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pedgito · 3 months

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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 | Javier Pena x fem!reader

summary | your boyfriend delivers the worst news possible on what should be a day filled with love. luckily your coworker is there in wait, not allowing a perfectly good dinner reservation to go to waste. [2.5k]

content warning | this is probably the tamest thing i've ever written, who am i? mostly fluff, vague descriptions of your boyfriend (technically ex-boyfriend/some misogyny (not by javi), small age gap, co-workers, dinner dates and more, unrequited (innocent) crushes, minimal spanish (mostly just pet names), open-ended

author’s note | @pascalispretty happy valentines day!! this is my first time doing one of these and i was your secret valentine, but i hope you enjoy! i haven't written for javi in so long and i was really craving some soft!javi so this was a joy to write. i hope you enjoy!

You hated the stigma around holidays and what they meant, what they entailed, and why people upheld them so highly. But, here you were—tapping your fingers insistently against the desk across from the pool of DEA agents who would throw a file of paperwork on your desk and expect it to magically poof away and, by default, relinquish themself of any responsibility over it in the process.

You couldn’t fault them all—some of them actually managed to follow instructions. A signature here and there, all in order, leaving with little work to do other than file it away. Murphy followed it to a degree that made you think he probably has some time of background outside of here, back in the states. Always uniform, always proper—he’d been a good addition from the start and a perfect match to Javier Pena’s strong personality and unwillingness to give up control.

He also smiled at you every morning and offered a kind greeting, a small acknowledgment of your existence which couldn’t be spared by many others.

As for Javier—he did the work. There was never an issue, but halfway through an expository to a question he asks his attention is drawn elsewhere. Usually to one of the other few in-office secretaries or visitors that just couldn’t resist a bite at the overconfident and suave agent.

You could see the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had to like it—sometimes it impeded your ability to communicate with him and it really, really annoyed you.

Plus, your boyfriend was perfect. Too perfect that it felt unreal at times, but as all things in your life tended to implode on you—you were waiting for the ball to drop.

“Buenos días, señorita.” Javier greets with a smile that shines perfectly under his thick mustache, dressed in his usual pairing of tight jeans and form-fitting button up. This one was pink though, or a deep red. Jesus, how many different ones did he own?

You snort softly, “Morning, Javi.”

And you’re expecting that crisp folder to slide onto your desk but he’s traversing down the steps into the bay of other desks, straight for his. He’s still in eyeline, his and Steve’s shared workspace right in the center.

His eyes flit up briefly, scanning the room before they land on you again and of course you’re staring, but not for the reasons he’s assuming. And there’s a fierceness behind your eyes that he’s seen before, like he’s about to be lectured.

You grab at an empty file on your desk and hold it up lazily, eyebrows raising in expectation.

“Oh shit,” He curses lowly, but not soft enough for you to miss before he’s reaching in his desk and holding up the paperwork, “Here—I’ve got it.”

You pluck the item from his grip as he approaches, this time lingering. He’s got his fingers spread out wide on your desk and he leans, practically towers as you sift through his work quietly before jotting something down on a separate sticky note and filing it away for the time being.

“Sorry, bonita,” He apologized, some sincerity in his voice, “I stayed late last night and finished it up but you were already gone—I don’t forget, you know that.”

“All good,” You offer a polite smile and he still doesn’t move, nodding kindly to a few women that pass by, seemingly more done-up than usual, “big plans tonight?”

A man like Javier, there was no way he spent Valentine's Day alone.

Javier offers a non-commital shrug and nods his head in your direction, “What about you? You got that boyfriend, right? Kid with the glasses?”

And okay, Javier was a good chunk older than you. Ten years, maybe. But, kid? Please.

“Yes, that kid.” You roll your eyes light-heartedly. “Um, I reserved a table for dinner at that restaurant Steve recommended a couple months ago. The one he took Connie to.”

“Yeah—yeah, I know that place.” Been a few times, it lingers on his tongue. It didn’t matter if he went alone, the food was decent enough. “You made the reservation?”

“Come on, Javi,” You slap at his forearm gently, “It's not that big of a deal—besides I just…need a break. I thought dinner would be nice.”

“You know I can’t judge you for living at this place,” Javier says around a soft chuckle, “I’m guilty of it too.”

Many nights spent stuck in the office with just you and Javier—the occasional appearance of Steve. It led you to learn a few things about the men, even if inadvertently.

When leads were dry, Javier will go through half a pack in a day and Steve would chew at his fingernails almost constantly, tapping and fidgeting nearly nonstop. They both had obvious tells—a more obvious one for Javier being the close-mouthed smile he gave to women he wasn’t interested in but still remained polite to while the other, the unabashed grin was reserved for the women who piqued his interest.

He's given you both, but that was beside the point.

“Any recommendations?” You ask curiously, fidgeting with the plastic clip on your pen.

Javier considers it briefly, lips pursing together as he taps his pointer finger in thought, “Well, the Pescado Frito they have is pretty good—can’t really go wrong with that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You note, leaning back in your chair as you spot Steve making his way into the office.

“I thought you hated holidays like this?” Javier questions curiously, a sentiment he shared. They seemed pointless outside of the few that offered him a reprieve from work.

You shrug, looking away briefly to avoid his steadfast gaze.

“Well, I don’t think all of us are impervious to stuff—I wanted to do something…nice. I guess?”

Javier isn’t entirely convinced, seeing the uncertainty in your shy smile but he lets it go, slapping the desk lightly before waving a quick goodbye as Steve pulls him aside.

It had to be intel—and good intel at that by the way Javier’s face morphs into sudden interest, thumb and pointer finger brushing over his mustache.

And really, you shouldn’t keep staring at him. Not with that dinner on the forefront of your mind, the one you had so meticulously planned out for you and your boyfriend.

Things had to be perfect. There was no other option.

But, then Javier chances another glance in your direction and something swells in your throat—anxiety, sadness. You can't quite place it, but you swallow it down. Force it away.

Only a few more hours to go.

The call comes an hour before you’re due to head home, already packing up your belongings preemptively. And you smile at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

It’s been a few months. Good months. Too good.

He was younger, like you—some IT guy in his earlier twenties with a kind heart. Or, so you assumed.

“Hey,” You answer softly, lightly into the phone, “reservations are in a couple hours.”

“About that,” His voice sounds off, distant, “I don’t think I can make it.”

Your heart drops into your stomach and you find yourself chewing at your bottom lip in worry, watching wearily as Javier and Steve hold matching coffees in their grip, marching back to their desks in sync. Javier’s gaze lingers for a moment, a normal motion he did just to check on you.

Nothing more.

But, he spots the change in your emotion.

Still, he continues on.

“What—I—I’ve had these reservations for two weeks,” You reply in a hushed voice, trying to contain your frustration, “what happened—what changed?”

“I just—I don’t really know how to say this,” The dread is immediate, but your mind is filled with anger—rigid, bitter anger that wants to bite, “I think we should break up.”

“Are you fucking serious?” The small outburst catches the attention of you people but you avoid their gaze, even more pointedly Javier, who’s gone from inconspicuously spying to full on gawking now, alongside Steve who had a sudden interest. They’ve never seen you like…this. “Today? This felt like a good thing to tell me today?”

“I’ve been trying—“

“You’re an asshole.” You bite harshly, “You can pick your shit up from my apartment this weekend.”

You don’t let him have the final word, slamming the phone back down into the receiver and ignoring the gathering stares and sparse, hushed whispers.

You could sit and wallow, allow yourself to stew in regret and worry, wondering what you did wrong—but you knew it wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been. All the trying and trying and trying you do, the maximum amount of effort met with little enthusiasm. You were naive to think that things would work,

You’re thankful when the shift nears its end and people file out quietly, albeit with a few side-stares, you find yourself mulling over the idea of canceling the reservation completely. But, then there was perfectly good, hard-earned money going to waste. And you could eat by yourself, but the idea seemed even more miserable as you had specifically booked a table for two, decorations and accommodation to match. It felt ridiculous, in hindsight.

You pass the stack of paperwork off to your boss as you step into his office, scurrying back to your desk with your head down—already prepared to go home and wallow in your self-pity.

“You alright?” Javier asks suddenly, jumping slightly at his voice as you turn on your heels, hip bumping into your desk in the process, wincing at the pain, “shit—sorry.”

He’s smiling to lighten the mood but it doesn’t help.

“You’re…fine,” You wave him off, leaning into the weight of the desk as he lingers, fingers shoved into the front pockets of his pants, “I’m heading home in a bit.”

“No dinner?” He asks curiously—if he was attempting to be coy he was doing a terrible joy.

It was only minimally amusing, cracking a smug smile at his obvious prying.

“No dinner,” You confirm, “and he broke up with me, so…”

“Cabrón,” He says under his breath, but it isn’t lost on you, “I’m sorry—that’s…fucked up.”

You shrug, “Now I’m debating on canceling and wasting the money I put down to reserve it or looking pathetic if I show up by myself—“

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Javier defends, speaking entirely from personal experience.

“Javi, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“And?”

Suddenly though, you’re struck with an idea.

“Are you busy?” You ask curiously and Javier raises a curious eyebrow your way and smirks, “No ladies in waiting tonight?”

“Not yet.” Javier jokes lightly, knowing his usual routine of hitting the bar after work would end in one of two ways, and even if he didn’t mind spending his nights alone, it was nice to be in the company of others in whatever capacity.

“Go with me.” You suggest, poking at his bicep. “Since you love the place so much.”

“Come on, hermosa,” Javier chides playfully, “If you wanted to take me on a date, just ask.”

You grin wide, heart fluttering at the flirtatious tone he carried in his voice—it wasn’t something you weren’t used to, but it was never so pointedly directed at you.

“I am,” You tell him, “I just—I’ll need to go home and change first.”

His brow furrows and he looks you over, seeing nothing wrong, “Why? You look fine. You always do.”

It’s something he tells you daily—and maybe he has his own selfish reasons, though you know he does it to most of the women in the office, but the way he’s saying it to you now feels different.

He means it, no humor in his voice.

“My—” You can’t even address him in the moment, rolling your eyes with full force as you rub your fingers over your forehead to will away the lines of stress that form there, “I just—he used to say work clothes never complimented me very well. I already had a dress picked out, I can be quick.”

“Save it. I think you look perfect.” Javier affirms softly, keys jingling in his back pocket as he fishes them out, “I’ll drive us.

“But, my car—”

And hand breaches your shoulder, hot to the touch as his fingers curl around your form.

“Hey,” He’s searching for your eyes, waiting until they lock with his own and he nods, expecting the same motion to make sure you’re with him, “I’ll drive you there and back, you don’t have to change—we can enjoy some good food and forget about your shitty boyfriend, alright?”

You nod quietly, earning a gentle squeeze in response.

–

It wasn’t a date, not in the slightest. But, Javier did his damndest to make you feel like it was.

And maybe it was the guilt over him knowing you just got dumped—that whatever you had spent so much time planning had fell out underneath you, but it didn’t quell the nervous anxiety that you felt as you both sipped on a shared bottle of wine and your separate dinners, watching Javier grimace around the lip of his wine glass.

“Horrible, right?” You laugh softly, watching as he forces the liquid down and nods jerkily.

“Food is great, though—the wine,” Javier makes a face of uneasiness that has you covering a laugh with your palm, “—that’s why I stick with tequila or whiskey.”

“Can’t say I have much of a preference,” You admit, “as long as it does the job.”

Javier nods knowingly, stabbing his fork into a piece of food and chewing thoughtfully, the fingers of his unoccupied hand rubbing together as an idea forms in his head, “You know, if you’re not busy I was going to meet up with Steve and Connie for a drink. Later tonight—if you’re interested?”

You can’t believe how instantly you want to agree, blaming it on your impulsivity.

“Javi, I don’t know,” You respond quietly, “I don’t—I don’t really go out like that.”

“Well—that dress you were talking about. It wouldn’t go completely to waste if you wanted to wear it out tonight. Plus, you treated me to a nice dinner—let me treat you to a couple drinks.”

It sounds like the perfect idea. Too perfect. Too good to be true.

“Javi,” You tease shyly, “if you’re trying to ask me out on a date just say it.”

Javier chuckles softly and you know it’s only an attempt to make a shitty day not so shitty, but the underlying chase you two have allowed to happen for so long now was unobscured by outside forces and you hated how easy it was for him to distract you from everything that had transpired today.

“Is that a yes?” Javier teases.

You sigh reluctantly, though a subtle grin pulls at your face, eyes soften at the expectant look on Javier’s face, all puppy-eyed and nothing like the man you’re used to seeing in the office. This was a side of him that felt new and you were curious to discover more. You nod.

“Well, hermosa—I guess it’s a date then.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier peña #pedro pascal #my writing #spacesisterssecretvalentine

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yesimwriting · 3 months

Note

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

#bestfriend!felix x reader #bestfriend!felix #saltburn x reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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roosterforme · 5 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 41 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley really does have to work late, you spend a fun evening with Noah, but Bradley starts to realize all the ways his life is holding yours back when you go out with friends. Then as soon as you let Bradley see you in your formal dress, he wants to take it off of you. In fact, it'll be a miracle if the two of you make it through the retirement party at all.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, spitting, butt plug, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Your phone screen lit up with a call from Bradley just as you shoved the last bite of your sandwich into your mouth while you were typing up a patient's chart. "Hello?" you managed while you chewed.

"Baby, I'm going to be late today. For real," he said, sounding a bit cautious. "Here, talk to Nat. You're on speaker."

"Hi," came his best friend's voice as you finally swallowed. "He's stupid and annoying, but he's not lying. We're staying late with the new mechanical crew to learn about an update."

"I'm assuming you're calling to make sure I can pick Noah up?" you asked as you smiled. It almost made you feel good that Bradley was being so cautious this time around.

"Yeah. Can you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, perfect. I know I've been asking a lot of you," he said, his voice soft and deep. "But I trust you with everything. And I'll make it up to you."

Now you were smirking as you looked around to be sure none of your coworkers were around. "Are you going to make it up to me in our bed or in the shower, Daddy?"

He made a strangled noise and you heard Nat shriek in the background. "Baby, I said you were on speaker," he whispered. "Well, now you're not."

You had to stifle your laughter as you said, "I need to go. I'll get Noah from daycare. And then I'll try my pretty dress on for you if you're good, Daddy."

"Fuck," he muttered. "Yeah, I'll be good. I'll be so good."

You had to squeeze your thighs together at the prospect of making him beg. The retirement party for Admiral Bates was just a few days away, but you hadn't let Bradley see you in the purple dress yet. For the past few days, ever since you told him what Casey said to you, Bradley had been letting you hold all the cards. When he came home from work that day and told you that Casey shouldn't be a problem for you anymore, you gasped. He told you what he'd said to her, and then you gave him a blowjob.

"I'll see you at home later tonight," you told him softly. "In my pretty Princess dress."

"I can't wait."

"Oh, and don't forget I have happy hour with my work friends on Thursday."

"I'll make absolutely certain I leave work on time on Thursday," he promised.

When you made it to the preschool to pick Noah up, you smiled at Casey. "Oh, hi. I'm here for Noah," you told her, annunciating each word like she was very stupid. She rolled her eyes and handed you the clipboard as you asked, "No bakery box today?"

She didn't acknowledge you or say a single word as she walked to the classroom door and went inside. You filled out the sheet on the clipboard, smiling as you saw Bradley's signature from earlier this morning. Then Noah came streaking out toward you. "Can we take Skittles on a hike?" he asked as he ran into your arms.

"Of course," you told him, kissing his soft curls as you practically threw the clipboard at Casey and led Noah outside. "Daddy will be home late, so we can do whatever we want."

His face lit up as you buckled him in his car seat. "Can we get ice cream?"

You pretended to consider your answer before saying, "Of course we can get ice cream!"

You drove home with the windows down and the kid friendly playlist on. When you stopped at a traffic light, you turned around to sing along with Noah. And when you parked your car in the driveway, you carried him inside while you sang the dinosaur song together.

"I love you so much," you told him as he wrapped his arms around your neck. You unlocked the front door and went right to the crate in the kitchen. Skittles was looking up at the two of you with the biggest, sappiest brown eyes you'd ever seen. Well, other than the ones the Bradshaw boys frequently gave you.

Noah squirmed out of your arms and went to open the crate door just the way you showed him how. He was so gentle with the little pup, and she whimpered and whined until she was able to lick Noah's hands and face. "Come on, Skittles," you called as you opened the back door. She limped her way across the kitchen floor, and you had to force yourself not to pick her up since she was supposed to be moving around on her own. It was bad enough that Bradley carried her around all the time. She looked at you, and you bent to ruffle her purple bow before she wandered outside to the grass.

"Should we go get ice cream first and then eat dinner after that?" you asked Noah with a smile.

"Yeah! We can pretend it's opposite day!"

"Great idea."

----------------------------

When Bradley got home, he was irritated. The mechanics took forever to get everything in order so he could sign off and leave for the day. The downside of being responsible for his jet was that he was really responsible for every little detail. When he let himself inside, he could hear the bath water running and laughter coming from the bathroom.

He poked his head inside to find you kneeling on the floor next to the tub while Noah played, and you were both giggling. Skittles perked up and ran for Bradley, and then Noah saw him too. "Daddy!"

You whipped your head around to face him with a bright smile on your gorgeous face. "Hi, Daddy. You'll never guess what today is."

"Tell me," he said as he walked in still wearing his flight suit and boots, scooping Skittles up in one hand. He knelt on the mat next to you with a soft groan and then buried his face against your neck with a little nip. "I'm dying to know," he whispered as he kissed your ear. Then he reached for Noah and kissed his wet cheek as you turned the water off.

"It's opposite day!" Noah exclaimed. "The water is dry, and I don't like dinosaurs," he said before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Opposite day?" Bradley asked, pretending to need help with the concept while Skittles licked his face. "Can I have another example?"

"We had ice cream before dinner!"

"Noah," you scolded playfully. "You weren't supposed to tell him that!" You eyed Bradley sheepishly. "We did end up eating dinner... just after dessert."

He kissed your cheek. "You're the best Mommy ever. You make everything fun."

"Were you good today?" you asked softly while Noah claimed all of his rubber duckies were sinking when they were clearly floating.

"So good," he promised. The way you bit your lip reminded Bradley that it had been a few days since you and he had sex. He thought maybe you were ovulating, but it didn't really matter. He needed to do a better job of keeping you full regardless.

Things had just been a bit hectic, and the tiny dog in his hand was evidence of that. If you got pregnant, things would get even wilder around here, but he didn't mind it. He actually craved it at times. And when he reminded himself that he finally had a teammate in you, things always felt manageable.

"I have an idea," he said as you washed Noah's hair. "After this, I'll get Noah in bed and let Skittles out one more time, and then you can take your time getting ready while I get a shower."

You nodded. "Did you hear that, Noah? It's time to wake up instead of go to bed."

He laughed again. "Will you read me a good morning story?" he asked Bradley.

"Absolutely, Bub," he replied. "I mean... no, I won't? Opposite day is confusing."

When he got Noah to change into pajamas under the guise that he was really getting dressed for daycare, Bradley heard you get into the shower. Once Noah was tucked in, he took Skittles outside. The bedroom door was closed, so you must be in there putting on your purple dress for the retirement party. He couldn't wait to see it.

Bradley got in the shower and took his time, but he was yawning almost nonstop. He needed to get it together so he could fuck you if that's what you wanted. He'd made a lot of promises about that kind of thing, and he didn't want his age to start catching up with him. "Shit," he mumbled as he toweled his hair off before wrapping it around his waist.

But he shouldn't have worried. As soon as he walked into his bedroom, Bradley stopped short. You were bending and petting Skittles in her little dog bed, but you really did look like a princess.

"You're wearing your crown," he rasped, and you stood to your full height and turned to look at him. "Jesus." The purple dress was indeed two pieces, and the top was beaded and very tastefully showcased your tits. Then the skirt was some sort of sheer flowy materials in a million layers, and Bradley wanted to run his hands all over it. But not as much as he wanted to run his fingers along the strip of your skin that showed just above your belly button.

"You like it?" you asked, twirling for him as you brought one hand up to hold your paper crown on your head. "You paid for it," you said with a laugh.

The fabric of the skirt swung around your body and moved with you. Bradley was entranced. "Yeah, I like it," he whispered. "Everyone else at the retirement party is going to like it too." Maybe a little too much, but there was nothing to be done about it now. And Nat was right when she'd said you would look incredible next to him in his dress white. "Fuck."

"Daddy," you gasped, looking up at him as his towel fell away from his waist. He was half erect, and he hadn't even touched you. All he had to do was look at you or smell you, and he was ready to go.

You were standing very close, but you didn't let your hands meet his body, and you seemed too perfect right now for him to touch you without permission. Just like actual royalty. "Princess," he whispered as you licked your lips. "Will you let me pull that pretty skirt up and fuck you?"

In response, you brought your hands up to your hips and jutted your chin in the air. "That was very lewd, Daddy." He grunted as the fabric of your skirt brushed along the head of his cock. He could smell your body wash as you ran your hands up to your top and over your breasts. He could practically taste your pussy as his mouth watered. "You better start begging."

Your gaze followed him as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of you and buried his face in your skirt. He kissed the soft layers as he asked, "Please, Baby? I'll do anything you want. Just let me have your pussy. Please."

You brought your fingers up to stroke his cheek and run your thumb across his lips. "You can do better than that."

His cock was throbbing now. "Anything you want. I'll get you off just right. You know I will. I'll worship you." He kissed the soft skin just below your beaded top with the gentlest touch of his lips, and you moaned his name.

Bradley kissed and nuzzled his nose against you, whispering please over and over again before you finally said, "Stand up." He was on his feet immediately, cock at attention and cheeks warm. "Don't mess up my dress," you told him, running your fingertips along his abs as you walked over to the bed. You bent at the waist with your arms and cheek pressed to the soft bedding. You looked so innocent and perfect with your teeth digging into your glossy lip, but you sounded dirty as hell when you said, "Come fuck me, Daddy."

Bradley growled as he reached for your hips through all the layers of your pretty skirt. He forced himself to go slow, pushing the fabric up inch by inch and savoring the way it felt in his hands. Eventually your perfect thighs gave way to your wet pussy, but then Bradley's head tipped back as the most ridiculous noise escaped his lips.

"Baby," he moaned, rubbing his cock all over your ass and through your wet warmth as you gasped and grabbed at the bedding. You were wearing your purple plug and puckering around it beautifully. So needy, the way you were grinding forward against the edge of the bed. "This is fucking gorgeous," he crooned, gently pushing on the base of the plug and giving you more pressure.

You rolled your hips back against his hand and raised up on your tiptoes. He knew you wanted your pussy full as well as your ass, and he was going to give you his cock and his cum. Eventually. But first he knelt behind you as you whined, and he pinned your hips in place. "Bradley," you gasped, trying to fight the hold he had on you, but he wouldn't allow it. With your voluminous skirt pushed up to your waist, Bradley kissed you from behind and swiped his tongue through your wet folds.

"Oh," you gasped loudly, trying to thrust back to meet him.

"Shh," he warned, pressing your plug with his nose. "I'll fuck you just right, but I want you to cum on my mustache first."

It took almost no time, not with how sensitive you were. He debated edging you until you squirted for him, but he figured it was better to ruin the dress after the retirement party. So Bradley ate your pussy like the meal it was until you were on the verge of tears. Every long stripe of his tongue had your legs shaking a little harder. He just wanted a little more before he let you come. So he licked up to your plug and spit, watching his saliva drip back down to your pussy as he finally let you have a little pressure on your clit with his middle finger.

"Daddy!" you nearly screamed as he rubbed you with steady circles. Your hips jerked as you got his mustache even wetter, crying out against the bedding. But Bradley didn't stop the motion with his middle finger. He kept going as he stood and smiled at your face buried between your fisted hands.

"That's a good girl. Keep nice and quiet."

He fucked you, bending over your body and gently kissing your back as he rammed himself deep a few times. You felt somehow even fucking tighter when you were wearing the plug, and Bradley made sure he pressed it deeper as he railed you.

When he kissed your shoulder, your pussy clenched around him. He wasn't even sure if you were still on your first orgasm or if you'd started to come again, but either way, he felt like your knight right now. When you turned your head to take a deep breath, your crown rolled off, and Bradley watched you look back at him as he fucked into you and bottomed out.

"Am I allowed to come, too?" he grunted, leaning in and licking at your glossy lips.

"Yes," you whispered, kissing his tongue before he stood at his full height, grabbed you by your hips and thrusted and unloaded.

Bradley ran one hand up along your beaded top, stroking your bare skin when he came across it. He listened as you hummed and laughed softly while he looked at your purple outfit, your purple plug, and your purple crown on the bed. He'd never had anything so bright in his life before you.

"Don't mess up my dress," you reminded him, and Bradley just stood there with his cock still inside you and his hands full of fabric.

"Well, what do you suggest I do back here, Princess?" he asked as you giggled and reached your hands back to hold some of the fabric. You bunched it up higher as you slowly stood, and then Bradley could feel the cool beads of your top against his abs and chest.

"I think it's safe," you whispered. Bradley withdrew himself, and with a grin, he dropped to his knees behind you. He watched his cum drip down your inner thighs, and when you tried to press your legs together he told you no.

He shoved his hand between your thighs and whispered, "No, it's too pretty," as his semen dripped right from your pussy to his palm. "God, it's so fucking pretty." He kissed along the backs of your legs and the base of your plug, but he didn't move his hand until his palm was coated.

When he stood again, he whispered, "I'll go get a wet washcloth so I can help you get undressed." But before he could leave the room, you met his eyes and raised his hand to your lips to kiss his cum covered palm and swiped your tongue through it. "Oh, shit," he groaned, watching as you cleaned him up. "How's that taste?"

"Mmm," you hummed, licking your lips. "Good. Like me and you."

His mouth was on yours immediately, needing to taste it for himself as he wrapped his still wet hand around the back of your neck. His tongue met yours, and he tasted himself there along with the sweetness of your pussy. "God damn, Baby. I hope I can keep up with you."

You nodded as he pressed some soft kisses to your lips. "You always do."

---------------------------

On Thursday, you were getting ready for happy hour with your coworkers when Bradley walked into the bedroom. "You look pretty," he said as you applied some of your lip gloss. You smiled at him in the mirror, and he walked a little closer. There was something about you this week that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he had the urge to fuck you nearly nonstop.

"Thanks, Daddy," you sang as he rubbed his hand along your lower back.

"Hey," he whispered, letting his lips meet your ear. "You think we have time for a quickie?"

You knew. You must have known by the way you were smiling. He literally couldn't keep his hands off you. "You just like calling me your little cream donut," you replied, but you didn't say no.

"I really do," he said, reaching for your jeans zipper, but you took his hand in yours and pulled it away.

"We don't have time," you scolded, kissing his lips and lacing your fingers with his. "You need to get Noah in the car so you boys can drop me off."

"Who's driving you home again?" Bradley asked, needing to be sure you wouldn't get in the car with anyone who'd been drinking.

"Sarah," you told him, cupping his cheek gently. "She's seven months pregnant. The hardest thing she'll be drinking is ginger ale."

"Alright," he agreed, letting you finish up as he put Noah in the Bronco. Then he drove you and dropped you off at a trendy looking bar in the Gaslamp Quarter which was filled with people your own age.

"Looks like a bunch of hipsters," he mumbled as he parked in the loading zone at the curb. He could almost imagine Greyson and his idiot friends hanging out here, and he reached for your hand.

You laughed as he kissed your fingers. "Everyone under thirty looks like a hipster to you. And I mean that with love."

"You don't look like a hipster," he said, brow furrowed as he looked at your hand and briefly wondered why he hadn't taken the time to buy you a ring yet.

"I see them," you said, pointing out the window before you leaned in to peck his lips. "I'll let you know when I'm on my way home." Then you crawled halfway over the seat and kissed Noah who was already yawning. "Night, sweet Noah," you whispered before kissing Bradley one more time and hopping out.

He watched you wave to the group of other nurses he'd met briefly. All of them were around your age, and sure enough he saw Sarah with her pregnant belly. He looked at your elegant body; you looked so damn young, but you seemed older than twenty four. And you'd look just right with a belly like that. Bradley groaned and put the Bronco in drive when he saw a group of guys walk toward you and your coworkers as you were about to head inside the bar. You ignored them in favor of waving to Bradley, and he did you the service of waving back before he started driving home.

You trusted him, and he trusted you. That was all there was to it. He refused to let Casey try to upset you with her bullshit, and you wouldn't chat up random guys.

"I miss Mommy," Noah said as he yawned again.

It had literally been five minutes since you got out of the Bronco, but Bradley honestly said, "Me, too."

And he felt like an idiot after he let Noah eat the ants on logs you left for them. It was nights like this when he started to feel like he was holding you back. He still had engagement rings open on his phone internet tabs, and he knew you'd say yes when he asked. You and he had talked about forever. But these nights out would become almost nonexistent if you got pregnant and there were two kids to look after.

Noah whined for you at bedtime, and Bradley had to bribe him with extra books since he couldn't have another goodnight kiss from you. Luckily that kid was usually asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but once he was out, Bradley was left alone with his thoughts. He tried to watch TV and even attempted a nap on the couch until you got home. He ended up drinking a beer and holding Skittles on his lap as she licked at the condensation on the bottle.

"You are begrudgingly very fucking cute," he told the pup as she curled up on his thigh with her casted leg sticking out straight. He petted Skittles until she was sound asleep, her body rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. Bradley finished the beer as he tried not to think about you, which only made it worse. But he kept telling himself you wouldn't still be here right now if you didn't want to be. You'd stayed through Meredith and all of Bradley's bullshit, and you were still here now.

His phone vibrated with a text. My Princess: I'll be home soon!

Home. It was your home, too. You belonged here. So maybe he was supposed to miss you a little bit on nights like this. Perhaps it was normal to notice that your warmth was missing from the room.

He closed his eyes, about to doze off, when twenty minutes later, you came bursting through the front door. Skittles carefully jumped off his lap and ran to see you as you pulled your shoes off. You looked a little exasperated as you bent to pet the dog before heading his way.

"Did you have fun?" he asked, about to stand, but you headed right for his lap.

You groaned and settled in so you and he were chest to chest and you tangled your fingers up in his hair, your purple painted nails grazing his scalp. "Everyone my age is exhausting," you said before claiming his lips.

He rubbed his hands up your thighs and smiled against your lips as he asked, "You prefer the older crowd?"

You kissed the side of his neck and yawned before letting your cheek rest on his shoulder. "You know I do. I'm crazy about you and your checkbook and your inability to use a smartphone correctly."

"Well you came to the right place," he whispered. "I have all of the old man shit for you right here."

You giggled before kissing his neck again. "I love you."

Bradley wrapped his arms around you and held you close. This is where you belonged. "I love you, too. You want me to take you to bed?"

You yawned again and said, "I was thinking about you all night, you know? Dirty stuff."

"Dirty stuff?" he asked as you nodded.

"Mmhmm. You wanna fuck a baby into me?" you asked as your fingers loosened in his hair and your hand came to rest on his chest. "We could do that," you murmured, your lips moving along his neck. "If you want."

Bradley chuckled and held you a little tighter. As much as he loved fucking you, he loved taking care of you even more. "Let's go snuggle, Princess." He scooped you up and carried you to bed where you immediately fell asleep in his arms.

--------------------------------

"This was not a good idea," Bradley murmured as he paced around his living room in his dress whites with his uniform hat in his hands. When he peeked out the front door, Amelia Benjamin was holding Skittles on a leash, and she and Noah were blowing bubbles. He checked the time and groaned. "Such a bad idea."

He could hear laughter coming from his bedroom, and he had to fight the urge to walk back down the hallway and knock on the door again. He knew what the response would be if he asked how much longer it was going to take before you and Nat were ready to go.

"You can't rush perfection," he mumbled to himself as he rolled his eyes and dropped back onto the couch. You already looked perfect all the time. And Nat always looked the same. So he didn't really get the point of the two of you spending the entirety of Saturday afternoon doing each other's hair and makeup just for Admiral Bates' retirement party. It was at the Botanic Garden; it would probably be so humid and crowded inside, everyone would look gross after an hour anyway.

"Jesus," he grunted when he heard two female voices laughing about mascara. He stood and walked to the kitchen, considering making himself another cup of coffee to help him stay awake all night while he rubbed elbows with his superiors, but then your voice sounded louder. He returned to the living room and waited.

"I think your hair looks perfect," you said as Nat walked in wearing a pretty black dress that hugged her figure. Bradley could appreciate that she seemed to have more makeup on than normal, because her eyes looked bigger and more playful than usual.

"You look nice," Bradley told her, but then his jaw dropped as you strolled in like you dressed up to impress every day. That purple dress. Fuck. He would always associate it with taking you from behind on the bed. But you looked incredible. "Holy shit, Baby."

"I know," you said with a grin as you spun into his arms. "Nat did my makeup." You kissed his lips, and Bradley didn't even care if that dark lipstick left a mark. Shit. He kind of wanted you to kiss him all over right now.

"Beautiful," he whispered, cupping your cheek in his palm. You looked the same as you always did, really, with just a little something extra to drive him crazy tonight.

"You look good, too," you said, running your fingers all over his service pins before taking his hat and plopping it down crooked on his head. He ran his hands down the back of your beaded top and pulled you snug against him. "We'll have a lot of fun with all of this later, Daddy."

Nat cleared her throat and clapped her hands. "Well, on that rather disturbing note, let's get going."

Bradley looked you up and down one more time, kind of wishing you and he didn't have to go to the event at all. But Amelia was already here to watch Noah and Skittles, and if he didn't get you and Nat into the Bronco soon, you would all be late.

"After you," Bradley said as he opened the front door for Nat to talk outside. When you tried to follow, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close again as you laughed. "Not you," he whispered. "You're mine, Baby. I want you with me all night, okay? No wandering off. You know how those Navy guys can be."

"Oh, I know," you replied as he ran his hand along that little strip of skin that showed above your skirt. "They can be very handsy."

"Mmm," he hummed as he looked down into your eyes. "So you'll stay with me?"

"Yeah. I'll stay with you."

------------------------------

Princess is going to look so pretty at the Botanic Gardens. Wonder if she'll end up with that skirt pulled up around her waist again. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 42

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windvexer · 10 months

Text

Potentially you gotta stop making all those substitutions to the spells, witch bestie.

If you're trying to learn magic and have chosen to do so through other people's published instructional manuals, and the magic isn't working, consider asking yourself if you are actually following the rituals provided.

I've been speaking with multiple people lately who are all struggling with the same thing, so perhaps a post on this topic is germane.

Unless you understand the tradition you're working with and why certain things have certain meanings, you probably do not have the background required to make effective substitutions.

Working within someone else's established tradition is not the same as working within your personal eclectic path.

Imagine you go into a working group which is super into bioregional practice and they've developed elaborate rituals which always work for them.

They give you a purification ritual which calls for a red apple, wild-harvested cotton, and local mulberries to be worked over during a full moon.

They do not tell you why each of these things is included. They just give you the list.

We're going to substitute a store-bought cotton ball, obviously, and what to do about the mulberries? We can google "mulberry correspondences," find out they're related to "healing" which is the closest thing we can figure has anything to do with a purification ritual, then pretty much figure that since chamomile is associated with sleep and purification, and sleep is a Lunar thing, right, that we can just use a sleepytime chamomile tea bag, and there you have it!

What the working group has failed to tell you is that this entire ritual is based on local mythology where the cotton wight fell in love with the mulberry dryad and they got married under the full moon by sharing an apple, and the entire ritual isn't based on sympathetic container magic, but is a heirophany which recreates the marriage of local sacred spirits, each of whom has sworn to heal and purify those who honor their love.

A heck of a lot of witchcraft authors do not break down why every single step is taken.

And if you apply contemporary witch-lite logic to everything ("cotton is white so I'm going to relate that to color correspondences and substitute a white candle for purity"), you can end up immediately canceling out a spell.

Not understanding or connecting with certain spell/ritual steps is not a good reason to change them.

You had mulberries once as a kid and they gave you stomach cramps and now you personally associate them with hexing and sickness, so even though there is a ripe mulberry tree outside, you are going to go get a container of blackberries instead, which you personally associate with purification, and -

(You get the drift)

The spell calls for making a paper box, within which you hide the wild cotton and mulberry. Then, at a crossroads at the full moon, you unfold the box to reveal its contents, and offer an apple to the correspondences.

Which would mean we'd have to learn how to make a paper box (fun!) but also like, why this unfolding thing? Nothing I've read so far in my witchcraft books has explained the magical meaning behind opening a paper box. This is basically a container spell, right? I'll just use a glass jar.

(The plant spirits who informed the local coven about this spellwork specified an opaque, degradable container)

If you're using other people's work, you're more or less sacrificing yourself to the reality that they probably are not explaining everything to you, and that your assumptions about what makes that magic tick could be so far off base that even your most educated guesses will fall short.

Yeah, using other people's traditions can mean you don't have what's required to do everything, and that's kind of just the way it is.

I'm not trying to be Mr. Just Go And Buy Stuff You Moneybags, but I guess I am being Mr. If You Can't Do It Then You Can't Do it.

And no, I'm not saying that it's impossible to figure out substitutions.

I'm specifically referring to a situation where a practitioner is trying to figure out magic, hasn't been able to make strides, and then it turns out they've been radically modifying and altering spells from specific traditions to a point where the spell is obviously functionally DOA.

At one point I was learning some slightly advanced bit of coding. I downloaded a set of files from a code library and installed them on my website.

The thing was, at that point in my education, I had enough experience to basically understand what was going on with each file. So, I edited them as I went, modifying them to my custom specifications.

Wouldn't you know it! When I launched the code it was broken. DOA, if you will.

I went back to the code library, and the top comment was,

INSTALL THE FILES AND MAKE SURE THEY WORK BEFORE YOU TRY TO CHANGE THEM. Everyone keeps changing things before they even test launch it and then they come back here and complain that the code is broken. IT ISN'T BROKEN.

#witchcraft #witch tips #tbl

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loguetowns · 1 year

Text

sweet dreams

roronoa zoro x reader

kiss me through the phone

1.2k words

a/n: this was inspired by this haikyuu fanfic (pls read if ur a sakusa enjoyer, i promise you it's worth the read!!). anyways, i feel like zoro is always the one i write for as my first fic back from a hiatus hehe

sleep usually comes to zoro quite easily, greeting him like an old friend. tonight, however, it evades him like he’s offended it. he’s restless, tossing and turning, back and forth, until he finally gives up.

he looks at the clock.

it’s been 2 minutes.

ugh, fuck it.

he sits at the edge of the bed, reaching for the snail sitting on his bedside table. the receiver rests between his ear and his shoulder as he dials, leg bouncing up and down as he waits for the voice he’s so desperate to hear.

purururururu-

“hello?"

your voice is a little fuzzy through the phone, and zoro presses the receiver even closer to his ear.

“hi.”

for a second, there's only silence and zoro frowns. nami did warn him that there was a storm hitting the island. it’s also really late.

maybe it wasn't such a good idea to call-

and then your laughter comes through, finding him like a ray of sun peeking through dark clouds.

“zoro, what even- i have so many questions!”

at the sound of your voice, he can feel a wave of comfort wash over him. he sinks into his bed and, instinctively, he smiles.

“oh yeah?”

“yeah!” you giggle. "where did you get a den den mushi? why are you calling? shouldn’t you be asleep?”

before he can answer, you gasp. “wait,” your voice drops to a whisper. “did you… did you steal a phone?”

you sound so horrified and zoro laughs — earnestly, truly, and oh-so easily. somehow, happiness is so effortless with you.

“zoro!” you chastise him, scandalized at his laughter. “tell me you didn’t!”

he nestles into his pillows. with you in his ear, it almost feels like you're right next to him.

“i'm a pirate, not a thief.” he huffs. “nami was hoarding a couple in her room and with a little - ahem - negotiating, she let me use one.”

“oh boy,” zoro can hear you shuffle in bed. “i hope you didn't trade the rest of your life savings just for a snail.”

“life savings? you mean the 10 berries i hold to my name?”

“uh, have you seen your bounty? you hold a lot more than 10 berries to your name.”

“you keeping tabs on me?“

"of course i am," you say it so matter-of-factly that zoro can't help but grin. he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror — god, he looks as lovesick as the stupid cook.

but he doesn't hate it.

“i know it's late but don't act like you weren't still up. i know you don't sleep.”

“maybe i can't sleep because i don't have my white noise machine here with me.”

he scoffs, “is that what i am to you? just white noise while i sleep?”

“please.” zoro smiles; he can practically hear you roll your eyes. “you're lucky you can't hear yourself snore. and you should consider it a compliment! it means it's useful to have you in bed.”

“just useful, huh? i feel like mind-blowing might be a better way to describe my performance in bed.”

you click your tongue and zoro laughs. it's truly amazing how you can still make him feel so weightless from across the seas.

“always so cocky,” you tsk. “is that a job requirement when you sign up to be a pirate or something?”

“if it was, chopper and usopp would've never made the cut.”

“don't pick on them!” zoro hears a soft thud! as you fall back against your pillows. “gosh, it feels like forever since i've seen them.”

“because it has been. they miss you."

after a beat, he adds, “i miss you.”

“i miss you too.”

for a moment, neither of you speak. all he hears is the patter of rain in the background and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine you cozy in bed with a window open. you always love the sound of rain at night.

“i'm excited to see you all tomorrow,” you say quietly.

“yeah, but me the most, right?”

“of course.”

he sighs, looking out the window at the night sky, moonlit and cloudless. he wishes that it was rain instead — because that would mean he’s not so far away.

“i wish i could see you right now.”

you laugh and zoro can picture the way your eyes crinkle when you do, “i think you can wait a few hours.”

“actually,” he says. “accounting for the storm, it'll take us another 16 hours. but who's counting?”

“definitely not you.”

“definitely not.”

“you're just always impatient.”

“correct.”

“patience is a virtue, you know.”

“i'm not virtuous.”

“no, you're ridiculous.” the affection in your voice makes zoro's heart ache. there’s more rustling, and he wishes for nothing more than to be under the covers with you.

tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

“go to sleep.” it's like you can read his mind. “i promise time will pass by a lot faster if you do.”

zoro stares at the moon, wondering if it knows that it'll never come close to outshining you.

“tell me a story first.”

“what?”

“tell me a bedtime story.”

“now?” you sigh. “but it’s so late. my brain cells stop working after business hours.”

“yeah, but i’m a vip client.”

“sorry, we don't do after-hours services.”

“if you do, i promise to give you a present tomorrow.” he reaches over to grab the aforementioned gift from his bedside, as if you’d be able to see it through the phone.

“a present?” curiosity colours your pretty voice. “wait, it better not be something lame, like a... kiss or a hug.”

“i dare you to call my kisses lame to my face.”

“or what, big boy?” you tease.

“oh, you don’t wanna know,” he warns. “i am a pirate after all.”

“ooh, so scary. i better do what the scary pirate says.”

and with that, zoro smiles to himself. he opens your present, playing with the contents as he gets comfortable, eyes closing as he waits for you to start.

you're not even halfway through your story before his snores travel through the snail, and you shake your head with endearment. your heart longs for him the way his wants you. you were only half-joking earlier; it really is that much harder for you to sleep without him.

there is nothing more comforting than the sound of zoro’s gentle slumber, the feel of his breath against your skin as he snuggles close, chest against your back, an arm snaked around your waist.

a sigh echoes in your lonely room. you should really take your own advice; tomorrow will come faster if you sleep.

you choose not to hang up. instead, you place the receiver next to your pillow and you pull up the covers, ready to join zoro in dreamland.

“good night,” you whisper to the rain, the moon, and your lover.

“i can’t wait to be with you.”

and from across the ocean, zoro sleeps soundly with starlight illuminating his room, catching the edges of a ring falling out of his hand — one with glittering diamonds, that he's spent days picking out, that he'll offer on one knee as he confesses,

i can’t wait to be with you,

for the rest of our lives.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #zoro fluff #one piece x reader #¡! ❞ [ fics ]#man what tags do i even use anymore

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rafesapologist · 3 months

Text

the set up — rafe cameron; part twenty three

summary: you've been one of the pogues since childhood, and your loyalty has always lied within your friend group, who is practically your family. when a threat by the name of rafe cameron begins to threaten the pogue's plans, they assign you to gain the trust of the dubious kook and keep an eye on what he's up to. however, now it's been six months since your friends set you up to spy on the kook prince himself, but what you didn't anticipate was to fall head over heels for the boy. your relationship had soon become inviolable shortly after your guys' first exchanges, much to your friends' dismay, and you two became practically inseperable. that was, until rafe discovers the truth.

warnings: swearing, drug use, mentions of alcohol, suggestive themes, angst

author's note: thank you to the person who said y/n and rafe remind them of two ghosts by harry styles, yet another reason to cry over them

In the soft glow of the television, casting a muted ambiance across Rafe's room, he lay on his bed with Sofia resting against his chest. A quiet tension lingered in the air, intensifying in the days following the unexpected reunion with you at the restaurant.

Sofia, sensing Rafe's distance, absentmindedly traced circles on his chest with her fingers, attempting to bridge the growing gap between them. Tilting her head to look up at him, concern filled her eyes.

"Rafe, is everything okay?" Sofia's voice was soft and caring.

With a sigh, Rafe kept his gaze fixed on the TV screen, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Yeah, just… thinking about stuff, you know?"

Propping herself up on her elbow, Sofia studied his face. "You've been so distant lately. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Caught between the truth and the fear of causing more turmoil, he hesitated. "It's just a lot going on, Sof. I've got some things on my mind."

Understandingly, Sofia nodded, her fingers now tracing gentle patterns on his arm. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

He nodded, appreciating her support but unsure if he could share the complexities of his emotions. Sensing his reluctance, Sofia decided to change the subject, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Maybe we could do something fun this weekend, take your mind off things," she suggested, a hopeful smile playing on her lips.

Managing a faint smile in return, Rafe appreciated her effort. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see."

As the TV flickered in the background, the room held an unspoken tension. Sofia rested her head back on Rafe's chest, contemplating the subtle shifts in their dynamic. While she tried to be patient, a nagging feeling lingered – a realization that something had changed, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

However, as her gestures intensified, Rafe's patience wore thin. The unspoken tension in the room became palpable, creating an invisible barrier between them. Sofia nestled against him, attempting to intertwine her fingers with his. Growing increasingly irritated, Rafe pulled away, his brow furrowing.

"Sof, can you just give it a rest for a bit?" he muttered, the irritation evident in his tone.

Looking up at him, Sofia's eyes reflected a mix of confusion and hurt. "Rafe, what's going on? You've been distant, and now you're pushing me away. Did I do something wrong?"

With a sigh, frustration etching his features, Rafe admitted, "It's not about you, okay? I've got a lot on my mind, and I can't deal with all this right now."

She sat up, giving him some space but still visibly hurt. "Rafe, we used to be so close. If something's bothering you, I want to be there for you."

His annoyance grew as he struggled to find the right words. "I just need some space, okay? I can't have you all over me every second."

Tears welled in Sofia's eyes, hurt by the sudden change in his demeanor. "Fine, Rafe. If you need space, I'll give it to you. But this… it's not like you."

He didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the distant wall. The room felt heavy with unresolved tension, and as Sofia excused herself, the air between them lingered with unspoken words and a growing sense of unease.

Rafe's frustration reached its peak as he watched Sofia leave, the door closing behind her. He sighed heavily, pacing the room as if trying to escape the overwhelming emotions within. His hands ran through his disheveled hair, fingers gripping the strands tightly.

"Why can't anything just be easy for once?" he muttered to himself, a bitter edge to his voice.

The echo of his own words seemed to mock him, and he felt a surge of anger building up inside. Without thinking, he lashed out, his fist connecting with the wall in a raw display of frustration. The impact reverberated through the room, and a sharp pain shot through his hand. Rafe winced but welcomed the physical pain as a distraction from the emotional turmoil.

"Damn it!" he cursed, shaking his hand as if to ward off the sting.

Alone in the room, Rafe grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling within him. The weight of recent events, the encounter with you, and the strained relationship with Sofia created a volatile mix that he struggled to navigate. The room felt smaller, suffocating, as if closing in on him.

As Rafe nursed his throbbing hand, he sank onto the edge of his bed, overwhelmed by a flood of memories. The room became a stage for the ghosts of moments shared with you, and he found himself dwelling in the bittersweet nostalgia of your presence.

He closed his eyes, trying to summon the sensory details that clung to those memories. The way your hair smelled faintly of the ocean breeze, the melodic cadence of your laughter that echoed in his ears, and the warmth of your touch that lingered on his skin. Each recollection was a sharp pang, a reminder of a time when everything seemed simpler, when he didn't have to navigate the complexities of heartache and regret.

In that solitary moment, he romanticized the past, replaying the scenes where you and he were entangled in a dance of shared glances and whispered confessions. The room seemed to echo with the ghostly laughter that once filled it, now haunting him with the absence of your presence.

Sorrow tightened its grip on his heart as he wallowed in the vivid tapestry of your shared experiences. The weight of regret bore down on him, and he couldn't escape the haunting realization that he might have let something truly precious slip through his fingers. Yet, amid the pain, there was an undeniable longing, a yearning for a time when love felt uncomplicated, and the future held the promise of shared tomorrows.

As Rafe dwelled in the recesses of his imagination, he allowed the alternate reality to unfold before him like a hazy daydream. In this envisioned world, he saw a life where he had granted you that second chance on that fateful day, a life that diverged from the current path of heartache and solitude.

In this imagined narrative, the two of you flourished against the backdrop of sun-kissed memories, navigating the complexities of love with a newfound understanding. The island, once a confined stage for your relationship, now became a mere prologue to the grander story of your shared journey.

He envisioned the passage of years, the gentle erosion of the once-familiar island landscape replaced by the changing seasons of a more expansive world. The whispers of shared dreams resonated through the cozy northern town you had made your own, a place where the echoes of laughter and love were woven into the fabric of everyday life.

There, in this imagined haven, you and he found solace in the simplicity of shared sunsets and the warmth of a home built on the foundation of forgiveness and resilience. The weight of regret lifted, replaced by the buoyancy of a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger on the other side.

Yet, even in the reverie of this idyllic existence, a sense of loss lingered. Rafe couldn't shake the awareness that this alternate reality was a mere mirage, a poignant testament to the choices made and the irreversible course of time. The ache in his heart deepened as he contemplated the chasm between the life he had envisioned and the reality that now unfolded before him.

As Rafe's mental anguish escalated, he found himself teetering on the precipice of despair. The weight of regret, coupled with the sting of recent events, drove him to a breaking point. A torrent of emotions overwhelmed him, and tears blurred his vision as he grappled with the haunting echoes of your presence in his mind.

In a desperate attempt to numb the pain, Rafe sought solace in the familiar rituals that had become a coping mechanism, albeit a destructive one. With trembling hands, he reached into his nightstand, fingers closing around a small baggy containing a white substance. The act was mechanical, a reflex born out of habit and the relentless pursuit of an elusive escape.

The substance, once a temporary reprieve from the tumult within, now became a symbol of the deeper turmoil eating away at Rafe's soul. As he prepared to indulge in this fleeting escape, the room became a silent witness to the unraveling of a fractured spirit, a soul caught in the relentless undertow of its own despair.

The room, cloaked in the dim glow of despair, witnessed Rafe's descent into the abyss of his own making. Each inhalation of the numbing substance became a fleeting attempt to drown the sorrows that threatened to consume him. Tears, unbidden, streamed down his face, a silent testament to the profound ache that had settled within his heart.

As the chemical haze wrapped around him, he found himself lost in a vivid tapestry of memories. Images of you, smiling and carefree, intertwined with an alternate reality where he had chosen a different path that led to a shared future. The bittersweet agony of those imaginary moments intensified with every heartbeat, each line etching a painful reminder of what could have been.

In the midst of the solitary ritual, Rafe grappled not only with the substance but also with the weight of regret, longing, and the haunting specter of a love lost. The room bore witness to the silent struggle, a sanctuary of solitude shattered by the echoes of a heart breaking, one line at a time.

The substance's bitter sting lingered in Rafe's nostrils as he leaned back, the remnants of his chosen escape method still coursing through his veins. The room, once a sanctuary of solitude, now held the hushed aftermath of his self-imposed oblivion. A fleeting sense of relaxation swept over him, a momentary reprieve from the weight that had settled on his shoulders.

As he waited for the high to envelop him completely, Rafe's mind teetered on the precipice between reality and the numbing embrace of the chemicals. The echoes of memories, both real and imagined, lingered in the corners of his consciousness, competing with the euphoria that sought to drown them out. In this fragile interlude, he clung to the fragile promise of escape, a respite from the relentless ache that seemed to define his waking hours.

───────────────

The sun hung high in the cloudless sky as you and JJ embarked on the boat ride, the rhythmic hum of the engine providing a soothing backdrop to the gentle lapping of waves against the vessel. The salty sea breeze tousled your hair as you sat beside JJ, your thoughts still swirling with the tumultuous events of the past days.

JJ, always attuned to your emotions, attempted to break the heavy silence that lingered between you. "You know, a day out here is gonna do wonders for the soul. Trust me."

You managed a small smile, appreciating JJ's effort to lift your spirits. The boat cut through the water, leaving behind a trail of frothy waves, and soon, the coastline faded into the distance.

As the boat sailed further into the vast expanse of the ocean, the horizon opened up before you, a boundless canvas of blues and greens. The vastness of the sea seemed to mirror the complexities of your own emotions. JJ, ever the optimist, nudged you playfully.

"Come on, Y/N! Let's make today a good one. Leave all that drama on the shore."

You nodded, silently vowing to try and embrace the fleeting escape from the troubles that haunted your thoughts. The boat sliced through the water, carrying you both away from the island, if only for a moment, and you allowed the gentle rocking to lull you into a tentative sense of peace.

As the boat glided through the sunlit waters, you could feel JJ's gaze on you, his eyes tracing the contours of your tanned skin as it absorbed the warm, golden rays. The sunlight played with the strands of your hair, creating a halo of light around you. Despite the turmoil in your mind, you found solace in the soothing embrace of the sun, its radiant touch becoming a balm for the wounds that lingered within.

JJ, perceptive as always, recognized the subtle shift in your demeanor. "Sunshine suits you, Y/N," he remarked with a grin, attempting to sprinkle a touch of lightness into the moment.

You chuckled softly, the genuine warmth in his words resonating with the gentle caress of the sun on your skin. For a fleeting instant, the weight on your shoulders seemed to lift, carried away by the sea breeze as the boat continued its leisurely journey across the open waters.

JJ glanced at you, concern etched across his features as he steered the boat through the gentle waves. "Y/N," he began, the hum of the boat's engine providing a backdrop to his words, "how have you been handling everything? I mean, after seeing Rafe and all."

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the horizon. The vast expanse of the ocean seemed to mirror the complexities of your emotions. "It's been tough, JJ. I didn't expect it to hit me that hard," you admitted, fingers absentmindedly playing with the edge of your sundress.

JJ nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. "If you ever need to talk about it or anything else, you know I'm here, right?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met JJ's sincere gaze. "Yeah, JJ. I appreciate that more than you know."

The boat sailed on, carving a path through the water as you navigated the currents of your emotions. JJ, a steady presence at your side, offered a reassuring anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

JJ grinned, his eyes reflecting the sunlight as he steered the boat. "You know, despite everything, I'm really glad we got past our previous issues and are still friends. Life's too short for unnecessary drama."

You chuckled, appreciating JJ's positive outlook. "Yeah, JJ, me too. You make everything a little bit easier."

The Chateau's atmosphere was thick with tension as you stormed through the door, your eyes ablaze with anger. JJ followed you, attempting to explain himself, but the hurt in your heart drowned out his words.

"You had no right, JJ!" you shouted, turning to face him. "You ruined everything!"

He held up his hands, a pleading look in his eyes. "I was just trying to be honest. Rafe had to know the truth, he's a fucking dick."

Your laughter was bitter and filled with frustration. "Honesty? You call this honesty? You destroyed my relationship with Rafe, and for what? To play the hero? You had no right meddling in my life!"

JJ's expression hardened. "I did it because I care about you! Rafe was gonna know the truth about the plan eventually."

Your fists clenched at your sides. "Well, congratulations, JJ. You've not only lost me my boyfriend, but you've also made sure Rafe will never trust me again. Is that what you wanted?"

He took a step forward, his voice lowering. "I wanted you to be free of the lies. I could see what it was doing to you and I was so pissed at Rafe and I-."

You scoffed, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "And what about hurting me, JJ? Did you even think about that?"

The room felt suffocating as the weight of the argument hung in the air. You turned away, frustration and betrayal burning in your eyes. JJ reached out, attempting to touch your shoulder, but you shrugged him off.

"Don't touch me, JJ," you hissed.

The tension escalated as JJ tried to justify his actions, his frustration mirroring your own. "You don't get it, Y/N. Rafe was pushing me. What was I supposed to do? Let him continue to walk around like he was hot shit?"

You scoffed, disbelief and anger painted across your features. "So, what, you just decided to spill everything? Betray me in the process? You had no right, JJ!"

He crossed his arms, his own frustration mounting. "He was asking for it. All I did was tell him the truth."

Your eyes narrowed. "And you think this is the way to deliver the truth? By ruining everything? You had no right to play hero, JJ. This was my mess to handle."

JJ's voice grew more intense. "He was getting under my skin, Y/N. Taunting me, pushing me to a point where I had to say something."

Your hands clenched into fists. "So, what, you just decided to throw me under the bus? And for what? To prove a point to Rafe?"

JJ's frustration turned into desperation. "I didn't want to hurt you, Y/N. But he needed to know what was going on. You can't keep playing both sides."

Your anger flared, and you took a step closer, glaring at JJ. "I never asked you to play hero, JJ. You took it upon yourself to destroy everything. And for what? To assuage your guilt?"

JJ's expression shifted to guilt as he realized the extent of the damage. "I just thought he deserved to know the truth."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Well, congratulations. The truth is out, and everything's gone to hell. I hope you're happy with what you've done."

The air in the room grew heavier as the argument reached a boiling point, the consequences of JJ's actions and your frustration colliding in a painful clash.

Tears streamed down your face as you hastily packed your belongings, anger and betrayal consuming you. JJ entered the room, concern etched across his face. "Y/N, please, just listen—"

You cut him off, your voice shaking with rage. "Listen? You've done enough, JJ. All you do is ruin everything. I can't believe you thought you had the right to destroy everything I had left."

JJ's eyes pleaded for understanding, but your frustration was uncontainable. "You had no right to tell him, JJ. It was my choice, my secret to keep. And you just trampled all over it."

He took a step closer, trying to calm the storm. "I just wanted him to know the truth, Y/N. He was pushing me, and I couldn't keep lying."

Your voice was sharp and unforgiving. "And look where it got us. Congratulations, JJ. You've successfully dismantled any chance I had left."

As the weight of the situation settled, JJ's remorse deepened. "Y/N, I didn't mean for it to go this way. I just thought he deserved to know the truth."

Your eyes flashed with anger. "Deserved to know? No, JJ, this wasn't your call to make. You don't get to play the hero in my life. Now, I need you to leave me alone. I can't deal with this right now."

JJ's attempts to mend the situation fell on deaf ears as you continued packing, each item a painful reminder of the life you had built on the island, now crumbling under the weight of betrayal and shattered trust.

JJ's voice cut through the tension as he yelled your name, desperation evident in his tone. "Y/N, stop! You're not going anywhere."

Your steps faltered briefly, but the fire within you refused to be extinguished. Turning to face him, you shot back, "Watch me, JJ. I can't stay here. Not after what you've done."

He closed the gap between you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "Y/N, please. We can work through this. You don't have to leave."

But the pain and anger were too fresh, too overwhelming. You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Work through this? You destroyed everything, JJ. There's no going back."

The porch seemed like a battleground, emotions swirling in the air. You pushed past him, determination in every step. JJ called after you, his voice desperate and broken. "Y/N, I messed up, but running away won't fix anything. We can figure this out together."

You paused at the edge of the porch, a mixture of emotions playing on your face. "No, JJ. I need to go. I need to find some semblance of peace away from this mess. Goodbye, JJ."

And with that, you walked away, leaving JJ standing on the porch, helpless and haunted by the consequences of his actions.

JJ's question pulled you back from the brink of painful memories, and you turned your attention to him. The rhythmic sounds of the boat and the gentle waves around you provided a soothing backdrop to the present moment.

JJ's eyes studied your face, concern evident in his expression. "Hey, you've been through a lot lately. How about we take a break from everything and go to a party tonight? Just let loose and have some fun?"

With a forced smile, you responded, "Sure, JJ. A party sounds like a good distraction right now."

He grinned in response, seemingly content that you were willing to join in. The boat ride continued, the vast ocean offering a temporary escape from the troubles that haunted both your minds. Little did you know, the night would bring new challenges, pushing you to confront the ghosts of your past once more.

───────────────

The pulsating beat of the music filled the air as you navigated through the crowded house party. The dim lights flickered in time with the rhythm, casting a hazy glow on the revelers around you. The atmosphere buzzed with energy, and you could feel the bass thumping in your chest.

Taking another shot, you let the warmth spread through you, momentarily drowning out the weight of your thoughts. The scent of alcohol and a mix of perfumes hung in the air as you weaved your way through the dancing crowd.

JJ, your steadfast companion for the evening, kept a watchful eye on you. He had insisted on staying close, sensing that the party might stir up emotions you were trying to escape. Despite the chaos around you, the two of you found a moment of solace by a makeshift bar.

As the night unfolded, laughter and conversations melded into a symphony of chaos. The partygoers, a mix of pogues and tourons, created a dynamic blend of backgrounds and stories. You attempted to lose yourself in the music, letting the beat guide your movements on the makeshift dance floor.

JJ leaned in, his voice just audible over the music. "You doing okay?"

You nodded, the alcohol lending you a temporary sense of detachment. "Yeah, just trying to have a good time."

The night wore on, and the boundaries between reality and the rhythmic pulse of the party blurred. The fleeting moments of joy were punctuated by glimpses of faces that triggered memories — reminders of a past you were desperately trying to escape.

As you lost yourself in the music and the swirling lights, a tall, mysterious stranger approached with a confident smirk on his face. He interrupted your dance, his presence commanding attention. The beat of the music provided the backdrop for his invitation, and you looked up to meet his gaze.

His dark, expressive eyes locked onto yours, and a sly smile played on his lips as he smoothly asked, "Care to dance?" Intrigued by the invitation and the allure of the moment, you returned his smile and nodded, ready to let the rhythm take over and momentarily drown out the complexities of your life.

The tall brunette man's confident smirk widened as you accepted his invitation to dance. The music pulsed through the air, setting the rhythm for your impromptu dance floor connection. You felt the beats vibrating through your body as you turned around to face him, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

The two of you fell into sync, bodies moving to the rhythmic pulse of the music. The dim lights cast shadows on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere. As you swayed to the music, the world around you faded, and the only thing that existed in that moment was the connection between you and the mysterious stranger.

The crowd around you seemed to blur, and the pulsating energy of the party heightened. Your movements became more fluid, and the stranger mirrored your rhythm effortlessly. The playful grinding intensified, creating a charged atmosphere between you two.

As the music enveloped you, you closed your eyes, allowing the rhythmic beats to guide your movements. The stranger's hands found their place on your hips, skillfully leading you in a dance that transcended the bounds of reality. The song's title and the faces around you blurred into insignificance, and for a moment, you embraced the blissful ignorance the dance offered—a temporary escape from the complexities that weighed heavy on your mind.

The tall brunette boy effortlessly spun you around, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. In a bold move, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hand found its place on your neck, the warmth of the moment enveloping you as you willingly succumbed to the sensation.

The intoxicating mix of alcohol and the heat of the kiss had your mind swimming in a fuzzy haze, and your body responded, almost getting carried away in the moment. The pulsating beat of the music seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of the kiss, creating a surreal and blissful escape. With your eyes tightly closed, you surrendered to the intensity of the kiss, allowing the thumping music to envelop you in a world of its own. Each passing second seemed to stretch into a timeless embrace, and the chaotic surroundings of the party faded away as you became immersed in the shared desire of the moment.

Your eyes slowly opened after the passionate kiss, only to be confronted with a sight that sent a jolt through your entire being. It felt as though Rafe's face had seamlessly replaced the boy's, staring back at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. Shocked and unsettled, you instinctively threw your hands over your eyes, attempting to shield yourself from the surreal vision.

The boy, his brows furrowed in confusion, asked with genuine concern, "Hey, is everything okay?"

You shook your head, as if trying to dispel the unsettling image from your mind. With a forced smile, you told him, "I'm fine, just need to grab some water. Be right back."

As you stumbled through the crowded house, the disorientation intensified. The unfamiliar faces seemed to blur together, and the thumping music resonated in your ears. In your hazy state, you navigated the halls in search of a bathroom. A fleeting glimpse of a couple passionately making out in the hallway caught your attention, causing you to pause for a moment.

Suddenly, the faces morphed into Rafe and Sofia, and you winced at the surreal sight. Horror gripped you as the couple noticed your presence and looked at you with confusion. The disconcerting illusion lingered for a moment before you shook your head and hurriedly moved away, desperately seeking refuge from the unsettling images.

"Oh my God," you mumbled to yourself as you stumbled away from the confusing scene. Frantically, you found the bathroom and hurriedly stepped inside, locking the door behind you. Sliding down the door, you lowered your head into your palms, overwhelmed by sobs as you questioned your sanity. The disconcerting images and the weight of the emotions you had been trying to escape crashed over you, leaving you in a state of confusion and despair.

Your bloodshot eyes scanned the bathroom, the running mascara on your face revealing the sorrow you had tried to avoid for months. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you unlocked it with trembling hands, uncertain about where you were going with it. Frantically scrolling through your contacts, you searched for a sense of comfort in somebody. Eventually, you landed on Rafe's contact name. Your finger hovered over it as your hands shook, tears streaming down your face. The inner turmoil and the overwhelming emotions pushed you to the edge, and the idea of reaching out to him seemed like the only lifeline in that moment.

The room echoed with the sound of the ringing phone as you sniffled, your heart pounding with each passing second. The uncertainty of whether Rafe would answer or not intensified the anxiety that already gripped you. Each ring felt like an eternity, and in the midst of your emotional chaos, you questioned the wisdom of making that call.

"Y/N?"

The familiar voice sent a jolt through your system, and for a moment, you were paralyzed with a mix of relief and fear. "Rafe?" you uttered, your voice shaky and vulnerable.

There was a brief pause on the other end, as if Rafe was processing the unexpected call. "Yeah, it's me. Are you okay?" His voice carried a mix of concern and confusion.

Torn between the impulse to lie and the desire for honesty, you took a deep breath and decided to open up. "I… I'm not okay, Rafe," you admitted, your voice quivering with emotion. "I saw something, and I just needed someone to talk to."

Concern laced Rafe's response. "What happened? Are you in trouble?"

Your throat tightened as you recounted the strange encounter at the party, the hallucination that overlaid familiar faces onto strangers. "I don't know, Rafe. Everything is a mess, and I feel like I'm losing my mind."

Rafe's tone softened. "Where are you right now? I'll come get you."

You hesitated, unsure whether you wanted to involve him in your chaotic emotions. But, deep down, a part of you yearned for his presence. "I'm at a party… I don't even know whose house this is. Can you just… talk to me?"

Rafe assured you, "Okay, okay just relax. Send me the address and I'll be there in a few minutes. Hang tight, okay?" With that, the call ended, leaving you in the bathroom, the echoes of the party outside muffled by the closed door.

You heard knocking on the door suddenly, which made you flinch. You stood up and flung the door open, met with the sight of a random couple looking at you with confusion as they noticed your mascara running down your face. You pushed past them and made your way down the staircase. The pounding music and flashing lights disoriented you as you navigated through the crowded house. The staircase seemed never-ending as you descended, your mind clouded with a mixture of emotions. Finally, you reached the ground floor and burst through the front door, stepping into the cool night air.

The front yard offered a temporary escape from the overwhelming atmosphere inside. You took deep breaths, attempting to steady yourself. The grass beneath your feet felt cool and damp as you moved away from the entrance, finding a quiet corner of the yard to gather your thoughts.

As you leaned against the side of the house, you heard the distant thumps of the music echoing through the walls. The sounds of laughter and chatter were muffled in the open air, providing a brief reprieve.

The tears flowed freely as the memories of nights spent stargazing with Rafe flooded your mind. The stars above seemed to mock you, their distant twinkles resembling the fragments of your shattered heart. Alone in the darkness, you held your knees to your chest, unable to contain the sobs that wracked your body.

Each breath felt like a struggle, and the weight on your chest grew heavier with each passing moment. The cool night air did little to soothe the burning ache within you. It was as if the universe conspired to amplify your pain, echoing the emptiness you felt in the vast expanse of the night sky.

You wished for a moment of respite, a break from the relentless waves of sorrow crashing over you. Yet, in that isolated corner of the front yard, surrounded by the distant sounds of the party, you couldn't escape the overwhelming loneliness that consumed you.

Amidst the chaos of the party, you remained oblivious to the passing onlookers, their glances carrying a blend of confusion and judgment. The world seemed to close in around you, suffocating you in its relentless grip. Each heartbeat resonated with the pain echoing through your chest, and the weight of the night pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

The disapproving stares from strangers blurred into the background as your own internal turmoil took center stage. The universe felt indifferent to your suffering, and the isolation in the midst of a crowd intensified the sense of despair. It was a moment of vulnerability, a raw display of emotions that transcended the boundaries of the party atmosphere.

You clung to the hope that, perhaps, the night would offer some solace. Yet, as the minutes passed, the agony within you showed no signs of relenting. The facade of composure shattered, leaving you exposed to the harsh realities of heartbreak and longing. In that moment of profound vulnerability, you wrestled with the overwhelming pain that threatened to consume you entirely.

The cacophony of your breakdown was abruptly interrupted by a familiar voice cutting through the chaos, calling out your name with a mix of concern and shock. Startled, you halted your sobbing, slowly lifting your tear-streaked face to meet the gaze of the person before you.

There, standing in front of you, was Rafe. His expression revealed a cocktail of emotions—worry, surprise, and a hint of something else. His eyes, once filled with an intensity that was familiar to you, softened as they locked onto yours. The party's chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment of unexpected reunion.

As the night air hung heavy with the remnants of your tears, you and Rafe stood there, the unspoken weight of your shared history lingering between you. The world around you momentarily ceased to exist, and the only sound that mattered was the echo of your name in his voice.

"Y/N?"

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