signal of the conversation he missed, meeting only blank faces eagerly awaiting his response. “I… think we should all… uh… retire for the evening. It is late, we have spent hours debating our next move and now the hour of the owl is almost upon us, our judgement is clouded. I order you all to return to your chambers to consider the situation anew on the morrow.”

Aegon slammed his fists on the table insistently, rising to his feet with their aid as the eyes of the room bore into him bewildered. 

“Your Grace, I strongly suggest we—.”

“Yes, grandsire, I am certain you have a veritably long-winded suggestion to raise to keep us here until daybreak,” Aegon seethed through gritted teeth, fists tightening beneath him against the ageing wood. “But I, on the other hand, have a wife I must attend to. I trust you remember what that feels like.”

A stony silence fell amongst the present number, Otto’s brows knitted together.

“But your Grace, I must protest—.”

“I dare you to protest against me once more, ser!” Aegon’s tightly coiled temper snapped into a booming roar, his bark still echoing around the chamber seconds after his last syllable left his tongue. “And I will have your head on a spike for defying the King’s orders!”

The tension in the hall was so palpable, Aegon could swear the very air hanging over the council table pulsed and swelled, taking on a deep crimson hue. His own laboured breaths from his outburst burst through the uncomfortable silence, taking deep inhales as he scanned each face to ensure compliance had fell upon them all. 

“Good, I can see we have all come to an agreement,” Aegon kicked his chair aside and bounded across to the door, bellowing on his exit: “On the fucking morrow.”

The doors on Aegon’s furious journey back to his chambers bowed out of his path in the same manner he would wish from the council, days wasted trying and failing to persuade his own trusted advisors to acquiesce to his will when he could be laying with his lady wife, or rather hammering her very skeleton into the mattress beneath him. As he meandered around identical flagstoned corridors, Aegon wrung his hands before him, pressing his thumbs into the flesh until it turned a white hot beneath the pressure. His plan of action lay before him as straight as the horizon, arriving at the door to his marital chambers sooner than he expected. A deep sigh escaped him as he laid his hand on the wood that came between him and his final destination, squeezing his eyes shut before plunging through the portal without a care for what he would find on the other side. 

Spinning to close the door against his back, Aegon discovered you surrounded by maids clutching at your heavy gown, the weight of its deep green velvet making the fabric plummet to pool at your feet as they disrobed you to your smallclothes. You spun on your heels to face your husband, your maids hurriedly curtsying in their arranged circle around you. 

“Good evening, your Grace,” you chimed sweetly, a warm smile spreading across your cheeks as your gaze fell upon the man who held your heart from the moment you first met. 

“Leave us, ladies,” he sighed gently, not expecting to be heard. 

“Yes, your Grace,” each lady chirped, gathering the fabric from the floor and dutifully scurrying from the room. 

Aegon cast a confused glance at the flurry of ladies sweeping past him, heads bowed to avoid his vision. “Well, that was alarmingly easy.”

“Has the council finally set you free, dear husband?” You cooed, pacing gently toward him. 

“It would appear so,” he stated matter-of-factly, battling his own better judgement to revive the anger he felt before he opened the door and found the beauty of his lady wife.

“I was just trying on a new gown for Aemond’s return from Storm’s End. Gods be good you just missed the full show, I was hoping to keep it a secret for the grand occasion.”

Upon your arrival before him, you raised the back of your hand to graze against his cheek. His alabaster skin was searing hot with pent-up rage, the young king closing his eyes and dipping gently into the sensation of your cool skin melting his resolve. 

When his eyes opened again, however, his lilac gaze darkened to a pitch black.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded through gritted teeth, his jaw tensed as he spat each syllable with a sinister venom. “Now.”

“Y… yes, your Grace?” You half-questioned, scanning his face for confirmation yet finding nothing but a half-shaken resolve before treading tentatively away toward the four-poster. Two half-hearted steps later, Aegon lunged forward and briskly grasped your arms, his nimble fingers blazing a trail downwards to lock your hands behind your back, pulling you flush to his chest.

“Resist me with all your might and I shall reward you with every peak you desire,” Aegon purred into the shell of your ear, planting a kiss where his words left behind goosepimples. “What word will you say to cease my advances should you feel unsafe, issa jorrāelagon?” My love. 

You choked lightly as you composed your thoughts, thoughts swirling back to the previous occasion where Aegon insisted on proclaiming a word which would enable each of you an instant escape if either of you had taken your bedroom escapades too far. In the moment those two words hung in the air between you, you were to release one another without question or complaint, untie any restraints and salve any wounds or pain that might be caused.

“S… Sunfyre, ñuha perzys dārys,” you stuttered, hardly able to hear your own words over his deafening quickened breaths behind your ear, every second of holding you to his will driving his restrained fury to the surface. My fire king.

“Good girl,” he hummed into your ear, planting another confirming kiss on your ear before stepping you carefully forward. “Let’s get you on the bed.”

Aegon’s loose clasp of your hands and gentle treads forward betrayed his demands, his careful handling of his delicate wife ensuring your safety. The sole cause of the cold dread flooding through your veins as you approached the edge of the bed was when the kindnesses would cease and the ruthless Aegon would arrive. He had only made a handful of appearances in the bedroom before, but he had always been introduced well in advance. Tonight, you had no preparation, no introduction, only fear of where his limits lay this night. 

Your knees nudged to the wooden bed frame and you instinctively swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes together in prayer for your husband’s mercy once he had fucked his frustrations into you. 

“Do not be afraid, ñuha embar dāria,” he soothed, planting another reassuring kiss into the nape of your neck. My sea queen. “I do not intend to hurt you.”

Releasing your hands from behind your back, his own traversed your frame to unbutton your smallclothes until the linen pooled at your feet, the cold air of the chamber pricking your skin as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. Aegon gripped your forearm and spun you on your heels to face him, his eyes now blackened and menacing as they consumed the sight of you. 

“I only intend to break you.”

With a forceful palm pressed into your chest, Aegon pushed you down to the sheets, tumbling onto the soft mattress beneath you. His reckless silver curls framed his face as he towered at the foot of the bed, your thighs clenching together before him. 

“Tell me to stop,” he commanded, frantically battling to decimate his own black clothing from his frame, the three-headed dragon cast to the floor to remove all semblance of ceremony between you. “Order me to cease and I will force you to take what I give you.”

His words alone sent you gently writhing among the sheets as he kneeled on the edge of the mattress, the mere thought of Aegon not taking no for an answer had never really crossed your mind before. His lovemaking was always a level playing field, constant hushed queries of your current state spilling whenever you had fallen too silent for his liking. This new relentless version of your husband intrigued you, but also paralysed you to the spot with anxiety where this new facade would draw the line with you, if indeed such a line existed. 

“You look so beautiful like this,” he gloated, groaning hungrily deep in his throat as he consumed the sight before him, your anticipation of his next move utterly palpable. “So fragile, so delicate… so submissive.”

The predatory tone in his voice hitched your breaths in your lungs, coming out as ragged exhales as he crawled onto the bed, sharply nudging his knees between yours and forcefully parting your thighs, both hands braced on either side of your head and caging you to the spot. Gazing down at you through tumbling silver waves, Aegon tutted and skewed the corner of his lip in disapproval. 

“I don’t see you fighting me, dear wife. Do you perhaps need reminding that I will not continue if you do not obey my orders?”

You gulped so loud, the thrum of your throat could well have echoed around the deathly silence of the chamber. Aegon leaned to hover his lips over yours, towering over you with a menacing grin as he watched you feign a squirm beneath him. His mouth drew nearer, breaths fanning your face and you pressed your eyes closed, jerking your face to one side away from him as if your life depended on swerving his kiss.

“That’s my girl,” Aegon growled, one hand fired to grab your jaw and yanked you to face him, crashing his lips against yours and fervently pressing into you. Your false grunts of resistance vibrated into his mouth and drove him to consume you further, greedily smashing into you and nibbling at your bottom lip. “I knew you could do it.”

His fingertips digging hard into your cheeks, your jaw constricted in his grasp and your soft flesh paled to a searing hot white beneath his grip. 

“Get off me,” you snapped through gritted teeth, testing your ability to resist him by squirming and thrashing your head in his hold. “You’re power mad, Aegon, you can’t just take me when you feel like it.”

“You think so?” Aegon half-roared deep in his throat, eyes narrowing to a sinister sneer looming down over you. “I’ve spent all fucking day in that council being told what to do, I have no say in my own destiny so for once, just this once, do as I say.”

Releasing his grip on your face, his seizing hand fired down to your thigh, clutching at the soft flesh spread before him and earning a gentle buck of your hips in response. Your sensitivity prickled all Aegon’s senses, lurching his hand to your center to discover just how much your body truly craved him, only to find your sodden folds aching for his next move. 

“How is it your cunt knows you belong to me, but your tongue does not?” Aegon snapped, tracing a light fingertip over the outline of your entrance and fluttering his eyelids as you keened into the sensation. “Look at you, you’ve always wanted me to take you by force, haven’t you sweetling?”

“Fuck off, Aegon,” you scowled through ragged breaths, squirming beneath him in a vain escape attempt. “I’m only wet because I can’t remember the last time you fucked me properly.”

His eyes bulged, a cold wave of shock washing over him as a newfound venom spilled from your acid tongue. This character was so unlike you, he could swear his wife was possessed by an unearthly force. Were you being truthful? Was he not satisfying his wife for your entire marriage? Was this part of the act? 

For a brief moment, the King froze to the spot, gathering his thoughts and putting all his bets on the outcome he’d prefer. Settling for the latter result with all the hope he had mustered, he took your cutting words and buried two fingers inside your waiting heat, stealing the breath from your lungs with each knuckle breaching your folds as his finger curled fervently inside your core. 

“You’re going to regret that, my insolent little Queen,” he seethed, nestling his fingers deep inside you and filling you to the hilt. He stilled as he reached up to his knuckle, not pumping in and out as he normally would. Instead, his forefinger and little finger rested at the meeting of your thighs, stroking outside your core as he slowly started drawing his hand up and down from the sheets to the sky and plunging his fingertips into your walls, stroking the spongy surface before pulling back and slamming upwards again. Settling at an alarming pace, your body betrayed you as your hips grinded up into his touch, your thighs quaking beneath him. 

“S—stop, Aegon,” you ordered half-heartedly, voice cracking with the intensity of the building tension in your cunt. “You repulse me.”

“Tell that to your body, dear wife,” he rasped, ramping up his thrusts so that the rhythmic lewd splashes of pleasure from your core filled the chamber. “I can feel your cunt bowing to its King.”

Your weak efforts to restrain your hips to the sheets waned with every eager plunge of his fingertips into your walls, instead trying to disguise your pathetic writhing underneath him as an attempt to escape his clutches, but the more you struggled the more he chased your approval. 

“S… stop,” your feeble plea stuttered on your tongue with the building pressure inside your walls rising to a searing heat, your head sinking back into the pillows with your eyes journeying to the ceiling. The sooner you distracted yourself from watching your silver King claim you in the filthiest manner, the more convincing your rejections would sound and the less it would seem like you were nearing a faux-reluctant climax. “Let me go, Aegon, fuck!”

“Not until you let go for me,” Aegon snarled, perching on his knees and hooking a hand behind your head to force your gaze down to the action between your thighs, his fingers thrumming into your walls with his palm cupping over your bundle of nerves only increasing the pressure inside you. His ragged breaths from his exertion blended into your own stammering rhythm, battling to maintain your guise of composure as Aegon destroyed you from within. “Go on, let go all over my fingers. Soak the sheets I deflowered you on, show me how much you need me.”

His words alone sent you careering over the edge of your peak, screaming out in frustration and lurching your back up to meet him in mid-air as a tight band snapped in your core. A wave of ecstasy suddenly flooded within you and poured free from your cunt in a violent spray, following Aegon’s orders to the letter as warmth pooled into the sheets beneath you, withdrawing his fingers to watch your climax unfold. Your eyelids clenched shut with shame, drawing your bottom lip between gritted teeth and willing the ground to swallow you whole. So caught up in your own embarrassment, you could not see the accomplished grin beaming across Aegon’s plush lips or his pupils blown pitch black with lust, his expression a combination of sultry desire, predatory domination and pride over your staggering obedience.

A silence fell between you as you both calculated the event in very different ways — while you held onto a ridiculous hope that Aegon would forget this ever happened, Aegon was consumed with wonder when, or indeed if, he could make you reach that high again. 

“Do that again,” he declared, thrusting his fingers back into your dripping folds and caressing your slippery walls inside, dragging his fingers in the same beckoning manner that made your spine flex both away from and into him simultaneously. “Don’t make me wait, issa jorrāelagon.”

“G… get off me, Aegon,” you whimpered with all the strength you could muster, your mask of protest slowly slipping as you jerked beneath his vice grip on your heat, tension already rising inside you. “Y… you make me sick.”

“Now now, that’s no way to talk to the husband who can make your cunt flow like a waterfall,” his domineering sarcasm dripped like honey from his tongue, concentrating his strength on hammering inside you so hard the muscles on his forearm protruded with exertion. “You can give me another, there’s a good girl.”

“Stop, now!” You cried out with a spurt of faux-disobedient energy, desperately praying to the Seven that he could not draw another humiliating scene from you, obstinately clenching your thighs around his waist to offset the uncomfortably familiar pressure rising inside. “You can’t do this to me, Aegon!”

“Have you forgotten already, little one? I own you, you and this pretty wet cunt that’s already shaking around my fingers.” His filthy sneer accompanied a new move to a punishing pace slamming into your walls, stroking at the spongy interior as if to beckon your peak forward once more. “Just give me what I want and shut that disobedient mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Try me,” you spat without even thinking about the consequences of such a temptation, half-closing your eyes as if you would catch a glimpse of the eye of the storm in your husband’s gaze.

Sure enough, Aegon’s grip on the back of your neck released as he fired his hand to meet the valley of your hips, planting his palm in the plane of your pelvis and pressing down until he could feel his fingers plunging within you. Your strangled gasp in response suggested his new angle was working its charm immediately, your spine curving into mid-air to throw your hips up into his touch.

“That’s it,” he growled lowly, pushing deeper and pistoning his fingers faster to race you to the edge once more. “Can’t come up with a quick insult now, can you?”

“F… fuck you, Aegon!” You screamed out as your second wave consumed you, another clear fountain breaching your entrance and spilling over his waiting fingers, which he chose to run through your folds to spray your release even further over the sheets. Wails of frustration and overstimulation poured from your lips, your thighs quivering and writhing uncontrollably as the aftershocks took hold of your body.

“Soon, my love,” he cooed in a break from his dominant streak, too wrapped up in the power rushing to his head after eliciting two floods from you in quick succession. “Just give me one more.”

“N… no, please,” you begged as his fingers dipped inside your sensitive walls once more, your hips keening frantically into the sheets to desperately avoid another sensory onslaught. Your protests up until then had been false, tempting and almost goading, but that time, your senses could not withstand any more. Your folds puffy and abused, your forehead dripping with sweat, your breaths laboured and jagged. You were sure you could not produce another wave, let alone withstand his fingers punishing your core. “Please, no more…”

“Come on, little one,” his honeyed encouragement came through a softer voice than before, almost registering your overstimulation but craving one more chance at claiming you more than he ever had before. “Just one more for me, I know you can do it.”

His fingers slipped into your dripping heat with ease, gently caressing that sensitive spot inside you for a few moments before returning to his relentless pace hammering back and forth inside you. 

“Stop, Aegon, please…,” your pleas far more convincing as you began to mean the words you spilled, your voice cracking weakly as his ministrations inside your cunt stole the air from your lungs. 

“Just one more, that’s my good Queen,” he pressed, his one palm stroking the valley of your hips while the other rubbed your mound eagerly in time with his fingers curving inside your pulsing heat. “One more for me, soak the sheets again for your King.”

Your third wave arrived with a scream of his name that made no sound as it left your tongue, too exhausted to produce an audible syllable as you gushed another flood over his fingers still buried inside you, downright explicit splashing sounds echoing through the chamber in place of your voiceless cries. 

“Good girl, good girl,” Aegon praised with wonder as he consumed the sight of his digits dripping with your release as he finally withdrew from you, the sheets sodden to translucency beneath you, glimmering droplets of your climax splattered over both your thighs and his own. Your legs refused to still, quaking uncontrollably in the aftermath of the sensory onslaught brought upon you by your husband’s desperate clamour for power in his life. 

At last, he had power over one thing. But at what cost?

Brushing a tumbling silver curl from his face with a soaking hand, he reached to pay you the same kindness only for you to whip your face away from his touch. His brows knitted together tightly, a piece of his heart breaking to see you flinch from your husband so eagerly. Had he gone too far?

“Issa jorrāelagon,” he purred softly, a flush of dread cracking his voice. “Are you… are you well?”

You shot a stern gaze back at his terrified countenance, his pallor flushing to a sheer white as if the blood had drained from his face. His fingers ventured to touch your cheek again only to find you wincing away from him once more. Another piece of the King’s heart shattered. 

“My Queen, did…,” his fragile stammer signing the validity to his concern. “Did I hurt you? I… I never meant to hurt you.”

He scanned your face for a response, any response that would shatter the glass of suspense between you. Your eyes betrayed nothing, your cheeks gave away no sign, yet as his gaze journeyed to your mouth, Aegon discovered your lips ever so slightly curling into a childlike mocking grin. 

It was an act all along.

He let out a sigh of defeat and clicked his tongue in sharp disapproval. 

“You have played your hand well, dear wife,” Aegon admitted, running his still-dripping hand through his wavy locks once more before rolling onto his knees, pressing one palm to spread your thighs beneath him while the other gripped his length, palming it lightly and surging the tip toward your swollen entrance. “But you underestimate your opponent.”

In one smooth flick of his hips, his cock slipped into your heat to the hilt, earning her another strangled gasp from the bottom of your lungs. The overwhelmingly full sensation of his length finally fitting inside you like the missing piece of your jigsaw left you battling the urge to throw your arms around his neck and capture his lips with yours. For the sake of the wicked game to which you had committed yourself, your surge of energy was spent on planting your palms on his bare chest and pushing him away from you with all your might. Unsurprisingly, his body weight was immovable and your fight was futile, eliciting a sinister chuckle from your dominant husband as he picked up a rampant pace, drawing his hips back and slamming down into you with a brute force. 

“I don’t want this, Aegon,” you lied, your faux-protest delivered through a clenched jaw at the same time your thighs gave up their battle and spread wide for his languid thrusts to reach you easier. “I don’t fucking want you!”

“If you truly don’t want me, why is your cunt singing my name?” Aegon played his hand so eloquently for a man whose eyes were gently roving skyward at the feeling of your walls welcoming him so warmly, wrapping around him and choking his every piston deep into your heat. “Say the word and I will set you free, but until then I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

You swallowed thickly, his menacing nature such a contrast from the doting husband who only moments before had feared his own strength on your body, the man who had broken before your very eyes at the mere sight of your seemingly authentic rejection. He revelled in your wilful resistance, but each time he doubted whether you truly meant the sentiments behind your actions, Aegon Targaryen crumbled. 

“No!” You cried out, gently writhing your hips in a false attempt to escape him but only succeeding in grinding up into Aegon and slipping his cock even deeper inside your heat. “Please, no!” 

“As you wish, my sea queen,” Aegon confirmed with an accomplished grin, rearing his hips to deliver a punishing thrust that stole the breath from your lungs. “Think you can give me one more?”

Your gentle shake of your head acted as both truth and a lie at the same time — your resistant facade suggested you didn’t want to reach your peak a fourth time, your overstimulated cunt certainly did not feel as if it could deliver another flood of fluids, yet you somehow craved another chase of that ecstasy with Aegon splitting you open so perfectly. 

“Good, I knew you could take it for me,” Aegon growled, curling his hips to plunge inside you so deep that his cockhead nudged impatiently at your cervix, leaving a hollow tension in your stomach in his wake. “Gods, your cunt is still so tight around me, you feel like the heavens.”

You whispered his name like a secret sacrament, inaudible over the wet slapping of skin and Aegon’s eager groans as he impaled you. Unfortunately for you, Aegon had read your lips. 

“That’s it, little one,” he gloated gleefully, pouring every inch of his length within you in devastating curled motions. “Your King has you now.”

“F—fuck,” your broken stammer betrayed the tight coil of searing heat building in your core and constricting your walls around his cock in the same way your thighs clamped around his waist. “Fuck, I’m…”

“My dear sweet submissive Queen,” he cooed softly, pummelling into you with a newfound energy and leaving you both gasping for air. “Chase that high again, I know you can give me one more.”

With his next merciless plunge into your cervix, you instinctively flung your arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips, screaming into his mouth you toppled over your peak and flooded over his cock, the clear jet of your ecstasy spilling from your folds and soaking his length until his sack of stones dripped with your release. A hungry growl rumbled on his lips as his hand travelled to where your bodies joined, splashing his fingers through the fountain of your climax feverishly spilling over him as he continued to pummel inside you. 

“That’s it,” he drawled lazily into your mouth, his syllables catching on his tongue and rolling slowly onto yours. The veins traversing his length protruded and prickled as his own release neared, jolting and twitching inside you as he continued plunging into you. “Now take everything I give you like a good girl.”

His last sound signalled a stutter of his hips, his own climax flooding inside you and pouring his seed as far in your cunt as he could reach. Aegon deepened your kiss to disguise his own explicit moans, lazy growls echoing into your mouth as he jerked softly into you, his peak flooding your insides with a familiar warmth you knew so well, but this time, the sensation was unrivalled. 

“I… I love you,” Aegon’s fragment whisper against your lips sounded fragile once more, his dominant alter ego well and truly buried with his seed inside you. Refusing to withdraw his length as if the action of leaving your folds would draw a close to the moment between you, Aegon continued kissing you as feverishly as the night you first met. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” you whispered back, hands trailing into his silver waves and tugging gently, clamouring for contact after refusing to touch him ever since he laid you on the sheets, now sodden and cold beneath you. “Always.”

Aegon’s kiss came to a sudden halt, his eyes firing open as a realisation swept over him. Tearing his lips from yours, his eyes frantically searched your lips for a response before his enquiry even left his.

“Did you mean what you said?” His fearful query came from beneath furrowed brows and puppy-like pleading eyes. “Do I truly not fuck you properly, my sea queen?”

“My fire king,” you sighed contentedly, tightening your thighs around his waist and drawing his softening length deeper inside you. “If that is what I have to say to get you to do that, you can expect to hear it every night.”

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[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 26

summary: Watching Javier with Steve and Connie Murphy’s three kids has you experiencing a bad case of baby fever. Some important discussions lead to making a big decision, and there’s one question you hadn’t anticipated being asked...

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, sneaking around (you have to be quiet so the Murphys don’t hear you), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, vaginal fingering, kinda rough sex (Javier works out his frustration on you), oral sex (f receiving), (MASSIVE) breeding kink, dirty talk, spit as lube, Javier saying very romantic things while he’s balls deep inside you, Steve trying to cockblock Javier with an obnoxiously squeaky bed (all it does is piss off Javi), Javier being a menace, misunderstanding, grumpy Javier, Javier being very cute with children, baby fever, emotional hurt/comfort, discussion of pregnancy/childbirth and fears, a dream sequence, death of a parent/grief, marriage proposal (it’s so romantic), love confession, mention of PTSD, an appearance of The Tac Vest™ (in a photo), Olivia and Javier talking shit about her dad in Spanish because Steve doesn’t understand, Connie being the best)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 24.5k+ (It’s a good time)

a/n: Hello there! This is a BIG chapter both in number of words and in terms of plot. Since this is a super long one, odds are the Tumblr app isn’t going to let you reblog with a comment—it’s a known issue. I haven’t heard of any problems if you go onto Tumblr.com directly through a browser, though. Since reblogs are super important, it’s totally okay if you reblog without a comment, and if you wish to comment, you can either do it on the post through comments or by sending me an ask! I’m chill with whatever you feel like doing. 🥰🥰🥰 Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. This is something we’ve been looking forward to, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and being a trooper for this monstrosity of a chapter.

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

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Baby fever was real.

And it was dangerous.

At least that was the only explanation you had for this overwhelming desire to have your own child that needed, specifically, to be fathered by the love of your life, Javier Peña.

It was cool in the house, and you were in shorts and a loose t-shirt, yet your skin was heated, watching from your seat on the leather sofa as the man you were going to marry played with the two older Murphy children—you weren’t entirely sure what the game was, but it involved Javi holding the three-year-old son in one arm while he dueled their nine-year-old daughter, Olivia, with hard, yellow foam swords. They were over in the empty space of the family room designated for the kids with the toy box against the wall beside a kitchen playset and a tiny red plastic table with two matching tiny chairs, other larger toys lining up in a row next to them.

The three-year-old, Stevie, was laughing while your boyfriend moved about, dodging the young girl's attempts at jabbing him. A big smile was plastered on Javi’s face with sweat beading on his brow, and you were doing your damndest to ignore the primal instinct that had ensured the survival of the human species, purring in the back of your mind as it zeroed in on him as the perfect man to procreate with.

He was so strong, so caring, so kind, so handsome.

So perfect.

Beautiful chocolate-colored eyes you dearly loved met yours, and he winked, making you suck in a breath as you melted into the cushion behind you, not even embarrassed you were literally swooning.

The leather creaked and complained when someone sat down next to you, your attention still on the future father of your children.

“I told you he smiles and laughs with my kids,” Steve said beside you.

Your head whipped toward him, finding that he was holding a giggling Nate up in the air, bringing him down to kiss all over his face and lift him again.

When you first arrived, you wondered how involved a parent Steve was.

Many men left the childrearing to the mother, and with him not helping with nap time or volunteering to get the boys when they’d woken up, you thought he might be one of those men. What you came to find out was his kids adored him, and he was very present.

Earlier, you made chocolate chip cookies with Olivia and Stevie. Their dad happened to come into the kitchen just as you were putting them in the oven, and the kids flocked to him to excitedly tell him all about how they’d helped. He had picked up his three-year-old and smiled as he listened, taking them to the living room so Javi and you could clean up the mess you made. When it was time to eat the freshly baked cookies, Stevie ate his Connie-approved two cookies while sitting on his father’s knee at the kitchen table, Olivia eating her own in the seat beside them.

So, Steve was pretty great with his children.

When you commented about it while alone in the kitchen with your husband-to-be, he whispered to you about how it wasn’t always like this. Back in Colombia and when Steve first returned to Miami, he had that shitty patriarchal mindset that Connie should be the one to care for their daughter—that was, until Javi showed up and stepped in to help Connie with Olivia. Apparently, that triggered something in Steve and lit a fire under his ass to be a better father and husband.

Connie was currently on a run to the store, and Javi had taken it upon himself to entertain the energy-filled kids. Steve was handling Nate duty himself since the little one was super attached to his parents, especially his mother.

“Yes, you did,” you replied to the older man.

The toddler was now cuddled in his arms, repeating Dadada over and over again.

Steve looked at you. “He asked us earlier if we thought he’d be a good dad.”

“And how did you answer?”

White teeth appeared when he smiled. “We told him he’d be a great dad, and it was about damn time he became one.”

Your lips tipped up, glancing over at the man you were talking about, who was now down on his knees and being attacked by both of the children wielding the swords, shielding his head with his arms.

“Yeah, it really is.” Facing Steve again, you asked, “How did you know you were ready to be a parent?”

He snorted. “Did Javi ever tell you about how we got Olivia?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “He told me you adopted her in Colombia…?”

Leaning in, he spoke a little quieter, “The story doesn’t start off too happy, but I know Jav’s told you about what things were like down there.”

“Hell.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Javi and I found her when she was a baby in the home where Pablo Escobar’s sicarios murdered her mother and grandmother—would’ve murdered her, too, if we hadn’t shown up.” He took a deep breath like he was remembering, your eyes widening at the horror.

Murdering a defenseless baby? They were monsters.

“Escobar was also responsible for the death of her father,” he continued. “She was so tiny and had no one. I was worried more people would come for her, so I brought her home with me. Connie wasn’t too happy about it at first.” A smile pulled up on his lips as he chuckled. “And we sure as hell weren’t prepared for a baby, but we’d always wanted kids and had just about given up until we got her.” He was smiling fondly now, looking past you at his daughter. “We fell in love with her, and it was an easy decision to adopt. So, to answer your question—” He met your eyes. “—I didn’t know I was ready to be a dad until after we got the kid. Sometimes, you don’t get a chance to feel ready before it happens, but I’ll tell you, the moment you hold your baby, the instincts kick in fast.”

“That’s good to know.”

“All these questions about parenthood between the two of you.” He nodded his head toward Javi, then you. “Are y’all trying?”

The question had you making a face, wondering why it was socially acceptable to discuss your sex life when it came to reproducing.

“If you must know,” you started, “we’re currently just practicing… A lot. Like practically once a day if we’re in the mood, and I think we’ve got it pretty figured out, especially the unprotected sex part.”

His nose had wrinkled like he smelled something bad, deeply frowning in disgust. “I don’t wanna know that.”

“You asked!”

Javi was suddenly standing in front of you, breathing hard and holding his beer he picked up from the coffee table.

He took a long drink, asking Steve when he finished, “What did you ask her?” He shooed the other man away with his free hand. “Move over.” Steve and Nate scooted to the other side of the couch so your boyfriend could plop down beside you.

Stevie was playing with some toy cars, and Olivia had disappeared.

Javi’s arm went over your shoulders with his side pressed against yours, bringing the brown bottle back up to his lips.

Looking at him, you saw his throat work as he swallowed the beer, rubbing your hand over his jean-clad thigh. “He asked if we’re trying for a baby.”

The liquid must’ve gone down the wrong pipe, your boyfriend making a choked sound and sputtering, it evolving into a coughing fit. You got his arm over your head to lean him forward to pat his back, Steve’s eyes finding yours.

“I swear I don’t do this on purpose,” you said. “I didn’t think it was something he’d react to.”

“Does this happen often?” the blonde man asked, looking both concerned and mildly amused.

“Kinda?” You grimaced. “But not on purpose!” Your attention moved to your boyfriend. “Are you okay, babe?” His coughing had stopped, and he’d set his drink back on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he hoarsely answered. His head turned in your direction, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “You’re just as bad as Pop with making me choke.”

“I’m sorry, Javi.” Your hand was gliding up and down his spine. “You know what, from now on, I’m going to stop you from drinking before I say anything.”

“Why don’t you just wait for me to finish drinking?”

“The delivery, babe. Timing is everything for a joke to land or a snappy reply. Don’t wanna throw off my groove.”

He huffed out an amused breath, sitting back up on the couch. “Okay, your plan works.” Leaning forward, he pecked you on the lips before turning his attention to Steve. “We’re trying as much as we can with her on birth control—we go at it like fu-reaking rabbits, and with it only being 99% effective, maybe we’ll be that one in a hundred, and she gets pregnant.”

“I hate you,” Steve said evenly. “I hate you both. All you needed to say was no.”

“Why are you mad?” Javi asked. “You asked about our sex life, and we answered.” He looked over at you. “What did you tell him, mi amor (my love)?”

“That we’re practicing and really good at the unprotected sex part.”

A smirk appeared under his mustache, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and you knew he was just fucking with Steve now. “Yeah, we are really good at it.” His attention went back to the other man. “We told you the truth. Don’t ask questions if the answers are gonna make you uncomfortable.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Everyone else in the world would have answered that question with a simple yes or no. The two of you are perfect for each other with how much you fuc-fudging enjoy messing with me.”

“She’s mi media naranja, my soulmate,” Javi replied. “We are perfect for each other.”

“Uh huh, calm down, Romeo.” Nate was wiggling out of Steve’s arms, and the man helped him climb down from the couch, the child toddling over to play with his brother. “Now I’ve been watching you both since you got here,” he continued, “and anyone with eyes can see how much y’all wanna be parents. You may be a couple-a—” He whispered the next word. “—assholes—” He spoke normally again, “But I think you guys would do a pretty good job at it—that’s just my opinion, though.”

Javi had grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together, giving it a gentle squeeze as happiness seared through your veins.

“Thanks, man,” Javi said.

“You’re welcome, Jav.” Steve grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “You both do know the quickest way to get pregnant is for her to be off birth control, right? Do I need to give you the sex talk? Tell you about the birds and the bees? Explain how babies are made?”

Your boyfriend flipped him off out of view of the children, the other man laughing.

“We know, you—” He lowered his voice so that the kids wouldn’t hear. “—dick—” His volume went back to normal. “We’ve gotta figure out some things before we pull the trigger.”

“And what if you end up being the one in a hundred, and she gets pregnant before you figure those things out?”

Javier’s attention turned to you with a hopeful look, bringing up your joined palms so he could kiss the back of yours.

“We’d be okay,” you answered truthfully, your boyfriend smiling as he set your hands down. “If it happens sooner than we planned, then it happens sooner than we planned, and we’ll be excited no matter what.”

“Yeah,” Javi added. “We will.”

The trip was going better than Javier anticipated, and it was only the first day.

He had a feeling his friends and their children would like his fiancée-to-be, and he’d been correct. The Murphys all loved her to the point that Steve and Connie were on him about marrying her. Now his best friend was saying they’d be good parents, which, when added to Cielito telling him earlier, they might be able to start their family soon. Javier was so happy, he felt like he was on top of the world.

There were two things he wanted more than anything: to marry the woman sitting beside him and to become a father.

As long as she said yes to his proposal, he figured they’d be married within the next six months, depending on what she wanted to do for the wedding. The marriage was pretty much in the bag with all of her reassurances that she'd say yes, but there were still small tendrils of doubt creeping their way into his brain and making him worry if she’d really be wearing an engagement ring the next day.

He stamped down the negative feelings by remembering the times she practiced saying yes to his proposals and, of course, the fact she had already pre-accepted.

With all that in mind, he was sure he could cross off marriage from his list, which made him feel a bit giddy.

The thing that was going to require work was becoming a father.

Even though they both wanted a child, she had, and there wasn’t a better word than stipulations that needed to be met before she wanted to go for it. He both loved and hated how responsible she was being. The list included:

Get help with his mental health.

Get married.

Move into a bigger place.

The first thing he did was start going to therapy, and it had helped a lot over the past months, especially with the Stechner shit. A lot of old wounds had been opened, and it was finally time for Javier to tell the woman he planned to marry about Colombia, finding it cathartic, even with the nightmares he was plagued with for the week after. She was there every time he woke up in a panic and helped calm him down, soothing him with her words and touch.

His therapist had clocked him early on as having PTSD, and at first, he didn’t believe him because guys who fought in wars and did active combat came home with PTSD, not DEA agents doing drug busts and taking down cartels.

Javier’s therapist was a short, stocky, bald man in his sixties with a calming voice who didn’t like to beat around the bush and told it like it was. His response to Javier’s denial was to lay it all out that the war on drugs was still a war, and Javier had been a soldier who witnessed and experienced a lot of horrific PTSD-inducing shit that he needed to work through. He had worked through it, but the incident with Stechner had triggered him and brought it all back. Luckily, he was fine after about a week with help from his therapist and wif-girlfriend.

So, he’d taken care of his mental health, and marriage was on the horizon—that was two out of three.

Moving into a bigger place was where things got tricky.

Initially, they had planned to buy a house, and then his dad gave them the idea to build one on his land, which sounded great, except for how long it would take. They ended up loving the thought of being able to design their dream home and decided that was what they were going to do, and were now working with an architect—everything else was figured out. His tía María’s husband had his own construction business and would be building it, and they found the perfect spot a little down the road from his dad’s house that was close to him but also far enough they’d have privacy where they’d build. Chucho was thrilled they were going to be next-door neighbors.

It was going to take, at minimum, a year for the home to be built.

Javier didn’t want to wait that long to start trying for a baby, so he figured out a way for them to move out of their one-bedroom apartment into someplace bigger while they waited for their house to be finished, and it was living with his father, who was beyond excited by the prospect.

She seemed to be okay with that, and he hoped it was enough for her to give them the green light to start their family, but she wanted to discuss it with Chucho, which he understood. It was just driving him crazy that he was so fucking close, it was within reach, yet he had to wait for her to talk to his dad on Sunday when they were seeing him next.

The sounds of the front door being unlocked and opened made it to where they were, the two small Murphy boys jumping to their feet as they both yelled, “Mom!” They ran from the room.

“I better go help her with the groceries,” Steve said, grunting as he got up from the couch on his long legs and headed for his wife.

It was just Javier and his future wife in the room—they were alone, and immediately he was turning in his seat toward her, dipping his head to kiss and suck at the side of her neck, his hand sliding up her thigh.

“Javi,” she gasped, her fingers tangling into his hair.

She smelled so good, the sweet aroma welcome as his lips trailed up to tug her earlobe between his teeth, his palm resting on her inner thigh, feeling the heat between her legs.

His mouth pressed against her ear, whispering, “I saw how you were watching me playing with the kids—how much you liked it.” She sucked in a breath, and he smiled. “You say the word, and we can have one of our own—I’m more than willing to give you a baby, Cielito.”

“This is rude,” she breathed, pulling his hair.

Javier chuckled, smacking a loud kiss against her cheek.

His hand left her leg to cup her jaw and turned her head to look him in the eyes.

“I’m serious, mi amor (my love),” he said. “You know how fucking badly I want one, and when you’re ready, I’ll make it happen—I wanna prove you right that I can get you pregnant within a month.”

The way her pupils expanded told him his words were getting to her.

“I cannot believe you’re tempting me with your virility, and it’s fucking working,” she whispered, and he grinned. “God, you’re gonna be such a good dad.” There was a slight whine as she quietly spoke. “Our kids are gonna be obsessed with you, and you’re gonna be obsessed with them and me being pregnant and an amazing partner through everything. Like, I am this close—” She held her thumb and index finger so close together they almost touched. “—to saying fuck it, let’s make a baby.” Arousal sparked in his belly. “But then that annoying, overly cautious, responsible part of me cuts in to remind me I need to double-check with your dad that he’s really okay with us living with him—yes, I remember him making the offer months ago—you know I hate being a bother, though, and I’m worried he likes the idea and would hate the reality of living with his son and a pregnant woman that will eventually also include a newborn.” She chewed on her lip.

“His pregnant nuera (daughter-in-law),” Javier corrected. “And he told me he’d love for us to move in just last week. He was already planning on turning the guest room into a nursery when you got pregnant.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Fuck,” she whispered.

Javier frowned, wondering if she thought the nursery was too much.

“He’s just excited to finally become an abuelo (grandpa), and even if we weren’t moving in, he wanted to make sure he’s got shit for the baby when we visit—he said it’d come in handy ‘cause he’d be happy to babysit anytime we needed him to. And if we do move in with him, he’ll already have a space dedicated to our kid.”

“Right,” she said the word slowly, like she was thinking it over. “Yeah, that’s great he cares so much, and it’s so sweet. We, um, just need to make sure he’s prepared for a newborn, like the crying and all that…”

“He is, and he’ll love having us there with a baby.”

“How do you know?”

“Promise me something,” he said.

Her eyebrows creased. “Okay?”

“Promise me you won’t get sad with what I’m about to tell you.”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

He sighed. “Fine. Promise me you won’t mention it to him.”

“That’s something I can do.”

“Since mi mamá passed away, Pop has been really fucking lonely living in that house alone, but there’s no way in hell he’d ever think about moving. He hates being by himself out there, and he’ll probably work until the day he dies to spend as little time in it as possible.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking sad, Javier.”

“Yeah, and I was a fucking asshole who came home from Colombia twice and fucked off almost as quickly as I arrived.” She was about to say something, and he stopped her by continuing. “He loved when I finally moved back in for good, and he’d love more than anything to have us there with him, including our child—especially our child. You know, just as I do, that he’s gonna love our kid more than us.”

“That’s so true,” she giggled.

He smiled, “Yeah, it is.” Hope felt like a ball in the middle of his chest. “So, uh, does this change your maybe?”

“Tío!” Olivia shouted as she came running into the room, and he sat up in his seat.

“¿Sí, tesorito (Yes, little treasure)?”

She rounded the couch and jumped onto it next to him, sitting on her knees with a big smile, missing some baby teeth. Her brown hair was almost the same color as his, falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her bangs on either side held back by blue flower clips.

“Se me olvidó preguntarte algo (I forgot to ask you something).”

He smiled. “¿Qué querías preguntar (What did you want to ask)?”

“Cuando tú y tu Cielito se casen (When you and your Cielito get married), ¿puedo ser la niña de las flores (can I be the flower girl)?”

It made him pause because it’d be up to his ​​fiancée-to-be how they were going to get married, and he wasn’t sure if they would have a traditional wedding. If they did, pretty much all of the guests would be his friends and family, while she’d have maybe a handful of friends—there wouldn’t be anyone from her family she’d want to invite with how they disliked Javier and thought he wasn’t good enough for her.

He knew Cielito would be okay with his answer before he said it. “Bueno, si tenemos una boda, claro que puedes ser la niña de las flores, y tus hermanos pueden ser los portadores de los anillos (Well, If we have a wedding, of course you can be the flower girl and your brothers can be the ring bearers).”

“Sí (Yes),” the future bride said. “Si tenemos una boda, tú y tus hermanos tienen que estar en ella (If we have a wedding, you and your brothers have to be it).”

“Yes!” the girl shouted, clapping her hands.

Javier leaned forward with a groan to grab his beer and sat back, bringing it to his lips as he took a long pull of the lukewarm drink.

“¿Te vas a casar porque tu novia tiene un bebé en la barriga (Are you getting married because your girlfriend has a baby in her belly)?” Olivia asked.

Beer came spraying out of his mouth as he attempted to cover it with his hand and started coughing.

“Oh, no,” Cielito said, patting him on the back. “I’m gonna go grab some paper towels.” She got up and left, and he saw the liquid from his mouth on the coffee table.

“¿Estás bien (Are you okay)?” the child asked.

He’d stopped coughing, wiping his wet hand on his jeans.

“Sí, estoy bien (Yes, I’m okay),” he answered, looking over at her. “¿Por qué crees que nos vamos a casar porque ella tiene un bebé en la barriga (Why do you think we’re getting married because she has a baby in her belly)...?”

“Oh, tengo un amigo en la escuela y su papá se casó con su niñera porque ella tenía un bebé en su barriga (Oh, I have a friend at school and his dad married his babysitter because she had a baby in her belly).”

Javier’s eyes widened. “Eh, mi Cielito no tiene un bebé en su barriga (Uh, my Cielito doesn’t have a baby in her belly). Nos vamos a casar porque nos amamos como tus padres (We’re getting married because we love each other like your parents).”

At the mention of them, Steve and Connie came into the room with his wif-girlfriend rushing to wipe off the table for the other woman to set down two photo albums, and he’d been given a paper towel to wipe his face with. Nate was in his dad’s arms, and Stevie had walked in by himself, going over to where he’d been playing to pick up a Ninja Turtle action figure.

“We heard Olivia is asking questions,” Steve said, smiling and taking a seat in his recliner with his youngest son. Connie sat down on Olivia’s other side.

The girl turned her attention to her father. “Daddy, they said if they have a wedding, I can be the flower girl, and Stevie and Nate can carry the rings!”

Steve looked at his daughter. “They’re called ring bearers, sweetie.”

She looked confused. “They’d be ring bears?”

The adults all laughed. “No, ring bearers,” he said slower.

“Ring bearers,” she repeated. Her head turned to Javier. “¿Los portadores de los anillos significan (means) ring bearers?”

He smiled, nodding. “Sí, asi es (Yes, that’s right).”

Cielito had gone to throw away the dirty paper towels, including the one he used, and returned a minute later, taking her seat next to him.

“I thought the future Mrs. Javier Peña might like to see some pictures of you through the years,” Connie said. She pointed at the albums. “The top one—” It had a forest green cover. “—has photos from when we lived in Colombia before we adopted Olivia. The majority are Steve and I, but there’s a bunch of Javi, too.”

Cielito leaned forward to look past him at the other woman with a smile. “I’ve seen the pictures you sent to his parents!”

“Oh, yes!” Connie smiled brightly. “I was aware he talked to them weekly, so they knew he was okay, but I wanted them to be able to see it, too.”

“Thank you, Connie,” he whispered, his throat feeling tight at his friend caring about his parents so much.

“You’re welcome, Javi.” She patted his knee. Stevie was trying to climb into her lap, and she helped him up. “I loved talking to them—your mother was wonderful, and I was sad when she passed away.” Sadness laced her tone. “I wished we could’ve gone to the funeral, but we didn’t have documents for Olivia yet to take her out of Colombia. I still talk to your dad every once in a while—not as often now that you’re back in Texas, and he doesn’t need me keeping an eye on you.”

His head snapped toward her. “You talked to my parents? How in all these years didn’t I know you talked to them and still talk to my dad?”

Neither of his parents had ever mentioned being in contact with Connie, aside from his father saying she sent them pictures of Javier while he was in South America.

A sad smile was on her face. “Your mother swore me to keep it a secret.”

“My mom?” he said the words so quietly.

“Yes. Your mother was a very smart woman and used the number you gave her to your office in case of emergencies to get a hold of Steve so she could get our home phone number and call me. She just wanted to make sure you were okay, and I understood where she was coming from as a mother—I didn’t have kids at the time, but even then, I knew if my baby was on another continent, I would’ve done the same thing, and it really was no problem. As I’ve said, I loved talking to your parents.”

His eyes were burning with unshed tears at the lengths his parents went to in order to check up on him. Cielito took the beer from his hand and put it on the table so she could tangle her fingers with his, cuddling into his side, and he was thankful for the comfort.

Javier was a terrible son.

He put his parents through so much over the years, and what for?

What did he accomplish?

Yeah, he helped bring down Pablo Escobar and got the Cali Cartel fuckers, but like some mythical monster, you cut off one head, and two take its place—they took down Escobar and the Medellín cartel, and before they knew it, Cali and others had taken over.

It was a never-ending cycle: wash, rinse, repeat.

He’s known it since he made the decision to resign from the DEA: The War on Drugs would never end. From his current job as a drug enforcement consultant, he knew that sentiment was confirmed with the rise of the Mexican cartels becoming major players.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

And all of this showing him he wasted years of his life fighting an unwinnable fight and causing his parents nothing but pain and misery. He was their only son, su bendición (their blessing), and he’d risked his life so many fucking times for what? It felt like it was all for nothing.

Not when he thought about the precious time he lost with his mother, or his father living in that old house all alone, or how he wasn’t getting to start his family until now and really love his life.

Years wasted.

Shame, regret, and remorse were heavy in his head and heart, and he wished he could apologize to his mother—he needed her forgiveness and his father’s, too.

“I appreciate that, Connie.” Getting the words out around the lump in his throat was hard. “I, um, I’ll be back.”

“Are you okay?” Cielito asked, concern evident on her face when he met her eyes.

“Yeah,” he answered, untangling their hands. “I’m okay.” He attempted a reassuring smile that she didn’t believe one bit. “Look at the pictures, baby, and I’ll be right back.”

Her mouth was turned down in a deep frown. “Okay.”

Without another word, he got up and quickly went through the dining room to the hallway, heading for the guest bedroom.

He didn’t lock the door once he was inside.

He didn’t want to worry Cielito more than she already was.

His cell phone was on top of the dresser, and he picked it up, the numbers glowing green as he pressed the number to speed dial his dad.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Click.

The recorded message started playing, hearing his mother’s accented voice say in English, “You have reached the Peña residence—” Tears began falling down his cheeks. “We’re sorry we could not make it to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number, and we will get back to you. Thank you!”

Beep.

Javier cleared his throat, the emotion making his words come out thick, “Hey Pop, it’s me, Javi. You’re probably working—” He checked his watch, seeing it was a little after three in Laredo. “—Yeah, you’re working. Uh, we made it to Miami safe, and everyone loves mi Cielito. We knew they would. Um—” He took a deep breath, pacing slowly back and forth. “—I know I’ve apologized before, but I’m so fucking sorry for being gone for so long and making you and mi mamá worry so much. Connie told me about talking to you guys and I,” his voice cracked on the one syllable. He cleared his throat again. “I feel like shit for what I put you through, and I just hope you and mamá can forgive me for all of the pain I caused. I hate that I wasted so many years away from you both that I can’t get back. I’ll—” More tears were falling down his cheeks. “—never see or talk to my mom again, and I miss her so fucking much. I wish I could tell her I’m so close to starting my family. Cielito just wants to talk to you first about us moving in—”

“Javi?” His dad answered the phone, and Javier stopped moving, standing still. “¿Qué pasa (What’s wrong)?” He sounded concerned. “Acabo de entrar y te escuché hablar de tu mamá (I just came inside and heard you talking about your mom).”

“Hola, Pop (Hi, Pop). Perdóname por molestarte (I’m sorry for bothering you).”

“No me estás molestando, Mijo (You’re not bothering me, Mijo). Dime qué pasa (Tell me what’s wrong).”

Javier inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. “He sido un hijo terrible (I’ve been a terrible son).”

“¿De qué hablas (What are you talking about)? Eres un hijo maravilloso y estoy muy orgulloso de ti (You’re a wonderful son and I’m very proud of you). Tu madre también estaba mui orgullosa de ti (Your mother was very proud of you, too).”

“No, no lo soy (No, I’m not). Te preocupé tanto que tenías a Connie vigilándome (I worried you so much that you had Connie watching me).”

“Ella no te estaba vigilándo (She wasn’t watching you). Ella solo nos ponía al día sobre cómo estabas (She was just updating us on how you were doing).”

“Todavía te preocupé lo suficiente como para que mi mamá le pidiera que hiciera eso (I still worried you enough that my mom asked her to do that).”

His dad huffed out a breath. “Javi, te acuerdas bien como era tu madre (Javi, you remember your mother). Ella era sobreprotectora contigo (She was overprotective of you). Llamaba a Connie de vez en cuando cuando estabas en Miami y me aseguraba de que estabas bien porque ya tenía su número de teléfono (I called Connie from time to time when you were in Miami and made sure you were okay because I already had her phone number). No eres un hijo terrible (You are not a terrible son). Eres trabajador, comprometido, testarudo, pero no terrible (You’re hardworking, committed, stubborn, but not terrible).”

He spoke quietly. “¿Me perdonas por todo (Will you forgive me for everything)?”

His father sighed. “Mijo, no hay nada de que perdonarte, pero si te hace sentir mejor, sí, te perdono, y tu madre te perdona también (Mijo, there is nothing to forgive you for, but if it makes you feel better, yes, I forgive you, and your mother forgives you, too). Ahora, ¿qué decías acerca de comenzar tu familia en el contestador automático (Now, what were you saying about starting your family on the answering machine)?”

The sudden change of topic made Javier chuckle, his free hand wiping at his wet cheeks. “Of course, that caught your attention.”

“Yes, it did.” The smile was clear in his voice. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. Am I finally getting my nietos (grandchildren) soon?”

Javier smiled. “I’ll say it was a great idea to bring her here where there are a bunch of kids—she needs reassurance from you that you’re really okay with us moving in while the house is being built and won’t mind a baby. I think the plan is to talk to you in person at my birthday dinner,” he sighed.

“Of course, I won’t mind a baby!” It was obvious he was excited. “Mi primer nieto (My first grandchild)! I’ve already told you I’d love to have you all here! I’ll have your primos (cousins) start helping me clear out the guest room this weekend so I can begin working on the nursery. This is the best news! Are you sure she doesn’t want to talk to me right now?”

He turned to look at the closed door and was tempted to take the phone to her.

“She’s out in the living room with the family looking at pictures of me.” His fingers slid through his hair. “If I can convince her to talk with you over the phone, I’ll give you a call.”

“I’ll stay home from work for the next two days, just in case.”

“You don’t have to do that. We can leave a message, and you can call us back.”

“No, I need to be here to answer the call. It’s important.”

His eyes were watering at his father’s love for them. “Thank you, Pop.”

“No, thank you, Mijo. I can’t wait to have you all here. Go convince her to call me—I’m not getting any younger.”

Javier laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll do my best.”

“And you better call me when you propose.”

His mouth was turned up in a smile. “You’ll be the first person to know.”

“Good. Javi?”

“Yeah, Pop?”

“I love you, Mijo, and I’m truly proud of the man you are today. I can’t wait to watch you become the incredible husband and father I know you will be.” Javier couldn’t stop the tears, his throat feeling like it was closing up. “Your mamá might be gone, but I know wherever she is, she’s happy her son has found so much love and happiness. It’s all we ever wanted for you. We love you, Javiercito.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, go work on making me an abuelo and tell mi nuera (daughter-in-law) I love her, too.”

He chuckled. “I’ll tell her. Bye, Pop.”

“Bye, Mijo.”

The call ended, and he put the phone back on the dresser and walked into the en suite to stand at the sink. The skin on his cheeks was glistening in the lights of the bathroom, his eyes red-rimmed, and his nose a little runny.

No matter how many times he apologized to his father for his past sins, it never felt like it was enough—it would never feel like it was enough. He knew his father forgave him long ago, and with how much he’s groveled, he’s become a broken record.

If he really thought about it and looked deep down into why he felt the need to apologize so much, it was because he hadn’t forgiven himself. He wasn’t even sure what it would take to forgive himself. It was obvious his dad was tired of him apologizing and wanted him to focus on his future.

His future.

Cielito was his future.

Their children were his future.

A memory came to him of their second date, hearing the woman he was going to marry clearly in his brain:

“...you feel like you need to atone for everything you’ve done, but you really don’t. You’ve done enough, more than enough. The past hurts, but you can either run from it or learn from it…”

When he first got back from Colombia, he ran; he hid away here in Miami with his friends and their family until he got scared he was going to lose his dad and went home. That was when it hit him: he didn’t want to waste any more time away from his father, and he finally stayed. The most important thing to him now was his family: his dad, Cielito, and their future children; they were what mattered.

One day, he’d forgive himself, and he had a feeling it’d happen when he finally had a parent’s perspective…

Turning on the faucet, he splashed some water on his face, drying it off with a small towel he got from underneath the sink. Any sign he’d been crying had been washed away, and he made his way back to the living room feeling a little lighter and determined to keep his focus on moving forward—engagement, marriage, children.

He found his future wife had moved over on the couch to sit closer to Olivia and Connie with a photo album open on her lap and angled for the other two to see, the older women having a conversation. Stevie stood on the couch next to his mom, pretending his Ninja Turtle action figure was walking on the back of the sofa and on Connie’s head, quietly talking to himself. His little blue eyes landed on Javier, and he smiled.

“Tío’s back!” he shouted.

Javier smiled back. “I am, buddy.”

The women paused, Cielito’s head turning to watch as he walked around the couch to sit beside her.

Immediately, she leaned into him and whispered, “Are you okay?”

He rubbed circles over her spine. “Yeah,” he answered. “Pop says he loves you.”

Realization dawned on her, and he could tell she worked out he’d gotten upset over what Connie had revealed and needed to talk to his father.

She softly smiled. “Hopefully, he knows I love him, too.”

A small smile turned up on his lips. “He knows.”

“Good.”

Her attention went back to Connie. “Sorry,” she said. “So, Texas has a lot of nursing opportunities, and I was over being in a big city—I did my schooling at a university in a somewhat big city, too—I looked into other places around the state hiring and interviewed at a bunch, and out of the offers I got, I liked Laredo the best.”

“I bet the smaller hospital is a breath of fresh air,” Connie replied.

“It is! And working in the ED (Emergency Department) in Dallas was exhilarating until it got exhausting and depressing.”

A solemn look was on the other woman’s face. “I know exactly what you mean. If you think it’s bad here, in Colombia, it’s much worse, and drove me to switch to L & D (Labor and Delivery) when I came back to Miami.”

“I can imagine, based on what I’ve heard. I actually thought about going into L & D, too, but I was offered the PACU position in Laredo.”

“What does PACU mean?” he asked.

Both women looked over at him, saying in unison, “Post Anesthesia Care Unit.”

“Oh, okay…”

“I haven’t understood half the stuff they’ve been talking about,” Steve said. “Connie’s having the time of her life being able to talk shop with someone.”

She looked at her husband. “Let me enjoy this. It’s nice being able to talk to someone outside of work who understands.”

“Hey, I’m happy for you, baby,” Steve replied, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “Now I know what you feel like listening to Jav and me talking about work.”

“Exactly.” She faced his fianceé-to-be again, smiling. “I love helping bring new little lives into the world and teaching new parents how to care for their babies—most of the time, my job is wonderful. I’m sure Javi hasn’t told you, but remind me to tell you the story about Nate later.”

The tale of how Steve and Connie got Nathaniel wasn’t fucked up like his sister’s; it was just sad.

The youngest Murphy’s birth mother, was a girl not even out of high school, who came to the hospital alone and left alone. She brought no identification with her and refused to give her real name, telling people to call her Sam—the girl had been scared out of her mind, so Connie stayed with her the entire time and discovered she had hidden the pregnancy from her family because if they found out, she would’ve been disowned and thrown out on the street. Sam had begged Connie over and over again for her to find her baby a loving home, that she did love him and wished she could keep him, but they wouldn’t have anywhere to live if she did, and that she wanted him to have a good life.

His mother only held him once, right after she’d given birth, and refused to give him a name.

Connie was the one to take the baby to the nursery to have him measured, weighed and to take his vitals. When she returned, the new mother was gone—she vanished. Security couldn’t find her, and with how quickly she disappeared, Connie suspected a friend or her boyfriend picked her up.

Over the years, Steve and Connie had wanted a third kid, however, they struggled with getting pregnant and had to get help from doctors in order to have Stevie. So, when Connie found herself spending more and more time in the nursery with the tiny, abandoned newborn, she realized he was the third child they’d been hoping for, and her husband was fine with bringing him home—they both agreed on naming him Nathaniel Samuel Murphy.

“I will,” Cielito said.

Out of the three children, Nate was the most easy-going of the bunch. He was content to sit cuddled in his father’s lap, sipping on his sippy cup of water and watching everyone else in the room with his big, dark eyes.

“Mommy?” Stevie was patting his mother’s shoulder as he got her attention.

“Yes, baby?” She looked over at him.

“I want juice.”

“How do we ask for things?”

“Can I have juice, pleeeeassse?” he drew out the last word.

“Okay, let’s go get some juice.”

Nate’s cup left his mouth as he said, “Juice?”

“You want some juice, too, kiddo?” Steve asked him, bending to kiss his hair.

“Juice!” the toddler exclaimed.

His dad chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Can I have a Capri Sun?” Olivia asked.

“Of course, honey,” Connie answered.

Steve groaned as he got up from the chair with Nathaniel still in his arms. “Murphys report to the kitchen for juice!” he said.

“Yay!” Stevie yelled, getting down from the couch and running out of the room.

“Y’all want anything?” Steve asked Javier and his future wife.

“I’m good,” he responded.

“I’m good, too,” Cielito added.

His friend nodded and followed his wife and daughter to the kitchen.

“Thank god, we’re alone,” Cielito whispered, flipping through the pages, looking for a specific picture. “I need to ask you about something.”

He didn’t even know what pictures were in this album since he’d never seen it before and was curious about what caught her attention.

“What is it?”

She found what she was looking for, moving in her seat to show him a page with a picture of him holding a bulky satellite phone to his ear, his other hand flipping off Steve, who was taking the picture.

He couldn’t even remember when it was taken. The sleeves were rolled up on his maroon button-up shirt to bare his forearms, and he was wearing an army green tac vest over it, the bulge from the tightness of his dark wash jeans showing he was dressing to the left while his aviators were on—he could admit he looked pretty good.

“Do you have one of these at your office?” she asked.

“One of what?”

“The vest thingy.” She pointed at it.

“The tac vest?”

He met her eyes, seeing her smiling. “Yeah. Do you still have one?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t see any action and don’t need one.”

Her shoulders slumped, frowning, and he perked up at the reaction.

“Can you… get one?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and he smirked.

His voice went lower. “You like the vest that much?”

“This whole look.” She circled the photo with her finger. “The clothes, your grumpy face, the vest—it’s awakened something in me, and I need to, um, see it in person for reasons…” Her eyes darted away.

He leaned in closer, gently taking her chin between two fingers to make her look at him as he quietly rasped, “Are the reasons for me to fuck you looking like this?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“In that case, I’ll borrow one from work and bring it home.” He winked.

“God, I love you.” The album was left in her lap, her upper body twisting in his direction, pressing her fingers into his hair as her lips crashed against his. His arm wrapped around her back, the other hand holding her cheek, kissing her hard.

He was more than happy to wear whatever she wanted—he was always happy to wear what she wanted, and this look wouldn’t be too hard to replicate. His mind was playing out them doing a scene where he stripped her of her clothes and ‘searched’ her, which would end with him bending her over and fucking her…

“Oh, gross!” Olivia shouted.

They separated so quickly you’d think they were burned.

“Gross!” Stevie echoed, not knowing what was going on.

“What were they doing?” their father asked as he walked into the room holding a new beer, Connie behind him with Nate in her arms, the toddler holding a green sippy cup.

The oldest of the children had walked around to sit on the opposite side of the couch to them, drinking from a yellow straw in a silver pouch. Stevie had a red cup that matched his brother’s and came to Javier, who picked him up to sit on his thigh.

The straw left the girl’s mouth, her face contorted in disgust. “They were kissing.”

“That is gross,” Steve said, taking a seat in his recliner, and Connie sitting on the other side of Javier’s soon-to-be-fianceé.

He sighed.

“Oh, stop that, Steve,” his wife scolded.

“Yes, dear,” his friend replied.

Nathaniel wiggled away from his mother to sit in his big sister’s lap, Olivia putting an arm around his middle while her other hand held her juice and it warmed Javier’s heart that they clearly had a bond—it made him happy they all had bonded and loved each other.

Connie’s head turned in the direction of Javier and Cielito. “Do you want to look at the other album since we finished the Colombia one?”

“Sure!” Cielito answered, closing the album in her lap, leaning forward to put it on the coffee table, and grabbing the other.

“You know, Jav,” Steve started, meeting his eyes, a brown beer bottle held in his hand on the recliner’s arm. “I once said you were gonna be a lifer with the DEA, and I’m glad I was wrong.”

He could recall when Steve had said that, and at the time, he agreed, his work was his life, and he didn’t think he could ever leave his job—he never fathomed it. Interestingly, the longer he worked there, the more disillusioned he became until he realized all of it was pointless, and he finally resigned. He just wished he would’ve figured things out earlier.

“I think being domesticated suits you better,” his friend continued. “You sure as heck are happier, and isn’t that all that matters?” He raised his beer before taking a drink.

“Yeah,” Javier said. “This life is definitely better.”

“Most of the pictures in this album are of Olivia because it’s one we have of her and before we had the boys,” Connie told them, bringing his attention to the open photo album on Cielito’s thighs. “But it was during a time when Javi stayed with us for a while, so he’s in there.”

Steve had turned the television onto a cartoon channel with the volume not too loud for the kids while they flipped through pages of pictures of Olivia, who was about five years old in them, and Connie telling them stories behind some of them. Stevie leaned back against his chest, holding his sippy cup to his mouth while watching the TV. The first photo Javier appeared in, they were at the zoo, and it was taken from the side, the grinning little girl on his white, button-up-covered shoulders with him pointing at something, his head turned and tilted up as he talked to her, his eyes shielded behind his sunglasses.

There were more pictures of them at the zoo, some from different beach trips, and a lot at the Murphys' home, Javier smiling and laughing in many of them.

They were looking at one Connie clearly took of him and Steve standing in the ocean up to their stomachs, across from each other, laughing, while Olivia was mid-air between them, having been thrown by one man to the other when Cielito looked at him.

“I’m really mad that your dad doesn’t have any of these and that you made me cry the first time I met him because the only pictures he had of you as an adult were of you miserable in Colombia. Where were these, Javier? All the smiles and laughs!”

He grimaced. “I didn’t know they existed…” That was the truth. Sure, he knew his friends had taken photos, but he always assumed they were of their kids. He didn’t realize they included him in so many.

Her eyes narrowed. “Uh huh, right, then explain this!”

She went back a few pages to a picture she had proclaimed was her favorite a little while ago—he was wearing a light blue button-up and jeans, a bright pink feather boa wrapped around his neck, and silver tiara on his head, looking like a hulking figure sitting on the tiny child-size chair at the tiny child-size table. Olivia was sitting across from him in a pink frilly dress and gold tiara, holding an itty bitty teacup, another three in front of her guests on the table, the other two seats occupied by a teddy bear and a The Little Mermaid Ariel Barbie.

What the woman he was going to marry found hilarious was he was dressed like that with his knees practically against his chest and was trying to look menacing as he glared at the camera with a hand up to hide from the little girl that he was giving the bird to the person taking the picture.

“You obviously knew they were taking this picture of you!” She poked it hard.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “But I figured Steve was just taking it to give me shi-crap later. I seriously didn’t know about the others.”

“Fine.” She looked at the other woman. “I really am going to need a copy of this if it won’t be too much trouble.”

Connie smiled. “I’ve got a duplicate somewhere. I’d just have to look, and I’ll send it your way.”

“You are amazing. Thank you so much! Are there, um, any pictures of Javi with the boys as babies…?”

Javier’s ears perked, his heart speeding up, hoping they did.

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said. “We gotta show her the photos of Javi with Stevie, Con.”

His best friend winked at him, and he decided at that moment he was going to make a run to the liquor store later to buy Steve an expensive bottle of top-shelf whiskey for being his wingman.

Connie frowned, her head turning to her husband. “But I haven’t put them in an album… They’re all loose.”

“That’s fine,” Cielito said a little too quickly, making him grin that she wanted to see him with a baby so badly.

“Yeah, Connie,” Javier added. “We don’t mind.”

“Oh, alright,” she said. “I’ll put these albums away.” She took the one his future wife held and closed it, getting up and grabbing the other on the table. “And I’ll get the other pictures. Be back in a jiffy.” She left the room.

Cielito looked at him, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Is this a bad idea?”

“For your self-control?” he replied just as quietly, parroting back what she’d said earlier in the day. “Yes. For me getting that thing I want really bad? No. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Of course you do.”

He frowned, something in the back of his mind needing him to ask the next question.

“Am I pushing too much? Do you need more time?”

She pulled back to meet his eyes, her voice quiet enough for only him to hear.

“The first question, no. You’re just excited. The second, yes and no. I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“Okay,” he nodded.

“Oh.” A surprised look came over her face before she was looking to her other side. Javier leaned forward to see what got her attention and found Nate had crawled over and was sitting on his knees with his sippy cup in one hand and the other on her arm, clearly asking to be picked up. “Hi, buddy,” she said, immediately lifting him and getting him situated so he was half cradled in her arm and sitting in her lap, his curious eyes staring up at her face and tiny chubby hand reaching to touch it while he drank from his cup. “Hi, there,” she cooed, gently rubbing the arm he had held up. “I’m your tío’s girlfriend—”

“You’re his tía,” Javier corrected, feeling so soft at watching her interact with the little one he feared he might dissolve into a puddle.

“Sorry, I’m your tía, and you’re a cutie pie.” She softly poked him in the belly.

“Daddy,” Olivia said. “Look, Nate likes tía!” She was pointing at them beside her.

“He sure does, baby girl,” her father replied. “Isn’t that something?”

Stevie wanted to be a part of what was going on and moved to look into Cielito’s arms, letting his cup fall into Javier’s lap. “Nate likes tía!” The three-year-old hugged her arm. “I like tía, too.” Javier sucked in a breath. “She makes yummy cookies.”

“I like you, too, Stevie,” she told him, and Javier ruffled the boy’s dirty blonde hair, making him laugh. “And I, of course, like you, also, Olivia.” She glanced over at the girl. “I’m excited that you’re gonna be a paleontologist one day so you can show me real dinosaur bones.”

“I will!” The girl nodded, grinning.

He loved seeing her holding the toddler and talking to the other children, unable to keep the smile off his face as he watched and imagined what she’d look like with their own baby. Her answer to if she needed more time worried him a little, and he hoped they could talk about it soon so he knew what she meant. He was ready—more than ready, but he didn’t want to rush her if she wasn’t, and they’d figure this all out later.

Looking at pictures of Javi with a baby Stevie was absolutely a bad idea.

And it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him holding a baby before; he had a lot of cousins, many of whom had children under the age of two, that you’ve seen him interact with, and always caused you to have the same reaction of feeling like your ovaries were going to explode.

But these loose photos were on a different level.

He went through the stack of pictures that had combinations of Stevie with his sister, parents, and Javi, the latter being the ones you were most interested in—seeing Javi feeding the baby in his high chair, your future husband sitting in a rocking chair with Stevie cradled in his arm as he held a bottle, one of him on the couch with the baby in the crook of his arm and Olivia on his other side while he read them a children’s book, a photo of Javi passed out on the sofa with a protective hand on Stevie asleep on top of him, a candid shot of the man you were going to marry playing peek-a-boo with the baby, and the one that made your breath catch in your throat was Javi standing with Stevie strapped to his chest as he carried Olivia in his arm like it was no big deal.

There were others, and along with the pictures you saw earlier in the album, each and every one was like a glimpse into your future, showing you the type of doting, loving father he was going to be. What had heat crawling up your neck and heart racing was if this was what he was like with kids he considered his niece and nephew, then most likely he’d be like that but times a thousand with his own children.

He was going to be such a good dad.

Why had he ever thought he didn’t deserve to be one? Or that he’d be a bad father?

The thought that your future kids would be so loved made your eyes burn. They were going to have two parents who loved them all so much, and there wouldn’t be any favorites.

Seeing all of these photos and watching Javi interact with the Murphy kids—Stevie was sitting with him and pointing at the pictures, excitedly saying who was in them while the man you loved softly encouraged him and told him what a good job he was doing—had that ancient, primal part of your brain acting up again, this time screaming in the back of your mind that you’ve found the perfect mate to father your children, and it wasn’t wrong; it was exciting and really revving your engines.

There was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Obviously, Javi was jonesing to get going on the babymaking and had even gone so far as to figure out a place to live while your house was being built. You’d think with that problem solved and the assurance you’d be married before a baby was born, you’d be ready to go for it. Well, as much as you wanted a child, you were a little scared about the prospect of being pregnant and pushing a tiny human out of your vagina. You were a nurse, you knew the odds were in your favor that you’d be okay, but you were a nurse, and you also knew the things that could go wrong—Javier’s difficult birth that almost took his mother, coming to mind.

When it was something that was going to happen in the near future, everything was fine, and you were excited about starting your family; however, now that it was on your doorstep with your boyfriend banging on the door, you were kind of freaking out. You should’ve talked to Javi about this earlier when you were having your doubts and needed his reassurance, but at that point, you didn’t know his dad had already given the okay for you guys to move in.

The current climate in your head was that you loved the idea of having a baby with Javi and finally making him a father; looking at all of the pictures and watching him with the children was really doing it for you, and you couldn’t wait to be alone together later that night. The reality of actually going through with it and getting pregnant, carrying a child, and giving birth made you feel uneasy.

It was very confusing to want something yet be scared of it at the same time.

Javi stuffed the photos back into the big envelope the drug store put them in after they developed the film, setting it on the coffee table when he was done.

“Thank you for letting us look at all those pictures,” you said to Connie beside you with a smile. “It was nice seeing Javi so happy with the kids.”

Nate held your thumb in his little hand while his attention was on the television where cartoons played. Stevie was talking to Javi about something you weren’t paying attention to.

“You’re welcome.” She patted your knee. “When we still lived in Colombia, I swear the only time I ever saw Javi smile was when he held Olivia or played with her. He’d buy her toys, and when he’d come over for dinner, he’d take her for a bit to give me a breather. I’m not saying he was as playful and happy as he is now, but there was a difference between the Javi we knew and the Javi Olivia knew, which is still kinda true today.”

“Yeah, he’s sweeter with the kids.”

“And you.”

“And me,” you giggled.

“Just so you know,” Steve started. “Our kids could use some cousins—especially some bilingual ones. We want the boys to be fluent in Spanish like their sister, and it’d be nice for them to have more people to talk to.”

“Because you didn’t bother learning Spanish while living in a Spanish-speaking country for how many years?” Javi asked.

“Hey! I speak enough of it to get by.”

Javi leaned forward to look at the other end of the couch. “Olivia, ¿qué tan malo es tu papá para hablar español (How bad is your dad at speaking Spanish)?”

She grinned. “Él es muy malo (He’s very bad). Él apesta (He stinks).” She plugged her nose with her fingers.

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed again. “You guys know it’s against the rules to talk shit about me in Spanish.”

“Daddy said a bad word!” Stevie gasped. “That’s a bad word.”

The blonde man’s eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, kiddo. Daddy didn’t mean to say that.”

“It’s a dollar in the swear jar, Dad,” Olivia said.

The swear jar was a big pickle jar they repurposed that sat on top of their fridge and was filled halfway with a mix of green bills and loose change.

“I’ll put it in there when I get up,” he sighed.

“You lost a dollar, and you don’t even know what we said,” Javi said, looking a little too delighted.

Steve was frowning, his eyes narrowed. “I know malo means bad, and the two of you were making fun of my Spanish.”

“¿Él realmente sabe o lo está adivinando (Does he really know that, or is he guessing)?” you asked the other two Spanish speakers.

“Él probablemente podría entender algo de lo que dijimos, pero creo que en la mayor parte, está adivinando (He could probably understand some of what we said, but I think for the most part, he’s guessing),” Javi answered.

“Solo entiende el español muy básico (He only understands very basic Spanish),” Olivia said. “Es muy gracioso (It’s really funny). Tío y yo podemos hablar de cualquier cosa y papá y mamá no entienden lo que estamos diciendo (Uncle and I can talk about anything and dad and mom don’t understand what we’re saying).”

“Oh god, Connie,” Steve said. “Now there’s three of them talking about us while we’re right here.”

“From what I’ve gathered, it’s just about how we don’t understand much, and I don’t think anything bad…” Connie replied.

“You’re right, Connie,” you told her. Looking between Javi and Olivia, you asked, “A ustedes dos les encanta hacer esto para volverlos locos, ¿no (You two love doing this to drive them crazy, don’t you)?”

“Sí (Yes),” they answered in unison with big smiles.

It was adorable.

“Y su papá tuvo tiempo más que suficiente para aprender el idioma, así que es su culpa que aún no lo entiende (And her dad had more than enough time to learn the language, so it’s his fault he still doesn’t understand it). Traté de enseñarle (I tried to teach him),” Javi said.

“Van a odiar cuando sus tres hijos hablen en un idioma que no entienden (They are going to hate when their three children speak in a language they don’t understand),” you replied.

“No puedo esperar (I can’t wait).”

“Estoy emocionado de que mis hermanos aprendan (I’m excited for my brothers to learn),” Olivia said. “Será como si tuviéramos un lenguaje secreto (It will be like we have a secret language).”

You looked at her, switching to English, “That will be really cool. Do you want to learn any other languages?”

“Ummm, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“And that’s okay.”

Connie looked at the watch on her wrist. “Gosh, I better get started on making dinner.”

“Do you need help?” you asked.

Her eyes met yours. “Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to help. You’re on vacation and were sweet to make cookies with our kids.”

“I insist,” you said. Turning your head to Javi, you continued, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you take Nate? I’m gonna help Connie make dinner.”

“Yeah.” His attention went to the toddler sitting with him. “I gotta move you, bud.” As he said, he moved Stevie to his other knee, then easily took Nate from you, who was so engrossed in the TV that he didn’t make a sound of protest.

For dinner that evening, Connie was making spaghetti. You followed her into the kitchen, making small talk before she showed you what the sides would be. You offered to make the salad, getting set up at the counter with a cutting board, knife, box grater, and all of the veggies—romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, and a long carrot (no onions because the kids hated them).

There was a lull in your conversation while you diced a tomato, the salad bowl already containing the chopped lettuce, and Connie was in the process of browning the the meat for the sauce.

The last thing she said was that she bet Javi would keep the two boys occupied for maybe another ten minutes before they wandered into the kitchen to find her. You thought it was adorable, making you wonder if your future children would love you that much, leading you to think about how ready Javi was to start a family and your slight hang-up.

“Hey, Connie?” You kept cutting the tomato.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a kinda personal question? I, um, don’t have many friends who’ve given birth, and my relationship with my mother is a joke, so I’m hoping you could give me some insight…”

The meat had finished cooking, and she added canned tomato sauce, tomato paste, and seasonings with a bit of water.

She put a lid over the pan as it simmered and turned to face you. “Ask me anything, honey.”

You smiled, beginning to dice the next tomato. “Okay, were you scared at all about any aspect of pregnancy or childbirth?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s pretty common. I see it all the time in L & D. With mine, I had a lot of fear while I was pregnant because I was so worried something was gonna happen to the baby—we had trouble conceiving. Are you scared?”

“Yes,” you sighed.

“About which part?”

“All of it…”

“Well, here’s what I’m gonna tell you: it’s weird as hell to have a human growing inside of you, but the moment you register it’s your baby—your child, everything kinda changes, and you fall in love with this tiny person. You’ll worry about their health, you’re probably gonna feel like shit, and childbirth is scary, but I’m telling you, when you get to the point you’re ready to pop, you’re gonna want them to get that baby out of you as quickly as possible. And all of it is worth it when you finally get to hold that little human you shared your body with for nine months. Except, it’s really freaking annoying when you do 99.9% of the work, and the baby comes out looking exactly like their father. What’s up with that?”

She sounded so annoyed, and it made you laugh.

“I would actually love it if our kid was a little Javi clone,” you said, glancing over at her. “I’ve seen pictures of him growing up; he was a cutie.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think my husband is extremely attractive, and I know I’m lucky, but it feels like a betrayal that I grew this baby from nothing, and he got none of my genes—not even my eyes!” She threw up her arms. “The only baby I will ever have, and he’s mini-Steve, which, just so you know, we picked out his name before he was born.”

“You jinxed yourself,” you giggled. “He took Steven Murphy Jr. literally. Ooh, I wonder if we’re ever having a boy if Javi would agree to name him Javier Jr.”

“Since you’re fine if he comes out as a mini-Javi, you should go for it. How cute would it be if our minis were best friends?”

“God, that would be so cute.”

Just the thought had you feeling soft.

“Still scared, sweetie?” she asked.

You smiled. “I guess no more than I should be and a bit nervous, but you made me feel way better about everything. Thank you, Connie.”

“You’re welcome, and know I’m here if you have any more questions or just need to talk—Javi’s family, and that makes you family, too.”

Looking over at her, emotion was making your throat feel tight. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

All that Connie said really had helped you feel better, knowing it was normal to have some fear, and like she said, in the end, it would all be worth it when you finally got to hold your baby.

As the mother predicted, the two toddlers arrived in the kitchen, Stevie’s steps more sure-footed than Nate’s toddling, the youngest going straight to grabbing Connie’s leg.

Javi followed them in, and you weren’t sure if he was just ensuring they’d gone to find their mom or if he wanted to see you, but with how his arms wrapped around your middle from behind, and he kissed just below your ear, you thought it was probably both.

Nathaniel was on Connie’s hip as she cooked, the woman not hindered by holding a child.

“What are you doing?” Stevie asked as he stood beside you, looking up.

“I’m making a salad,” you answered.

“Can I see, pleeeasssee?”

“Uh.” There was no way you could use a knife or the grater while holding a wiggly kid, and it seemed a bit dangerous, but he was staring up at you with those big round blue eyes, and you didn’t want to tell him no.

“I’ll show you, buddy,” Javi said, moving to bend over with a wheeze to pick up the toddler and straighten. He stepped away from where you were working so the child couldn’t reach but could still see what you were doing. The man pointed at your chopping board. “She’s cutting up a tomato.”

At him saying that you went back to finishing dicing the second tomato, quickly working the knife in practiced motions.

“What color is the tomato?” he asked Stevie in a gentle tone.

“Red!” the little one answered.

“Good job. Red is my favorite color. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue! My blankie’s blue.”

“It is.”

“You like red.”

“I do.”

You finished the tomato and grabbed the cucumber.

“What’s that?” Stevie asked, pointing at it.

“A cucumber,” Javi answered.

“What’s that?” he asked again, looking at the man holding him this time.

“A vegetable. They’re yummy. Do you want to try it?”

It was killing you how cute their conversation was.

“Yes.”

“May I please have a slice, mi amor (my love)?” Javi asked you.

You stopped cutting, picking up a thin slice between two fingers you held up to him. “Here you go.”

“What do we say?” Javi asked the child as he carefully took it from you.

“I love youuu,” Stevie replied.

You giggled, Javi chuckling. “We do love her,” Javi said. “But since she’s nice and gave us something, we thank her. Do you wanna tell her thank you?”

“Thank youuu, tía. I love youuu.”

A smile was on your face. “You’re welcome, Stevie—I love you, too.”

“Here you go, bud,” Javi said, holding the piece of cucumber up to the toddler’s mouth. “It’s yummy.”

The child chomped down on it, humming happily as he chewed.

“Is it yummy?” you asked.

He nodded, taking what was left of the slice from Javi in his little hand and munching on it until he’d eaten the whole thing.

In less than half an hour, dinner was ready, their six-seat dining room table big enough for everyone to have a seat—Nate in a high chair next to Steve sitting at one end of the table, Olivia at the other, Stevie in a booster seat beside Connie, and Javi and you on taking up the two seats opposite them.

When your boyfriend was planning the trip, he made sure you both were on the same page about the limited time you’d be visiting and asked if on the first or second night, you wanted him to take you out to dinner or dancing since it was Miami, after all. Your answer was you were there to visit his best friends and their family, so you wanted to spend as much time as possible getting to know them—going out on the town wasn’t important for this trip, and you only hoped there’d be a chance to go to the beach.

You didn’t need him to wine and dine you—you were more than happy eating a homemade meal with the Murphys, laughing and chatting between bites.

Javi and you cleaned the kitchen without being asked after dinner, everyone having milk and cookies before it was time for the kids to go to bed.

Their bedtime was at eight o’clock, and Connie and Steve were double-teaming the boys’ bathtime. Olivia was old enough to care for herself, even though she tried her best to get her parents to let her stay up later. She did ask for Javi to tell her a story before bed, which he agreed to, leaving you alone in their family room watching a rerun of The Brady Bunch.

It gave you time to think, sitting there on the couch, chewing on your thumb.

Even with your fears, the baby fever was strong; all day, as you watched Javi with the kids and looked at pictures, you kept having thoughts about what he’d be like with your own children and feeling this overwhelming need to have a baby with him. There was something really hot about a man who was good with kids, and add in the knowledge you knew for a fact he would be a great parent and partner, had you feeling some type of way...

It was horny; you were so insanely horny over imagining him as the father of your kids.

It didn’t help that he kept giving you material for your imagination to run wild, like him playing with the children and the scenes in the pictures, or when he held Stevie in the kitchen while you were helping make dinner—his free hand had been on your back and he’d pause his conversation with the three-year-old for a second to kiss your hair a few times, easily envisioning him in the same situations with your own kids. Or during dinner with everyone sitting down to eat, and without them knowing, his hand going under the table to ghost his fingers along your jean short-covered thigh until it found its home on your inner thigh, wedged a little in the crease where your leg met your hip, Javi talking to everyone like he couldn’t feel the warmth at your center and thinking he’d absolutely do that at dinner with your own little family. Or there was how he gave you a hug and kiss before he went to tell Olivia a bedtime story, knowing that would be a daily occurrence when you had kids.

God, you wanted him so bad, having to rub your thighs together to ease the ache between them.

From the looks he’d been giving you throughout the day, you were pretty sure he wanted you just as much.

Could he really get you pregnant in a month?

Were you ready to go for it?

It felt like butterflies were fluttering around in your tummy at the thought.

There wasn’t any doubt for you about Javi saying his dad wanted you to live with him, but it felt kind of rude not talking to Chucho yourself before making this huge, life-altering decision that would affect him. You checked your watch, seeing it was almost eight in Laredo. He’d still be up. You could call him and talk it out.

“Hey,” Javi’s voice made you jump in your seat, your heart thudding rapidly. “Sorry.” He came around the couch, standing before you, your head tilting up to look at him.

“It’s okay,” you said.

He had a hand on a hip, smiling down at you with his eyes crinkled in happiness. “You ready for bed? We’re getting up early.”

You started moving to get up, and he put out a palm you took and helped pull you up while you said, “Um, yes. I am very ready for bed. Steve and Connie aren’t gonna miss us?” You were toe to toe with him when you stood.

“No.” He shook his head. “They know we’re getting up early and are exhausted from our long day.”

“Yes, we’re very exhausted from the long day,” you said in a monotone.

His tongue peeked out to swipe over his bottom lip. “Let’s go.”

He turned to grab the TV remote on the coffee table and clicked off the television before it was set down again, and he took your hand, leading you out of the room and toward the guest room, running into Steve and Connie in the hallway who whispered ‘Good night.’

In the bedroom, Javi locked the door, and with all the pent-up tension inside of you, it was surprising he didn’t kiss you immediately; instead, he started working open the buttons on his shirt as he walked over to his duffle bag, shrugging it off when he got to it, and getting out his toiletries bag that he took with him into the bathroom.

To be honest, you stood by the door completely confused while you watched him do all of this and only snapped out of it when the bathroom door closed halfway behind him.

From the sounds of the toilet flushing, then the sink continuously running, he was really going through his bedtime routine, probably washing his face at this moment after he cleaned his hands, and it annoyed you he was doing that instead of fucking you right this second. Your socked feet didn’t make any noise on the hard stone tile as you stomped angrily to your suitcase and got into it, quickly stripping out of your outfit and keeping your underwear on out of spite, covering them with sleep shorts and putting on an oversized t-shirt, you knew he’d hate since he didn’t like you sleeping in clothes.

You softly knocked on the bathroom door as you asked, “Can I wash my face and brush my teeth?” Your stuff was already in there for that.

The door was pulled open as you spoke, Javi standing there in just his unbuttoned jeans, it taking everything in you not to glance down at the trail of hair below his belly button. His face was freshly washed, and a red toothbrush was in his mouth, saying around it, “Yeah.”

He finished brushing his teeth as you walked in, wiping his mouth with a towel and giving you a kiss on the forehead before he went out to the bedroom.

You went through your own routine, the bed squeaking loudly, telling you he had gotten into it.

When you came out, only his bedside lamp was on, and he’d taken the side furthest from where you were standing, lying under the covers with his head propped up on his arm, where he could see you enter the room.

He was smiling up until you pulled back the blankets on your side.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting into bed.”

“Yeah, but what are you wearing?”

The sounds the bed made as you crawled in made your jaw clench, all high-pitched and awful.

“Clothes.”

“Why are you wearing them?”

You both usually slept naked.

You turned your back to him, the bedframe squealing softly as you got comfortable.

“‘Cause I feel like it.”

He sighed, metal screeching with every move he made to end up with his naked body flush behind yours, his arm going over your middle, his mouth at your ear as he spoke softly, “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m annoyed with you.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do.”

He sighed again. “What didn’t I do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s not like you’ve been driving me crazy all fucking day with your sexy DILF energy, and I couldn’t wait to be alone with you so you could give me some good dick or anything.”

He snorted, and it made you grind your teeth.

“I’m sorry I upset you with the lack of good dick and for driving you crazy all day.”

“Apology accepted.”

“But you said earlier you’d talk to me later about how you needed more time, and I thought that discussion was more important than sex and what we were going to discuss when we got back to the room tonight...”

Your stomach dropped, eyes widening.

“Oh. Oh god.” You didn’t even care about the horrendous noises as you flipped over to face him, your hand going to his cheek. “I’m a horny asshole.”

He was frowning. ���You forgot.”

“Actually, it wasn’t that I forgot; it was that between then and now, Connie was a gem and gave me some insight to help me work through my shit. Also, she is really mad about Stevie being a carbon copy of Steve.”

“I know—what shit did you need to work through?”

“It’s so dumb, but when you told me you actually talked to your dad about us moving in, it made things real, and I started panicking about the reality of pregnancy and childbirth—which I know most likely everything will be fine, but I was freaking out. Connie talked me through it, though, and let me know it’s pretty common to have some fear, and now I think I’m okay; nervous and a little scared, but okay.”

His fingers ghosted along the skin of your cheek to cup your face, speaking so quietly, “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“I mean, wouldn’t you be a little scared about growing a tiny human inside of you and then pushing them out of your vagina? And don’t say you don’t know because you don’t have a vagina” You poked him in his bare chest. “You practically live in my pussy—imagine a baby coming out of it.”

“...Okay, yeah, I can see how that would be scary. Jesus, I can barely get my dick inside it…”

“Yes, Javier, you have a big dick.” You rolled your eyes. “Is your ego stroked enough?”

He pinched your hip, and you giggled. “I just mean my dick barely fits inside your pussy. How the fuck is a whole baby gonna come out of it?”

Your eyebrow lifted. “Are you being serious? Do you need me to explain the magic of childbirth?”

“No. It was a rhetorical question.”

“Thank god.”

The look on his face changed, seeing the hope glimmering in his chocolate-colored eyes, his hand rubbing your side over your shirt.

“Is this a yes to a baby?” he asked.

“Before I answer.” You pressed your finger to his lips. “I need to talk to your dad just to make sure we’re all on the same page.” He nodded his head. “But, once I talk to him and everything’s peachy keen, it’s a yes.”

A surprised gasp left you when you suddenly found yourself on your back with a very happy man on top of you, slotting his naked hips between your thighs and pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, moaning when his tongue licked into your mouth to tangle with your own, feeling his cock beginning to harden.

There was a throbbing ache in your core, wanting, no, needing, him to fill it in the only way he could, stuffing you full with his dick, then his come. Your fingers slid into his hair, nails lightly scraping against his scalp, the bed complaining with every minuscule movement you made.

SCREECH-Screech-screech. Javi sat up on his knees, the blankets falling down behind him. His eyebrows were pulled together, and his mouth was turned down in a frown as he grabbed the hem of your t-shirt. “If you were naked—” The bed squeaked as your upper body rose for him to tug your shirt off, it getting tossed to the floor. You laid back down, the frame screeching loudly again. “—you’d already be coming on my fingers.” Your cunt clenched hard around nothing at his words.

“I’m sorry!” you harshly whispered. “I was mad.”

He moved back on his knees, causing more ear-splitting noises, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and underwear. “Yeah, you kept your fucking panties on.” His face scrunched in confusion. “Why would you make it harder for me to fuck you?”

“Because: how annoyed are you right now?”

Squeak. His jaw ticked, and you knew he was irritated. “Between this fucking bed and having to waste time I could be fucking you, undressing you? I’m pretty fucking annoyed.” He pulled off your remaining clothes in one go, your ass rising, then falling back onto the bed and bouncing twice to the tune of the worst high-pitched sounds that could rival nails on a chalkboard. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he seethed.

You grimaced. “I am so sorry, babe. Can I make it up to you? A sloppy blowjob? I can sit on your face? You can play with my ass?” He always loved that.

He moved to lay on his side beside you, the journey plagued by ungodly noise, looking at you with a grumpy expression—someone pounded on the wall connecting your room to Steve and Connie’s master bathroom, Javi’s face turning red and eyes flashing with anger.

“Fuck this,” he growled.

He tossed his pillow and yours to the floor next to you and crawled over you to get off the mattress, the bedframe singing the godawful song of its people as he went, Javi pulling the comforter off the bed to fall on the floor. He groaned as he bent down to situate everything, ending up on his knees atop the spread-out blanket when he was satisfied. His arm went over your belly, using his strength to get you to the edge of the bed in a chorus of squeaks and grunts, and let you get on your feet on the ground before he dragged you down to lay on the comforter with your head cushioned on a pillow.

Javi was back to lying on his side beside you, holding his head up on his arm to look at you with irritation written on his features, his other hand smoothing down your belly to the apex of your thighs, the slide of two thick fingers through your slit making your breath catch in your throat.

“You wore clothes to annoy me.” He pouted.

He gathered some of the wetness pooling at your opening and used it to easily swirl his digits over your sensitive clit, sparking pleasure in your belly.

“Yes,” you gasped.

“You know all the little shit that annoys the fuck out of me—like the fucking underwear and shorts.”

He was fine if you wore underwear to bed, but underwear and sleep shorts? That was too many layers for him and, frankly, you, too. His preference was for you to be naked—he loved skin-to-skin contact and having easy access when you wanted him or when he wanted you.

“I’m sorry.” You loudly gulped, the beginning of your orgasm starting to make itself known. “Please let me come.” He seemed annoyed enough. You could imagine he’d draw things out and make you beg.

His expression changed to confusion. “I’m gonna let you come, baby.” He removed his hand, a pitiful sound leaving you as you watched him suck his fingers into his mouth, hearing the swish of saliva—they came out from between his plush lips, glistening in the low light of the room, and you moaned when without any preamble he pressed those two digits into your wet entrance.

He quietly shushed you. “Gotta be quiet, Cielito,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, reveling in the slight stretch of his fingers as he pumped them slowly in and out, your eyelids fluttering shut. “You also know all the little things that make me happy—like how I prefer Mexican Coca-cola, and you do shit like make me stop at that corner store on our way to Pop’s every week to pick up three bottles.” He started moving faster, and it made you whine at how good it felt. “You love me, you care about me, and make me so fucking happy—I was really fucking happy about your yes.” He crooked his digits, sliding the pads of his fingertips along your upper wall until he hit something divine that made you gasp. “There it is.” His focus went to that spot, making sure to press against it every time he pushed inside, your vision dotting with stars at the intense pleasure. “I was really fucking happy about your yes,” he said again, the added friction of his thumb rubbing your clit, rocketing you to your end, the knot in your belly winding up so tight it was close to snapping. “Then the clothes and the fucking bed—”

“Threw off your groove,” you panted, grabbing at the blanket for something to hold onto.

“Threw off my fucking groove and pissed me off.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt so bad but were also so close to coming.

His head came forward to kiss you tenderly. “Quería hacerte el amor (I wanted to make love to you),” he murmured into your lips, and you clenched around his fingers. “Quería hacerlo bien suave, dártelo despacito (I wanted to do it softly, give it to you slowly).” His hand sped up, hearing the wet slide of his digits fucking into you, the pleasure making the muscles in your stomach tighten and tighten. He nipped at your lip. “But I’m too worked up,” he rasped. “So, now, after you’re my good girl and you come on my fingers, you’re getting put face down, ass up, and I’m gonna give you that good dick you’re entitled to as my future wife and mother of my children—and next time you’re gonna ask for it instead of pulling the passive aggressive bullshit you did tonight; I love you more than anything, but I can’t read your mind.”

“Oh, god,” you moaned, wound up so tight you were dangling on the edge.

He kissed your cheek, trailing his lips down to your ear, his words coming out deep and husky with a slight edge that brooked no room for argument, “Javi,” he corrected, “the man you’re gonna marry, who's gonna make you a mother, and right now, come.”

The tension inside you snapped, the order doing you in as you came with a loud moan Javi smothered with his mouth pressing to yours. Euphoria pulsed out from your center while your pussy squeezed his fingers hard enough that they stopped moving, his thumb gently stroking over your sensitive bundle of nerves to help you ride out your high.

He was languidly kissing you, your body pleasantly relaxed and feeling amazing.

It was wetter between your legs, your slick drenching his fingers. You slid your hands into soft strands of his hair, kissing him harder, and he groaned, grinding his hard cock into your hip for some friction, his precum streaking on your skin.

Javi pulled back, and you chased his lips. “You good?” he asked.

Your eyes opened, seeing his plush lips were red and shiny from spit. “Yeah.”

His head nodded, his loving gaze admiring every inch of your face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You smirked. “...and I love that I’m entitled to your good dick.”

His mouth curved in a crooked smile, removing his hand from between your legs to grab your smaller one and press it to his hot, throbbing length. “It’s yours,” he said, “and only yours, so yeah, you’re entitled to it, mi amor (my love).”

You took the girth of him in hand, and his mouth fell open as you stroked the velvety soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking hot, and you were exceptionally hot today. Like, thank you for making me come on your fingers, but I’m afraid I am going to die if you don’t put this thing inside me where it belongs.”

His dark eyes got darker. “Flip over,” he ordered.

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, immediately turning over onto your stomach and getting on your knees. You leaned forward to rest your arms and head on the pillow, keeping your ass up in the air.

Pained groans sounded from Javi as he moved, knowing being on the stone-tiled floor was probably fucking up his knees and back. You grabbed the extra pillow beside the one you were on and held it back behind you. “Use this as a knee pad.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was frowning. “What about your knees?”

“You’re a sweetheart for worrying about my knees, but they’re fine. I want you comfy while you fuck my brains out.”

A loud sigh left him. “I should be fucking you in a bed—” There was anger in his tone, snatching the pillow from you. “—not the fucking floor.” You could feel the air moving behind you as he situated himself on the pillow. “You deserve better than the fucking floor.”

You frowned. “If you’re this mad about it, we can fuck on the chair again? Or you can bend me over the bathroom counter?”

“No.” He had shuffled close enough that his body heat was radiating against your skin, hearing him spit on his fingers, followed by wet strokes as he slicked up his cock. “This is how I want you.”

Your head was resting on your crossed arms, and you wiggled your backside. “You did say you were gonna give me that good dick while I was face down, ass up.”

His big hands grabbed your asscheeks and spread them. “Yeah, I fucking am.” A soft moan fell from your lips when you felt warm saliva land on the skin between your asshole and pussy, one of his hands sliding the tip of his cock through the spit to notch at your entrance. “I need you to be quiet.”

“I can be—” The sentence ended with you shoving your face into the pillow to muffle your moan as the tight walls of your cunt were stretched and filled with his hard, thick cock, pushing in so deep he kissed your womb.

He bottomed out, his hips connecting with the plump flesh of your ass, and it stole your breath, your head going dizzy with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispered, digging his fingers into your hips. “Fucking perfect.” He pulled out halfway and pushed back in. “The perfect pussy.” Now, he was rocking into you, keeping as much of himself inside you as possible while still getting some friction. “God, I love you.”

Your head turned to speak quietly, “Are you already pussy drunk?”

He swatted your asscheek. “Don’t give me shit,” he grumped. “You weren’t the only one driven crazy all fucking day.”

“I’m not giving you shit—it’s making me feel really good about myself.”

“Yeah?” His hands were gripping the globes of your ass. “You love knowing what you do to me?” he asked, sliding his dick out until just the tip was inside. He thrusted forward hard, your eyes rolling back in your head and a gasp leaving your lips. “You love the power you have over me?” he questioned, pulling out to the same point. Thrust. “That not even a second inside you, and I never wanna fucking leave.” He kept that slow, hard pace as he spoke, moving in and out. You reached one of your hands between your legs, spreading two digits around where he was spearing into you to feel how he was stretching you open. “My favorite place to put my dick.”

It was taking everything in you to hold back your moans, whimpers slipping from your throat instead from how fucking good it felt. With the way you were positioned, his cock was sliding against those spots that made your toes curl and your vision blur, having a hard time thinking, let alone speaking—his last comment somehow caused you to blurt out, “Liar.”

He was softly grunting behind you, his fingers tightening on your ass.

His pace didn’t waver. “What am I lying about?”

He really wanted an answer? It took a lot of effort for you to reply, a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin, swallowing hard before you spoke. “Your favorite—” He pushed into you, and it hit so good you moaned. “—fuck,” you tried again. “Your favorite place is my ass.” His rhythm stuttered, and he kept his groan low.

His voice was rough, “No, it’s not. That’s my second favorite—fuck, you feel so good—so fucking wet. This pussy is my favorite.” You could tell he was exciting himself. “Fucking love it—can never get enough of it.”

The swing of his hips sped up, fucking into you faster, your ass jiggling as his body collided with yours. This new tempo had you putting your face back into the cushiony pillow to dampen your moans, your fingers moving to rub at your clit, causing fire to ignite in your belly; soft grunts coming from behind you, hearing the slap of skin on skin, and the sounds wet where he was working himself into your cunt, a steady stream of your arousal dripping down his shaft to his balls slapping against your digits.

The heat at the base of your spine was growing, his dick pounding into you at a punishing pace, mewling incessantly from the onslaught. Each thrust had you seeing stars, the pleasure building you higher and higher, your belly clenching in anticipation for your impending orgasm.

It didn’t even surprise you how quickly he was working you up with the way you were pent up from watching him all day—how tempting it’d been to haul him away and fuck him, and he wasn’t disappointing you now, truly giving you the good dick you’d wanted.

The muscles in your stomach were beginning to tighten, so fucking lost in what he was doing to you and your fingers, you’d forgotten to control your volume, a big hand squeezing its way between your face and the pillow to cover your mouth.

Javi came down over your back, holding himself up on an arm while he kept fucking into you, dipping his upper body low enough his lips grazed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot, panting breaths.

“Such a good fucking girl taking it,” he breathily rasped into your ear. “Am I fucking you good? Is this the good dick you wanted?” You moaned into his palm. “Your needy little pussy just needed my cock?” He was pounding into you hard enough to make your thighs jiggle and ass shake like jello. “Turned you on watching me today? You love knowing that I’ll be a good father? That I’ll actually give a shit? That you just, fuck,” he groaned. “That you just have to say the word, and I’ll fuck a baby into you?” He was moving faster. “I’ll give you a baby—I’ll keep your perfect little pussy stuffed with my come to make sure it takes.” The sentence made you clench around him, so close to your climax you could taste it. “Is that what you want?”

You couldn’t speak, not with the way he was fucking you, unable to articulate words as he impaled you on his dick.

“Are you cock dumb, Cielito?” he asked through heavy breaths. “Am I fucking you too good? I know you’re close. Give me another, and I’ll fuck you full of me.”

Your body was trembling, right on the cusp of coming.

“Come all over my cock, baby, and I’ll fill you up. Just think, after my birthday, when I fuck my come deep inside you, I could end up knocking you up.”

Finally, you were cresting, your cunt clamping down on him hard enough, he slowed as you came with a whine, and tears leaked from your eyes. Pleasure exploded out from your core, feeling it in your fingers and toes, your mind going pleasantly blank while your chest heaved and your heart raced.

“My good girl.” He sounded pained, rolling his hips to extend your high. “You’re so fucking good to me—I fucking love you.”

He pulled out of you and removed his hand from your mouth, and you hated how empty you felt.

Groaning, he sat up on his knees.

He tapped your hip. “I need you on your back.”

His hands were gentle as he helped you in your fucked out state to get onto your back with him in the space between your spread legs. He ended up over you, with an arm beside your head, the other guiding himself back inside you in one smooth thrust that made you whimper.

Your eyes were closed, but you could feel how he surrounded you—the mass of him on top of you with those broad shoulders you loved so much.

When he started moving, he didn’t go slow, nor was he going the typical speed to chase his own high—it was something in between that had him slickly sliding in and out of your drenched pussy, hearing the wet suck of each stroke.

First, his lips found yours, kissing you while his hands sought out your own, interlacing your fingers together as he held them above your heads. Your bodies were glistening and hair damp with sweat, not caring how the skin that came in contact stuck together.

You were still feeling good from your orgasm and loved how he felt inside you, knowing this was how he originally wanted to fuck you.

“Te amo (I love you),” he said into your lips, sounding wrecked. “Te amo tanto (I love you so much). No puedo esperar a verte usando un anillo (I can’t wait to see you wearing a ring on your finger). No puedo esperar a verte embarazada (I can’t wait to see you pregnant).” His pace was quickening, his words getting breathier. “No puedo esperar a que seas mi esposa (I can’t wait for you to be my wife). No puedo esperar a que seas la madre de mi hijos (I can’t wait for you to be the mother of my children). No puedo esperar a vivir en la casa de tus sueños contigo (I can’t wait to live in the house of your dreams with you). No puedo esperar a pasar el resto de mi vida contigo (I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you). Te amo, mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, mi todo (I love you, my Cielito, my love, my life, my soul, my everything).”

“God,” you softly moaned. “This is what you meant when you said querías hacerme el amor (you wanted to make love to me).” This was the only way you were okay with the phrase—it sounded very romantic in Spanish. “How do you make me fall more in love with you?” You kissed him. “It’s not fair.” Your words were muffled. “I want to be married to you and have your babies.” Your legs went around his hips, digging your heels into his flexed asscheeks to pull him closer to you each time he pushed in. “Fuck a baby into me, Javi.” He groaned at your words, his hips moving faster, finally working toward his end. “I want one so bad—I’m hoping I can get rid of my birth control tomorrow.” Which was true.

The sound he made, you’d think he’d been wounded, his strokes getting jerky, his face going into your neck as he breathed through his bared teeth until he was pushing in all the way, biting into your shoulder to muffle his ragged moan as he came. You felt as his cock thickened and pulsed, spurting hot come as deep inside you as he could get, your cunt clenching around him.

This was what you had needed all damn day, finally feeling sated at being full of him, all of him—his dick, his come—sighing happily.

He let go of your hands, and you found yourself under the comforting weight of the man you’d one day marry and have children with, sliding your fingers into the soft, thick, sweat-damp strands of his hair, making him hum and nuzzle into your throat as you lightly scratched at his scalp.

Nothing mattered when you were like this; no one else existed. There was only Javi and you, you and Javi. He was what you could feel and what you could smell. When you opened your eyes, he was what you could see; his heavy breaths were what you could hear—he was everything.

He was your everything.

Javier Peña was your today, tomorrow, next week, and next year. He was your present and future, the one you were meant to spend the rest of your days on this planet with and haunt all of eternity in the afterlife with. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate, and most of all, your best friend.

You were going to marry and start a family with your best friend, the man who knew you better than anyone else and loved you more, too.

Why were you ever scared about having a child when you knew he’d be by your side every step of the way and take care of you?

Because you’ve never had this kind of support or been loved like this before. You were in new territory and treading carefully, learning as you went—both of you were learning to live this new life together and figuring things out. As Javi said earlier in the day, it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. You were going to have your ups and downs, but all that mattered was you stuck together through the good and the bad because you truly loved each other.

Time passed, the minutes going into the double digits before either of you spoke, content in your cocoon.

“Did you mean it?” he said the words into your skin.

“Did I mean what?” It took some head-turning and neck stretching to kiss his forehead.

“You wanna get rid of your birth control tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Your fingers stroked through his hair. “I was gonna call your dad right before you came and got me for bed, but now it’s too late. I’ll leave a message on his answering machine in the morning since he’ll be working to give us a call on his lunch break so I can talk to him.”

Javi’s head popped up to look you in the eyes with a grin. “He’ll answer the first time you call.”

You frowned. “He’ll already be working by six… He won’t be home.”

He was practically vibrating with excitement. “Trust me, he’ll be home.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t know?”

“Nothing that you don’t already know—Pop really wants to be an abuelo (grandpa), and he’s on our ass about grandkids all the fucking time.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain him being home tomorrow…”

“Oh, yeah, I talked to him earlier and mentioned you wanted to talk to him before we finally went for it, and he got so excited, he said he’d stay home the next couple of days in case you called.”

That sounded like something Chucho would do if he knew there was a chance it’d speed up him getting his grandkids, and it warmed your heart, making you smile. “He’s the best—I love your dad.”

“He’s your dad, too—he already calls you his nuera (daughter-in-law).”

“Sure, but it feels a little sweet home Alabama saying, ‘I love our dad’ with your dick still inside me.”

A high-pitched sound came from air escaping between his lips, which he was struggling to keep closed, it sputtering into a full-on laugh, his eyes crinkling at the edges in mirth.

“That’s fucked up,” he wheezed.

You were smiling, pushing his bangs away from his face. “It’s the truth. The sentiment is sweet, but the phrasing is a real boner killer.”

“I love you.” He was calming down, adjusting his weight onto one arm in order to cradle your face in his other palm.

“I love you, too.”

The smile on his face was big and bright, a joyful chuckle leaving him as he leaned in to kiss you—something sweet, and tender, feeling his happiness with each press of his plush lips to yours.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he said between kisses.

“I’m not pregnant yet.”

“You will be soon.” And he said it so matter of factly, with such surety, it had pleasure shivering down your spine, your cunt clenching around his softened cock, making him hiss from the overstimulation.

A shift happened, the kisses turning more fervent before he was pulling out of you and making a journey with his lips down your body, to between your legs, where he worshipped you with his mouth and tongue, your fingers tugging on his hair, biting your lip to keep yourself quiet.

After he pulled another orgasm from you, he finally seemed satisfied, and a quick shower was taken to wash the sex away from your bodies. Javi was so pissed off about the bed he refused to sleep in it how Steve had intended and instead quietly moved the furniture around, pushing an end table and the bedframe closer to the closet to give him enough space to put the mattress on the floor. It was going to be an absolute bitch to get up from in the morning, but your future husband was pleased with himself for getting around his friend trying to cockblock him, and you both were happy you weren’t plagued with any more godawful noise.

This time, you were naked when you crawled into bed with Javi, and he immediately pulled you into his arms, tangling your legs together. Exhaustion caught up to you from the long day, sleep making your eyes heavy, smiling when he kissed your forehead, then your lips, his nose nudging yours as he whispered, “I love you.”

Your thoughts had become slow, so comfortable and warm, feeling so loved and happy, you were drifting off, mumbling as you went, “I love you, too.”

The bright teal walls and floral artwork hanging on them let him know he was standing in the hallway at the back of his father’s house—his mother had chosen each piece, and his dad had hammered each nail they hung from in the spots she’d decided. In all his years in this house, he’d never seen these walls bare and loved even after all this time since his mom had passed away, his father hadn’t changed a single thing she decorated; not in this hallway, not in his parent’s bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, the entryway, the guest room; they all had a touch of her, little traces of her memory with the pictures she chose to display or the knick-knacks she left on shelves or decorations adorning the spaces.

Sounds were coming from the kitchen that told him someone was cooking—a tune he couldn’t quite make out but somehow knew playing on his mother’s favorite Spanish radio station, something frying on the stove, the dings and scrapes of cooking utensils against pots and pans—the familiarity of it making him wonder what his Cielito was making, and feeling like he was floating across the floor with how smoothly he walked toward the noises.

One moment, he was walking, the next, he was in the kitchen beside the table. His vision was soft around the edges and unfocused, but he knew the woman whose back was to him wasn’t Cielito—it was almost like she was a shadow; the shape of an adult human female with no details.

The dark figure’s head turned to look over their shoulder at him, and even without a face, he could tell they were smiling.

“Ah, mi Javiercito, estoy muy feliz de que estés aquí (Ah, my Javier, I’m so happy you’re here)!” His vision focused as she spoke and filled in those details that were missing, his mother appearing before him with her brown hair that matched his beginning to grey and the same lines on her face that were in the photo taken on his parents’ 35th anniversary. “Te he echado de menos, nene (I’ve missed you, baby boy).” She turned to face him, wearing her light pink, rose-printed apron with the ruffle trim and two big, solid dark pink pockets on the front. “Ven a ayudar a tu mamá a abrir este frasco obstinado (Come help your mom open this stubborn jar).” She held it up, and he was so transfixed with her he didn’t care to see what was in it.

“Amá (Mom),” he whispered, trying not to cry. “¿Eres tú, amá (Is that you, mom)?”

“¿Estuviste ausente por tanto tiempo que te olvidaste de tu pobre madre (Were you away for so long that you forgot about your poor mother)? Sí, soy yo (Yes, it’s me). Ahora, ayúdame a abrir este frasco (Now, help me open this jar).” She lifted the glass again. “Tu papá está trabajando y tengo que terminar de hacer la cena (Your dad is working and I need to finish making dinner). Es una gran noche para todos nosotros (It’s a big night for all of us).”

Javier took the jar and easily got the lid off with a pop as he removed it.

His mother was much shorter than him, and she reached up to grab his face, pulling him down to kiss all over his cheeks like he was a child before she held them and looked him in the eyes.

“Gracias, Javiercito (Thank you, Javier),” she said. “Estoy muy orgullosa de ti y del hombre increíble en el que te has convertido (I am so proud of you and the amazing man you have become). No sabes lo feliz que estoy de ver hacia dónde se dirige tu vida (You don’t know how happy I am to see where your life is going). No mereces nada más que felicidad (You deserve nothing but happiness). Hablando de eso, ¿cuándo llegará mi nuera favorita aquí (Speaking of which, when will my favorite daughter-in-law get here)?” She patted his cheeks. “¿Dónde está tu Cielito (Where is your Cielito)? Ella necesita estar aquí para la celebración de que tu padre y yo finalmente vamos a ser abuelos (She needs to be here for the celebration that your dad and I are finally going to be grandparents). Estoy haciendo su receta favorita de mi caja de recetas (I’m making her favorite recipe from my recipe box).”

It was so hard to speak when it felt like there was a lump in his throat.

“¿Por qué estás haciendo su receta favorita (Why are you making her favorite recipe)?” he asked thickly. “Soy tu hijo (I’m your son).”

His mom smiled. “Porque ella es la mujer increíble que hizo sonreír a mi hijo de nuevo, y lo ama tanto, sé que finalmente tendrá la vida feliz que tanto se merece (Because she is the incredible woman who made my son smile again, and loves him so much, I know he’s going to finally have the happy life he deserves).” Her smile turned mischievous. “Además, ella es mi hija favorita que nunca tuve y la madre de mis futuros nietos, así que le haré todo lo que quiera (Also, she is my favorite daughter I never had and the mother of my future grandchildren, so I will make her anything she wants.”

Suddenly, consciousness was crashing into him as he woke up, gasping on a sob, his eyes wet with tears. The room was pitch black when his eyelids lifted, lying face up atop the mattress, Cielito’s back pressed to his side with his arm draped over her bare middle, the ache in his heart making his shoulders shake as he cried away the sadness.

What he’d give for that dream to have been reality.

He couldn’t recall the last time his mother had visited him while he slept. For years after she passed away, the only time she appeared in his dreams was when he relived the last time he saw her alive as she lay on her deathbed. Over and over again, he’d sit on the edge of the hospital bed with her frail hands gripping her rosary between his, begging him to take it for her, and Javier always telling her he would and how much he loved her. Sometimes, he’d say more—he’d beg for her forgiveness for being away for so long, tell her he couldn’t live without her, and plead with her to stay a little longer because he wasn’t ready to let her go.

What he dreamt this evening was different than anything he could remember. It was jarring how real it felt, which made it hurt so much worse. He wondered why his brain chose tonight of all nights to have her visit him and say things he’d needed to hear. Maybe it was all of the big changes taking place in his life—he was moving forward, and it was a reminder she’d always be with him. What he knew for sure was it made him miss her so fucking much and hate that she wouldn’t be with his dad when he and Cielito called him this morning to tell him the news they were engaged and wanted to start their family.

Thinking about his plans for that morning, he moved his arm from over his future wife to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks and carefully sat up so he didn’t wake her, the blankets falling to pool at his waist. He twisted his upper body to look over his shoulder at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock sitting on the bedside table pressed against the mattress-less bed frame. The alarm he set would be going off in ten minutes, so it looked like he was getting up. He leaned back and stretched his arm to turn off the alarm.

It was a smart move to put the mattress on the floor with how he was able to quietly get out of bed, his knees complaining when he stood up and made his way in the dark to the chair by the bathroom door where he set out his clothes the night before.

He’d get dressed in the bathroom, brush his teeth, do his hair, and shave. Then, he needed to do some other things before it was time to wake up the woman he loved.

His head was running through the list of shit that he had to get done, and something he kept thinking about, and he knew wasn’t rational, was how the dream felt like his mother saying hi and giving him her approval of who he was going to marry from beyond the grave.

As he said, it wasn’t rational, but it made him really fucking happy.

The tickle of his mustache as he kissed along your shoulder had you waking. His warm hand was rubbing along your arm while he whispered into your skin, “Wake up, Cielito. It’s time to get up, mi amor (my love). We gotta get going, baby.”

“Mmm,” you hummed with a smile. He was on top of the blankets behind you. “What time is it?” you murmured.

“Half past five.”

“In Laredo or Miami?”

You could feel him smile. “Miami.”

The answer made you groan. “That’s four-thirty at home—why are we waking up at five-thirty on vacation?”

“If you get up, you’ll find out.”

You were frowning. “Is everyone else getting up, too?”

“No.”

“What, are you making me breakfast before they wake up or something?”

“No.”

“Are we going someplace at the asscrack of dawn?”

He huffed out an amused breath. “Yes.”

That had you wondering where in the world he’d take you so early.

“Will there be food?”

“Yes.”

He probably wanted to take you alone to some local diner he used to go to when he’d visit, so it was best to leave while everyone else was sleeping.

The thought of coffee and breakfast had you saying, “Fine, I’m getting up.”

“Thank you, Cielito.” He placed one last kiss on your shoulder and moved to get up with a groan. You stretched under the warm covers, blinking open your eyes to see the bathroom light was on with the door cracked, and Javi was fully dressed, yawning as you threw back the blankets.

He helped pull you up from the mattress, and as you walked toward the bathroom, you asked, “Will leggings and a t-shirt be okay, or is there a dress code?”

“Whatever you’ll be comfortable in is fine.”

“Mmkay.”

After taking care of your needs in the en suite, it took some minutes to get ready, ending up in some black leggings and an oversized coral-colored t-shirt with minty breath and your hair done.

The two of you were quiet as you made your way out of the house, stopping to put on your shoes and Javi locking the front door with a key on his keyring as you left.

The sky outside was dark, the street lights offering an orangish glow. Javi was wearing a white button-up under his black leather jacket and jeans, and you were still feeling a bit groggy when you got in the SUV, unable to keep from yawning. He laced his fingers with yours on your thigh, and even though there was a center console separating you both, you leaned your head against his arm as you hugged it, street lights and the headlights of morning commuters passing you as you made your way down the roads with the radio softly playing.

Between the signs on the highway and glimpses of the ocean, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Javi pulled over to the side of the road near a beach access point in Miami Beach forty-five minutes later. It still wasn’t clicking what you were doing there so early in the morning, though. A big bank of dirt covered in bushes kept the water out of view, with some palm trees and a street lamp standing high above near the entrance.

“I thought you said there’d be food?” you said, not even attempting to keep the confusion out of your tone.

“Trust me.” He kissed your hair, untangling your hands as he put the vehicle in park and switched it off.

“Okay… I didn’t bring a jacket.”

Javi met your eyes, the overhead lights coming on when he removed the keys. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, mi amor. Now, come with me, please.” He didn’t even look tired, his gaze bright and hopeful.

“Okay.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, and he smiled, doing the same.

What was a surprise was when you went to see what he was getting out of the trunk, and he pulled out a big bundled-up blanket and full tote bag that clinked as he moved. You closed the back of the SUV without him having to ask.

“Javi?”

He had started walking, and you followed, the air surprisingly warm for how early it was.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Did you bring me to the beach for a breakfast picnic?”

“Yes.”

You followed him down the path lined with tall grass, bushes, and trees, your feet sinking into the sand as you walked, hearing the waves in the distance—on the beach, you looked around, not seeing any other people, just miles upon miles of sand, and wondered to yourself with how sweet this whole thing was if Javi would let you suck his dick. Thankfully, he didn’t make you walk far, taking you to a circular alcove at the base of the hill where it indented in, the grass and raised land along the sides shielding you from view at those angles.

He set down the bag and spread out the blanket, stepping onto it, and you watched as he lowered himself down to sit on his ass with his legs spread a little out in front of him. He made you giggle when he tugged you by the arm and pulled you down into his lap, ending up across it, his head turning to look at you with a smile, the same expression on your face.

“You stupidly romantic man,” you said, stroking your fingers over his smooth cheek.

“You love that I’m stupidly romantic.” He kissed your palm.

“Yes, I do—like, if you wanted me to, I’d suck your dick right this second. A beach breakfast picnic deserves an out-in-public blow job.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna get us arrested.”

“Hey, I can’t help that it makes me horny when you’re stupidly romantic. My only complaint is how early it is. Aside from that, everything else is lovely.”

His lips dipped into a frown. “I’m, uh, sorry I can’t make the sun rise later…”

Your eyes rounded. “Oh my fucking god,” you breathed. “We’re here to watch the sunrise. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Why else would I get you up at the asscrack of dawn?”

“Sex,” you answered immediately.

His eyebrow went up. “Did we fuck?”

“No.” You shook your head. Warmth was moving through your veins, feeling the fuzzy happiness. “Because you brought me to the beach for a breakfast picnic and to watch the sunrise!” Moving, you straddled his thighs, taking his face in your hands as you crashed your mouth to his, kissing him like your life depended on it. His arms went around your back to pull you into him, his mouth opening when you eagerly pressed your tongue inside to slide against his, rocking your hips.

The need to breathe became too much, and his lips went to your chin to travel along your jaw in wet streaks.

“I love you so much, Javi,” you panted. “I wish I could do something as special as this for you.”

“You did.” He sucked on your neck, and you moaned.

“I did?”

His head came up to meet your gaze. “Yeah, when you learned how to make mi mamá’s tamales.”

“Oh.”

“You’re stupidly romantic, too.”

It never crossed your mind that making him his mother’s tamale recipe would come across as stupidly romantic—you’d just wanted him to have some comfort on his tough first day at his new job.

“Well, fuck, we’re both a couple of stupidly romantic fools.”

He smiled big as he laughed, giving you a quick kiss.

“Yes, we are. Turn around, baby, and watch the sunrise.” He nodded toward it.

“Bossy.” You gave him a peck on the lips and turned around to sit between his legs, with your back to his front.

A cool gust from the ocean hit you, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin and making you shiver; staring off at the horizon and the dim sky colored in a fiery red where it met the water, lightening to yellow, then a soft blue as it rose.

Javi’s upper body was moving behind you. “Lean forward a little,” he said.

You tilted forward slightly, and he placed his leather jacket on your shoulders, feeling the weight of it and warmth on the inside from his body heat as it covered your arms and back.

Leaning back with your head on his shoulder, you turned to kiss his jaw. “Thank you.”

He hugged around your belly, shoving his face in your neck. “You’re welcome.” His words were muffled.

“What’s in the bag?” you asked.

He squeezed you a little tighter for a second.

“Thermos of coffee, some coffee cups, croissants, donut holes, berries, and cut-up pineapple.”

It was getting brighter, and you were enjoying watching the waves rolling.

“How in the world did you prepare all of that?”

“Connie—she bought everything, had the coffee pot set to be ready when I got up before you, and all I had to do was cut up the pineapple and pack everything.”

“Connie’s the best.”

His chin was resting on your shoulder.

“She is. Are you enjoying the trip?”

“Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Your friends are great, and I’d love to visit again.”

“Good.”

The sky had erupted in bright yellows, oranges, and reds the closer the sun got to appearing.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, taking your left hand in his, his other arm staying around your middle.

In the past, if he said such a thing, you’d snort or deny the compliment, but you’ve been with him long enough to know it wasn’t just him saying words—he meant it. If you asked him if he’d rather watch the sunrise or look at you, he’d choose option two because he was so unbelievably in love with you there was nothing or nobody more beautiful to him; he didn’t even look at other women, or if you pointed out one was attractive, he sounded so uninterested, with his, ‘Sure,’ or, ‘I guess,’ before he got flirty and told you how you were hotter.

This man was obsessed with you, and it was the greatest feeling in the world to feel so wanted. Your insecurities would never disappear, but he did his best to ensure you knew he loved all of you, including your flaws and the things you hated. He was perfect, and sometimes you couldn’t believe he was yours.

You grabbed his hand on your stomach. “My sweet man, I’m literally the happiest girl in the world. I don’t know how I got so lucky meeting you,” you said, sighing wistfully. “You came into my life with those beautiful brown eyes, that perfect mustache, and those tight-ass jeans, and I was a goner. You take up my every thought, and second, and hour, and everywhere I look, it’s you who comes to mind—it’s always you. God, I get lost in your eyes, your smile, and your voice. I get lost just thinking about them. I am so in love with you, Javi, that I miss you constantly. You can be in another room, and I miss you. You can be sitting on the other end of the couch, and I miss you. What I’m trying to say, Javier, is that I love you and am as obsessed with you as you are with me and that I know, to you, I am more beautiful than what we’re looking at.”

Emotion made his words rough. “I’m happy you finally believe me.” He kissed your hair.

“I do. I definitely do.”

He cleared his throat. “Can I say my stupidly romantic shit now?”

You laughed, the sun just beginning to peek in the distance, the colors of the sky reminding you of the opening scene in The Lion King. “Yes,” you answered.

He cleared his throat. “Mi Cielito, eres mi primer amor y mi último, mi media naranja y la mujer con la que voy a pasar el resto de mi vida (My Cielito, you are my first love and my last, my soulmate, and the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with). Yo te pertenezco (I belong to you). Todo de mí es tuyo (All of me is yours). Mi presente, mi futuro, te pertenece (My present, my future, belongs to you). Eres con quien quiero compartir mi vida, y con quien quiero pasar por los buenos momentos y malos (You are the one I want to share my life with and the one I want to go through the good times and bad with). Me haces un mejor hombre y me haces querer ser un mejor hombre que merece a alguien tan increíble como tú (You make me a better man, and you make me want to be a better man who deserves someone as incredible as you).

“Sabía que eras la unica desde el momento en que nos conocimos (I knew you were the one from the moment we met). Sentí una conexión contigo (I felt a connection with you)—por la primera vez, sentí paz y sé que era mi alma encontraba su pieza faltante (for the first time I felt peace and I know it was my soul finding its missing piece). Sabía que iba a casarme contigo en nuestra tercera cita mientras bailábamos en tu cocina, y si soy honesta conmigo mismo, sabía que te amaba entonces, también (I knew I was going to marry you on our third date while we were dancing in your kitchen, and if I’m honest with myself, I knew I loved you then, too)—las palabras estuvieron pegadas a la punta de mi lengua durante semanas antes de que las dijera en voz pero supe durante tanto tiempo que tú eras para mí (the words were stuck to the tip of my tongue for weeks before I said them out loud, but I knew for so long that you were it for me).”

Tears fell down your cheeks, hearing and watching the waves crashing, the sun rising in the flaming sky as the backdrop.

“It’s not fair your stupidly romantic shit is making me cry,” you sniffed.

He kissed the side of your neck, his right hand on your tummy moved up to cup your left cheek, swiping at some of the wetness with his thumb.

“Lo siento por hacerte llorar, pero no he terminado (I’m sorry for making you cry, but I’m not finished).”

“Please continue. It’s not like you’ll make me cry any harder.”

You could hear him smiling when he started talking again. “Mi sueño para donde estaremos en cinco años es que estemos casados, viviendo en la casa de sus sueños que he construido para ti, rodeado de tantos niños como quieras, que estemos criando juntos (My dream for where we’ll be in five years is that we’re married, living in your dream home that I’ve built for you, surrounded by as many kids as you want that we’re raising together). Quiero eso (I want that). Quiero que eso se convierta en una realidad (I want that to become a reality). Quiero hacer mis sueños realidad y convertirme en tu esposo (I want to make my dreams come true and become your husband).”

Gasping, your head turned to look at him, his hand leaving your face, realizing this was a proposal.

“Javi,” you whispered, your breath stuttering as teardrops streamed down your cheeks, your lip trembling. “Are we practicing?”

There’d been a few practice proposals, the rules for the real thing being that Javi had to do it, and there needed to be a ring. Being on the beach, with the rolling waves and the rising sun, made this the perfect location and time for him to do it, but there didn’t seem to be a ring…

“Sigue mirando el amanecer, mi amor (Keep watching the sunrise, my love).”

With a nod, you faced forward again and immediately jolted in shock, your palm covering your mouth, stifling your loud gasp.

In front of you, Javi held up with one hand an open white leather ring box containing a gold band with a decent-sized princess cut diamond in the middle and two smaller ones on either side.

It was beautiful.

And he was actually doing it.

This was the real thing.

It was finally happening, and your body was shaking with sobs, the tears from earlier turning into full-on ugly crying because you were so happy and overcome with emotion.

“Te amo tanto, para siempre no sería suficiente tiempo para pasar contigo (I love you so much forever wouldn’t be enough time to spend with you),” Javi continued, sounding choked up. “Soy tuyo hasta que respire por la última vez, y seguiré siendo tuyo cuando mi alma deje esta tierra (I am yours until my last breath, and I will still be yours when my soul leaves this earth). La muerte no nos mantendrá separados (Death won’t keep us apart); Nos volveremos a encontrar (We’ll meet again). Buscaré en el cosmos y en los cielos hasta encontrarte porque no puedo vivir sin ti (I will search the cosmos and the heavens until I find you because I cannot live without you); eres mi otra mitad, mi media naranja, y me haces completo (you are my other half, my soulmate, and you make me whole). No hay yo sin ti (There is no me without you).”

“Me haces feliz de una manera que nadie más puede (You make me happy in a way that no one else can). Me haces sentir amado (You make me feel loved). Te preocupas por mí, y por todo eso, tienes todo mi amor y total devoción, y quiero dedicarte cada pieza de mí mismo, cuerpo y alma a ti (You care about me, and for all that, you have all of my love and total devotion, and I want to dedicate every piece of myself, body and soul, to you). Mi Cielito, mi amor, mi vida, mi alma, mi todo ¿me hariás el hombre más feliz del mundo, te casarías conmigo (My Cielito, my love, my life, my soul, my everything, you’d make me the happiest man in the world, will you marry me)?”

Nodding your head, you answered through tears, “¡Por supuesto que sí (Yes, of course)! ¡Un millón de veces sí (A million times, yes)!”

He paused for a second. “Really?” he asked softly.

His surprise sobered you up to the point you frowned and stopped crying, shaking off his hand holding yours to turn around, sitting on your knees between his legs.

His eyes were rimmed with red, tear tracks streaking beneath them down his cheeks. You held his face in your hands, your gaze on his.

“Now, you listen here, Javier Jesús Peña López: I. Am. Marrying. You. You proposed with a ring, and I said yes. I. Said. Yes.” You poked him in the middle of the chest. “We’re getting married. I want to marry you, so please put that gorgeous fucking ring on my finger so we can make out.”

“Right, shit,” he said, fumbling to take the ring out in front of you, the box falling once he had it between his fingers. He grabbed your left hand, sliding the ring onto your ring finger, and it fit perfectly.

You were staring at it, the diamonds sparkling in the early morning light.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said, your vision muddled from the water brimming in your eyes.

“It was my mom’s.”

Your gaze snapped to his. “Your mom’s?”

He was smiling softly. “Yeah. She would’ve wanted you to have it, and Pop agreed; he had it cleaned the day after he met you.” His hand held yours, sliding his thumb over the ring, and you wept, the teardrops slowly falling. “He gave me his blessing to have it altered because the original center diamond was very modest—he worked on the ranch for the previous owner in high school to help out mis abuelos (my grandparents), and once he realized he was going to marry my mom, he started saving a little bit of his paychecks for years until he had enough to buy her a ring he felt proud about her wearing; he wanted me to feel proud when you showed it off, too. The rest is the same aside from being adjusted to your size.”

You were looking down at where his thumb was moving over each diamond, back and forth, knowing the ring's history making you feel incredibly emotional.

“She wore this?”

“Yeah.”

Your shoulders shook. “It’s perfect,” you said. “She’ll always be with us.”

Javi had tears wetting his cheeks as he smiled. “Yeah, she will.”

The sentiment had the floodgates letting loose and made you start to bawl, throwing your arms around his neck and shoving your face in his throat as you hugged him, his arms wrapping around you to hold you close. He comforted you while you happily sobbed.

You were just so unbelievably happy with everything that happened—the proposal was better than you ever could have dreamed, and the fact he’d done it with his mother’s ring was making you an absolute mess. It meant so much to you that Chucho and Javi felt Antonia would want you to have it, silently promising her as you held her son that for as long as you lived, he would be loved, cherished, and you’d take good care of him.

When you finally started calming down, you said into his skin, sounding stuffed up, “There’s not this much gross crying when people get engaged on TV or in movies. Like, who’d wanna make out with someone whose face is wet from snot and tears?”

He chuckled, rubbing a hand along your spine. “I would.”

Sitting up, you met his eyes with a frown. “I feel too icky.”

“Hold on.” He leaned to dig into the tote bag beside him and brought out a small square box of tissues, presenting it to you.

“Connie?” you asked as you pulled two from the top.

“Yeah.”

You were wiping your face. “We should get her a fruit basket—one of the fancy chocolate-dipped ones.” The tissues were discarded for another to blow your nose, thinking this had to be the peak of romance.

“We’ll do that. I was gonna get Steve a nice bottle of whiskey, but with what he did to the bed, he’s not getting shit now.” The box of tissues was set down.

You snorted, your face finally clean and hands free. “You’ll get back at him somehow. Now—” You moved to straddle his lap with your arms going over his shoulder and fingers threading into his hair. “—I’d like to make out with my fiancé.” His white collar caught your attention. “I’m surprised for such a special occasion, you didn’t match your shirt to mine.”

He was smirking, his hands coming up to slide along your cheeks before cradling them. “It’s because—” Gently, he pulled you forward, kissing the tip of your nose, then nuzzling it with his own. “—I’m wearing the same outfit I wore on our first date.” His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, remembering him sitting in the bar on your first date in his white button-up under the black leather jacket and jeans, and that it was exactly what he wore here—all of the thought he put into this morning making you go so soft you were practically goo as you melted into him, pressing yourself closer, and allowing his tongue to plunder your mouth.

Happiness was wafting off the both of you, the sun shining in an orange glow behind you as the waves crashed and rolled.

Javier Peña was your person—he was the love of your life, your soulmate, your best friend, and his newest title, your fiancé.

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#pedro pascal #javier peña #Javier Peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (16)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, dirty talk, breeding kink, description of wounds and trauma, remorse ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He remembered little of their journey back to King's Landing; it seemed to him that his conversation with Daemon, and before that with Aegon, had been a dream, and that it had all not really happened. Throughout the journey, he kept his cheek pressed against his wife's temple, feeling great relief but also fear.

He was sure she would run away.

He was sure she would let him down again, and some part of him wished she would.

Why?

When they reappeared in the Red Keep there were only a few hours left until dawn; he instructed his guards to convey to his brother as soon as he woke up, that he should call a meeting of the Small Council where he would be able to give a brief report of what had happened.

Afterwards, he and his wife both retired to his chamber, stripping out of their riding attire, speechless and exhausted. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, feeling a tightness in his throat, wondering why he felt tense, why he was not rejoicing.

He swallowed loudly as he realised that he had expected a betrayal on her part, because it would make things a lot easier for him.

He could then turn his back on her and her family once and for all, shed his illusions, become who he had been for eight years again.

It frightened him that now, when it was obvious that she had proved her loyalty to him, that she had chosen him at last, so many things remained unsaid, silenced, repressed.

He felt her uncertain gaze on him as she stayed in just her nightgown, heard his bed creak quietly under the weight of her body.

"My love?" He heard her soft voice and grunted, staying in only his breeches and linen shirt.

She twisted towards him as he lay down beside her on his back, placing his hands on his stomach, sighing heavily with exhaustion.

He shuddered when he felt her warm, soft hand on his – their fingers began to trail and rub against each other in the air, just like when she had come to him that first night after many years of separation.

"Speak to me, Aemond. Don't lock yourself in your mind." She said calmly; something in her words, in the fact that she sensed his anxiety made him swallow loudly, opening and closing his mouth several times, unable to get anything out. He finally shook his head, closing his eyes, deciding there was no point.

"Say it. Say all the things you've always wanted to say to me. Even if those words will only cause me pain. I want to know."

He opened his eyes, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, a shiver ran along his spine.

"I will never understand how could you leave me then." He finally said in a voice filled with regret and venom – he felt her twist next to him restlessly, drawing in air loudly.

He didn't look at her, but he felt her hand tighten on his.

"That was never my intention."

"Then why?"

"My mother then told me to let you rest and calm down. That the guards wouldn't let me visit you anyway by order of the Queen."

"What a nonsense."

"I am speaking the truth. When I wanted to pay you a visit a few days later, Criston Cole sent me away."

He felt his heart stop at those words; his whole body tensed, his breath stuck in his throat as he finally looked at her with wide-eyed expression.

"What?"

He felt her thumb stroke his palm, her eyes looking at him pleadingly.

"I swear, five days after what happened, I came to pay you a visit. I came every day after that, but he always sent me away. He said you didn't want to see me." She mumbled, and he snorted in disbelief and amusement, shaking his head. He looked at her in shock, wanting to see anything in her face that could confirm that she was lying.

He swallowed hard, embittered, leaning the back of his head against the back of the bed.

"It doesn't matter. I needed you when it happened."

"I needed you too. When Criston Cole held my cheeks as your mother's guards poured moon tea down my throat. I wondered at the time if that's how you felt." She said with weariness, sadness and indifference from which he felt an unpleasant squeeze in his stomach; he felt his lips part involuntarily, a hot, overpowering wave of shame surge through his body.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, just breathing, not moving or saying anything, her hand still on his, warmth and reassurance in her touch.

For the first time in eight years, they spoke honestly about what had happened.

"Why didn't you ever write me back?" She asked at last, her voice trembling slightly, as if the very thought of it made tears of regret rise in the corners of her eyes.

He clamped his eyelids shut, sighing heavily, this time it was his fingers that stroked her hand.

"I've tried. I tried so many times. But I was unable to fill the parchment because no words seemed to describe what I was feeling. I couldn't put my thoughts into sentences. Everything that came out from under my hand was the ramblings of a madman and ended up burning in the fire. Then it was too late. I didn't see the point." He said, not believing that these words had left his mouth; he glanced at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, a single, solitary tear ran down the side of her face.

"You didn't even let me explain myself. You didn't give me a chance despite the fact that I've never let you down before." She muttered, and he swallowed loudly, feeling an unbearable tightness in his throat.

"I know."

He took his hand from her grasp and put his arm around her – her body immediately clung to his, entwining with his like a vine, her face sunk into the hollow of his neck, his hand roaming lazily down her back while his lips placed warm, lingering kisses on the top of her head.

They fell asleep for the few hours separating them from dawn in their tight embrace, not like lovers, but like they used to when they were children, holding hands, their foreheads touching.

He felt how, as she awoke, her fingers stroked his cheek gently, her lips placed a warm, soft kiss on his, which he reciprocated with a low murmur of satisfaction, without even opening his eyes.

For the first time in eight years, he felt at peace.

For the first time in eight years, he felt relief.

His closest friend was by his side again.

They were both just dreaming of sleeping on when Criston Cole walked into his chamber announcing that the King had called an immediate meeting of the Small Council in accordance with his wishes.

He sighed heavily, rising slowly from his bed, ordering his servants to prepare a suitable tunic for him. He turned, looking at her over his shoulder, his broad hand stroking her bare calf with a soft, lazy gesture.

"Accompany me. Be by my side."

The sight of her walking behind him as the door of the chamber in which all those gathered sat opened before them did not satisfy his grandfather or his mother.

He pretended not to see their warning glances, instead ordering one of the servants standing nearby to place a second chair right next to his, where he took his seat, placing his sapphire ball in a niche in the stone table.

"Speak, brother." Aegon began without undue politeness or introduction. His mother, his grandfather and Criston Cole were all opposed to their idea, however Lord Lannister and the other houses supporting them were far more accepting of the news that perhaps the whole matter of succession would be resolved without a bloody, kingdom-destroying war.

"Our uncle is as brazen as I remember him to be, however, despite his misgivings, he has not declined our offer. He will certainly pass on our words to our sister. We must wait." He replied truthfully; his mother sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

"What if no son is born to you, Aemond? If it is officially the sons of Rheanyra and Daemon who become heirs, they will kill us all for treason." She said with impatience, grief and horror – he opened his mouth to reply, however his wife forestalled him.

"You may have killed the child in my womb who could have been the heir we so need now. We will never know, will we?" She sneered, and he felt an unpleasant shiver run down his back.

His hand clenched into a fist at the mere memory of what had happened and what she had done next. He looked at his wife's face out of the corner of his eye and swallowed hard, seeing in her expression strenght, determination and confidence.

Just what he needed.

Complete silence fell, his mother lowered her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"As I said, we have to wait. We have done what we could."

The fact that Aegon had agreed to try to come to an agreement over the succession did not mean that either of them were going to give up preparing for a possible war, so they spent the rest of the meeting discussing what they would do if that plan failed. The King then asked his wife to leave; she rose and left without a word, touching his shoulder with her hand beforehand.

Something had changed between them, he could feel it.

As he watched the door close behind her, he realised that after she had decided to come back with him instead of running away with Daemon, after what he had confessed to her the wall that had been piling up between them since the night he had tamed Vhagar had finally collapsed.

When he returned to his quarters he did not find her there, so he headed for her chamber, informing the guards that no one was to disturb them. As he stepped inside he noticed her figure sitting by the window, bent over the embroidery of the Arryn family crest; the sun was beaming down on her face, he could feel a pleasant summer breeze all around her.

She lifted her gaze to him and smiled in a way he knew, one he remembered well from when they were children; what touched him in that look, in that smile, was the confirmation that she felt the same as he did, that she knew that something had finally changed between them, had set in on the right track.

He approached her slowly, involuntarily extending his hand towards her cheek; he watched as she pressed her face into his skin rough from holding the sword and sighed quietly as her lips placed a soft, warm kiss on his palm.

Gods, how he loved her.

He took the cloth from her hand and set it aside, grabbing her waist and lifting her, seating her in front of him on the top of the old wooden table. She stared at him with her eyes wide open, surprised, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath, betraying her uncertainty and excitement; he took a step towards her, so that their faces were almost touching, cupping her cheek in his palms, so soft, so warm.

She smelled of vanilla.

He looked at her, at her bright, warm gaze, at her gentle face, which had so much of that childishness of many years ago in it, while being more mature, more girlish, more tempting; her dark lashes shone in the sunlight as she closed her eyelids feeling his thumb run slowly over her fleshy, moist lower lip.

She was his wife.

What he wanted had truly come true.

She stood before him again, his childhood friend, his lover.

"Rheanys." He whispered and she opened her eyes, looking at him in disbelief; he saw her cheeks flush, her body trembled all over with delight. She raised her hand and he moved away immediately, horrified when he realised she wanted to grab his black eye patch.

"No."

"You're my husband. That's enough." She said regretfully and tiredly, taking his face in her hands. He looked down at her, breathing heavily, his eyebrows arched in uncertainty, in shame, in fear.

"Don't spoil this beautiful day for me." He said at last in a low, hoarse voice. She pressed her lips together as if his words caused her pain, her fingers sliding down his jaw, dropping powerlessly.

"One step forward, two steps back." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling a squeeze in his throat at her words. He sighed loudly through his nose, licking his lower lip with his tongue, fighting with himself.

He didn't know what had happened, what had changed, what had brought him to reach up to his face, to grab his eye patch and pull it off with a sudden, aggressive movement, throwing it impatiently to the ground.

He saw her raise her shoulders high, frightened by his sudden gesture, her lips parted in disbelief, her pupils narrowed as she looked straight at him. He expected her to turn her face away at this sight, to betray herself with a stare full of disgust or fear, but instead her eyes turned red from the tears that had gathered in their corners.

"Come." She whispered, grabbing the material of his tunic with her hand, pulling him closer; he involuntarily took a few steps forward, shocked by her reaction, by her expression, as if what she had seen had moved her greatly, but not in the way he had expected. "Come here."

Her hand lifted higher, to his cheek – he closed his eyes, feeling his whole body freeze as her fingers ran gently over the line along which his scar ran.

"Oh, my dearest, you must have suffered so much. It must have caused you so much pain. For so many, so many months, you must have died every day. Forgive me." She mumbled out in a trembling, breaking voice, from which he pressed his lips together, himself touched for some reason, embittered and grateful at the same time, because for so long he had been waiting for that very look, that very touch and those words from her, just from her.

She kissed him in a way she had never done before – it was neither a child's kiss nor a lover's kiss; it was a caress full of warmth, moisture and care, a tenderness from which he involuntarily closed her in his arms, leaning lower to press himself tighter to her swollen lips.

Their mouths brushed each other lazily, slowly, unhurriedly, as if they had all the time in the world, their hands stroking each other's faces with gentle, calm movements, birdsong all around them, the loud conversations in the courtyard coming from behind the open window and the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

He felt himself shudder each time his lips pressed against hers again, their arms holding them close together, his lungs filling with her scent.

Vanilla.

His manhood slowly began to swell and throb from those wonderfully this innocent caresses full of promise, something they hadn't done before but so desperately needed.

"Make love to me." He whispered into her mouth; she moaned softly, throwing her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, forcing them to join together again in a hot, lazy kiss, which he did eagerly.

Only after a moment did their tongues come out to meet each other, their tips beginning to lick teasingly making them both breathe louder; his hands slid lower to her gown, lifting its material higher, exposing her wonderfully soft, bare thighs.

He let her take care of him, undoing the buckles of his tunic and the tying of his breeches as he kissed with emotion her forehead, her eyebrows, her nose, her cheeks, her temple.

She was his.

It seemed to him that they had gone back in time, to that day when she had kissed him for the first time.

As if what they were doing now was an extension of that moment.

"Do you think we would have persevered until marriage? With staying in chastity." He gasped, sighing quietly in relief when her skilled fingers finally released his desire-sore manhood, his arm drawing her closer as her thighs spread eagerly before him.

He heard her giggle softly, when he lifted his gaze to her he saw pure joy, warmth and love in her eyes, exactly as they had been then, that day.

"If you want, you can believe it, uncle." She replied tauntingly, just as she always did, just as in his fantasies; he snorted at the thought, sinking his hand into her warm womanhood, already leaking with desire. She tilted her head back, sighing with pleasure as his fingertips ran over her throbbing, moist slit.

"What do you imagine would happen?" He continued on, teasing her with the movements of his finger, which slid a little between her tight, wet muscles, pushing them apart, rubbing her rough bud hidden just above her opening. A soft, sweet moan came from her lips as she swallowed loudly, looking up at him from under half-closed eyelids.

"One night, when I would visit you in your chamber, we would begin to touch. Innocently at first, but eventually you would understand what it feels like to clamp your fingers on the soft breast of your beloved woman. You would understand what pleasure lies deep between my thighs." She cooed sweetly; he gasped loudly, embarrassed by how hard his cock pulsed at her words, which did not escape her attention.

"You'd say you wish to feel me just for a moment −" She whispered, with a gentle flick of her hand directing his swollen, hard length between her thighs; they both moaned quietly as he began to push against her and opened her wide on the thick head of his cock with a soft, firm thrust of his hips. "− but we would both know it was a simple lie, spoken only to make us feel less guilty."

A throaty, low groan escaped his lips at that thought; his hands clamped down on her buttocks covered by the material of her gown, with a deep thrust of his hips forcing her to let him inside her. She whimpered, panting heavily along with him, looking at him with her mouth wide open, as if she didn't recognise him.

She put her hand around the back of his neck, the other resting on the table top, trying to catch her balance as he began to root into her with slow, lazy thrusts, sliding out of her almost all the way, only to sink back between her warm, moist muscles a moment later.

"− Aemond −" She mewled, closing her eyes, responding involuntarily with the rocking of her hips to his treatments – it seemed to him that they were both in a state of some kind of ecstasy that nevertheless had more to do with what they had shared when they were children than now, when they were united by fire and blood.

"− and what would you do? − hm? − what would you do if I put it inside you and told you I wouldn't stop until I filled you? −" He breathed out, involuntarily quickening his pace; she moaned pleadingly at his shameless question, her fleshy, hot core clenched tightly around his erection, sucking it inside her, their bodies slapping against each other with loud smacks of skin against skin.

"− I would beg for your seed −" She mumbled out; his hand tightened on her hair at her words, his lips clinging to hers in a greedy, hot kiss full of their tongues and saliva, in a caress not filled with hatred and aggression but pure, hot desire.

"− so fucking beg −" He growled into her mouth between their quick, loud kisses, their lips with a sticky click clinging and pulling away from each other as their bodies found their own pace to pleasure, his thick cock pulsing with desire slamming into her so deep and fast that he seemed to run out of breath, her cheeks and lips all pink with exertion.

"− please, uncle − put your heir inside me −" She whimpered helplessly and that was enough for him – he pressed his forehead against hers, panting loudly, holding her close in a strong embrace in his arms, with a few sloppy, sticky thrusts prolonging the inevitable to finally spill deep inside her. He feel a powerful orgasm shake her body, her head tilted back with a sweet cry of pleasure.

"− yes − yes, oh, gods, uncle, fill me −" She mumbled, her hands drawing him back to her mouth, their lips devouring each other in fierce, moist kisses as the last drops of his spend filled her womb. They both rocked their hips for a while longer with loud clicks of her wetness, panting quietly as they tried to calm their breathing, their hands roaming over their bodies, their eyes closed, focused only on the relief they both felt.

"− this is how I always imagined us − you and me when we were married −" She whispered, and he sighed, understanding what she meant.

Though united by passionate affection, regret, distrust and grief dominated their every approach.

"− my wife begging for my seed is indeed an important part of my vision of a perfect marriage −" He sneered, noticing the amusement in her eyes when she understood that he was teasing her.

That he had returned to her, that she had won him back, that she was looking at the boy she had lost that night.

Her lips parted in disbelief when she noticed that the corner of his mouth lifted upwards, gently, not mockingly, not maliciously.

He smiled.

For the first time in so many years.

He stroked her cheek with his hand as her eyebrows arched in pain, as her eyes glazed over from the tears that ran down her face one by one onto his warm palm.

They kissed again, then again and again, warmly, tenderly, innocently, devotedly, with the affection he had dreamed of for so many years and he thought, hiding this realisation deep in his heart, that this was the happiest day of his life.

The day he got his best friend back.

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #ewan mitchell #prince aemond #aemond smut #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #aemond the kinslayer #aemond fandom #aemond fluff #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #hotd angst #ewan mitchell angst #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #canon aemond #aemond x female #aemond x niece #aemond x strong!niece

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.6k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. n/a

part three: the letters, the saloon and the second storm  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

  vi. the letters

september 2nd 2008 (age 9)

dear jungkook,

  my mom said i should write you letters. i don’t really know what to say here. you better be visiting marshmallow and be nice to her while i’m gone. i miss her a lot. i guess i miss having you around since i don’t have anyone to play guitar hero with…

p.s. happy late birthday maybe i can visit and come to your party next year if my mom lets me

  from y/n

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

january 19th 2009 (age 10)

dear y/n,

  i learned how to skate for the first time. it’s too bad the ice will be gone when you’re back and we won’t get to skate together. i can’t believe we’ll be in middle school soon. are you scared? hoseok and namjoon say it’s not a big deal. also, i saw your grandpa yesterday and he showed me how to use a tapper on a maple tree. so cool!

p.s. you should ask your mom if you can visit earlier this year

  from jungkook

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

april 23rd 2009 (age 10)

HEY JUNGKOOK,

  look inside the box, i sent you a book with this letter. i told you in my last letter that i would send you one. it’s astronomy for dummies (because you’re a dummy). you better read it before i come back to grandpa’s, okay?? you have a month and a half loser.

from y/n

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

september 30th 2009 (age 10)

hi y/n,

  jimin sprained his ankle during gym class. your grandpa told me to write that because it probably just made your day. i feel a little bit bad for him, the nurse at our school is really mean. also i know it’s a month away but i’m so excited for halloween. my dad got me this really cool goku costume. what are you gonna dress up as?

  from jungkook

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

february 4th 2010 (age 11)

jungkook,

  i’m so tired of my parents fighting all the time. all they do is yell. i can’t wait to be back in amber valley so i don’t have to hear them all the time. i wish i had your parents, they’re so nice. also i hate my class. it’s so hard to be friends with the girls that sit next to me, they always leave me out of things. don’t you miss elementary school?

  from y/n

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

may 17th 2010 (age 11)

dear y/n,

  guess what. my dad got me a skateboard!! it’s so cool. if you’re nice to me i’ll let you borrow it. we should see who can do the coolest trick. it’ll be me of course i’m better than you at everything LOL. you better hurry and come back!

  from jungkook

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

november 25th 2010 (age 11)

hi jungkook, 

  i can’t believe i’ll only be living with my dad soon. do you think my mom doesn’t want me? honestly, i’d rather just live with grandpa all the time. then i could see marshmallow everyday all year! or maybe you can convince your mom to take me in. actually, i take that back, i could never live with you. you’re so messy. 

p.s. i got my own skateboard!! it’s cold now but i’m gonna practice and bring it with me next summer

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ***

february 18th 2011 (age 12)

y/n,

  i know you’re super sad and stuff. i’m sorry about your parents. we’re gonna have the best summer ever though and maybe you won’t think so much about it. look at the bucket list i made!

eat breakfast for dinner

watch the captain america movie

ride the big kids ride at the midsummer fair (i’m tall enough now so you better be too)

stay up all night

make ice cream

  if you have any ideas, add on! hope you’re doing okay :( 

  from jungkook

  vii. the saloon

when jungkook mentioned the saloon to you, you thought it was a joke poking at the countryside life. 

  “oh, it’s actually called a saloon. like, unironically. that’s what the text said,” you rambled into your phone, edged between your ear and shoulder, as you stood in your kitchen in front of your laptop.

  on the screen, you were assembling an excel sheet of sorts to assist your navigation through the business side of the farm. thankfully, this was exactly the field you had long worked and studied in and knowing this before taking on your new role made the transition far easier. there was hardly any product to be profiting from, as you had just arrived, and you were preparing the document before the time came to deal with vendors and other local businesses.

  “oh, honey, that place has actually been called ‘the saloon’ ever since i was a little girl,” your mom’s voice chimed in from the other end.

  since the turn of your early twenties, your phone calls to your parents were far and few between and you could hear the surprise in her tone when she initially picked up. but, your grandpa’s letter seemed to be growing truer everyday, as your surroundings made drew you to reconnect with what you thought was to be lost.

  eyebrows furrowed, you continued to scroll through your work. “mom, do you think he meant it as a date? i can’t do a date, i literally just got here!”

  “calm down. it’s that amber valley hospitality. but,” your mom paused, “you did have crushes on each other growing up.”

  “mom, no way - “

  she merely laughed. “it was so obvious! you mailed a valentine’s day card to jungkook every year. one time, he punched little jimin because he called you ‘jungkook’s ugly girlfriend.’”

  “and then he screamed that i wasn’t ugly. huh, i do remember that,” you began to think. 

  spending time reminiscing with your mom momentarily distracted you from the anxiety you felt, waiting for the evening to come. jungkook did end up texting you, asking if you were coming down to the saloon for the birthday surprise. you looked away and closed your eyes when you pressed ‘send’ on the confirmation that you would drop by.

  the idea made you nervous only because it had been so long since you went out and met new people. there was no such thing as free time in your old life and you really only maintained surface-level friendships with your coworkers in your last year of the job.  however, knowing amber valley and the tight-knit community, it was only a matter of time before you got acquainted with everyone, whether you liked it or not.

  by the time it was six, you’d forced yourself to get changed and inspected your outfit several times before leaving. the last thing you wanted to do was stand out too much. so, you put on your favourite denim jeans and a plain long sleeve top, putting away your go-to strappy stilettos for the night. 

  making your way into town was quick and soon enough, you found the pub situated in between the flower shop and the hardware store. it definitely looked like it’d been around since your mom was a little girl, the exterior siding showing age with chips here and there. 

  “hey y/n.”

  you jumped, having not paid attention to your surroundings. turning around, it was taehyung holding a box adorned in magenta polka dot wrapping. he wore a similar outfit to the one from the day before, except a different cowboy hat. you wondered if there was a store in town that specialized in selling just these hats.

  “hi taehyung. is this for jin?” you offered a smile, gesturing to the box.

  a pleased grin formed on taehyung’s face. “yup. i’m pretty sure i got him the best gift out of everyone, but don’t tell anyone.”

  he walked ahead of you and opened the door, pausing. you realized he was opening it for you and you quickly thanked him, going right in. small town hospitality. 

  it was saturday evening, but to your surprise, there were hardly any patrons in the bar. taehyung then pointed to a sign by the door, which you missed completely. it read: ‘private event, invite only.’ 

  “oh, wow, am i v.i.p?” you joked, following him to the back of the room, where a stack of presents were grouped on one table. 

  “of course! you’re jungkook’s friend, after all,” he exclaimed, setting his box down with the others. “you guys go way back, huh? how long has it been since you guys since saw each other?”

  you counted in your head. “i think twelve or thirteen years. a while.”

  “what, no facebook back in the day?” he teased.

  “no, he was never nearly fond of that. after i stopped coming for the summers, we lost contact completely.” you couldn’t recall any attempts for continued communication afterwards, other than your grandpa offering updates here and there about him. “we used to write, but i don’t know what happened. . .”

  for a while, you wondered why jungkook never wrote you again after you stopped coming to the valley. admittedly, looking back, it hurt your preteen self that he never tried. but, eventually, you moved on and left jungkook in your childhood.

  taehyung nodded slowly. “so. . .you didn’t know about what happened?”

  you already knew what he was talking about and squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. “no. i felt really bad about it.”

  “it’s okay. since i moved to town, i’ve really admired jungkook. if there’s any sort of pain, he hides it really well for the sake of others,” he said, leaning on the wall.

  that sounded like the jungkook you remembered. he was always the type to put others before himself, no matter how small the issue. then, you began thinking about jiwon.

  “taehyung, can i ask you something?” you suddenly said. “jiwon. she’s only nine. and jungkook doesn’t have any other family. . .”

  the smile at the corner of taehyung’s lips was sad. “yeah. jungkook is her primary guardian and has been since he was nineteen.”

  the answer seemed to weigh a hundred pounds and you had to take a second to take it all in. there were so many questions that formed, floating around your head and you couldn't seem to find the words to articulate any of them. before you could even try, you jumped again at the sudden appearance of two new individuals, one of them being jungkook himself and forced you to put away your thoughts.

  “we’re behind schedule, did yoongi put the cake in the fridge?” this new person was turned to taehyung, carrying a case of beer. “we need - oh, hi! y/n! i totally remember you, i heard you were back!”

  you’d never seen someone with such energy, exhibiting positivity like a ray of sunshine. it seemed like he was genuinely delighted to see you. taking a closer look at his features, you recognized him to be jung hoseok - jungkook’s next door neighbour. he put down the case in his hands and immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug.

  “hoseok, hi!” you winced, trying your best to hug him back, but it certainly made you burst into a giggle.

  he was the first person to remember you on the spot, which took you aback. a few years older than you, you weren’t as close with him as you were with jungkook growing up, but he was always around. you remember him as the big brother who showed you and jungkook the cool ‘older kid’ shows and games that your parents would have never let you watch at that young age. 

  “how have you been? you look so grown up! you’re really staying here for good?” the questions were rapid-fire, one after another.

  beside him, jungkook was smiling, but tapped hoseok to bring him back into the main conversation. “hyung. hyung! we’re behind schedule, remember?” he groaned, but grinned wider when you met his eyes. “nice to see you, though, bunny. really glad you came.”

  “oh, right.” hoseok quickly let go and cleared his throat, beginning to point to each of you with authority. “you, taehyung. go help jimin with the slideshow. namjoon has the pinata.”

  pinata? how old was this jin person, was he one of jiwon’s friends?

  “you, jungkook. jin said he’s five minutes away, we need you to distract him for a bit longer.”

  “can i help?” you piped in, feeling a bit out of place. “i mean, i’m here as a last minute guest, i’m happy to help in any way.”

  hoseok clapped his hands together in glee. “thank you, y/n! go help jungkook distract jin, you being there will give him a reason to yap on. let’s go team!” he raised his fist in encouragement and in the blink of an eye, he already dashed off. 

  at this, jungkook seemed unfazed and frankly, so were you. you remember hoseok’s personality to be like this - extremely vigorous and could never sit in one place. on the other hand, taehyung looked perplexed as much as he appeared amused. he only shrugged, picking up the case of beer that hoseok clearly forgot.

  “let’s go team, i guess. i’ll see you guys in a bit!” taehyung chuckled, walking off.

  you were expecting to be asked to move around chairs or help bring out food. this wasn’t quite in your cards. you turned to jungkook in confusion, who chuckled at your expression.

  “come follow me.”

  he led the two of you back out the saloon, hands in his jean pockets. the early summer air was stunningly humid and coming outside was like hitting a muggy and sticky wall. but, there was one thing that couldn’t be replaced.

  you couldn’t help but stare up at the sky, a fixed gaze. “you can really see the stars when you’re in the valley.”

  the stars, dotted across the night, twinkled and smiled down at you. it was a view that others only romanticized and dreamt of in carefully crafted paintings and poems made to move the soul. and now, this dream was your new home. 

  jungkook mimicked the way you tilted your head up, lost with his own gaze. “i’ve lived here all my life and i never get tired of it.”

  “i can’t believe i forgot about this. . .” you trailed off.

  he pointed out to the sky. “that one is ursa major and you can see - “

  “ - the big dipper,” the two of you said in unison, which led to a shared laughter. 

astronomy was one of your biggest interests growing up, having stacks of books and a tapestry of the night sky in your childhood bedroom. your bedroom in the farmhouse also had a shelf full of astronomy books, which your grandpa still kept until his passing. having ignored the task of organizing and arranging your new bedroom, which was the same room you occupied over your summers in amber valley, you made a note to go through this shelf when you arrived home.

  jungkook said, “you’re the one that taught me about that,” he turned back to you. “you actually used to randomly quiz me on constellations, it was really stressful.”

  you could see your younger self sitting on your grandpa’s porch steps with jungkook, who lazied on the hammock across from you. you would compile actual multiple-choice questions and threw pebbles at him whenever he got an answer wrong. eventually, your grandpa scolded you for that, so you changed your weapon of choice to toy balls.

  “i guess my lessons paid off, though,” you bantered.

  following this, you heard a person shout jungkook’s name. you looked over and saw a man walking in your direction. he was tall and handsome and his smile was inviting. a little too handsome, he reminded you of models you’d seen in high fashion ads. his clothes contributed to the image, a patterned short sleeve button down and t-shirt that gave off neat and put-together. he wore jeans like what seemed to be 90 percent of the town, but you noticed the luxury brand belt. 

  “oh, seokjin!” to this, jungkook nudged you, as if signalling for you to be ready for something.

  this was jin? the birthday boy with a pinata? he had to be around hoseok’s age.

  “hey! hoseok told me to meet him here, have you see him?” seokjin began looking around. “he is working tonight, right?”

  “uh, did he?” jungkook’s tone was not convincing and you couldn’t believe the hoseok made such a horrible liar be the distraction. “i think he is, want me to call him?”

  “um, yeah. he said he was returning something he borrowed from me.” seokjin looked at him strangely. “why don’t i just go inside and check? why are you just waiting out here?”

  “this is y/n!” jungkook suddenly blurted out, seemingly having no way around the conversation. his smile was painful and avoided making eye contact.

  your eyes went wide and seokjin turned to you, having not realized there was another person in his presence. “oh, i’m so sorry! i didn’t see you there.”

  “yeah, hi, that’s me. y/n.” this time, it was jungkook looking at you like you were the least convincing person in the world. you cleared your throat and offered a handshake to seokjin.

  seokjin didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness and took your hand. “it’s really nice to meet you. jungkook actually told me a lot about you!” it was subtle, but you could hear jungkook groan. 

  you raised your eyebrows at jungkook. “oh, did he?” 

  “you guys grew up together, right? and you’re taking over the old farm?” 

  although you could tell right off the bat that seokjin wasn’t from amber valley, his deamanour was just as welcoming and friendly. he asked you a few questions about where you’re from and how settling in was. 

  “i’m sure you’ll be a natural. it sounds like you already have a lot of experience!” seokjin exclaimed and his positivity gave you genuine reassurance. “we’re all friends around here, so don’t be shy to reach out if you need anything.”

  “thank you,” you replied.

  jungkook tried to regain his composure. “seokjin runs the bakery down the street.”

  “yeah! my wife and i used to buy eggs from your grandpa all the time, hopefully we can keep doing that,” seokjin winked at you. 

  then, the front door of the saloon cracked open just enough for hoseok to poke his head outside. there was no sign of activity from the inside, with the lights now off and all voices coming to a complete silence. 

  seokjin tilted his head slightly when looking at hoseok. “there you are. are you. . closed? the bar is closed on a saturday night?” he asked.

  “yeah, uh, plumbing issues,” hoseok’s eyes darted over to you and jungkook. “y/n, jungkook! what brings you here around this time of day? you should all come in!”

  despite the growing skepticsm etched on his face, seokjin glanced over to you two and shrugged. he followed his friend’s gesture to come inside. 

  you mumbled to jungkook, “you and your friends are all terrible liars.” to this, jungkook stifled a laugh and playfully jabbed his elbow into your arm. 

  hoseok opened the door wider and seokjin went in first, while you and jungkook trailed after. you were surprised at how well they made the interior appear deserted, with not a single soul in sight. you did noticed that they even stacked the chairs on the tables, as if the establishment was really closed.

  “by the way, hoseok is the manager of the saloon,” jungkook leaned into your ear and whispered. 

  the floorboards creaked with every step, only adding onto the heavy silence in the atmosphere. seokjin looked around, eyebrows furrowed. he cleared his throat, hoping to cut the awkward tension.

  seokjin started, “so, y/n, what happened with you and ju - “

  “surprise!”

  all of the lights flickered on and filled the room. upbeat music turned on suddenly, causing seokjin to jump and yelp. two dozen or so people popped out from random places - underneath the booths, from behind the walls, and from behind the bar. balloons and streamers began spilling out from out of nowhere.

  “happy birthday seokjin!” everyone yelled in unison.

  you awkwardly tried to join in once you caught onto what everyone was saying. despite that, the high energy ended up engulfing you and you couldn’t help but smile. some of the boys started throwing streamers at seokjin, while namjoon appeared from under the bar with a lit chocolate cake and began approaching the birthday boy in question.

  “thanks, y/n!” hoseok nudged you, as everyone began singing to seokjin. “it’s exciting that you’re around again!” 

  as the song concluded and seokjin enthusastically blew out his candles, you cheered along with everyone else. over the cheering, jungkook found his way to you again. he raised his hand, offering a high-five, which you immediately accepted.

  something about the atmosphere unlocked something inside you. within days, you were welcomed into the community and for the first time in a long time, saw people that could become your actual friends. maybe this was what your grandpa was talking about.

  “yeah,” jungkook added, “it is exciting that you’re around again.”

  “real connections. . .” you muttered to yourself, remembering the contents of your grandpa’s letter.

  the yelling got louder, as the partygoers chanted for seokjin to make a speech. “huh, what did you say?” jungkook shouted over the chanting. 

  “nothing!” 

  you weren’t prepared for the next part of grandpa’s wish for you. it was a surprise to you that you were able to ease into the town and become comfortable connecting with the people around you. at the end of the day, though, you had a farm to run and you were about to face the worst of it. 

  viii. the second storm

your grandpa’s last wishes for you were to reconnect with people and nature. nature. you didn’t realize what you were getting yourself into.

  “oh my god! why does mother nature hate me?!”

  the best thing about living in a big farmhouse by yourself was the fact that you could make as much noise as you wanted. you often found yourself yelling at the top of your lungs, shrieking like a bird when you came across anything frustrating. considering you were learning an entirely new job on your own, it happened quite often.

  you screamed into the void after your first phone call with a vendor, who kept on asking you if you knew what you were doing. you swore you almost broke your vocal cords when you sunk into the mud the first time you checked out the fields after a rainy night. at least you walked away several metres from the coop before you screeched in agony after the chickens gave you a hard morning on time. 

  when a soft knock on your front door interrupted your emotional breakdown, your heart stopped. 

  “fuck!” you whispered to yourself.

  who would be visiting you? what if it was someone important, like mayor kim? maybe they didn’t hear - no, they definitely heard. 

  you tentatively approached the door and took a deep breathe before swinging it open.

  “i didn’t know you started tending to hyenas on the farm.”

  it was jungkook with a lazy, shit-eating grin. it was early in the morning, about 8am, and he wore workout clothes. baggy grey sweatpants and a white nike tank-top, you felt like you were straining to keep your eyes on his face and not anywhere else. 

  “oh, shut it. good morning to you, too,” you shot back. “to what do i owe the pleasure?”

  “sorry, i would’ve texted, but i was already passing by on my run,” jungkook said.

  it’d been about a week since you last saw him, though he was nice enough to check in on you every once in a while to see if you were doing okay with the farm. you hardly left home, used to the same routine of working and going right to bed everyday from your old life and the habit was hard to break. 

  he continued, “anyway, i saw your windows hanging from outside and i just wanted to make sure - “

  you opened the front door wider for him to see the state of your front entryway and his jaw dropped. there was water everywhere on the floor. the storm from the night before was aggressive and the age of the house couldn’t stand it. you didn’t anticipate for it to be this bad, having just shoved the windows closed before you went to bed.

  “yeah, they’re wrecked,” you sighed, looking over to what was left of it, considering most of it was on the ground. “actually, that’s why i was screaming.”

  “you know, i take what i said back. totally justified.”

  “thanks,” you rolled your eyes and sighed. he made a gesture as if to come in and you obliged, carefully stepping aside and making sure you weren’t stepping in a puddle. “i’m surprised this hasn’t happened before.”

  he let out a low whistle, as he walked inside and took in the sight of your floors. “honestly, me neither. you would think this would’ve happened already ages ago.”

  you didn’t know what else to do but shrug. “i can handle it.” despite your words, you certainly could not handle it. there were still a million things you had to take care of around the farm and dealing with broken windows and water was an incredible burden that you didn’t know where to start.

  “shit. look, i have to go to work in a bit, but let me help you out,” jungkook said. 

  you instantly shook your head. “jungkook, no. it’s fine, really, i got it.”

  “you’ve never picked up a screwdriver in your life.”

  “hey, you don’t know that!” you wanted to slap him upside the head like from when you were kids, but found the strength to refrain.

  it was only jokes and jungkook’s smirk showed it, but his tone then became serious. “okay, then, at least let me help you fix your windows. dude, you live alone in this big ass house on this big ass farm. just say yes.” 

  at this point, you could tell he was exasperated with your stubborness and you laughed at it. you weren’t one to turn down someone offering to do manual labour for you, but you were hesitant to show any lack of indepdence. though, something told you to say yes and it wasn’t jungkook’s annoyance with your persistence. 

  “okay, fine. you’re real annoying, you know that?” you had to add in the last part, it was only natural. 

  he shook his head. “thank you - oh, how lucky i am for milady to accept my lousy, peasant self to fix your windows!” at that, you shoved him playfully and when he barely moved from your push, jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle. 

  “i know you’re perfectly capable of doing things yourself, by the way. you just shouldn’t have to all the time,” he gave you a pointed look. 

  you nodded slowly, looking down at your feet. “thank you, jungkook.” 

  though it was only 8 in the morning, you decided to take a later start in the day, since you usually woke up at the crack of dawn. you had your entire day ahead of you and what felt like a hundred things to do and the last thing you wanted to add was a trip to the hardware store.

  “of course,” he carefully tiptoed around the water, moving back to the front door. “it’s what friends are for. i’ll come by tomorrow morning, how’s that sound?”

  this is not what you meant when you decided to “reconnect with nature” at all. with your fluffy indoor slippers soaked in rainwater, you were certainly more than connected with it. you made a mental note to visit the beach and call it a day, hoping that would fulfill your grandpa’s wish for you to be one with mother earth and that the forces of nature would leave you alone after that.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822 @seokoutt @firelcrds @taiwan0618

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts series #jungkook au #*** / the farmhouse.

[fuxuannie]

╭₊˚ ๑︰𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏

:★: relationship : (seperate) miles morales & hobie brown x g-neutral reader

:★: warnings : reader is dead, not super sad just an idea i had

:★: a/n : STREAM RADIO SILENT BY JOMM PLZZZ its sooo good, this song is based by the general idea i got behind it. also i LIED im still gonna post even if im on the verge of passinf out 🔥🔥

:★: tags : finding you again in an alternative univere, sort of bittersweet ??, yearning to see you again

When MILES first stepped foot into the Spider-Society, he was amazed by the amount of Spiderpeople around him. While he was walking and talking with Gwen, he notices a familiar behind her that passed by.

He immediately paused, Gwen urged him to move forward but he's frozen in place. Not far away, he sees your unforgettable smile as you talk with one of the many Spidermen around. "Gwen, is that.."

At first, she gave him a confused look before she followed his gaze and realized exactly what he was looking at. "Miles.. you know it's not them, come on." But even as she tugs on his wrist, he's almost stuck in a trance as he watches you laugh and playfully nudge the person you're with.

At some point, it didn't take you long to see the stranger staring at you as if you're his dead lover that's happy and alive in another universe.. which really wasn't far off. You turn a bit over and wave, smiling a little as Miles' heart twists in a stinging pain.

Only then does he move, mostly because he can't bare to see that smile. An ever so unecessary reminder of the person he lost.

HOBIE knew there were many variants and all kinds of universes with their Spider-person, the possibilities were limitless.

But he wished they weren't as limitless, as a Spider-variant of you stands infront of him with a smile. "Hobart Brown, right?" You inquired, him nodding his head. "That's so cool! I have my own Hobie in my earth, and you're exactly how he imagines himself as Spiderman!"

He takes off his mask, a rather sad smile as he chuckles and puts his hands on your shoulder. "I'm sure he cares you alot, love." And his heart can't handle seeing you giggle. "I know."

"How about you? How am I in your dimension?"

The question takes him aback, all the while his eyes widening slightly. It was an innocent question, really. But it brings back a wave of memories he tries so hard to forget.

"We.. we were perfect."

#˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ bailu's candy stash #atsv x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #miles morales x reader #hobart brown x reader #miles morales x you #hobie brown x reader

[disneyprincemuke]

stay cool, it’s just a kiss

alternatively: it’s flawless, really something

in which they roll up to the front porch after their first date and logan can’t seem to wrap up the date as he typically does

“that was very,” she clears her throat, her smile growing slightly as she walks up to the door of the house, “i had a lot of fun.”

logan grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “this is kinda weird, isn’t it?”

she laughs. she looks back at the house momentarily and turns back to him. “it’s one way to end the date — ending up in the same place. is it weird that we already live together before we go went on a date?”

he shrugs with a small smile. he takes a step towards her. “well, don’t make it weird.”

“i’m not!” she shrieks, dropping her head in embarrassment. “i was asking genuinely!”

silence falls between them at the front porch steps of the place they spent years together in.

the date had gone amazingly well. logan stuck to his promise of making it up to her after the stunt he pulled in the bahamas. opened doors, drove her, paid the bill and everything. it’s very sweet and endearing, and he had even reached over at some point to hold her hand.

on the drive home, she couldn’t help but look over at him, focused on the road as he tries not to turn his head to dreamily stare at her. which he’s done all night, and it was starting to worry her when he was behind the wheel.

she never knew watching someone drive could send her mind into a frenzy.

“so, um,” logan sighs, tapping his foot on the ground. “thing is, i can’t pull any of my usual moves on you like i usually do.”

“what do you mean?” a small smile spreads her lips as she stares up at him in confusion.

“i wasn’t the best guy to try and date before this,” logan admits. “you know that — you get all the stories from me. i can’t do that to you.”

“am i an alien? what separates me from your other girls?”

he rolls his eyes. “you know what makes you different.”

she shakes her head and takes a step forward. her hands are shaking, her mind is operating at a million kilometres an hour as she took that daunting step. it isn’t like her to be so forward. “i actually don’t.”

logan would never admit but he’s known, even several years back, that her eyes were a different level of hypnotising. he could get lost in her eyes every single time he looked in.

“don’t make me say it.”

his eyes flicker to her lips, then back up at her eyes. he knows that she saw him hesitate because he catches her glance at the way his hands flinched, restraining himself from grabbing her and sandwiching her between his body and the door.

she scoffs dryly. he raises his eyebrows when she closes up the gap between them, chests pressed against one another. “are you going to kiss me?”

he breathes out shakily. “what?”

“it’s not like we’ve never kissed before,” she says in a low voice. she loops a finger around his pants’ belt loop and pulls him in. “why are you holding back?”

“come o–“

he doesn’t get to protest against her best wishes when she wraps her hands around his neck, pulling him down into her to connect their lips.

the reality is that at the end of dates, he would typically bring the girl to bed. and, well, it’s not that easy in this situation. not only is this girl his best friend, they also live in the same house. it’s just not right.

and she’s so pure, so innocent, and so fresh to things like a relationship.

it’s just not the same.

she bunches up the material of his jacket in her hands as their lips move against one another, taking another bold step forward to press herself up against him.

his hands come up to tangle themselves in her hair, stumbling forward. the effect she has on his is just absurd — coming undone in her presence after he branded himself as someone with a tough exterior.

“logan,” she mutters breathlessly, pulling away momentarily.

he hums in response, crashing his lips back onto hers. his hands move down to her back, squeezing the skin in the area. “god, do you have any idea how long i’ve wanted this with you?”

“just do it. i’m all yours.” she smiles against his lips and nods. logan pulls away, holding her in the spot with wet lips and staggered breaths.

she looks up at him with wide eyes, lips parted and a glimmer in her eyes that logan’s never seen before. “what’s wrong?”

“you know i can’t do this to you,” logan sighs, shaking his head. in perspective, he simply can’t treat her the way he does with every other girl. it’s not the same.

perhaps it’s the fact that they’d grown up together, or that he feels like he owes a lot of his success to her family for taking him in when he needed a family to lean on.

he just can’t take advantage of her like that.

“you’re… you’re young.” logan steps away and scratches his head. “we need to take this slow. i told you — you’re not just any other girl to me. it’s different. this is different.”

her expression doesn’t falter. if anything, it looks like she swooning even more than before. she smiles with an understanding nod. “okay.”

he smiles, swiping his thumb across her cheek gently. “i’ll show you what it’s actually like to be with me. i’ll take care of you, okay?”

@myxticmoon

#short one #i miss them!!! #ugh #fucking logan and femdriver #i think of them all the time btw #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial #f1 fanfic

[jadedvibes]

Easy

Summary: An impromptu night out at a local speakeasy results in you waking up next to your crush.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, alcohol, shy!reader, drunk shenanigans, dancing, lots of fluff, flirting and cuddles, swearing, very minor angst, modern au.

Word Count: 4.2k

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

“C’mon, you have to come out with us tonight! It’ll be so fun,” Sharon exclaimed. 

Steve walked into your living room. “Yeah, come with us, it’s been forever since we all went out together.”

“Ahh, I wish I could. There’s a new episode of my favorite murder podcast that dropped and I need to catch up. Busy night,” you insisted. 

You couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel whenever you went out with the couple. While you loved spending time with them, getting drunk and being in their company usually led to you feeling quite lonely. You weren’t usually a sad drunk, but lately whenever you drank you couldn’t help but long for something similar to what they had. Pairing alcohol with a sappy couple to watch felt like a recipe for a minor breakdown, and you weren’t up for that. 

“What if I said I got the password for that newly renovated speakeasy we’ve been wanting to check out?” Steve quirked an eyebrow. 

Your ears perked up, you had all been wanting to check out that elusive bar since it reopened. Taking a moment to contemplate, you considered sucking it up and going just for the cool venue. But unfortunately it wasn’t enough to change the way you were feeling, so you shook your head. “Maybe another time.”

Steve nodded, “That’s too bad, Bucky’s coming out with us tonight and I thought it’d be nice for the four of us to spend some time together.”

Your wide eyes flickered to Sharon, a subtle smirk on her lips. You cleared your throat and looked down, not wanting Steve to know you had a crush on his roommate. “He’s um, gonna be there?”

“Yeah, he texted me confirming it a little while ago.”

Sharon chimed in, “It’ll be fun, promise. And if you’re not feeling it, we can go home or stop at a diner before calling it a night.” 

“Well I guess that’s true… okay yes, I’ll go.”

The prospect of spending some time with Bucky would have gotten you to tag along just about anywhere. And while you didn’t know him very well, boy did you want to. 

Sharon noticed the way you were eyeing him after you met him for the first time a few weeks back, and ever since she’s tried to convince you to make a move or stop by their apartment with her. You’d only seen him a few times in passing, but he had made an impact. Enough for your brain to fantasize and wish to know more. 

Nevertheless, you were scared, afraid of the potential rejection and subsequent embarrassment that could come if you put yourself out there. 

Meeting up as a group at a dusky bar was a good alternative. 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

The ride over was faster than expected, stepping out of the subway, you trailed behind the happy couple as they walked hand in hand to the nightclub across the street. You missed the dark-haired man lingering near the entrance until Steve greeted him.

“Hey Buck, you didn’t wait long did you?” Steve asked.

“No, I just walked over a minute ago. Nice to see you ladies,” he gave you and Sharon a broad, radiant smile. His gaze lingered on yours for a second before returning to his best friends. “Shall we?”

Steve nodded and the four of you headed inside. Bucky let Steve and Sharon walk in first, then trailed closely behind you – you suppressed a smile when you felt his hand ghost along your lower back, gently navigating you through the throngs of patrons. 

The front end of the bar was busy, with loud music blasting as people lined the bar, others sitting in the booths on the opposite side of the room. A little ways in was a dance floor, with lasers beaming over the people gleefully dancing. 

The dance floor was packed, so Steve looked to you and Bucky, gesturing towards the black door at the very back of the club. Your final destination was through that door. You nodded and he went on to lead Sharon through the crowd. 

Before you could feel yourself get overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people you’d have to amble through, you felt Bucky’s hand leave your lower back to grab yours firmly. With your hand securely in his, he guided you through the swaying people with ease, ensuring your path was clear, until all too quickly you were in front of the door. You felt a tinge of disappointment when he released your hand, but he had no reason to hold it any longer; it was lovely while it lasted. 

Steve spoke the password through a small retractable window in the door, and then the door opened. The moment you all walked in you felt an entirely different vibe; red smoky dim lighting, a live band playing soft jazz in the corner, vintage boudoir art lining the exposed brick walls, and a couple bartenders in vests and bow ties to complete the aura. It was a stunning blast from the past, and as an added bonus there weren’t nearly as many people inside the speakeasy. 

You settled into a crimson leather booth seated next to Bucky, opposite Steve and Sharon. The ambience was more laid back inside and you felt at ease because of it. 

A waitress in a black flapper costume came over to take your drink orders – the novelty of the place was their specially crafted beverages; mint julep, white linen, gin rickey, the bees knees and numerous more carefully chosen to fit the prohibition era theme. Sharon quickly suggested a round of vodka for the table to start, and you all placed your drink orders to get those going too.  

“It’s good to see you out, Buck,” Sharon said. 

“Yeah, it’s been a while. It’s really nice to see the both of you,” he turned and grinned at you. 

His adorable smile brought a flutter to your chest, and you were grateful that the waitress reemerged with the vodka shots before you had to reply. 

After you all grabbed a shot glass, Steve raised his, and you all followed suit. “Alright, to a great night, with even better company,” he beamed. 

Everyone clinked their glasses together in agreement and then to the wood of the table before throwing their shots back. The clear spirit warmed your chest as it went down, and you knew you were in for an interesting night. 

“I love this bar, Steve. I’m so glad you picked it,” you finally chimed in. 

“Oh it wasn’t me, it was Bucky. He sent me the password.”

Turning to the man beside you, “You’re into this kinda thing?” you asked in disbelief. 

He gave off dive bar or maybe EDM club vibes, you’d never peg him for a jazzy gin joint kind of guy. 

Bucky let out a laugh. “Well, you mentioned it was finishing up with renovations the last time I saw you. It sounded interesting, so I figured why not check it out with you guys.” 

“Hmm,” you nodded with a grin. You were surprised he remembered. 

The waitress returned with your drinks once more, and this time you put in the order for another round of shots. Bucky looked at you amusedly and you shrugged – you were in a beautiful bar with the best company, and you were gonna enjoy it. 

Conversation flowed easily, just as the drinks; the liquor making quick work of easing your shyness. Not long after you were very glad you came out, because you were enjoying yourself immensely. Bucky’s company and attention made you feel comfortable and nowhere near how you felt when you third-wheeled. 

Whenever Steve and Sharon would fall off into their own tangents, you had him to goof around with. You were happy and far from lonesome. 

In no time at all, Steve pulled Sharon away to dance on the little dance floor in front of the band, leaving you alone with Bucky. You smiled to yourself when you saw Steve pull her into him, swinging her around to the beat. Seeing the way Steve cared for her, how well they meshed together, gave you some hope in the matter of love. Good guys did exist, and perhaps they were closer than you thought. 

When you returned your attention to Bucky, he had his elbow on the table, propping up his chin as he gazed at you softly. Heat rose to your cheeks and you mirrored his form, propping up your own face so that you could look at him. This was the first moment you had alone with Bucky, and you were happy about that. 

“Hi,” Bucky whispered shyly, his eyes holding yours. 

You couldn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. “Hi, Buck.” 

His smile broke free when he heard you utter his nickname; your voice softly enchanting him with just two words. “Thanks for coming out tonight, I really wanted you to,” he confessed. 

“You did?” you asked, unconsciously letting out a dreamy sigh. 

Bucky nodded his head before chuckling to himself. “Big time.” He looked at you with a dopey grin on his face, the alcohol or more likely his nerves brought a blush to his cheeks. 

You giggled, bringing your hand up to cover your smile because he was just too damn cute and he was making you feel things; the kind of things that sent butterflies to your belly and a stirring warmth to your chest. He reached out for your hand upon its descent to the table, clasping his large one around yours. His relaxed grip felt casual – as if holding your hand was second nature and normal. 

The hammering in your heart at his touch begged to differ; his hold was new and exciting.

The waitress returned with another round of drinks, and you settled on trying the mint julep this time. Bucky thanked the waitress but kept holding your hand as he reached for his old fashioned. You followed suit, clinking glasses before taking a sip, relishing the close proximity you shared with your crush. 

“Oh my god, Bucky. This is so good! You have to try it!” you exclaimed enthusiastically, sliding him the drink. 

“Really?” He picked it up and took a sip. His eyes widened, a satisfied smile crossing his features. “Wow, that is really good.” 

“Right?” you happily sipped your drink. Your heart finally calmed to a normal rate because of how effortless it felt to be with him. No awkwardness, no self-consciousness, simply the wonderful present moment. 

Steve and Sharon returned to the table excitedly, the song ending and another slowly beginning. You thought about releasing Bucky’s hand, but decided against it; he made no move and you were happy as you were. The couple slid into the booth, gleefully knocking back their new drinks, paying no mind to you and him. 

Bucky squeezed your hand. “Hey, did you wanna dance?”

The new ballad was much slower and more romantic. Biting your lip, you nodded your head. 

With his fingers intertwined with yours, you followed as he led you out of the booth and onto the dance floor. 

You wound your arms around his neck as he splayed his hands across your back, holding you close. Swaying together, you were oblivious to anything but the music and him. His deep blue gaze held yours, and he hoped you couldn’t feel the way his heart was pounding. And when he brought his thumb up to gently stroke your cheekbone, you wished he couldn’t feel your heart speed up just the same. 

“You’re really pretty, Buck,” you blurted out before your mind could process your words. Your eyes widened upon your realization and you quickly tucked your face under his neck to hide your embarrassment. 

Bucky’s chest rumbled under your ear as he chuckled. “Baby, don’t go all shy on me now,” he gently coaxed you to look at him, nudging your chin with his fingers until your eyes were back on his.

Staring at him blankly, you waited for the mean joke that your honest admission would elicit. Instead you felt his warm lips press a kiss to your forehead. “You are the most beautiful girl, and you’re so damn adorable too. You never have to hide from me, okay?” Gracefully he spun you out, letting you twirl, before pulling you back up against his hard body. 

“Okay,” you murmured, entranced by his eyes, heart racing as he pulled you even closer. His chest was pressing against yours, and if you weren’t drunk already you knew you would have been from his proximity alone. 

This was what you wanted. The chance to see if the gorgeous guy you’d only met a handful of times was as nice as he seemed. Surprisingly, he was even kinder. 

Being with him felt natural. The conversations, the playfulness, and the ease you felt in his presence. While you anticipated apprehension, instead all you felt was familiarity despite the limited time you’d known him. It didn’t make sense, but in your inebriated state you weren’t going to question it. 

You were going to embrace it.

The song ended and he wordlessly led you back to the booth, releasing his hand, you slipped into your seat. But as soon as you were both situated back in place, you wrapped your arm around Bucky’s, clinging to him and his comforting warmth. Bucky grinned to himself before softly kissing your temple and settling his hand on your knee. Inhibitions were out the window and neither of you could keep your hands to yourself.  

Steve and Sharon looked at you two amusedly, cheeky smiles spread across their features. 

“Hey guys,” Sharon broke the silence. “Good dance?” 

“Mhm,” you mumbled, taking a big sip of your drink. Bucky whispered in your ear asking if you wanted the luxardo cherry in his drink, and you giggled before nodding. 

Steve nudged Sharon, wordlessly asking her not to press you two about your sudden affection. The couple watched on as Bucky playfully brought the cocktail skewer with the cherry toward your mouth before you captured it between your teeth. 

“Thank ya, old sport,” you babbled before chewing. 

Bucky let out a laugh, his eyes alight with amusement. “You’re most welcome, doll,” he said, booping your nose. 

You both broke out into a fit of giggles, and the couple before you could not believe their eyes. Sharon was over the moon inside because she knew how you felt about Bucky, and Steve’s hunch about Bucky’s feelings towards you were confirmed quite apparently. 

“Did you guys wanna get another round?” you eventually asked, remembering that you had company. 

Steve turned to Sharon, and she shrugged. “I could go for another shot. What do you guys think?” 

The guys nodded in confirmation, both deciding to head over and grab it from the bar themselves. Once you were left alone with Sharon, she got to interrogating.

“Girl, what is going on with you and Bucky?!” she grinned. 

You hiccuped before beaming at her. “I don’t know, but I like it! He’s so nice, and he thinks I’m adorable and he’s so handsome, Sharon. I wanna take him home, keep him forever,” you blabbered, trying to maneuver your straw into your mouth with your tongue.

She pressed her lips together to stop the laughter that bubbled up inside. Her best friend had it bad for her man’s best friend, what a perfect situation. 

“You should, you both look good together,” she smirked. She wanted you to experience the world with someone great and from what she knew, Bucky was definitely one of the good ones. “Do you want to stay over at their place tonight?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “They’re like a five minute walk from here.”

Your eyes widened, that was such a good idea. “Oh my goodness, yes. Let’s ask them!” 

The guys returned with the shots, and Sharon asked Steve and Bucky what they thought. 

“You both are always welcome over,” Steve said kindly.

“Of course, always,” Bucky reassured with a smile. He’d happily sleep on the couch if it meant getting to spend a little more time with you. 

“Then it’s settled.” You curled yourself up into his side, his arm wrapping around you. You were gonna seduce the hell out of Bucky Barnes. 

┈┈┈┈┈・・

You didn’t register the way he maneuvered your body so that you were tucked in under the sheets or the shift of his weight on the other side of the bed. 

It was only as the sun began to rise that you realized that you felt cozy – drowsily observing that you were much more snug and secure than normal. This wasn’t a cause for concern for your groggy brain, until you heard breathing and noticed that you weren’t alone.

What the hell. 

Cautiously opening your eyes, you saw Bucky’s sleeping face. His breathing was evened out, chest rising and falling under you. Only then did you realize your head was resting on his shoulder, your hand splayed out across his broad chest. His arm was around your waist, and your thigh was drawn up and across his legs.

Did you hook up with him last night?! Oh god, you did, you totally did. 

You were moments from freaking out when he shifted underneath you, squeezing your waist and placing his other hand on your bare thigh. You were trapped in the hold of the man you must have thrown yourself at last night, and that was bad. 

“I can hear your racing thoughts, baby. Go back to sleep,” he muttered without opening his eyes. 

Unable to contain your gasp, you watched as Bucky smiled to himself, still trying to sleep. 

“Bucky,” you whispered. 

He groaned under you, mumbling out a soft “no” as he refused to move or speak. 

You bit your lip to stifle a smile. He was so cute and grumpy in the morning. Taking a deep breath, you nuzzled your face into his chest. Maybe you could postpone your freak out until after a couple more hours of sleep. 

Bucky woke up a little after nine, your warm body still surrounding him. He smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of having you so close. He vaguely remembered you waking up earlier, and he was glad that you didn’t leave. 

Peeking down at you, he couldn’t stop himself from gently brushing his finger over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you. He could get used to waking up like this, your perfect soft curves against him – his ideal blanket. 

Lightly he traced the outline of your lips with his finger, looking forward to tasting them soon. 

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, and you saw Bucky watching you with an adorable smile.  

Embarrassed, you quickly brought your hand up from his chest to cover your eyes. If you can’t see him, he can’t see you, right? 

 “Baby,” he let out a laugh, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb. “I thought I told you last night that you never had to hide from me,” he whispered soothingly. 

You wondered how he was so calm and cool, but then you remembered that he always was. His relaxed demeanor is one of the first things you noticed about him. Cautiously letting your hand fall back to his chest, you loosened up when you saw the softness and sincerity in his gaze.  

“Sorry,” you mumbled nervously. “Um, did we?” you didn’t know how to ask, so you vaguely gestured between you two. You had hoped that you would remember your first time with Bucky, but unfortunately you didn’t even recall how you got in his bed or how you ended up in his shirt. 

“No, we got back, and you asked me for something to change into while I got some water. I didn’t hear movement for a bit and I thought you’d fallen asleep so I set myself up on the couch. But then you came out all groggy, saying that you needed cuddles,” he smiled as he recollected the memory. 

Even though he was completely drunk, he still remembered how precious you were. “You tried to get those cuddles on the couch until I decided to bring us back here.”  

You weren’t ready for all the details of what you did, but you distinctly remembered a different plan that involved more seduction; it was hard to believe that you ended up opting for cuddling instead. Although, given how peaceful the sleep was, you were grateful to your drunk counterpart. She knew what was best at the time. 

“Wait, so really nothing happened?” you asked disbelievingly, alcohol had a tendency to make you amorous and you needed to be sure. 

He grinned as he shook his head again. “I think we might’ve wanted to earlier in the night, but we were too tired and drunk by the time we got back,” he answered honestly. 

Heat rose to your cheeks, he knew you wanted to, and that was supposed to be your secret. You were about to shrivel into embarrassment again but then you realized he said he wanted to as well. 

Finally, you gave yourself full permission to open up to the sweet man. You didn’t need alcohol to fuel your confidence, he liked you and you liked him – there was nothing to bottle up or overcomplicate. 

“Do you think we kissed?” you bit your lip. The night was coming back in bits and pieces, but you couldn’t recall that. 

Reaching out, he dusted his thumb over your lip, before stroking your jawline, subtly relaxing you. “I know I’d remember that, so no, not yet. Soon though,” he stated with certainty, as if it was an indisputable fact. 

You smiled coyly. “So what happens next?”

“I’m thinking bagels with my girl, if she’s up for it,” he squeezed your hip. 

His girl. 

Bucky was so straightforward and direct, you didn’t have to guess where you stood with him, he made his intentions apparent. You adored that about him. 

“I’m very up for it. I need a cure for his hangover. But… I also don’t want to leave this bed. You’re ridiculously comfortable.” 

He beamed, “I can run down to get some, it’ll only take me ten minutes.” 

“You could, but then I’d lose my new favorite pillow,” you teased, fingers dancing across his chest. 

“Well then it’s a good thing your new pillow likes doing his job and will happily do it some more after he gets some food in your system.” 

“Yeah?” The prospect of spending the morning cuddled up in bed with bagels and Bucky was too perfect. 

“Yeah,” he sat up with you still in his grip, reaching out for his water. He let you sip some before drinking a bit himself. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll give you a change of clothes in case you wanna shower, then we’ll be right back here, okay?”

Nodding your head you leaned over and kissed his cheek. He made a dramatic show of getting out of bed, not wanting to leave, but knowing he’d have you back in his arms before he knew it. 

Quickly he brushed his teeth, then let you know there was a spare toothbrush on the counter. He also set out a big henley with some boxers for you to change into if you wanted. In a flash he pressed a kiss to your forehead before lugging a sweatshirt over his shoulders and nearly running out the door. 

It seemed he really was eager to get back to you. 

You took some time to shower and clean up, needing a refresher after the night out. Bucky was back by the time you got out, and he slipped in right after you. You were out in the kitchen drinking coffee with Steve and Sharon, when he stepped out of his room, wet and shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his well-built muscles, you couldn’t believe he had all that going on. 

“You’re coming back right?” he pouted adorably. 

The two of you spent the morning in bed, munching bagels, recovering from your hangover, and getting to know one another. The night before expedited a few dating steps, but you liked learning more about Bucky while snuggled up in his arms. He told you all the little things about you that made him develop the biggest crush, and you told him your many reasons for crushing on him too. 

Not long after, you shared your first kiss. His lips warm and soft as they moved against yours, slowly as if he was memorizing the way you felt. You didn’t know it then, but he was. His tongue glided into your mouth, his hands coming up to move your face, changing the angle of the kiss. 

He wrapped his arms around you as he kissed your lips unhurriedly, discovering how right you felt in his grasp, and kissing you some more. Until the need for air became too great, until you both realized how intoxicating the connection between you felt. 

As his beautiful blue eyes held yours, you could feel that this relationship wouldn’t be a difficult one. He was too considerate and honest for you to have to worry.

Your heart knew without a doubt that your future with Bucky would be joyful, silly, sweet, and easy. 

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x woc!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #drunk!bucky #speakeasy #easy #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x woc!reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fic #marvel fanfiction #flufftober

[heraldofcrow]

Ok, so Crest’s new video on the internal data names for Dark Souls 2 is out and wow. This game. Wtf.

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First off, this name makes perfect sense for Shanalotte, aka the “I’m part dragon because of experiments” girl that is somehow the game’s firekeeper but also…not? She’s really interesting to me when in comparison to the other Souls bonfire maidens, and there’s this odd bit of story separation with her. She seems really independent of us in little ways, and maybe her motives with wanting us to link the fire are tied strictly to her own personal beliefs, not just because it’s her duty. Also, it seems like her name could be more accurately translated to “Dragon Priestess” which is…even more fascinating. Her mystery will never not engage me.

Pate is Patches. Dark Souls 2 always had Patches and we all knew it. Even if he doesn’t have the same VA, we just know the archetype is there. Even his “mild-mannered” and silver-tongued persuasion is accurate to the general character. Personally, I think it’s pretty funny that they still found a way to insert the conniving bastard into this game.

He’s apparently just Ornstein….which is obvious, but admittedly it’s confusing as hell. In my eyes, this is Ornstein mid-journey and on his way to find NK. We get to fight him in-game for fun, but in the “time is convoluted” world of Dark Souls, that never actually happened. Ornstein went on his way just fine. Alternative interpretations are always welcome though.

SEA SOLAIRE!! LUCATIEL IS THE SOLAIRE OF DS2 AND WE ALL KNEW IT!! This honestly makes me emotional, because she really did get us all in the feels the way Solaire did, and the theme of slow decay/hollowing and the desperation to stop it is so poignant for both characters. They’re uniquely written too, which I appreciate because even though it’s the same archetype, Lucatiel and Solaire both stand out as individuals as well. My beautiful and sad blorbos </3

Ok, so Creighton and Benhart are/were apparently father and son…which is kinda cool? It’s too bad the final game didn’t cement any connection besides their crest sigils, but I’d still accept it as canon, personally.

She’s just like me fr

Lucatiel’s older brother! This is the first time I’ve seen him unmasked and it’s kinda sad. He was just a normal lad.

Agdayne is a Jojo reference, guys. It’s true. Darklurker is his stand 💀

(In all seriousness, I wonder what the actual connection here was? It’s fascinating).

And finally, to absolutely nobody’s surprise! I hate this so much lmaoooo. I also can’t get it out of my head now that Dark Souls 2 is full of random Star Wars references and that’s what gives it such a unique and alien vibe compared to the other games 💀 (I mean, even the Desert Sorceresses look a bit like Leia’s slave getup in Return of the Jedi skdjdksks).

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Anyway, this was bizarre and as usual, I can see the verge, or the vague image of how complex DS2 was originally meant to be. There’s just so much going on here, but it doesn’t seem like they put the time into really finishing it. I still love this game, flaws and all, but I do wish they would have…actually finished it.

#this is gonna plague my brain for hours now #i really do love ds2 but it needs fixing in a lot of spots #dark souls #dark souls 2 #emerald herald #lucatiel of mirrah #patches dark souls #creighton the wanderer #benhart of jugo #covetous demon #grave warden agdayne #dragonslayer ornstein #crestfallen #CrowNotes