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angelwithdemonictendencies · 5 months

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he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.

jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).

since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.

when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.

it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.

it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.

but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.

"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.

and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"

his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?

understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."

he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"

how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?

"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.

he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."

and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.

"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.

you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.

"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"

your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.

his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."

you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.

"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.

"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"

despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.

"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."

his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."

that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.

at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.

but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.

and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"

your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"

her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."

you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."

your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"

you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.

"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"

"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.

"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.

"being forgotten?" your friend asked.

"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.

"you look like you have someone in mind."

a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.

"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.

you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.

"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.

"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."

and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.

you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.

his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"

you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.

"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"

he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.

the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.

you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"

from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.

one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.

"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."

"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.

"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."

you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."

"we miss you so much. see you soon?"

you agreed, thanked her for her help.

"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."

having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.

"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.

"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."

the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.

very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.

you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.

they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."

"what if he's not interested?"

"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."

"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"

your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"

so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.

when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.

you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.

you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.

you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.

a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.

a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.

your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.

you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.

you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.

the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.

"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.

"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"

your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."

you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.

he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"

you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.

during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.

"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.

the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.

even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.

with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.

the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?

"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.

jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.

his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."

with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.

"have a game, sugar, here we go."

you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.

bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.

jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.

his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.

for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.

"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.

you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.

"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.

you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?

"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.

you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"

without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.

on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.

"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.

"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.

you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.

everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.

so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?

you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.

his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."

"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."

you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.

you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.

you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.

his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.

the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.

surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.

you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.

the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.

he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.

you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.

"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.

he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"

you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.

the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.

one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.

"alright," you chastised.

"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."

your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.

"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.

"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."

you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.

pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.

you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.

and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?

i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.

careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?

your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.

but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.

the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.

a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.

"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.

"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.

he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."

the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.

"what?" he said, grinning.

you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."

and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.

he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.

what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.

"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.

his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.

you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.

that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.

and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"

and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.

you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.

"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.

and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.

maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.

"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.

"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."

you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.

and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.

too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.

"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.

so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.

your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.

a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.

"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.

it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.

he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."

you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.

"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.

you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.

and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.

you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.

jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"

you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."

his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.

you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"

"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.

he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.

you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.

when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.

"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.

you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.

but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.

as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.

"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.

deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.

and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.

after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.

later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.

after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.

kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.

he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.

his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.

when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.

he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.

you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.

"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.

you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.

you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.

but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.

you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.

the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.

while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.

then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.

you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.

walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.

"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.

his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.

you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.

this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.

"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.

"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.

"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.

he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.

he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.

he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.

you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.

he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.

you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."

you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.

he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.

he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.

"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.

one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.

he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."

"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.

jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."

when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.

"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.

you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.

luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.

you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.

most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.

"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.

the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.

walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.

"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.

he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.

you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.

jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.

you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.

something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.

"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.

you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.

"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.

"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.

you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"

he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.

would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?

the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.

a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.

jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.

"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.

your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.

you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.

the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.

you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."

he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.

as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?

the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.

you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.

it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.

you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.

you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.

"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."

later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.

but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.

"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.

"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.

"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.

you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.

he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.

you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.

"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.

"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.

you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.

staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.

he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.

you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.

"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."

you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."

never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."

he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.

"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."

the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.

his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"

you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.

"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"

you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.

he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.

everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.

you should have known it wouldn't last long.

a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.

something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.

maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.

and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.

and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.

a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?

it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.

but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.

and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.

it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.

so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.

still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.

the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.

at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.

"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.

he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."

and that had been the end of that.

so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.

you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.

you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.

"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."

you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.

"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.

he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"

you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."

seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.

and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.

every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.

he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.

he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.

when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.

"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.

when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.

how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?

jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.

you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.

you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.

of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.

until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.

you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.

the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.

the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.

like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.

slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.

it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.

because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.

finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.

in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.

waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.

you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.

"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.

you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.

"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.

you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.

auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."

and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.

the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.

time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.

you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.

you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."

for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.

you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.

you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.

for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.

"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.

you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.

he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"

you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.

"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."

you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.

you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.

"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.

"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.

"yes."

"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.

you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."

there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."

you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."

he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."

you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."

he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.

so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.

he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.

and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.

"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."

he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.

you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."

in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.

when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."

it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.

"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.

you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.

"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.

and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.

it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.

he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.

"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.

"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."

you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.

you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.

you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.

you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.

you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.

"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."

there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.

he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.

that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.

"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #hockey smut #nhl smut #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews smut #auston matthews imagine #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #toronto maple leafs

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theemporium · 5 months

Text

[3k] the season is over but the marriage remains. max starts to see little leclerc in a light no one in the world has ever seen before. and daniel is stirring the pot because he is bored. but in a concerned way, obviously.

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“When did you say he was coming?”

“Maman.”

“Sorry for being excited to see my son-in-law.”

“Ugh, don’t call him that.”

“That’s what he is, Charles. Grow up, please.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort as you watched the way your brother argued with your mother, both on very different sides of the spectrum as you awaited Max to show up. Despite his best attempts, whatever plans Charles made to try and ruin the dinner, Pascale would always be one step ahead of him, leaving the boy pouty by the time six o’clock was approaching.

And whilst you knew your mother would be excited to meet the man you impulsively—and drunkenly—decided to marry in Vegas, you hadn’t expected her to reach this level. You don’t think you had even ever seen her take Christmas dinners to this level.

The fancy plates and cutlery had been taken out of the kitchen cupboard you and Arthur were forbidden from opening, and you had spent all morning polishing them with Lorenzo. Pascale had been running around the house like a headless chicken, as though Max would step into the house and notice the specks of dust on the top of the bookshelves and doorways. Charles had been sent out the house on a goose chase that you indefinitely knew was your mother’s way of preventing him from poisoning any dishes. And Arthur was sent along with him for good measure.

And when the clock hit five, she had practically ordered each and every one of you to put on something presentable and nice before the guest of the night arrived.

Truthfully, it felt like a funny fever dream until you were sitting in the living room, fingers tugging on the hem of your dress as you tried to fight the pit of anxiety in your stomach.

You hadn’t spoken to Max since earlier that morning. He had tried messaging a few more times: first asking what caused the sudden shift in tone, and then to ask for opinions on different bouquets. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reply to either.

You were angry. Not at him. Never at him, You were just angry at yourself. You were angry for letting such a small, meaningless comment get in your head. You were angry that you were taking your emotions out on Max who was clueless and didn’t deserve your sudden cold shoulder. You were angry that despite logically knowing all of this, the sight of his contact name and the mere idea that he was going to be in your house in the next few minutes didn’t help the pit in your stomach.

You tried to focus on Charles’ tantrum. You tried to focus on the jokes Arthur kept making to wind him up. You tried to focus on the way Lorenzo was calmly trying to persuade your mother to put the photo albums away before Max even arrived.

You tried to pretend you were okay when you were far from it.

“I want all four of you on your best behaviour,” Pascale told each of you as she anxiously glanced over at the clock, practically vibrating on the spot as the big hand neared closer to twelve with each passing moment. “No nonsense.”

“That means no sneaking away to make out with your husband,” Arthur teased, only to let out a wince when Charles slapped him across the back of his head.

“There will be nothing of the sort,” Charles grumbled, only to let out a wince when Pascale slapped him across the back of the head.

“Don’t hit your brother,” she said in a stern voice before adding. “And stop being such a buzzkill towards your sister.”

Charles rolled his eyes.

Pascale opened her mouth as though she was going to continue scolding her middle son, only to be cut off by the sound of three knocks at the door. Her face instantly lit up as she clapped her hands together, grinning widely as she rushed towards the door.

Maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was something else, but your chest tightened when the door swung open and you saw Max on the other side of the door.

He arrived right at six on the dot, though you guessed the punctuality didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you was the lack of Red Bull merch. It was stupid to think he would have worn it to dinner, but then again, he had worn it to plenty of other events shamelessly so you never knew what to expect.

But no. Instead, Max stood in the doorway in black sweater with the collar of his white shirt sticking out the top. He wore dark jeans that didn’t look like they were painted on (a miracle) and he held a large bouquet of peonies that were the prettiest shade of pink you had ever seen in your life.

“Mrs Leclerc,” he greeted her with a charming smile on his face as she opened the door. “Thank you for inviting—”

“Oh enough with the formalities!” She laughed before she brought him into a hug, the act clearly catching the boy off-guard if the wide eyes were anything to go by. “We are family now. Call me Pascale.”

“Oh. Right,” Max murmured, expertly keeping the bouquet to one side as he wrapped his other arm around the older woman. “Uh, these are for you.”

“My favourite,” she said with a genuine smile when she pulled back to take the bouquet from his hands. “What a gentleman you are, Max.”

You could have sworn you saw a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Please, come in,” she ushered him in as she closed the door behind him. She turned on her heel, her smile still so wide, it was almost concerning. “Make yourself comfortable. Dinner is almost ready.”

Max nodded his head in thanks and turned to look at the others in the room. But his gaze completely missed your brothers and landed on you, something in his eyes shifting as he stepped forward and opened his mouth to say something.

But you were already up and out of your seat before he could say a single word to you.

“I’ll help bring the food to the table, Maman,” you said suddenly as you rushed towards the kitchen.

Arthur only snorted in response. “Trouble in paradise already.”

...

“You’re ignoring me.”

You almost jumped out of your skin, the phone that was previously in your hands now clambering onto the counter. You pressed your hand to your chest, the feeling of your wildly beating heart thundering under your skin as you tried to clear your throat.

“No, I’m not,” you denied, though you hadn’t turned to look at him.

Max raised his brows. “So you’re just hiding out in the kitchen when the rest of your family are outside for no reason then?”

“I’m not hiding out. I was checking on the chicken,” you said aimlessly, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze. But still, you kept your eyes on the counter and the random dishes of food rather than the Dutchman who taking a few steps closer to you. “And I was texting Yuki. He was having some marriage issues so—”

“Guess you can relate then,” Max deadpanned.

Your cheeks burned warmer. “You should head back out to the party, Max.”

“At least fucking look at me,” he whispered, something almost pleading in his voice.

You weren’t used to it with the Dutchman. Even from a young age, Max was oddly self-assured and confident in what he said. The media said he was rude, but he was just blunt. He knew what he wanted to say. He didn’t sound apologetic when he said it. And he certainly didn’t sound so distressed when he demanded things.

And yet here he was, the three time world champion who had never sounded so desperate and anguished before in his life, just aching for you to lift your head.

You swallowed the ball lodged in the back of your throat before slowly turning your head to find Max a few steps away from you. He looked oddly concerned and maybe that’s what really caught you off-guard. You weren’t sure what you were expecting—maybe some annoyance or some anger—but it certainly wasn’t this.

His brows were furrowed together, the crease between his eyebrows deeper and more prominent than you had ever seen it. He looked a little lost and bashful, like for the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do and he didn’t know what to do with that piece of information.

Max Verstappen had never looked so hopeless.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he spoke in a soft voice, and it didn’t help the pounding in your chest.

“Nothing is wrong, Max,” you said to him, and you tried to flash him a smile. But it was strained and wrong and he hated the look of it on your face.

“Don’t bullshit me. You said this marriage wasn’t going to work if I wasn’t enthusiastic, well it won’t work either if you lie to me,” he said in a slightly more firm voice, and this time he took another step towards you. “Tell me what I did.”

Your chest tightened again. “Max—”

“Was it the comment earlier?” He continued, that pleading note in his voice so loud and clear again. “It was a joke, I promise you. I’m not ashamed to be married to you. I could never be ashamed of you.”

“Max—”

“Yes, I know the circumstances of our marriage are a little unconventional and a little inconvenient too but,” Max’s hands rested on your upper arms, the touch warm and overwhelming but you didn’t think you wanted him to let go of you just yet. “If I had to marry someone in Vegas, I am glad it’s you.”

And it hurt.

It hurt so fucking bad that the boy was standing in front of you, laying himself on the line and blaming himself for something that wasn’t even his fault. It hurt because no matter what you did, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your mouth and tell him. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that his agreement to your comment struck a nerve. You couldn’t bring yourself to say that you were feeling stupidly self-deprecating when you made the comment in the first place and his response just felt like he kicked you when you were down.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the countless articles. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him about the comments made throughout your life, throughout your brothers’ careers, throughout your own career.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that he had practically chained himself to a PR manager’s worst fucking nightmare with no way out any time soon.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it. Not when you hadn’t even confessed half of your feelings to the people in the other room. Not when a part of you was scared he would agree with every single fear that laid lingering in the back of your head.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you finally managed to say, and something quite like relief washed over the boy when he realised you were actually answering him, that you weren’t going to run off and hide in another room like you had done before. “Just…it was something else that upset me. Not you. I promise. You did nothing wrong, Max.”

The concern returned. “What upset you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you said simply, and you were grateful enough that the boy dropped the topic—even if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. “We have a dinner to enjoy. It’s not worth ruining when Maman has spent all day making sure Charles didn’t slip some arsenic into your soup.”

Max snorted, shaking his head. A few beats passed before he squeezed your arms slightly. “We’re good?”

You smiled. “We’re good, Max.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased with that response as he let out an exhale. “Good, because now you can come out and help me. If Arthur makes one more sex joke, I think Charles might serve my balls for dessert.”

You snorted. “Maman would have his balls on a plate first if he tried to ruin the dinner itinerary she set up.”

...

“Can we talk?”

Max paused what he was doing, the pile of dishes sitting in front of him from where he was trying to help tidy up after dinner moments ago. Despite Pascale’s insistence that he was a guest who didn’t need to assist, Max still found himself joining the oddly domestic dance of working around the Leclerc’s to clean away the table and take everything back into the kitchen.

He could hear you and Arthur giggling in the other room, quickly followed by soft scolds from Pascale—the kind where you could still hear the smile in her voice. He could hear Lorenzo stepping outside for a phone call, his voice muffled by the balcony whilst Arthur made some joke that he was probably going to throw himself off after watching his baby sister make heart eyes at her husband all night. That was followed by another scolding from Pascale.

There was an odd sense of contentment deep in his chest as he collected the last of the dishes on the dining table when he heard somebody step into the room, expecting it just to be Pascale or maybe even you.

He wasn’t expecting Charles.

“Uh, yeah,” the Dutchman muttered, shifting around so he was facing the boy instead. “What’s up?” He almost cringed at his own words the second they left his mouth.

“Tell me this isn’t a tactic.”

Max paused, wondering for a few moments if he had heard the boy correctly. However, Charles didn’t seem to repeat himself as he stood there on the other side of the table, staring blankly at the Dutchman as he waited for his response.

“What?”

“Tell me that this whole thing isn’t just some ploy made up by Red Bull,” Charles said, his face remaining straight as he spoke.

“What is a ploy? This dinner?” Max questioned, utterly baffled by the words leaving his mouth.

“I need you to tell me whether you are just messing with my sister as some weird, twisted way to get to me,” Charles said, his arms crossed over his chest. “I need you to tell me if this is some fucking game to you and your team.”

And Max’s stomach churned at the allegation.

He thought this was all planned. He thought Red Bull had sent him out like a spy to get involved with the Leclerc family and exploit them. He thought this didn’t mean shit to Max beyond a mind game to assure him the championship next year.

And the worst part was that Max could see why he would think that. If there was anyone who risked being his biggest competitor on track—car aside—it would be Charles. Not his own teammate. Not Mercedes. Not McLaren. It would be Charles Leclerc, like it had always been when they were younger.

It had always been Max Vertsappen versus Charles Leclerc. And it always would be until the end of their careers.

For Charles to assume it was one thing. But for Charles to actually believe Max would go through with something like that? To agree to such a plan?

The Dutchman couldn’t deny that it really fucking stung. It fucking stung that Charles assumed the worst of him—even if it was to protect his little sister—and it fucking stung to wonder if the other Leclerc’s assumed the same.

“Charles,” a disbelieving scoff left his lips as he shook his head. “I would never—”

“Because I don’t give two fucks about a championship if you are messing with my sister,” Charles interrupted. There was a rage in his eyes, a rage he had never witnessed in the boy before—not even during his worst races. “She cares deeply about people. She loves hard and fast. And if you become one of those people and break her heart?”

Max didn’t say anything.

“There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for her,” he said in a softer voice, but the underlying threat was still clear. “And there is nobody I wouldn’t hurt if they hurt her.”

“This isn’t some mind game,” Max said to the boy, because he didn’t think the boy would believe anything else he said. “Vegas was a mess, I know that. But I would never do something like this. And I would never bring your sister into our rivalry or on-track business.”

Charles’ jaw clenched a little, like he was contemplating whether he believed Max or not.

And for a few moments, Max wondered what would happen if he confessed his true feelings. He wondered what the Monagasque would say if he learnt that Max had spent the better part of their early careers either trying to beat him in a kart or ogling his sister. He wondered what Charles would think if Max told him he was almost pretty sure his little sister was his first love, even when they didn’t have a proper conversation until Charles finally joined Formula One.

Max wondered what Charles would think if he knew the truth.

But now was not the time nor the place to tell him. To be completely honest, Max didn’t think it would ever be the time or place to tell him. He didn’t think he would ever confess that to Charles, he didn’t think there was any reason to. There was only one person in this world that deserved to hear his confession, but Max would rather throw himself in front of the RB19 before he told you how he felt.

“I swear on my life, my cats’ lives and my mother’s life,” he added after a few moments, watching as the boy’s shoulders sagged a little like he finally realised Max was telling the truth.

“Good,” Charles nodded, pausing for a few moments. “I mean everything I said. For as long as it takes to sort out this mess, if you even upset her once, I swear to God—”

“Image loud and clear, Charles,” Max assured the boy with a single nod of his head.

“Good. Remember it, Verstappen.”

And with that, he left the room and left Max staring blankly at the pile of dishes on the table, a dull ache in his chest that he wasn’t really sure how to ease.

...

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 372,933 others

yourusername breaking news: max verstappen does wear something other than red bull merch!!!

view all 17,932 comments

landonorris how much did you have to pay him to wear it?

danielricciardo he had a bit of a tantrum before he left the house but i promised him two bedtime stories

maxverstappen1 you both suck

user OMG THE DINNER ACTUALLY HAPPENED

user meeting the in-laws!!!

user okay but those flowers are so pretty???

pascaleleclerc it was lovely having you, max! we must make these a regular thing!

charles_leclerc MAMAN???????

user this is my roman empire fr

user i need to know how close charles was to poisoning max

arthur_leclerc so close

maxverstappen1 i do own other clothes. you've just not seen them yet

yourusername is that an invite, mr verstappen?

oscarpiastri there are children on this app. please.

yourusername what children

logansargeant ME! I AM CHILDREN! THIS IS HORRIBLE!

yourusername grow up

user this is everything i needed and more

user okay but when do we get the solo max and little leclerc dinner date?

yourusername i would like to know too. my husband is lacking

maxverstappen1 maybe i'll wear my red bull polo

yourusername i take it back, i don't want to go out to dinner with you

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

3K notes · View notes

d1xonss · 1 month

Note

so ours babys a lil insecure bc of reader and his lil age gap he vents it to rick a little and since shes such a social butterfly literally talking and befriending everyone he gets upset and starts to think lowly of himself like theres younger men men who arent busy leading the community so they can spend all their time and affection on her blah blah he gets these crazy thoughts and she comforts him eases all his worries ):

Forever

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Angst/Fluff

✧ Word Count : 3.1k

AN ~ Aww sad:(( but we love Reader comforting Daryl, it's one of my favorite things to write. And an age gap too?? I love it. Hope you enjoy!

“You’re ridiculous.” Rick spoke with a scoff.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed slightly at the man, not necessarily because of what he had claimed, but because it almost seemed like he hadn’t listened to him at all.

He already felt a little ashamed going to his friend in the first place to talk about how he was feeling, something the man rarely ever did. But that alone showed how desperate he seemed to be for any kind of advice, willing to put himself out there to express what had been going through his mind recently in hopes of some sort of reassurance.

He didn’t really know what had been going on with him recently, but ever since the group had made it to Alexandria, his insecurities slowly began to eat him alive. He started to take note of his appearance a little more, now that they actually had mirrors in the houses provided for them, seeing for himself how much older and tired he really was. It shouldn’t have bugged him as much as it did, but yet, it seemed to be all he thought about. And that constant loop of thoughts only traveled to another, thinking about how much living on the road seemed to age him, while the woman he was madly in love with stayed so young and beautiful.

She was absolutely perfect, not a single flaw, while he on the other hand had countless ones that he couldn’t seem to just get over and ignore. But that wasn’t the only aspect about her that seemed to cloud over his mind. She was quite the extrovert, making friends everywhere she turned as she was constantly radiating such a good and friendly energy. It even drew him in towards her from the start, falling victim to her charming personality. Though it wasn’t her kindness that made him a little more self conscious than before; it was the fact that a few younger men had obviously taken a liking to her natural sweetness ever since they moved here.

Now he knew that she would never cheat on him, the thought never even crossed her mind, but that still didn’t stop his jealousy from bubbling over to a point of no return. Wanting to beat the shit out of any guy who looked at her for just a little too long. He wasn’t blind by any means, and some of them had a hard time hiding the sneaky glances they were taking at his woman whilst she was just in her own little world.

Though the longer he seemed to stew over it for the months and months they had lived there, it made him start to wonder if maybe she would be better off with someone else. Someone a bit younger, more energetic, more outgoing. Someone that matched her personality better than he did. It was no secret that they were polar opposites, but he always imagined that they completed each other in a way, not even thinking twice about it. However, now that he had all the time in the world to think, it slowly started to consume him, thinking more about how he didn’t deserve her at all. But hell, maybe no one deserved her.

The man then seemed to snap out of his thoughts, scoffing toward Rick who was looking at him with a small smile, “Man, m’ bein serious.” he grumbled.

“So am I.” Rick shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he tilted his head a bit at him, “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about man. You two are always attached at the hip, she loves you…I think you might just be in your own head about it.”

He sighed heavily as he thought to himself for another moment, his thumbnail in his mouth as he contemplated why he was confiding in Rick in the first place. At this point he had it in his head that the man was just telling him what he wanted to hear. “I dunno…” he eventually muttered in response.

Rick only shook his head, “You shouldn’t be so focused on this. You’ve always known how nice she is, everyone loves her-”

“Man, that ain’t the problem. I already told ya that.” Daryl interrupted with irritation in his voice.

“I know…I know.” he assured, “I guess I just don’t see the connection of how you came up with the idea that she suddenly deserves someone “better.”

The archer shook his head with a light scoff, “Seein her talkin with those guys…something kinda just clicked that she should be with someone more fit for her…” he trailed off for a moment, before pathetically shrugging his shoulders again, “I dunno.”

Rick honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Although, he could, he knew that Daryl sometimes got like this, thinking he didn’t deserve the things that he was given. But he never thought he would be standing here listening to him speak about how you would be better off with someone else. Anyone who even caught a glimpse of the two of you could easily see how in love you were with each other. He swore the sight could potentially make someone sick.

The man then cleared his throat, “Well…if you want to know what I think, I say you should talk to her.”

“Talk to her?”

Rick couldn’t help but laugh at how baffled he looked at the suggestion, “Yeah, talk to her. Besides, I think she’ll have a better chance at reassuring you about this than I will, she seems more fit for the role.” he joked.

But Daryl on the other hand scoffed, not exactly loving the idea, “This shit’s already embarrassing, why would I wanna bring it up to her? Didn’t even really wanna bring it up to you.”

“Thanks.” Rick said dryly before stepping closer to slap a hand on the man’s shoulder, “But just trust me on this, alright? You need to tell her how you’ve been feeling. Because if I know you at all, I know you want to keep this bottled up. But that’ll just make it worse and you know it.”

He was right. As much as Daryl hated to acknowledge it, he knew deep down he was right.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to put it off every chance he got, pushing it into the back of his mind as he always seemed to do in hopes that it would just go away. Though he knew it wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to want to think about it right now.

He went home later that night utterly defeated and clueless on how to even approach the topic in the first place. When the time dreadfully came around, how would he even bring it up? He was never good with words, especially when it came to something about how he was feeling. It was all just stupid and complicated in his mind, not knowing how to actually piece together the things he wanted her to know. But he knew he had to try.

The front door opened and shut with a small creak as he entered the house, kicking his dirty boots off to the side before he softly called out your name. But all was quiet, not a single sound of your voice calling back to him, to which he only assumed you were still out somewhere in the community. It wasn’t often you stayed out this late, but he silently knew that if someone needed the extra help, you would do it in a heartbeat.

The older man sighed deeply to himself before trudging up the stairs, wanting to get out of the filthy clothes he was trapped in before settling for the night, waiting for you to come home. He couldn’t ever really fall asleep without you there. He didn’t know if it was because he would always worry too much if you weren’t right beside him, or if he just physically needed your touch to relax, but it had to be somewhere in that ballpark. Perhaps both…definitely both.

He entered your shared bedroom with a tired huff, beginning to undo the buttons on his vest before folding it sloppily and setting it off to the side on the dresser. His hands then moved to peel off his dirty shirt that stuck to every part of his tanned skin, raising it over his head before throwing it in the hamper across the room to be washed. He ran his hands through his hair to get it out of his face as he crossed the space to get himself another pair of pants to sleep in, when suddenly his movements stopped short.

The tall, full length mirror that sat off in the corner quickly caught his attention as he saw just a brief glimpse of his reflection dancing behind the glass. He blinked a few times as he knew he shouldn’t look too close, knowing it was only going to add fuel to the already ongoing fire. But a part of him couldn’t help it, seeing as it was too late now that he had taken notice of a few new flaws he hadn’t spotted before. It was like some kind of sinkhole that he couldn’t escape from, looking over the things he hated the most about himself over and over again.

He slowly stepped closer toward the object even though he knew he shouldn’t, seeing himself a little more up close as the moonlight poured through the window just above him to illuminate his figure. His eyes scanned everything he could make out in the slight darkness, seeing the wrinkles that were now more prominent on his forehead. Seeing the dark circles under his eyes from the exhaustion and stress that had been weighing on him constantly. And seeing the scars that littered over his entire body.

“Daryl?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your soft voice from behind him, spinning around to see you standing in the doorway. Your eyes widened a little in surprise. Never had you recalled a single time where you had been able to catch him off guard, accidently sneak up on him enough to make his heart skip. He had always been aware of his surroundings, the man had the instincts of a goddamn cat. So to say you were surprised when he hovered about five feet in the air at your presence, would be an understatement.

You raised an eyebrow at him in slight concern, “You okay?” you asked softly as you approached him with hesitance.

Daryl’s stomach had plummeted to his ass, a heat rising in his cheeks from embarrassment as you caught him staring down at himself for a bit longer than usual. He swallowed thickly as he saw you walking further into the room, nodding a bit quickly, “Yeah…m’ fine.”

Though the way he spoke was far from convincing, his voice coming out a bit higher than usual, and the reassuring smile he tried to send your way being a little too forced for you not to realize. Your eyes narrowed toward him in slight suspicion as you came to stand right in front of him, taking in his appearance. There was something that was clearly circling his mind, you had noticed for far longer than he thought you did. But you always knew when there was something off about him.

You gently reached out to grab one of his hands in your own, “Come on…don’t lie to me.”

He sighed softly, knowing that he should just bite the bullet and tell you, but he couldn’t bring himself to just yet. “Just…just had a rough day. That’s all.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” you said with a slight shake of your head, watching as he furrowed his brows a little in question. “You’ve been acting off for weeks now, you really didn’t think I was going to notice?”

His eyes widened. Shit.

A small smirk formed on your lips as you clearly saw that you had caught him in a little white lie. It was written all over his face. You squeezed his hand in reassurance, “I’m not upset…I just want you to talk to me.”

He knew he couldn’t avoid it forever, especially after Rick gave him that little wake up call earlier to just rip the bandage off. But he hoped he could put it off for at least a few more days, wanting a little more time to prepare the things he wanted to express to you honestly. Though he could tell just by the way you were looking up at him, that you wanted answers, and he couldn’t just ignore what was standing right before him.

He sighed softly as he looked at the ground for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, “Alright…” he started, not even knowing where to take this. “Look…maybe…maybe this ain’t workin.” he blurted without thinking.

Your eyes widened a little, “What?”

Daryl’s eyes then grew as well realizing just how bad that sounded, quickly shaking his head, “No, no, I- I mean…that ain’t how I meant for it to sound at all.” he reassured, before taking another moment to collect his racing thoughts. “I’ve been…thinkin recently and…I ain’t gettin any younger. Hell, I feel like I aged five extra years just from bein out on the damn road for so long.”

You nodded along slowly, not really seeing where this was heading, “So?”

He sighed softly, “So…I’ve been thinkin bout how…maybe…ya deserve to be with someone a little more fit for ya. Someone younger than me…someone who can give ya what I can’t.” he spoke almost regrettably, like he dreaded even saying those words out loud in the first place.

The truth was, he never wanted to let you go, that was a knowing fact that didn’t need to be proved. But at the same time, he didn’t want to hold you back from a chance at a better life. One that you so clearly deserved.

But your expression seemed to soften drastically, now hearing his explanation out loud, it all seemed to click in your head. Why he had been acting off for the longest time, it was because he was just thinking too much about something that meant absolutely nothing. When you first noticed his odd behavior, you automatically assumed you had done something wrong without realizing. But now hearing it out loud, hearing how hurt he sounded, all you wanted to do was hold him and never let him go. Wanting to reassure him for the rest of your lives if you had to that he was truly the only man you would ever want.

A small huff passed through your lips, “Sweetie…that’s what this is about?”

Daryl shrugged a little in response, “Well…yeah. I’ve seen ya makin friends with a lot of the people round here…it just crossed my mind that…maybe-”

“Stop.” you said gently as you moved even closer to him, reaching up to give his arms a gentle squeeze, “Don’t say another word.”

His gaze softened as he stared down at you, regret filling him completely as he saw just how his words had affected you.

“I love you…so much.” you whispered as your gripped his arms a little tighter, “I’m not looking at anyone else…I don’t want anyone else. No one else on this whole damn planet would be a better fit for me than you. I don’t need some younger guy. I’m not even friends with them, they only come talk to me if they have a question about something. And most of them aren’t very bright.” you said bluntly, earning a small chuckle from him. “I just wish you had told me about this sooner.”

He bit his lip a bit shamefully, “I know…m’ sorry. I just thought…ya might be better off-”

“I won’t.” you insisted, “You’re all I will ever need…you hear me?”

A small smile grew on his face upon hearing that, knowing that you meant every word. Though there was still another thing hovering over his mind. “Even though m’ an old man?” he asked half heartedly, though a part of him was still serious.

You rolled your eyes a bit, “Just because you’re older than me doesn’t make you an old man.” you laughed softly, “But if that’s something you’re really worried about…I promise to stick around even when you’re eighty.” you winked.

His lip quirked up a bit in amusement as he reached out to place his hands on your hips, gently tugging you closer, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

You then felt his thumbs start to rub soothingly along your hip bones, still a little unsure if this was truly what you wanted. To be with someone like him. “Ya promise?” he eventually asked.

You tilted your head a bit at him, “Come on…what do I have to do to convince you that I want this forever?”

The man was silent for a long moment as he thought to himself, absentmindedly still running his thumbs along your hips as he stared down at you. The truth was he didn’t really need anymore convincing than what you had already told him. Just by the small bit of reassurance you provided, he felt as though he was lighter, a weight being lifted from his shoulders knowing you were his. But still, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect time to make it even more official.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise, not expecting him to be so blunt let alone say those words to you at all. He never really struck you as someone who would want to get married at a time like this, but it’s not like you minded. As long as you were with him, that’s all that truly mattered to you.

Only now it felt as if the wind was knocked out of you, hearing him utter those words so clearly as if he meant it with his entire being. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit nervously, “Don’t joke about that, cause you know I will.”

He smiled down at you, shaking his head softly, “M’ serious.” he assured, raising one of his hands to run his thumb along your cheek, “Marry me.”

A lump began to form in your throat as you felt yourself get a little more emotional seeing how real this was becoming. Seeing how serious he was. He really wanted this.

“Okay.” you whispered with a small nod of your head.

His smile only grew, “Okay?”

You nodded a bit more frantically as a large smile broke out onto your face, “Yes…yes I’ll marry you.”

He chuckled, pure relief and happiness filling him completely as he picked you up in his arms, spinning you around lightly as you squealed in surprise. Though he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to seal the deal as he gently set you back down on your feet, kissing you deeply as he felt you hum into his mouth. A part of him almost couldn’t believe that you had agreed, wanting to truly be with him forever. But then again, with the way you looked at him, with the way you said yes with little to no hesitation at all, he knew. You were his forever.

~ Thanks for reading!

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hongjoongsart · 2 months

Text

Reassuring Words and Mellow Touches | Choi San

💐 IMPORTANT: Re-upload from my deleted account (hongjoongspoetry).

💐 Summary: Being a mother wasn’t an item on your bucket list, never has and probably never will be. You were more than content with living a childless life and it wasn't an occurring issue before, until you brought your boyfriend on a trip to your parents’ where his love for kids unveiled right in your face. You were adamant on your choice, but scared what the future held for you and your boyfriend.

💐 Pairing(s): idol!San x f!reader

💐 Genres/Tropes: tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, a lil suggestive

💐 Warnings/Tags: no use of (Y/N), mentions of pregnancies, arguments, explicit language, expectations that come with being a woman, reader doesn't want babies, pushy family, emotional invalidation, listed pregnancy side effects, san with kids

💐 Wordcount: 12.2K

💐 Author's note: Here's a lil treat inspired by my fear of pregnancies. I am not a mother and I'm not trying to offend anyone who is. I haven't experienced motherhood so I wouldn't understand the complicit feelings that come with it, this is more my observation of it I guess.

Edited 22 January, 2024!

AO3 Playlist Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent San in any way or form.

Babies weren’t foreign to you even at the age of five.

You knew what they were; you had been one, your parents and siblings too, heck every living thing had been a baby at one point in their life. From the carrots growing in your grandma’s garden to the old ducks swimming in the pond down the street.

Babies were cute. A bit annoying, but nonetheless cute. Probably the reason why your parents decided to have so many children or was it the nostalgia of holding an infant when their kids grew up to be living ticking time bombs.

It wasn’t anything weird or something you paid attention to. It was quite simple too; people had children because they fell in love or to keep the relationship floating.

Children were simple beings. What they hear they shall question. Seeing your teacher highly pregnant, rubbing her stomach and wearing a gleeful expression, talking about birth and pregnancies and everything else coming with that had you taking in the information like a sponge absorbing water.

“Mom, did you give birth to me?”

“Of course, honey, I am your mom aren’t I?” You remember her gently wiping your cheek, a warm smile adorning her face.

You hummed in agreement, throwing a cut piece of steak in your mouth somewhat satisfied with her answer. Your eyes filtered between Hana and Jun, watching them push at each other’s shoulders clearly bickering over something so pointless your dad couldn’t bother stopping them. Not that it was possible, they were brought into this world together and separating them would only bring more chaos.

“Did you give birth to Hana-unnie and Jun-oppa too?”

“Yah! What do you think, airhead?!” Jun snarkily replied and got a light whack of the head by your sister.

“Sweetie, don’t hit your brother.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Even if he deserves it?”

“Even if he deserves it,” your father concluded and urged them to eat.

Another piece of meat was flung in your mouth as you stared at the family portrait behind the twins, focusing on your other siblings who moved out a long time ago and already started their own families. Your mother saw the bemused tingle covering your features.

“Go on and eat your food.”

A small pout adorned your lips, “How do you give birth?”

Your parents were more than prepared for the wonders of your mind, any question fired at them had already been answered years ago with your older siblings. That’s what they thought at least and it explained why the dinner table went pin silent as the question was flung out in the open.

The seasons changed like your father changed channels. Spring fluttered into summer quicker than expected. Budded flowers opened, the various colored roses adorning your grandma’s fence beautifully. The breeze welcomed you with open arms, proudly announcing the start of summer break. The transition between summer and autumn was slow. The rich green leaves took their time changing shades – red, orange and eventually an ugly brown that reminded you of wet mornings and cold coffees – before the howling wind swirled them away, stripping the trees of its beauty.

As the years passed your My Little Pony boots were replaced with wedge heels and your favorite color wasn’t pink, but black – even though Jun argued black wasn’t a color – and before you knew it Hana moved out with her boyfriend, now husband, of six years. A small but evident baby bump peeking behind her knitted sweater.

You were seventeen at that time, the twins twenty-two and your remaining siblings already thirty-something.

Her baby girl wasn’t the first grandchild of your family tree and she certainly wasn’t going to be the last either, because four years later she welcomed another child into the world just a couple of months before your brother’s wife. That made a grand total of seven grandkids, three girls and four boys.

You were very grateful to your mom for giving birth to you last and grateful for the free birth control your siblings provided you with. Despite their children having moments of incarnating the devil, they weren’t the issue to your disdain of want for a baby.

Some said it was the lack of a boyfriend and others pointed out you being too focused on your academic studies – that your decision to start university was too hasty – depriving you of your youth, as if a newborn wouldn’t.

You saw what motherhood did to your sisters and in-laws, and it wasn’t anything you’d like for yourself. Not even after meeting your boyfriend, who you were madly in love with and he was completely head over heels for you, did your perception change.

Babies were cute to look at, but growing one inside of you? No thanks.

You glanced at San through the bathroom mirror, white shaving cream around his face.

“Don’t you have filming with the Return of Superman today?”

“Yep, have to make sure the beard doesn’t scratch the kids.”

You laughed again, “Beard? I haven’t seen you with a stub in how many months now, let alone a beard.”

Your eyes met in the reflection, one of his brows raised and lips puckered as if contemplating something. He then let go of the razor and gently took hold of your waist and neck, pressing his sticky cheek against yours. You yelled out and tried to push him away, but he barely moved.

“What did you say about my beard?”

“You have a beautiful beard! So pretty and well-kept!”

San smiled brightly, dimples popping and eyes creasing as he planted a wet kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you baby!”

The white cream was washed off with extreme care, as he was afraid of wetting your clothes and hair.

“There you go.” He threw on a gray hoodie, black hair slightly disheveled but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with you running your hand through it.

“I’d say thanks, but you’re at fault.”

He rested his hands on your hips, thumbs sneaking underneath the white fabric of your blouse to caress the soft skin beneath. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Your twentieth lap around the world was filled with many experiences and emotions. You finally moved out of the countryside to the big city and found an apartment in the middle of Seoul. As much as you loved the feeling of freedom and independence you also despised it. Not having anyone waiting on you by the door, no home cooked meals or clean clothes neatly made on your bed reminded you of what you left behind.

Although it was hard to adapt at first you managed and with the help of a friend you quickly adjusted to the busy city life. As someone wise once said; after rain came sunshine, and your sunshine was San. The boy your friend introduced you to when you still had little to no knowledge of Korean pop groups besides the older generations and singing ring-ding-dong no repeat.

At the time he was just San, a funny and caring friend you could be yourself with, occasionally going out to secluded shops for coffee and pastries. You never questioned the scenery and request of privacy, always giving people the benefit of the doubt, until a girl stopped you on your way to a morning class with the demand you tell her who you were and what connection you had to her Sannie.

With a trembling voice you answered her truthfully, debunking any conclusions she already made up in her mind.

You didn’t go to school that day or home for that matter either, scared to be followed and questioned again by a potential lover or side-piece so you did the next best thing; stopped by a 7-eleven and spent your morning there before taking the first train to your sister’s unannounced, spilling everything like an overflowing bucket.

As the mature woman she was, she spurred you on to ask San. Saying you deserved answers to your questions and to potentially clear up any misunderstandings – if there were any of that is.

The moment you told him about the girl, he came forward with who he was, something he admitted he should’ve done immediately, but didn’t for two reasons: a) you allowed him to be himself with no walls and b) he was worried the truth would scare you away. Heck, you were already chased just by being near him and you didn’t even know anything. To your luck, the girl wasn’t his girlfriend or a crazy ex, but a fan and San was an idol.

A few weeks after his confession your friendship progressed and blossomed into a beautiful relationship. You could proudly call him yours in the privacy of your apartment and he could wrap his arm around you – face masks and caps on of course – scaring the prying eyes of other men. He filled your solitude with the comfort and love you missed so dearly.

“Honey, have you seen my gray hoodie? I can’t find it in your wardrobe.” San stood before your closet, torso exposed and an expensive towel you can’t remember the brand of wrapped around his hips.

You were in the kitchen brewing coffee for the both of you. A plain yet pretty dress stuck tightly to your form, “Mmm, I think it’s in the basket with all the other clean clothes.”

The taps of his bare feet filled your apartment accompanied by a gasp seconds later.

“Did you find it?”

Large arms slinked around your waist and pulled you into San’s chest, he nuzzled his nose against the bare spot on your neck before peppering it with tender pecks, “Thank you, honey.”

“Always, baby. Here’s your coffee.”

You gingerly handed him the cup, but San had other plans. Ever-so-gently he titled your head sideways as his lips met yours. It was soft and made your stomach swoop as if going down a steep roller coaster.

San had that effect on you no matter what he did.

“You have to…get dressed or…we’ll be late,” you said between kisses.

His chest vibrated against your back as he hummed in delight, “This is worth getting in trouble for.”

“I’m sure it is, but I don’t think Wooyoung will appreciate that.”

“I don’t care.”

A laugh bubbled out as you rewarded him with one last kiss to the cheek. Eventually you both parted ways. San went first, wearing an obligatory cap and mask while meeting up with his manager further down the street and you followed shortly after, taking the commute to your workplace.

“So,” you started after placing the pot on the table between your plates, immediately filling San’s, “my parents invited us to theirs next week.”

He nodded, “I think I can make it, but I’ll have to double-check with the guys and managers.”

It was the first date night in weeks where both of you were free from work and had enough energy to meet up. You originally invited all the boys, but San was keen on keeping you to himself, claiming he wanted some alone time. If it were up to him he’d see you everyday even for just five minutes, arguing that the short time could give him the motivation to work harder. In return you reminded him the journey from his dorm to your place was a thirty minute long drive without traffic, the energy he’d get would evaporate in seconds.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it, Sannie. I know you guys have a lot to do, especially with the release of your new album.”

“Mmm, don’t worry about that. We’ll see first, but I’m telling you now. I want to go.” He reached for your hand across the small table and you returned the sentiment with a squeeze before beckoning him to eat.

You took notice of his upturned lips and crescent moon eyes. It wasn’t an unusual sight, San was always in a good mood and when he wasn’t he still mustered up a smile warm enough to brighten your day.

“What are you smiling about?” You teased, carrying a grin of your own.

“You should have seen the kids the other day, they were so cute.”

“Oh, it completely slipped my mind to ask. How was it?”

“It was fun and they were so, so cute. All of them really.”

“I can imagine, Sannie.”

“I don’t want to say too much, you still have to wait for the episode, but ohhh! I can’t stop smiling.”

You chuckled and enjoyed seeing your boyfriend suffer a hard case of baby fever. San loved kids, put that man near a kid and anyone in one mile radius would see it. That was how you found out.

You were babysitting your niece one random Thursday night, your brother claiming ‘you owed him’ for something you did in your childhood days that was long forgotten. San asked if you were free that same night, but you sadly turned him down, briefly explaining the situation and voilá. The date was moved from a five star restaurant to your living room with blankets and ice cream and a toddler with bigger love for Bluey than her aunt.

San’s love for kids wasn’t something he expressed with you, but rather something you saw through gentle touches and light coos, a few stolen pecks here and there.

It wasn’t an issue to you. In all honesty, it was attractive because how many men did you know who actually showed interest in their children? How many dads knew their kids’ birth dates or their favorite ice cream flavor?

And yeah, you felt the same. Your nieces and nephews were cute, especially when they wore matching clothes for Chuseok and Christmas. Don’t even get you started on their birthday costumes.

But it wasn’t enough to make you want one.

It wasn’t worth the nine month long journey of fatigue, mood swings, nausea, stretch marks and not to mention the painful process of giving birth and what came after; potentially loss of teeth, tearing the perineum, hair loss… the list is truly endless.

Not wanting kids wasn’t a problem until you stumbled into San who carried a love big enough for the whole population of South Korea.

“I can’t wait till we have kids,” San admitted as you stuffed your mouth with a spoonful of rice.

The clock hanging above the kitchen entrance didn’t freeze but you sure did. The words would make anyone squeal and melt at once, however they washed over you like a big cold wave in the atlantic ocean and sent your food into the wrong pipe. San jumped up from his seat and patted your back while opening a can of coke with his other hand.

“Drink this.” He pushed the beverage in your hands and waited to make sure you were alright. The coughing didn’t stop but at least you could breathe. “Better?”

You sent him a nod, not trusting your voice to keep its cool. San didn’t question the lack of response to his blunt statement nor why you nearly choked to death. The night ended with you two hastily filling the dish machine and cuddling together on the couch with you laying on top of him. A boring movie played on the big TV while you basked in each other’s embrace.

Halfway through the movie you cleared your throat, not being able to shake the conversation from earlier, “You want kids?”

“Not right now, but someday,” San said, one hand under his head and the other rubbing your back. He then glanced down at you. “Don’t you?”

You turned so your chin rested on his chest, noses almost touching and his peppermint breath fanning your face. The simple two letter word was stuck in your throat, and like the coward you were you swallowed them down with guilt. You shot him a quick smile and even manually crinkled your eyes to make it more believable.

Twenty minutes later and San was out like a light, the hectic schedules and plenty of sleepless nights getting to him in the end. Sleep didn’t come as easy to you. Mind too occupied with thinking, thinking and more thinking. Tears blurred your eyes and you didn't know if they were from the stuffy room or the guilt bubbling in your abdomen.

The incident was pushed under the rug in your living room, neither bringing it up again nor the topic of a future family, mainly because you were both drowning in work and adult responsibilities. The days passed in a flash and when Friday came around San was parked outside the building early in the morning, welcoming you with a preheated seat and a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“The twins and their kids are the only ones who could come. Mimi-unnie’s little ones caught the flu and Jin couldn’t get away from work.”

Coming from a rather small family and then moving in with seven men he considered brothers was quite the change for young San, so hearing that neither Mimi or Jin, and their respective families, could make it made him deflate.

“That’s unfortunate. We haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“Yeah, but at the same time I can already feel the headache coming from having seven kids running around all day.”

“That’s how Hongjoong must feel all the time.”

The image of seven twenty-something-year olds running around as toddlers and an exhausted Hongjoong not far behind them popped up in your head and brought out a laugh. Then last week’s phone call with your mother interrupted the vision and you got serious again.

“Did you bring spare clothes? Mom said they were warning of a rainstorm.”

“Yep. It’s in the trunk with your things.”

Your hands rested on your lap and San, feeling the need to touch you, gently intertwined your fingers with his and placed a kiss to the back of your hand. He occasionally withdrew when changing gears before resuming his hold. The ride was long and by the time you arrived you were exhausted despite not doing anything but passing San snacks every once in a while.

Squeals of joy and multiple little feet padding against the hardwood floor had your lips curling upwards as you opened the door. You crouched down and were greeted with two kids catapulting in your embrace.

“Hello little chicks,” you said and planted a kiss on the crown of their heads.

“Did you miss us?” Borah asked, her small hands tightening around your neck leaving barely any room for her little brother.

Before you could reassure her the door opened behind you and in came San, thus stealing the lovely cuddle session right from beneath your nose.

“Uncle San!”

He lifted both children in his arms and beamed at their giggles and kicking legs. You craned your head up, eyes trailing up to San’s closed ones, and your heart swelled with love. He looked like he belonged right there surrounded by tiny humans with toothless smiles and snotty noses.

A tug at your sleeve had your head whipping forwards, “Kai,” you cooed at the youngest of the batch earning a blurb of happy noises.

The hallway proceeded to be crowded by the rest of the house. Hugs and kisses were exchanged with your family and out of the corner of your eyes you could see San exchanging a firm handshake with your father.

“You’re right in time for dinner!” Your mother gleefully exclaimed and ushered you inside, the little ones slinking around her legs like overly fed kittens mooching for more food.

The first hour was spent catching up and talking about everything you’ve missed out on in each other’s lives. Your father initiated small talk with San, asking him about the drive there and if he had a lot of work even wondering how the rest of Ateez were doing. To your relief your parents treated him as their third son and your siblings weren’t opposed to the idea of another brother.

You sat in between Jun and Jisoo – his wife – giving her all of your attention. Apparently she was in the middle of her second trimester, something you just found out. You sent Jun a quick glare and a whack to the back of his head, and as he was about to fight back he slumped back in his seat all thanks to the stern eyes of his wife.

“Here let me help you, mom.”

San ventured into the open kitchen and took the plates from your mother’s hands. She tried stopping him but it was to no avail, once a gentleman, always a gentleman. So she did the next best thing.

“Are you not embarrassed Jun? Sitting on your rear while the guests prepare the table!”

“I’m a guest too?!” He cried and Jisoo stifled a laugh behind her palm, the other hand rubbing her swollen belly.

“Yah, guest my ass. It’s your house as much as it’s mine so get over here before I rip your ear off.”

San stood by the table and waited for another chance to interfere, or as Jun liked to call it ‘buttering up to the in-laws’. You creeped up behind San and leaned your cheek against his bicep.

“You good?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your head. If someone knew what it meant to be separated from family then it was San, having not seen his own parents in how many years now?

“I’m perfect,” you replied and discreetly created some space between you as the rest of the family entered the kitchen.

Unlike San, you weren’t very keen on showing public affection especially as you guys never did it due to him being a literal celebrity. You had no problem showering him with love behind closed doors, but it was different with so many people around and in front of your parents nonetheless. That was just forbidden, almost illegal in your books.

As if they hadn’t done the deed at least four times–

“Well go on, why are you standing there like sheep waiting for Lassie.”

Everyone swammered the table per your mother’s request. You, San and Borah sat on one side of the table with your mother and father on each end, and Jun, Jisoo and Hana across from you.

“How is work, sweetie?”

You faced your mother as she filled your plate with food and you practically tore the spatula from her hands.

“It’s good. There’s a lot now that people are on vacation, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“You’ve always been a hard worker,” she grumbled. “And how are you otherwise?”

Your brows furrowed, “I’m great too. What do you mean?”

She stared you dead in the eyes, making sure you were looking at her too, and flickered her gaze down to your stomach and back up again three times.

“I am healthy.”

The bite you tried to hide slipped out and she couldn’t help but scoff.

“Of course you’re healthy. I don’t give birth to sick babies.”

You don’t know when your mother turned so…sour. When her gentle touches turned to pinches and words of endearment became sneers of displeasure. Over one summer she had changed drastically and called every two to three weeks, asking the same questions, hoping for different answers.

“At least someone here is eating for two.”

The sentence struck you right in the heart and it bothered you how easily she got under your skin. As if prioritizing yourself brought shame on your whole family tree, it wasn’t like she didn’t have a soccer team of grandkids already.

Your sister-in-law smiled timidly and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for her being put in the spotlight just because of your mother’s pettiness.

“Oh, that reminds me, San-ah! We watched your Return of Superman episode,” Hana said excitedly.

“Who do you like more, uncle San, me or Jaeyul?”

“Mmm, that is a hard question, Borah. How about this, I’ll tell you if you promise to keep it a secret?”

The five year old immediately nodded and San – keeping his promise – gently whispered in her ear, “You.”

A gasp slinked out of her lips and she threw her hands over her mouth, the two exchanged a look and San made a zipping motion over his lips, a gesture Borah copied.

“Wah, you’re so good with kids San-ah,” Jun complimented.

“I was just about to say that! We couldn’t stop smiling, it was so endearing. All of you, really,” your sister added and pushed her thick glasses up against her nose.

San straightened at the praise. A dust of red covered his face accompanied with a bright smile.

“I just love kids.”

“Then it’s about time you get some, don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

Your body tensed and your grip on the spoon tightened. Your mother talked about the matter as if babies were truly delivered by storks and not an almost year long process. You kept your gaze on your plate, not daring to meet anyone’s stares, not when you could feel San’s bore into the side of your face. You two had yet to talk about the future and it wasn’t something you were ready for, especially not after his random burst of baby fever.

San cleared his throat, “Well I’d rather first put a ring on your daughter’s finger, if that’s alright with her.”

Oh, how you loved this man.

You didn’t need things to be official to know how you felt about San. A scribble of paper and a ring on your finger wouldn’t make your love more real, but you knew if San asked the big question you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

Heat ran through you, from the center of your heart to the tips of your toes, and it was hard to suppress the smile fighting its way on your face. The twins ‘oh-ed’ loudly, Jun even made the table into a makeshift drum as Borah and Jisoo jumped on the teasing wagon. Your father smiled at the scene before him. It was about time you got married, he thought but kept it to himself. Your mother on the other hand wasn’t all too pleased. As much as she wanted you to marry before conceiving, she didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary and with how your life was going, a marriage wasn’t an event in any of her five future calendars.

“Are we supposed to call you Mrs. Choi now?”

A hard smack resounded in the house with a groan.

The dinner ended with no more personal questions about your and San’s relationship as all the attention was diverted to Jun and Jisoo’s unborn baby. Now you were all gathered in the living room, except for Jisoo who long passed out in Jun’s childhood bedroom.

“Auntie.” Borah grabbed at your elbow, her legs stretched over your thighs as she sat in San’s lap with her head resting against his chest.

“Yes, flower?”

Her eyes were droopy and she barely stayed awake despite the loud conversation of the adults. You inched closer to her to easily decipher her slurring words.

“I wanna sleep with you and uncle San.”

“Mmm, you want to cuddle with us?” She nodded tiredly. “Lemme ask uncle San first, okay flower?”

You caressed her hair and she smacked her lips before readjusting herself in San’s arms. Despite balancing between sleep and consciousness she was determined to know his answer.

It didn’t take much more than a gentle ‘Sannie’ for you to catch his attention, “Borah wants to sleep in our bed. Is that alright with you?”

He glanced down at the usually sugar rushed child and chuckled at her passed out form. “Of course. Here, I’ll tuck her in.”

While he went upstairs, easily navigating through the house from the previous visits, you stepped foot in the kitchen. The dishes from the dinner had just been pushed aside by your mother as she was dead set on everyone spending more time together, not allowing anyone entry in the kitchen unless it was to get more food.

Although she was challenging your patience for the past five hours, you still loved her dearly so washing the dishes was the least you could do without blatantly saying it.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Speak of the devil and they shall appear.

“Nothing, making your life easier.”

“Oh, please. My life hasn’t been any easier since you moved out. Constantly worrying about you.”

“Really, mom? There’s nothing to worry about plus it’s not like I’m alone. I have San.” You rinsed a plate and stacked it on the rack to your left.

“I know…That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A glass nearly slipped out of your hands. Your confused eyes met her worried ones and you bit the inside of your cheek, not really understanding what she was getting at.

“Why…I’m sorry, what are you exactly…afraid of?”

The anxiety grew like weeds in your mind at her gentle whisper of your name. Did she not like San? But that was impossible; she practically referred to him as her favorite son-in-law.

“Don’t you think it’s time you two get serious?”

“Okay!” You dropped the sponge in the sink and placed your soapy hands on your hips. “You really need to stop talking in riddles or my head is going to explode from anxiety.”

“There you go again with that anxiety. It’s not real!”

“Nope! Don’t try to change the subject. Say what you really mean or just stop talking, mom I swear it’s the only chance I’m giving you to be outright honest with me.”

A beat of silence passed and then another. Just as you thought she was backing down, the second most outrageous thing of the day came out of her mouth.

“Get married to San before he leaves you for someone else.”

You scoffed, “Unbelievable. You’re unbelievable.”

The rag hanging off your shoulder was snatched as you used it to dry your hands, but the anger proved that to be difficult so you bolted up to your room, not bothering with bidding anyone a good night’s sleep. You just needed to get away from the tension downstairs and, believe it or not, you craved San’s comfort.

Anger clouded your vision and all rational thoughts were pushed aside as you threw the door open, scaring San and nearly arousing little Borah. As much as you wanted to slam it shut, you couldn’t. Instead you did the childish-angry thing where you swing the door with all your might and stop it just as it was about to close and create an atomic-like explosion.

San rose from his comfortable position on the pink fluffy carpet that teenage-you chose, eyes wide in alarm and arms reaching for you.

He had changed out of the black hoodie and gray suit pants and into something more comfortable; a satin black pajamas you gifted him for Valentine’s day with a pair of semi-rimless glasses perched on his nose. Something about the look made him so domestic your anger nearly disappeared into thin air.

“Woah, woah. What’s wrong?”

You hid your face in your hands and San wasted no time taking you in his arms, bringing your body close to him. The motion had you sighing deeply as you exhaustively sunk into his embrace. San didn’t push for an answer and for that you were grateful. He rubbed your back and kissed your temple, nose and cheek.

“It’s my mom,” you eventually whispered.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t move at first, weighing your options. Sharing the harsh words of your mom would lead to a conversation you weren’t ready to take. So you shrugged and clasped your hands around his torso.

“Yes and no.”

“Okay, come here.”

He gave you another kiss before moving you so your back was against his chest and shuffled over to the bed. He sat down by Borah’s feet, careful not to wake her, and pulled you between his legs dangling over the edge of the queen sized bed. His hands found home on your stomach immediately easing you off your anger.

“We’ll do whatever you feel like. We can talk about it if you want or I can just listen to you, but if you don’t want to we won’t. We can find something else to do. It’s up to you, honey.”

You took his hands in yours and examined his each and every finger. A wave of nervousness washed over you and a distraction was needed to untangle your tied tongue.

“She just said some…mean things I guess.”

“About you?”

You nodded silently. “About us.”

San hummed and you honestly expected a stronger reaction, but you should’ve known better.

He was rational and never really lashed out, at least not that you knew of. You’d never seen him angry enough to act on it.

“She didn’t mean anything ill thought, but you were the starting point of it.”

“Look at me?”

As you faced him his eyes immediately found yours and in them were swirls of pure affection and sincerity.

“I love you.”

The skin on your cheeks burned hot and your lips curled into an embarrassed smile. The confession sent a magic tingle through your body.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I love you,” he said again, not satisfied with your response.

“I love you too, Sannie.”

“Good. Don’t worry ‘bout what your mom says. I love you and nothing will change that.”

Reassuring words and mellow touches.

“Nothing?”

Not even your fear of childbirth?

Or the idea that the two of you never may have children?

“Nothing, my love.”

And if he noticed the turn your smile took – going from happy to sad – he didn’t mention it. Because despite everything you couldn’t stop the gnawing thoughts of dread and what if’s from filling your mind.

“Did you watch the episode?”

“What episode?”

“The one of Seonghwa-hyung, Woo and I with the kids.”

Right, that one.

At first you didn’t purposely push it back on your agenda but the more you remembered his wish of starting a family the more chores you suddenly had to do and oh, that pile of paperwork could certainly not wait until after the weekend and when you actually had the time to watch it your phone would ping with a billion messages, every single one coming from San who insisted he craved to hear your voice and see your ‘absolutely angelic face’ – his words.

So no. You hadn’t seen it.

“Ah, really?” He laughed at the speed you shook your head. “Well, let’s watch it together.”

“Now?”

“Mmm. Unless you don’t wanna?”

“Oh– Uhm, no! Go ahead, I’ll just change into something comfortable.”

Why he brought his laptop for a two day journey, you had no idea but apparently it worked in his favor because there you were laying on the side closest to the wall with Borah snuggled between you guys while the laptop was perched on San’s stomach, the episode playing in full swing.

Every interaction with the twins or Jaeyul made your guts twist and clench. You had to admit it was cute; so cute that your dinner almost went back up the same way it came from. You felt so bad and the worst of it all was the guilt that followed, the guilt of knowing you weren’t doing anything wrong yet you’d still be treated as if you were.

And it was such a shitty situation, because how come that the man who’d single-handedly light up each and every star for you, also was the one to summon the clouds obscuring the night sky?

You didn’t notice San’s lingering eyes or the way his fingers itched to hold yours or the three word long question resting on his tongue. Not that he was being obvious about it. Whenever you looked at him he’d flash you that derpy smile of his and a reassuring blink that lasted a second too long.

It may have been unclear to you, but nothing passed your radar of a brother. He did have the maturity of a boy going through early stages of puberty, but you had to give it to him, he was observant. Too observant for his own good.

“What’s going on with you and lover boy?”

Thanks to Jun’s stupidity you both were honored with dish-duties. What you didn’t know was that it was all a part of his masterplan.

“What?”

“I don’t know I’m the one asking you.”

You glared at him and he wordlessly took the clean tray from you.

“I’m just saying, we dudes, we see when something’s wrong.”

“So something’s wrong with San?”

“Not with San.” He put the tray in place and threw the rag over his shoulder, painfully dragging out the conversation, “With you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me?”

“Mm-mm, there is. You’re all tense and silent, and anytime someone mentions a baby you do this thing where you disapp– Yeah, just like that!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at your face void of emotion.

“I’m just not feeling it today.”

A gasp left his mouth and he looked around almost alarmed. “Don’t tell me you’re…pregnant?” He whispered the last word as if it was a crime that could sentence you to life in prison.

Out of sheer surprise and terror you smacked the side of his head.

“Are you out of your mind?!” You hissed back.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“It is a no!”

“Okay, don’t hit me again!” As you raised your arm he simultaneously threw his hands up to shield himself from your wrath.

A third party watched the banter from the living room, his feet tucked under his thighs in a pretzel motion and tongue poking at his cheek. The three years you spent together, from the platonic start to the blossoming romance, granted you more knowledge of each other than anyone else.

San noticed your change in behavior at the dinner table last night, after the talk with your mother and as you cozied up to him in bed. At first he brushed it off as jitters for not being home for so long and the overwhelming emotions of finally meeting everyone again, but the more he thought of it the more he realized it wasn’t like you. And he promised himself to ask you about it, he just needed to find the perfect moment when you weren’t being swammered by everyone else which proved to be nearly impossible. If you weren’t hounded by your mother or bothered by your siblings, then you were stuck with the little ones and their sticky fingers.

“San-ah.”

Hana brought him out of his thoughts.

“Do you ever see yourself having kids?”

The question threw him off guard because wasn’t it obvious? What more could he want than to start a family with the love of his life?

“Of course, but it’s not something we’ve gotten around yet. We’re not rushing anywhere either!”

Hana nodded and took a long sip of her chamomile tea. There was something so uneasy with her watchful eyes and the slight purse of her lips that had San thinking a little too much to his liking.

Was he missing something?

And he really shouldn’t have asked, prod at her interest and start something he wasn’t sure he was ready for but being the curious cat he was, San couldn't help himself.

“If you don’t mind, why are you asking?”

“Mmm…you see, she’s not the brightest when it comes to children.”

That sentence sounded like an unstrung guitar being played with a dull rock underwater. If San remembered correctly, you shone the brightest around your nieces and nephews. There was never a dull moment with them, always bringing you to tears from laughing too much. He saw you with them; you were gentle, thoughtful and careful, and he was certain it had nothing to do with you sharing the same blood.

San must have looked confused because Hana spluttered out an explanation, her hands waving around at the speed of light.

“I’m just saying that because I know how you’re with kids. Anyone can see you love them and I know it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“What wouldn’t be fair?”

“Not having kids,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

San wanted to ask more questions yet he decided to hold his tongue. He wouldn’t be able to see the complete puzzle anyways and he knew the missing piece could only be received from one person – you.

“It’s a mutual concern of ours and we are just looking out for you.” She gave him a few pats of comfort, for what he had yet to find out, “God knows my husband would be devastated if I didn’t want kids.”

San listened silently, the frown on his face deepening with each word.

Did your sister not want kids?

He followed her line of vision leading straight to you and then it hit him.

You didn’t want kids.

The images of San holding a toddler that was the spitting image of him; a head too big for its body, chubby cheeks and faint brows, haunted you every night. Some dreams were more vivid than others, but they were never the same. The most recent one was of the three of you taking a walk in the park. The little girl sat on San’s shoulders wearing a purple hat with cat ears while you trailed behind them, a matching bag around your shoulder and a camera in your hands. As San turned around you caught a glimpse of their bright smiles and identical dimples. The girl saw you and stretched her arms out, a giddy ‘mom!’ tumbling out of her mouth.

That’s when you woke up in a puddle of sweat. You could barely catch your own breath as you jumped out of bed, nearly toppling to the floor in the process.

A cloud of guilt and shame loomed over you for various reasons. Mainly for dreaming of a future you could not see for yourself. It got to the point where you stayed up all night just to avoid the dreams. You picked up more shifts at the office, working late nights and early mornings, and it was a success until you cleared your whole schedule. Then came the idea of starting a new hobby; crocheting but your patience ran out rather quickly, who knew learning a double crochet would be so difficult?

Your guilty conscience affected your relationship with San too. Dates were painfully awkward as if you were a high school couple going on your first outing together, stealing shy glances and looking away as soon as your eyes met.

Then it was the skinship, whenever you accidentally touched fingers or feet collided underneath the dinner table, you’d withdraw so quickly as if burned by the scorch of a hundred suns. It was almost foreign to cuddle up on the couch too, San’s hands on your lower back and your cheek against his chest. At first you didn’t think he noticed the change in your behavior, but as you laid on top of him you could feel his heart rapidly beat in your ear and hands ghost over your skin, a trail of goosebumps following his faint touch.

Neither dared to speak up about the thick tension, assuming it would all go away in due time but the closer you got to the date of Ateez leaving for their tour in Latin America, the less likely it was to subdue.

Little did you know San wasn’t feeling any better himself. Hana’s words played in his head on a loop, creating new presumptions of what she meant. She wasn’t that straightforward with her message and San could’ve either pieced together the wrong information or been completely spot on. He’d never know if he never asked, which proved to be harder than expected.

The few times your schedules aligned you were interrupted by San’s phone – Seonghwa and Mingi checking if he was dining at yours or with them – and if it weren’t that then it was something else. The days he made sure nothing could interrupt he’d chicken out last minute and smoothly avert the attention to anything remotely more interesting.

“Did you see Mingi’s new hair color?”

“I made Jongho promise to teach you how to break an apple in half!”

“Yeosang wants to buy a puppy!”

The confidence San possessed on stage in front of thousands was plummeting to the ground. Hard and fast. It honestly baffled him how much control one person could hold over him. Not that he complained, who was supposed to make his knees weak and brain all mushy besides you?

Knees weak and mushy brain was exactly how he felt as you opened the door, revealing yourself. You wore a black and white striped sweater with a black skirt stopping midthigh. The top was slightly big so you tucked it in your skirt. A small dark bag hung over your shoulder matching your leather boots. Simple yet elegant jewelry adorned your fingers and ears. You topped it off with black see-through stockings and black coat.

“Is this too much for a night out?”

You were stunning.

“It’s perfect, babe.”

He handed you a beautiful bouquet of pink and red roses mixed with fillers, the brown paper gave them an old school look. You suppressed a squeal of joy and took the flowers from him, planning to put them in a vase, but not before planting a quick and shy kiss to the apple of his cheek. Your lipstick smeared on his skin almost camouflaging with the redness crawling up his neck, attacking his ears and cheeks, luckily for him you bolted to the kitchen, embarrassed at your own gesture.

You truly were like a pair of high schoolers, but for once you didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Perhaps it was your consciousness pushing the thoughts away for the night as it was your last date before San left overseas.

“Ready to go?”

San was breathtaking.

It was no surprise that your boyfriend was a work of art, but there was something different about him tonight. Dark slacks accented his hard thighs a black turtleneck covered his bulging arms and slim waist with a gray coat hung snuggly over his frame reaching his calves. You always said his natural hair color suited him the best and it was true, especially when it was slicked back with a few strands falling over his exposed forehead.

You gulped harshly, “Yup.”

You placed your hand in his and smiled as his fingers thread through yours like the roots of a tree becoming one with the earth. Giddy smiles hid behind your masks but the sparkle in your eyes was brighter than the night sky and its million stars.

San stuffed your woven hands in the pocket of his large coat for the short walk to his manager’s car and then his hand found its long lost place on your thigh during the drive to your favorite restaurant.

You were addicted to his reassuring words and mellow touches.

San held his breath and was fully prepared to feel your body still at the skinship or for you to slowly pull away, but when you did the complete opposite – tightening your hold on his hand – he exhaled in relief.

The restaurant was made for celebrities to have somewhere to go and enjoy their time without noisy people and overbearing fans. They even had a no phone policy to maximize the safety and privacy of everyone inside, that way the possibility of scandals coming out were zero to none. It wasn’t everyday you went on expensive dates for obvious reasons, mainly because of San’s schedule but also because you felt bad for him paying every time. It was no secret San earned more money than you, being a literal idol, but you still made it work somehow.

For the first time in a while you felt good beside him. The unsettling dreams and thoughts of the future were as if non-existent and you didn’t want it any other way, at least for the night. Halfway through your second glass of wine San started blabbering about the tour. You wouldn’t say he was drunk, but rather relaxed.

“So where are you going first?”

He thought for a minute, “Mexico, Brazil, Chile and then Colombia.”

“Isn’t it your first time performing there? That must be exciting!”

“Mhm, I can’t wait to see our Latin American Atinys. I know some of them have been with us since predebut. Honestly I’d travel around the world just to meet them all.”

“That’d be the dream wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “It’d be even better if you were there with me.”

His small pout and glistening eyes made you laugh, “Because that’d be such a good idea. I can bet all my life savings it would end up in a disaster one way or another.”

“What? Why?”

You placed your utensils down, “San, honey. I don’t think you realize how popular you are, like all of twitter wants to fuck you.”

San stopped mid chewing, his eyes wide and brows raised to the roof. The loading wheel appeared above him and he smiled embarrassingly as your words finally registered, his teeth white but the tips of his ears burned red.

“Yah, don’t say that.” He suddenly looked away as if he wasn’t showered with compliments on a daily basis.

“Well it’s Atinys’ words, not mine.”

“You jealous?”

The cheekiness didn’t go unnoticed by you so in an equally teasing tone, you replied, “I can’t be jealous of something I actually get to do.”

And if there was anything better than a tipsy San then it was a flustered one.

“You shy, baby?”

He shook his head with a little ‘no’ that barely reached your ears.

The rest of the date was perfect – much to your surprise – and not once did the guilt ridden thoughts infiltrate your mind, not even when you passed a happy couple pushing a stroller on your way home or when you saw, what must have been, the biggest smile of the night on San’s handsome face. For a split second you thought everything would work out in the end. You’d overcome this obstacle just like you did with the move to Seoul or with the test you nailed after months of pulling all-nighters. But only for a split second because as the clock struck midnight your night took an unexpected turn with it.

“You need a place to stay for the night?” It came out more suggestive than you intended, however you didn’t mind.

“I don’t know, did you plan to sleep tonight?”

Your pointer finger rested against your chin as you pretended to think.

“If that’s the case then you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

A pair of very familiar hands grabbed your hips sending an electric feeling through your body despite the skirt separating your skin from touching. Your bodies fit like two pieces of a missing puzzle.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” you replied and threw your head back against the crook of his neck.

“Good.”

You were a feather in San’s hand and he treated you with care. Never too rough or foul, always considerate and kind but not opposed to it if you asked. He spun you around and stared at you with a million stars in his eyes, completely and utterly lost in the beautiful galaxy that is you.

San cupped your cheek and traced your bottom lip with his thumb. His touch stopped at the corner of your mouth, his eyes widened as you lightly bit down on his finger. Your warm tongue against his cold skin. Your parted lips pulled into a smirk and it spurred San to push his thumb deeper in your mouth, now laying completely flat against the wet muscle. The innocent yet sultry bat of your eyes drove him crazy.

Reassuring words and mellow touches.

He wanted you. He wanted to lick and nip at your skin, paint it full of violet and crimson clover. Make your writhe and turn in his hold until breathless pleas filled your apartment. He craved you beneath him, bare and vulnerable while he worshiped your body with praises and sinful words. He wanted to make love to you.

Yet he couldn’t.

Not when you were both haunted by your thoughts.

He slipped his thumb from your mouth taking the sexual atmosphere with it.

“Love?”

His eyes snapped to yours and he knew then and there that the art of love wouldn’t solve any of your worries, because at the end of the night he’d still travel halfway across the world with the nagging thoughts packed between his briefs and socks.

“Is everything alright?” You gently latched onto his wrist, thumb stroking the back of his hand.

“I love you,” San suddenly confessed.

A crease formed between your brows, lips glued together and eyes almost glossy. You were taken back at the sweet words but even more so at the way he was looking at you – almost sad.

“Where is this coming from?”

“I love you,” he repeated.

The scene wasn’t a sense of deja-vu, that much you knew, but rather a memory from a few weeks ago. A memory that was much sweeter and domestic than now. The response San expected to hear didn’t come as quickly as he hoped and through his tipsy vision he recognized a moment of hesitation.

“Honey?”

“I love you too, San.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” He suddenly asked.

The loving touches and flirty banter went down the drain and you were left with a silence so loud and overwhelming you couldn’t think properly.

“What?”

“I said, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean something’s got you distracted.”

“There’s nothing going on,” you insisted stubbornly.

“Absolutely nothing?”

“San…everything's fine.”

“Except it isn't! I know you enough to see the changes. You barely sleep and this is the first time in days where I’ve seen you with a real smile.”

It broke his heart to see you slink from his embrace. Arms crossing over your chest and head turning sideway.

“Honey, please talk to me.” He sounded desperate.

“And I am. There’s nothing wrong.”

He raked his hand through his hair. The deep sigh whirling around your apartment.

“Don’t lie. Not to me.”

You stayed silent yet again.

“I’m here for you, always will be.”

“I can’t,” you whispered into the august breeze.

“What?”

“I can’t tell you,” you repeated a little louder.

“Why?”

“Because you’ll hate me!” It stung San into silence. “You’ll hate me and never want to speak to me again.”

He hungered for your touch, hands itching to reach for yours and as he took a step forward you took one back.

“You can’t keep it bottled up forever, love.”

“I can try.”

Tears formed in your eyes and your voice cracked. You tried blinking them away but they raced down your cheeks against your will.

“C’mere.”

That was all it took for you to fling yourself at him. Your hands gripped the back of his shirt, nails digging into the expensive material. One hand cradled the back of your head and the other supported your back, rubbing gentle circles against your knitted sweater. San leaned down and pressed a long kiss to your crown, lingering and breathing in the sweet scent of you.

“I can’t breathe without you by my side so if you think I’ll ever hate you, you’re wrong. My love, you could break my heart a thousand times over and I’d still find reason to love you.”

Hot tears soaked into his shirt and you wanted to disagree but the tremble of your lips told you to be quiet so you shook your head violently instead.

You stood there for a long time, in each other’s arms with soft kisses and soothing touches. The emotions swirling around the apartment were too big for your shoulders and the rational part of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to carry them with you much longer.

“I don’t want children.”

It was interesting how a four worded sentence could either be the demise or rise of a relationship. What path your and San’s would take was yet to be determined, but God did you hope it was the latter.

The argument broke out three days ago and while you've gone months without seeing each other, these 72 hours were by far the most excruciating period of your relationship. You didn’t ever think there’d be a person you’d miss this much. To see and hold, kiss and laugh with.

The first day was spent bathing in your own tears and snot. You were forced out of work by your co-workers as they didn’t buy your lie of ‘everything being alright’. It wasn’t like you could tell them your idol boyfriend of three years ran head first out of your apartment after an argument, absolutely not because you literally told him to give you space. So from nine am to nine pm you were cooped up in your bed, crying, scrolling through your socials, crying some more until you eventually fell asleep.

The second day wasn’t anything better, except for the three tubs of ice cream you inhaled. They were kept in the back of your freezer for emergencies such as these. With a quick pat on the back for eating something you pushed the containers aside and continued your self wallowing, dressed in one of your (San’s) hoodies that smelled of caramelized sugar. Your phone blew up with calls from your family. Everyone concerned about you suddenly going MIA, but not enough to pay you a visit which you were both thankful and bitter about.

The third following morning came around and you decided that it was time to get your shit together. You still had a job to return to and bills to pay. It was all going well too, you cleaned the apartment and got rid of all the empty ice cream tubs, made a home cooked meal for the first time in three days, you even changed your bedsheets and did the laundry. The last thing on your list was a well deserved full-body shower.

The frantic ring of your doorbell fell on deaf ears as water pattered on your bare body and the tiled floor. Your fingers worked through your hair, rubbing almost painfully at your scalp as shampoo water went down the drain.

It was first after you cut the stream and stepped out of the shower that you realized someone was at the door. With a roll of your eyes, you leisurely squeezed the excess water out of your hair and wrapped a towel around yourself. The chime of the bell didn’t stop and you were on the brink of insanity.

There were only two people with keys to your place; San and your mom.

Your parents had no reason for coming all the way to Seoul in the middle of the day and San…even though your relationship wasn’t in the best shape you knew he’d never turn up unannounced, whether he told you by call or text didn’t matter as long as he reached out. He said it was a way of respecting your privacy and as much as you didn’t care for that, it was heartwarming.

6:30 PM glared the digital clock on the console table in the hallway.

All you wanted was one normal day. A morning without spilling coffee on your clean clothes, an afternoon without stubbing your toe on the desk in your office and a night without someone trying to sell you cookies or whatnot. It’d also be so much easier to crawl beneath your sheets and cry yourself to sleep without a maniac creating the newest billboard hit outside your apartment, but hey each to their own.

As much as you wanted to swing the door open and bark out profanities at the nuisance, you knew better and opted with looking through the peeping hole. Never did you expect a soaked San to stand there, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet while desperately abusing the doorbell.

San didn’t have time to react, neither at the door being opened nor for you appearing with only a towel. You took hold of his hand and dragged him inside to which he shut the door behind him and somehow managed to take off his shoes. You threw him a spare towel and disappeared in your room. San stood there like a kicked dog, ears flat against his head and tail certainly not wagging. A few seconds later you returned dressed in one of San’s many t-shirts and your pajama shorts, carrying a change of clothes.

You wordlessly gave them to him and escaped to your room again. San took that as his queue to get dressed.

The run to your apartment gave him barely any time to collect his thoughts, too busy with providing his burning lungs with air and keeping an eye out for cars and potential followers. So now that he stood, not in front of your door, but in your living room he was completely shitting his pants.

The cold and distant facade you managed to pull off in front of him crumbled the second you crossed the threshold of your room. You really strained all seventeen of your muscles not to cry and you could argue it was your best accomplishment yet as not a single tear kissed your cheeks.

“Hey.”

You looked up from your spot on the bed. Staring at your partner who stopped by the door. Your throat was dry and itchy, brain indiciseive of what to say and do. He wasn’t supposed to be here, that much you knew. Their agency had this weird rule of not allowing their idols out a day prior to their tour and it didn’t sit right with you knowing he went against their words, for you nonetheless.

“San, what are you doing here?”

Unsteady sleeping schedules, caffeine filled drinks and insomnia were the standard for idols. Anyone claiming otherwise was either lying straight through their teeth or had a great planning method something San could really use these days.

San was no stranger to succumbing to sleep at the early hours of the morning or not sleeping at all. The extra time was usually put into practice or perfecting his secret project, and sometimes something simple as laying in bed staring up at the ceiling.

But now it was hard to do any of that with you taking over his every thought. He found himself wondering about things that weren’t supposed to infiltrate his mind for the next five years.

Get married. Move in. Adopt a cat. Have kids.

A short list of things that were crossing the line between adolescence and adulthood.

The image of you and San doing that together spread a radiant smile across his face and his roommates, clueless as ever, couldn’t stop their own mouths from curving upwards. There was truly no other person he could think of doing any of that with and his heart was heavy as he realized he may never complete the list.

It took three calls from Seonghwa for San to acknowledge the older man sitting on the edge of his bed beside the open and empty suitcase.

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Seonghwa leaned back on his arms keeping him from completely falling on the bed and stared at San’s computer screen, nonchalantly watching as he played one of his many games. The elder had come straight out of his own room from finishing a youtube live – a youtube live San crashed for a good fifteen minutes before abruptly leaving – and although Atiny probably didn’t notice the change of behavior in the younger Ateez member, Seonghwa did.

San sighed as the last character of his team died and the word ‘defeat’ flashed in large capital letters took over the majority of the screen.

“San-ah.”

Said man placed his expensive headset on the desk and twirled in his chair, and Seonghwa had a feeling the glum look on his features wasn’t from losing the game.

“I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m just checking if there’s something bothering you. Something I can help you with?”

The prolonged silence did nothing to soothe Seonghwa’s worries. He closely watched the hesitation slowly crack through San’s facade – bottom lip caught between his teeth, picking at his nails and eyes glazed over, darting literally everywhere except at Seonghwa.

Cautiously, he asked if it had something to do with you and his suspicion was confirmed when their eyes met.

“It’s…complicated.”

“How so?”

“Because I thought of a thing and it turns out I was right.”

Seonghwa tried asking as few questions as possible to not overwhelm San, but the conversation wasn’t giving him much to work with.

“And what were you thinking about?”

San ran his hands through his black hair and looked as if he was racking his brains, he then violently rubbed at his eyes too. It was one thing to think about the whole situation and another to say it out loud, possibly speaking it into existence.

“You don’t have to te–”

“Starting a family.”

The trip to your hometown really did a number on him, Seonghwa thought.

Cheeks red and palms sweaty, San cleared his throat. A little embarrassed at the confession and for cutting Seonghwa off so abruptly.

“I was thinking of what it’d be like to start a family with her.”

“Starting a what with who?”

Mingi stood in the doorway with parted lips and eyebrows raised to the roof, wet tufts of blonde and black hair peeked from underneath the towel on his head.

“It was just a thought.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with it,” Seonghwa assured.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t really matter.”

“How come?” Mingi pressed, now leaning against the door.

“Because she doesn’t want a family…or well, at least not kids.”

Seonghwa and Mingi exchanged glances. All of Ateez knew of San’s adoration for kids. Heck, Seonghwa had front row seats to it and all. He remembered thinking how skilled San was with the twins and even with the energized boy.

But none of it mattered now. If what San said was true – which he had no doubts about – then your choice went above everyone else’s, including San’s.

“And how do you feel about that?”

San looked at the eldest. “There’s nothing I can do about it. I mean, sure I love kids I do, but I love her more.”

“Then I don’t see what the issue is,” Mingi chimed in.

“It’s still a bitter situation Mingi, and Sannie has the right to feel…upset. Have you talked to her?”

San groaned and buried his face in the palms of his hands, thinking back how it all escalated so quickly. The split second he tried processing everything, you’d already decided it was time for him to leave and pushed him out, crying how you needed to be alone. Too stunned to properly react, San did as told.

“I walked out…”

Dread filled their guts as Mingi and Seonghwa patiently waited for the remainder of the story. They hoped San wouldn’t say what they were thinking.

“She confided in me at first and then pushed me away, screaming at me to go and I…listened. ”

“Well that changes the trajectory of things don’t you think?” Mingi said after the minute long silence and Seonghwa shot him a pointed look.

“San, we are not leaving for the tour until you talk to her,” Seonghwa declared.

The elder had no lover of his own, but he had seen enough movies to know how these situations ended. Spoiler alert: a painful break up for both parties.

San shrugged, “I’m sure Hongjoong would like that.”

“And you don’t think your girlfriend would? Listen here. We’re supposed to leave for the airport at seven am, I’ll give you the night if you make amends.”

Seonghwa stopped before San, a wide smile on his gorgeous face. “Besides, a family doesn’t become a family when a child is brought into it. If you think about it, the three of us and the rest of the guys are like a family, right?”

“We are a family,” Mingi corrected.

“Exactly. So who’s to say you two aren’t one too?”

“I’m here to do what I should’ve done days ago.”

It was hard to look him in the eye. The sincerity in them had your heart in knots, tugging and tightening with your every breath.

“Can I come in?”

San had his arms by his side and hands balled into fists to keep them from trembling. There was no doubt in his mind that you’d be in his arms by the end of the night, but it didn’t stop his pulse from skyrocketing.

“You’re already here.”

A faint, appreciative smile crossed his features as he gingerly took the seat beside you. There was no real malice to your words and he was thankful because honestly speaking he wouldn’t know what to make of it if you still needed ‘time’. San straightened and breathed out a sigh as if letting go of all his nerves.

“I want to start by saying; I’m sorry.”

You snapped your head towards him, confused as to why he was the one apologizing. You were the issue at hand here. You were the one depriving him of something he wished for, you pushed him away. Not the other way around.

“I’m really sorry for pressuring you–”

“San, no–” You shook your head, tears already threatening to make their dramatic entrance.

“Just listen to me, please.”

And his desperate plea was their queue to waltz in much to your dismay.

San lifted your chin so he could see your face and frowned at the tears. “I'm sorry if I ever made you feel obliged to push your feelings aside for me. That has never been my intention and it never will be.”

He cupped your face gently in both hands and wiped away your remaining tears with his thumbs. It pained him to know the tears were inflicted by his doing.

“I love you.”

“San,” you whimpered, barely able to get the word out.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe for me. I’m not leaving.”

That was your breaking point. You heaved for air as more tears blurred your vision. A heavy weight lifted off your shoulders as you found solace in his words and San felt his own heart break at your wails. Feeling embarrassed you abruptly stood up and put a hand over your mouth to stop the broken cries. Staying true to his words, San hugged you from behind and pressed you into his embrace. Chin resting against your shoulder as his arms went around your waist. You stood like that until your tears ran dry and cries turned into hiccups.

San whispered words of encouragement in your ear, lips grazing the skin with each pronunciation. Your feet moved with his as he maneuvered you to bed and under the covers. A meteor could hit the earth and he wouldn't leave your side. You laid there in silence with your back to his chest. His arm under your neck and the other curled around your waist, keeping you flushed against his front. Your occasional sniffles filled the gaps letting San know you were awake.

“My love,” he started and you shifted as a reply of acknowledgement, “remember that night at your parents’ house? When your mother said something to upset you and you stormed up to your room?”

You nodded while playing with his fingers spread across your abdomen.

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“That you loved me and nothing would change that.”

He kissed the back of your head. “I still stand by that. I love you. Not what you can or can’t give me. I love you when you cry and I love you when you laugh. I love you through your anger and grief. I love your kindness and selflessness.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, please. You should only apologize when you’ve done something wrong.”

“But I led you on. San, we want different things. You want a child–” your voice cracked and you drew in a sharp breath, “–and that’s not something I’m sure I can give you, ever.”

“That’s not true.” He sat up and leaned over your body, “I wanna cuddle you to sleep and wake you with breakfast in bed. I want us to buy furniture and assemble it together only to give up halfway through. I want us to bake a ridiculous cake that ends up in a flour fight. I want all of that with you!”

San planted a soft kiss against the back of your hand.

“Children or not, it won’t change the fact that I love you and I’ll continue to say it until all the trees are cut down, until the ocean dries out and all the stars go out. I love you. Always have and always will.”

His caring words drew a smile from you and the harsh knot around your heart slowly came undone. His affectionate eyes searched yours and he’d wait an eternity for your answer, but you didn’t need more time to know what you wanted. Your hands caressed the sides of his neck and with a quick pull of his neck, your lips clashed in a passionate kiss.

Reassuring words and mellow touches.

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

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knead

A/N: so after rewatching Narcos all weekend and staring at the screen with big ole heart eyes for the infamous Javier Peña, I decided that he, like Joel, deserves nice things 🤍

~word count: 1.2k~

Summary: Javier Peña desperately needs a fucking break and to be kinder to himself <3

Pairing | Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of guns, cigarettes, implied death(s) due to an unsuccessful raid, established relationship, fluff, hurt and comfort, Javi is incredibly hard on himself, takes place during season 3 of Narcos, both Javi and the reader speak Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions, no age gap, +18 minors dni!

Lo entiendo, hermano. - I understand, brother.

No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende - You don’t understand, brother. No one does.

No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, cariño. - You don’t have to wait up for me every night, querida. Your sleep is important too, baby.

Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa. - Jav, I always want to make sure you’re home safe

Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor. - Javi, please don’t apologize for this. Please, my love.

Siempre tan bueno conmigo - Always good to me

Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño - I love you with everything that I have to offer, cariño

Te quiero más a ti, Jav - I love you most, Jav.

When he comes home, he’s still in his olive green tac vest. His hair is strewn about in a sweaty mess across his face. He reeks of gunpowder, stale tobacco, and disappointment. It drips from his pores and lands in a puddle at his shoes, once shiny, now dull, scuffed and speckled in blood. A failed raid. Innocence lost, and disappointment. So much fucking dissapointment that swallows Javier Peña alive.

An anonymous tip leading to more fucking bloodshed. So much for things being done differently this time around.

A hero? Hardly.

Javier doesn’t feel like a hero. Not when all he’s done is failed over, and over again.

We’ll get them next time, Javier.

Will we?

Of course. You know the Cali Cartel like it’s the back of your hand, Peña. We’re this much closer to bringing them to justice.

Justice? He laughs. If there was any justice in this world, I would be in fucking jail right now.

Lo entiendo, hermano.

Javier laughs, voice rasped in bitterness. He swings his keys around on his pointer finger, jaw ticked, muscles aching beneath the sweat stained fabric of his shirt.

No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende. Javier responds coldly and unlocks his car door before climbing into the driver seat.

He thinks hard on his failure the entire drive home. He doesn’t listen to the radio. He sits in silence, puffing away on a stress cigarette even though he swore he was trying to quit.

In the lowlight from the hallway, Javier is able to make out your sleeping mass under the colorful patterned quilt on his couch. He swings the door shut softly behind him and quietly locks it.

His back and shoulders are tense, aching with each step he takes. Another jab and painful reminder of his failure tonight.

Despite Javier’s protests, you always wait for him to return home. He appreciates this more than you realize. It’s his one sense of comfort that he feels he’s undeserving of.

No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, corazón.

Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa.

The worn couch cushions gradually press down from the weight of his body as he slowly sits down in the unoccupied space between your covered feet. He winces when he feels that annoying pinch in his lower back and brings his hands over his face, dragging them down over his alquine nose with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his gun, badge, cigarettes, and lighter. He tosses them onto the coffee table and leans back just as you begin to stir awake from the sound.

“Jav?” You murmur softly and subconsciously reach for him over the blanket.

“Its me, cariño.” He rasps. His hand reaches towards you in the dark, finding you soon after. He laces his fingers through yours.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, sitting up and facing him.

“No. I’m not okay.” He admits.

“What happened?”

He looks over at you through the darkness and shrugs his shoulders. “What didn’t happen.” He clarifies. His thumb skates across the back of your hand gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?..”

“No. I just..I’m tired, querida. I’m tired of failing all the fucking time.” He sounds exhausted. You know just how much his job truly weighs on him.

“Javier, my love, you are not failing all the time. You aren’t. No one thinks that you are a failure, Jav.”

He makes a snuffling sound through his nose that comes across more like a scoff. His movements cease when he feels your freehand grasp his jaw and pull him in close. Even in the dark, your eyes are soft, gentle, and laced with concern.

“Everyone tells me that I’m a hero, cariño. I’m not a hero. I’ve never been a hero.”

“Javi, you don’t have to be a hero. People mean well with their words. I know they do, but you have to try and not let it get to you this much. Okay? Javier, you have one of the toughest jobs out there. No one but yourself is going to understand how you feel. Whatever happened tonight, does not make you a terrible person, or a failure. You’re doing everything you can to take down the Cali Cartel.” You reassure him.

“I feel like I have to be the hero. Javier Peña, the dashing DEA agent that took down Pablo Escobar.” He laughed. “Cariño, I was told that this time things would be different, but they were wrong. Everytime I try to ensure that innocent lives won’t be lost, someone gets caught in a crossfire. A civilian. A child. An unsuspecting bystander. It weighs on me. It fucking weighs on me more than I’m willing to admit.” He said in an exasperated tone.

You saw the tears begin to brew along his waterline before he even realized he was crying. You detected the strain in his voice, and sprung into action. Your hand dropped from his face only to then pull him into a hug with your hand gently cradling the back of his head and your fingers slipping through his hair, nails scratching his scalp gently in hopes to soothe him.

His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. His warm palms slid under the thin fabric of your shirt along your lower back and he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I don’t want you to see me like this, cariño.”

“Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor.”

“You’re so good to me.” He kisses the exposed skin on your neck, the tips of his mustache tickles you as you hug him tightly, rubbing your hands up and down his back and shoulders in a soothing motion.

“And you’re good to me, Javier. Siempre tan bueno conmigo.”

He nuzzles you affectionately, wishing he could crawl inside of you and live there forever. “Cariño, can you do something for me?” He asks softly, dragging his lips across your skin once more.

“Anything, Jav.”

“My back and shoulders are fucking killing me. Can you—” you cut him off before he even has a chance to finish his sentence.

“Of course I can.”

He breathes a sigh of relief through his nose “Gracias, cariño”

He slowly drops his arms from around your waist so he can remove his shirt. He undos each button with meticulous precision and slowly slides the fabric down from his forearms. He lays his shirt along the side of the couch while you slide into the space behind him, with your thighs wrapping around his torso. He leans back into your touch, lashes fluttering shut when your hands work their way up from his lower back, kneading the tender strained muscles there.

You work your way upwards and pay close attention to the areas where he’s feeling the most pain. He murmurs praises in both Spanish and English under his breath when you slowly and delicately work through a particular nasty knot between his shoulder blades.

Your gentle, yet firm touch sends the DEA agent into a state of bliss, and he’s putty in your hands in no time.

Your chin comes to rest along the crook of his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss along his jawline. He hums and tilts his head to the side, finding your lips in a gentle kiss. A thank you. An I love you, and an I appreciate you can be tasted through the kiss. He rests his hands along your thighs that are wrapped around him, gently kneading the soft flesh with his strong, yet gentle hands.

“Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño”

You smile against his lips, kissing him deeper while your fingers gently brush through the wispy tendrils of hair along his forehead.

“Te quiero yo más, Jav.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 10 months

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Chapter 1- I D.A.R.E. You

Summary: After starting your new job as a 3rd grade teacher at Alma Pierce Elementary School, you meet a handsome Javier Peña who has been forced to come give a presentation to your grade. Although you've never met him, you're shocked to find out you may have more in common than you'd think.

Warnings: Mentions of Javi's past work for the DEA, mentions of death and grief, language, financial compensation if you were subjected to the D.A.R.E program as a child, Javi's family friends giving him sass

Word count: 6.2K

A/N: Post Season 3 Javi lives forever in my brain, as the first chapter of this story takes place in Laredo, May of 1997. This man deserves love, and boy is he going to get it.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“It’s your lucky day, Peña!”

Javier glanced up from the pile of paperwork scattered across his desk to acknowledge the voice coming from the doorway to his office.

“What do you want, Carter?”

Javier's voice half grunted in response, his eyes shifting back down to the pile of papers on his desk. In his doorway stood his office mate, Detective Eric Carter. When Javier began his new position with the Laredo County Sheriff's Department 4 months ago, it took everything in him to keep from calling his new co-worker Steve. At a glance, he looked just like his old DEA partner. Tall, lanky, with a wiry head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 30 seconds into meeting Carter, it didn’t take long to realize looks were about the only thing he and Steve Murphy had in common. Eric Carter was a human ray of fucking sunshine, and his chipper demeanor was blinding Javier this early in the morning.

“It’s your turn!” Carter replied in a sing-songy voice, slapping a red file folder onto Javier’s desk, covering the papers he had been sorting through. Javier picked up the folder and crinkled his brows in confusion. He turned the cover towards him, holding it just far enough away so that his squint trying to read its contents wasn’t too obvious. God, he just needed to give up and buy reading glasses already.

As he got the folder just the right distance away from his face, he gave Carter a look that said absolutely fucking not. The folder read D.A.R.E school assembly lessons, with a picture of the Lion mascot giving a big thumbs up in his black D.A.R.E shirt. The office had recently been recruited by Laredo Public School District to start giving presentations to the Elementary schools, using the program aptly abbreviated for Drug Abuse Resistance Education.

“Just take away the “R” and rearrange some letters and it spells DEA!” Carter laughed to himself. “It’s like it was made for you!”

“No.”

“Sorry Peña, you’re bottom of the totem pole this week. We’ve all done our time, and you’re the last one left in the office who has yet to go present. It’s not even that bad, you just basically go talk to these kids for an hour and tell them drugs are bad, don’t do them, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the gist, and then it’s done. Piece of cake!”

“I’m not fucking going.” Javier scoffed. “I have shit I have to get done.” Gesturing in annoyance to the piles of papers on his desk, now in disarray from the folder being thrown on his desk.

“Not a choice, Mr. Peña.”

A new voice passed by the doorway, and a much broader frame stood behind Carter’s. Chief Deputy Dean Morris, had joined the conversation, knowing that it wouldn’t end easily for Detective Carter if he kept harassing Javier about it. Morris was head of the department, and what he said, went. Coming from a background in the Air Force, Morris knew how “civilian” a position at a sheriff’s department must have felt for Javier after his time in the DEA. 5 years ago, it seemed fair to think that neither of them would have assumed paperwork, mundane training programs, and now, arguing over talking to 10 year olds about the dangers of doing drugs would have played any importance in their jobs.

“Right of passage. Ever since the school board dropped this on us last year, we’ve all done our time. Believe me, no one wants to do it, but like Carter said, today is your lucky day!” Morris’s voice oozed with sarcasm, knowing that Javier would absolutely hate every second of what he was about to have to do.

“You lucked out on your day to go too, Peña. It looks like you get to go to the school with the hot teach-OW! Hey! What was that for?!” Morris had slapped Carter’s shoulder before he could get out the rest of his sentence.

“Keep it in your pants, okay Carter?”

Carter let out a huff of defeat. “I’m just saying, he could have gotten worse days to go…”

“Just read from the notes, let the kids ask a couple of questions at the end and then you’re on your way. Easy peasy. When you get to the school office they’ll let you know where to go.”

Javier opened his mouth to rebuttal, but before he could even get out a word, Morris held up his hand to stop him.

“Not a choice. I’ll have Carter help you finish sorting paperwork, so don’t try to bullshit me and tell me that you have too much work to get done.”

Javier let out a sigh of frustration that was a little louder than he intended it to be. His hands rested on his forehead as he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying.

“Fine. But this is one and done.”

“Good man.” Morris reached over Javier’s desk and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He and Carter started to make their way out of Javier’s office when Morris turned his head over the back of his shoulder.

“Carter’s right about the teacher, too. She’s a catch.” He winked and shut the door behind him.

Javier gathered his things and made his way through the office, passing by Detective Carter’s desk.

“Have funnnnnnn! Say ‘hi’ to the hot teacher for me!” Carter mocked, twinkling his fingers, waving at Javier.

Without saying a word, Javier flipped him off, and kept walking.

Settling into his truck, Javier set down his belongings in his passenger seat, and opened up the red file folder to see where his unexpected journey was taking him.

This is fucking ridiculous He mouthed to himself as he cranked up the AC in the truck with one hand, and rummaged the other through the items on the seat. Reaching next to him, he grabbed and opened the folder, and grazed his index finger down the inside cover, where a schedule of schools, dates, and times were printed. At the bottom, he found

5/27/97- Alma Pierce Elementary School, 12:00-12:30 pm, school cafeteria

Javier’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He read the line several times, re-checking the location and date to make sure what he read was true.

Fuck.

To any of his other co-workers who had been tasked with giving one of these D.A.R.E. presentations, the elementary school they were assigned to that day most likely held little to no significance. Of course, out of the 16 elementary schools in the Laredo Public School District, Javier was assigned to the one that held the most significance to him.

The school that his mother taught at for her entire teaching career before she passed away.

Since returning home from Colombia, Javier had been avoiding human contact like the plague. He had returned as somewhat of a “hometown hero” after his accomplishments with the DEA but couldn’t have felt further from it. He had become Laredo’s hottest topic.

“What was it like to help catch Escobar?! The Cali Cartel?!”

“We’re so proud of you, the DEA couldn’t have done it without you!”

“When are you going to come over and tell us all about Colombia? We want to know everything!”

Each question, compliment and conversation about his time in South America was like a knife to his heart, slowly twisting with each word that came out of someone’s mouth. He could feel the guilt and burden of his time away growing heavier and heavier as he politely smiled through these conversations.

But worse than the strangers who felt entitled to berate Javier about his time in Colombia, were his friends and family who he had been actively avoiding since returning home. Besides his father, Javier hadn’t seen anyone close to him since his mother’s funeral 8 years ago. It hurt Javier knowing that he had returned to Laredo a changed man, haunted by the things he had seen and done. His mother’s closest friends, those that she worked with at Alma Pierce Elementary School, had promised to fulfill Lucia Peña’s dying wish that they would look out for Javi and made sure that he came home okay.

Well, Javier was home. He wasn’t quite sure how to break it to them that he wasn’t really okay.

As he drove and parked in front of the school building, Javier’s heart began to beat heavier in his chest. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he started at the entrance to the school. He couldn’t decide if the feeling swirling around in his stomach was comfort or terror, knowing that Alma Pierce Elementary looked exactly the same as it did the last time he was here 9 years ago with his mother.

He did know that part of that feeling definitely had to be terror, as he began to think about the fact he was about to be interrogated relentlessly by his late mother’s closest friends. Might as well sign these women up to work for the DEA- they were probably more terrifying than anyone Javier had encountered in his time working there.

After a few more deep breaths, Javier gathered his things out of his truck and headed towards the main doors. Each footstep felt like he was walking through wet cement, questioning if it was too late to turn around.

Practically tip toeing in to the office, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, Javier let out a soft “Hi, I’m from the sheriff's department, I’m here for-“

Before he could even finish his sentence, the office secretary, a tiny and graying Señora Gutierez was thrusting her arms across the threshold of the office desk to wrap Javier in an impressively strong hug.

“JAVIER PEÑA. I cannot believe it’s you! oh my sweet mijo, look at you! The older you get, the more like Chucho you look, dios mio! Why haven’t you stopped by?! We have all missed you so much, what have you been doing? It is so good to see you!”

Here we go.

“Hola, Señora.” Javier half grunted from how tight he was being squeezed. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“I have lots to ask but I know you need to go, or they will know that this old woman has been running her mouth, making you late.” Señora Gutiérrez began shooing her hand, as to send Javier on his way.

Javier chuckled. He felt his body begin to ease slightly, letting the familiarity of friendly faces bring him a small sense of comfort.

“I would hope after this VERY LONG time that you have not been to see your mamà’s dearest friends, you still remember where the cafeteria is?” She gave Javier a playful grin.

“Sí, Señora.”

“Everyone will be so happy to see you, mi amor. Now go, or everyone will be after me for keeping you!”

Grabbing his things, Javier made his way down the bustling hallway. Tiny faces stared up at his, as he shuffled his way towards the cafeteria doors. There, he was greeted by a sea of children chatting amongst themselves and 3 smiling faces, patiently waiting for his arrival.

“JAVI!”

Out of any of the faces he was bound to see today, these were the 3 he would recognize anywhere. The ladies who stood before him were the fellow 3rd grade teachers who had taught alongside his mother for almost 20 years.

The ladies surrounded him in a bear hug, Javier quietly noting to himself that he had definitely reached his hug quota for the next several weeks.

“It’s so good to see you, Javi.” The first of the 3 women spoke, her words sweet like honey. Linda Garcia was short and stout, her gray bangs brushing over the brim of her glasses as she looked up at Javier. Linda had always had a soft spot for Javi, and reminded him the most of his mother.

“It’s good to see you t-“

“PENDEJO. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WHY HAVE YOU NOT CALLED?! WE SWORE TO YOUR LATE MOTHER THAT WE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU, AND IF IT WASN’T FOR CHUCHO KEEPING US UPDATED TH-”

“Maria, let the boy breathe, this is the first time you’re seeing him in years, and this is the route you’re going to take? Dios Mio.”

Standing next to Linda were her 2 partners in crime, Maria Rogers and Estelle Lopez.

If you didn’t know Maria Rogers, you would be shocked to see the ferocity that came out of such a tiny woman. Javier’s mother used to refer to her “el vòlcan”- a matching nickname for her fiery personality.

Estelle, on the other hand, was one of the most soft spoken people that Javier had ever meant. If she had something to say, he knew it was time to listen.

“Hi everyone, it’s really great to see all of you.” Javier meant it. As overwhelmed and flustered as he was, it brought him peace to know after the hell that these last 8 years had been, some things never change.

“MRS. ROGERSSSSSSS. WHEN IS THIS GONNA START?! I’M HUNGRY AND I KNOW LUNCH IS AFTER THIS.”

“BE QUIET, MICHAEL. YOU KNOW WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR ONE MORE CLASS. YOU’RE SO ANNOYING.”

“AM NOT!”

“AM TOO!”

Chatter and fidgeting amongst the 3rd graders instantaneously increased, the crowd of children now growing restless.

“Oi, these niños will be the death of me, thank goodness this school is almost done.” Maria mumbled under her breath, the other 2 teachers rolling their eyes and laughing in agreement. “We’re just waiting on one more class, but they should be here any minute.”

Overhearing the conversations shouted across the cafeteria, Agent Carter’s voice wandered through Javier’s thoughts.

“You get the school with the hot teacher!”

Obviously, Carter was not referring to the 3 women who stood before him. Although he wasn’t one for crude office banter, Javier couldn’t help but wonder if Carter’s statement really held true. With a genuine curiosity and a slight smirk on his face, he leaned back, arms crossed and asked, “Yeah wait, there’s still four 3rd grade teachers right?”

The women all shot him a look that took him aback, their eyes burning a hole though Javier.

“Jesus, you men really have a one track mind don’t you. Yes, I’m sure all of your friends from the department have been more than happy to tell you about our new teacher who just joined us. She is a sweet girl, and I am sure she is sick of getting harassed by all of you.”

“Maria, I was just asking a quest-“

“Javier Jesus Peña, I have known you since before you were born. Wipe that smug look off your face, I know exactly why you asked the question”.

Yup, things haven’t changed a bit.

Before he could retort, the cafeteria doors began to swing open, followed by a long line of children, and you.

“1, 2, 3, eyes on me!”

“1, 2, eyes on you!

God, the amount of times you’d had to repeat that phrase as the end of the school year approached, you might as well have gotten it tattooed on your forehead.

“Okay 3rd graders, we’re already 5 minutes late for our assembly, and I’m sure the other classes are not going to be happy that we’re holding them up, and probably making us late for lunch after”

The chatter stopped. With only a few days left in the school year, you were running out of ammunition to keep your class’s attention. At least the threat of being late to unch would work for now.

A little hand shot up from the middle of the line you were about to trail down the hallway, like a mother duck with her babies following in line. “What’s your question, Jaun?”

“Do you know if it’s gonna be the same guy as last time? He was kind of scary.” Mumbles of agreement came from the voices surrounding him. The Laredo Sheriff's Department had sent in a slew of their employees each week for these presentations, and you had been convinced none of them had ever even attempted to talk to a child. Last week’s presenter, Martin, Michales, something like that, had spent the large time of his presentation talking about getting murdered by the Cartel, leading to tears from many of your students, and a prompt request to not have him back.

“I don’t know sweetie, it seems like there’s someone new who comes every week, but I sure hope it’s not him.” The class let out a small giggle. These were the moments you loved about your job as a teacher, especially now that you had moved to an older grade where your kids finally picked up on your subtle jokes with them.

You had been with your class since after Christmas break, filling in as a long term sub for a 3rd grade teacher on maternity leave. The job followed an impromptu move from Chicago to Texas after breaking off your relationship with your boyfriend (regrettably, almost fiancé) of 3 years, who had been cheating on you behind your back for 2 of them. You felt like an idiot that you hadn’t seen it coming, but it still hit you like a ton of bricks. Paul had plenty of red flags, but your optimistic demeanor and the mounting peer pressure of watching your friends get married and start their own families made you feel trapped. It still stung to think you would have settled for a miserable life with Paul out of the fear you wouldn’t find anyone else.

Desperate to get as far away from Illinois as possible, you packed your bags and made the nearly 4 day drive down to Laredo, Texas. Laredo, a strange choice to many, but made nothing but complete sense to you. Your best friend since the 2nd grade, Sarah Alverez, had moved to Laredo your Freshman year of high school, her father accepting an agricultural engineering position in ranching country. You spent every summer until college visiting her and her family, having nothing but the fondest of memories for a sleepy town outside of San Antonio. It was a stark chance from the hustle and bustle of Chicago suburbia where you had spent your childhood. Long, carefree summer days made you promise yourself that if you ever did leave Chicago, you’d find yourself here. Well, you had made good on your promise, but for reasons that still made your stomach churn in gut-wrenching knots.

You and your class journeyed down the hallway to the cafeteria. Thank god it was a short trip, because you were far too tired to put up with the bickering and shenanigans the back of your line often seemed to plague you with. Just as you were entering through the cafeteria doors, you promptly turned around, your body facing the line as you walked backwards further into the cafeteria. “Isabella and Jorge, keep your hands to yourself! You two know you’re not supposed to be in line togeth-” Before you could finish your sentence, the back of your body collided with one behind you that you hadn’t seen since turning around to stop a near WWE smackdown in the hallway. You had bumped into kids more than once who weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, but it became very clear, very quickly, that the body you had backed yourself into was not a child’s.

The body you had backed yourself into was much taller and broader than yours. Two large hands firmly, but gently grasped around the middle of your upper arms to catch you without stumbling backwards any further. An overwhelming scent of cedarwood and sage cologne filled your senses. This obviously was not one of your coworkers, either.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorr-“ you started to apologize as you came to face the body that had stopped you in your tracks. Your apology halted as you were met by incredibly broad shoulders covered by a navy blue suit jacket. As your gaze continued upwards, the shoulders were followed by a strong square jawline and plush lips, the upper covered with an impeccable mustache. Continuing up, you were met with the most beautiful, deep chocolate brown eyes, whose soft stare soon met yours. There was no denying that this man was devilishly handsome. Realizing that you had most definitely been starting too long, you restated your apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were behind me.” Your eyes shifted away from his and darted down to the floor.

A small smirk formed on his face as he looked down at you. He didn’t realize it, but he couldn’t help it. You were wearing a yellow sun dress that hit just above your knees, covered by a light washed denim jacket. Your dress swayed beautifully as he watched you take your last few steps backwards, making him question himself if he let you run into him on purpose. You smelled like vanilla and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Pink embarrassment flooded your cheeks as a soft smile on your face met his. He now too realized that he had been staring a little too long, and that he still had his grasp on your arms as you had turned around to look at him.

“No it’s okay.” He let out a small laugh under his breath. “I just didn’t want you to go too much further and trip over anything else.” He gently let his hands leave her arms, and watched as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face and looked back up at him.

“Should we go sit down now?!” A small voice shouted from your line, causing you to snap back to reality, realizing that you had a line of children still standing behind you.

“Yes, sorry sweetie” you replied, brushing your dress down back into place. “You guys can go find a spot behind Mrs. Rogers’ class.” Your class passed by you, paying no mind to the interaction that just took place between you and the man you had just bumped into.

As you watched your class pass by, you turned back around to find the man still staring at you, causing your heart to palpably beat in your chest. The same strong hands that had caught you were now extended in your direction, offering a handshake to introduce himself. “I’m Javier Peña, uh Javi, actually” as your hand met his, realizing how small they felt in his grip. “I’m from the Laredo Sheriff's department, I uh, I’m the one that’s supposed to be doing the whole presentation thing today.” Your hand stayed in his as you introduced yourself. God, his hands were something else.

His grip loosened as your co-workers began to move towards you. You began to realize how hot your face felt, knowing that you were flushed with embarrassment not only from almost falling into a crowd of 10 year olds, but from how awe struck you were by the man who had caught you.

The three women on your 3rd grade team had taken you in as one of their own when you started your job here. They had been more than happy to step in to help you with whatever you needed, including trying to set you up with every single man your age that they knew. With the exception of the parade of overly forward sheriff's department members who had been at your school every Wednesday. Those 3 had no problem telling those men to fuck right off and leave you alone (in the nicest way possible.) The ladies slowly crept closer towards you, sly grins stretched across their faces as they giggled like school girls.

“OH, so it looks like you met our sweet Javier!” Linda said with over exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Sweetie, you’re SO good with the technology around here, you know how us old ladies are. Maybe you could help him set up the video he needs for his presentation today?” You knew damn well these women knew how to press play on a VCR. You grimaced your face at Maria. While you couldn’t see your face, you were absolutely positive your expression was screaming “Oh my God, could you please make it any more obvious that this man is insanely attractive and you don’t need to add to the embarrassment after I already ran into him like an idiot?!”

“Yeah, of course, I’d be more than happy to help!” You pointed towards the stage that sat in front of the cafeteria. “Just come this way and I’ll show you how to set it up.”

Following behind you, Javier leaned his head down towards yours. “Must be the most complicated VCR set up I’ve seen in a while.”

You let out a giggle. “Yeah, they're all very sweet, but not the most skilled with anything that has to do with technology. When our principal had mentioned the idea of us potentially getting a computer lab, they just about had a heart attack. Setting up the TV to play a video should be no problem.” You gestured towards the stage at the front of the cafeteria where the TV cart was kept for presentations. He followed behind you, keeping a respectful distance. Not respectful enough to keep himself from staring at the curve of your ass in your dress as you walked up the stage stairs.

“Do you have the tape you need to show?” Your words went in one ear and out the other. Carter and Morris weren’t kidding. He hated to admit that those idiots were right about anything, but God, you were beautiful. His gaze was locked on you as squatted down next to the VCR, ejecting its previous contents. It seemed in that moment that you very much both realized that when Javier stood in front of you, you eye level with his waist, staring up at him, dangerously close to his coc-

“Uh, yeah, yeah sorry,” he shook his head slightly to snap himself out of the thought he was about to have. “Thanks.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Well I’m no technology expert, but all you should have to do is press play wherever you need to, and you should be good to go! Let me just roll this cart out for you and we’re good for you whenever you’re ready!” You began pushing the cart out onto the stage, but before you could get anywhere, Javi had his hand over yours.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s probably heavy, I can push it.” He insisted.

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that made him step away.

“What, you think I can’t do it?” Defiantly, you pushed the cart out to the middle of the stage to prove a point, looking back at him and shrugging with an “I told you so” look on your face. Any other woman he had met would have thankfully given up the task, let alone offer to do it at all. At that moment, Javier Peña knew you were not just any other woman. And that- that terrified him in the best way possible.

Just before you hopped off the edge of the stage to re-join your class, you looked up at him as he ran his fingers through his locks of thick, curly brown hair, trying to regain his composure.

“Good luck up there, Mr. Peña.”

Javier couldn’t even tell you what had happened in the 30 minutes that he was up on stage. There were many times throughout his career where he had stared out into a sea of blank faces as he gave a presentation about intel, informats, wire taps… but having the eyes of 80 9 and 10 year olds glued to his every word was an absolutely terrifying experience. Not because he was nervous about the judgment of a child who may or may not even be able to tie their shoes or wipe their nose, but because of what they may say about him to you. It took everything in his power not to stare at you the entire time he was up there, but every time he glanced in your direction, your face lit up with a reassuring smile. You had even given him a little thumbs up when he had successfully started the VCR, playing a clip of Daren the D.A.R.E Lion.

As the presentation finished, the kids applauded and gave a unanimous “thank you!” prompted by the teachers.

As your class gathered behind you to walk down to the cafeteria, Maria tapped your shoulder.

“Take a picture, mija, it will last longer.”

You were too busy staring at Javi to even notice that Maria was talking to you. Her words went in one ear and out the other.

“Huh, what? Sorry, did you say something?”

“I said, take a picture, it will last longer.” Maria laughed to herself. “I don’t think your eyes have left him once since you walked in here.”

You hated to admit it, but it was true. You had known this man for less than an hour, and he already had butterflies dancing around in your stomach. God, what were you, 12?! Pull it together.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Maria.” Of course you did. If you were wearing pants, they would be up in flames. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“I’ll take your class to lunch today. I’ll be back to help stack all of the chairs in a few. I’m sure he could use some help cleaning up, and I’ve heard that VCR is really difficult to work.” Maria nudged you before she turned around to collect your class and parade them out of the gym. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Trying to contain your excitement, you playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head.

The other teachers and students left, leaving just you and Javi. He gathered his things that he had left on the stage and started to make his way back down the stairs. It took him a moment to realize you were standing at the edge of the steps, arms crossed over your chest, smiling up at him.

“I’m sorry if the kids were rowdy. It’s been a zoo since there’s only a few days of school left.” You both let out a small chuckle. Now that you two were alone, you became very aware of how nervous you were.

“You did a really great job! Honestly, you’re the best person we’ve had since we’ve started doing these presentations. The guy we had last time, I can’t remember his name, something with an M?! Anyways, I don’t think he’s ever spoken to a child in his entire life, and there were definitely some tears.”

Definitely Morris, Javi noted to himself.

“Thanks, I uh- didn’t think I’d be so nervous to talk in front of a bunch of kids. I’m glad it wasn’t too bad. I should thank you for helping me with that video. Didn’t need to get my pride bruised in front of 10 year olds. Also glad I didn’t make anyone cry.”

You both let out small laughs, your cheeks revealing small smiles across your faces. While the silence between you grew, the distance between you began to shrink as you both subconsciously took a small step towards each other.

He watched as a small wave of sadness flooded your expression. “Stinks that this is the last week of presentations before the school year ends. it would have been nice to have you back.” You looked at him with a half hopeful smile. You saw the same feeling reflected back in him as his brow scrunched and bottom lip entered a small pout.

“Oh shit. Yeah, I uh, I guess I forgot it’s the end of the school year. That would make sense there wouldn’t be anymore presentations.” He rested one hand on his hip, as the other traveled through his thick, brown locks. You bit down on your bottom lip, stunned by his broadness and shoulders to waist ratio, which was made even more apparent as his fingers combed through his hair. His deep brown eyes met yours, melting you instantly. “If I had known that you would have been here, I would have signed up to come a lot earlier.”

Before you had a chance to recover yourself from the puddle you had just turned into, the cafeteria doors swung open once again. Maria was a woman on a mission. Her tiny, thin frame marched with purpose towards you both.

“Oh good thing I caught you, amor! I was just thinking that I had something important to tell Javier before he left and I’m so glad you’re here to hear it too. Javi happens to be a dear familiar friend, and I was just telling him before the presentation how excited I am to see him and his father at my cookout this Saturday! I know you had mentioned you were thinking about going! You’ll be there, won’t you Javier? Aren't you so excited to come to the party this Saturday?”

Maria and Javier entered a silent stare down. Their expressions allowed them to have an entire conversation without speaking a word.

There’s a party on Saturday? What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?

Dios Mio, Pendejo. Take the hint. I already invited her. She will be there on Saturday so you can see her again. Don’t mess this up.

“Oh really?” You chimed in, perhaps a bit too over enthusiastic. “I wasn’t really going to know anyone besides the staff at school, so it would be nice to see another familiar face!” In all honesty, you were trying to find a way out of going before just now. Huge social gatherings of strangers weren’t really your thing, but if it meant it was a chance to see Javi again, you would brave it.

“Oh yeah, the uh, the cookout! Yeah, uh, yeah, I’ll be there. It would be really nice to see you again, too.” Although Javier’s tone carried a tint of confusion, his smile was confirmed that his statement was genuine.

“Bueno!” Maria clasped her hands together and shook her head in delight. “So you will BOTH be there on Saturday!”

You could already feel your heart swelling at the prospect of seeing Javi again.

“Oh and mija”, Maria turned towards you, your face lighting up, wondering if she had even more good news to deliver. “They need you in the office. Isabella and Jorge got into a wrestling match in the cafeteria and the secretaries needed to call their parents. Oi, these niños are like wild animals, summer cannot come fast enough!”

“Of course they did. They might as well put WWE referee under our job description because it seems like that’s all I’m doing all day. It’s like herding feral cats.” you groaned. “Those two cannot be together next year…”

Javi let out a snort. “Sorry”, he said, trying to contain his laughter. You joined in, realizing the ridiculousness of your statement.

“Alright, well I guess that’s my cue to go. It was really nice to meet you, Javi. I’m really glad I get to see you again.” It took every ounce of strength in your body to move yourself out of the cafeteria doors. As you walked away, you turned once more to look back over your shoulder, to find that Javi’s eye’s hadn’t moved from your direction since you turned around. “See you on Saturday.”

Even after you were out of sight, Javi still stood frozen, his eyes wide and jaw still half open.

“Hola, earth to Javier, are you there?!” Maria interjected, waving her hand in front of Javi’s awe struck face.

Snapping out of his trance, Javier began to speak, but was stopped before he could get out a single word.

“Listen to me mijo. I want you to be happy. That was all Lucia asked for before she passed. So first and foremost, you are welcome.” Maria gestured, alluding to the fact that Javier owed her big time for what had just happened. “Secondly, she is a sweet girl. If you do anything to break her heart, so help me, I will come to the ranch and run you over with your father’s tractor. Understood?”

“Understood.” Javier understood that this was not a threat, it was a promise.

“Good. She’s a good one, Javier. She reminds me so much of your mother. Lucia would have loved her.” She reached up her hand to cup the side of Javi’s face, before bringing her other arm around him for a hug.

Javier exhaled, trying his best to hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was the first time since returning home that he felt a sense of relief and comfort fill his body. Maybe, he was more than the man he was returning home from Colombia. Maybe, the people who loved him before he left still loved him now, despite the person he’d become. Maybe, just maybe, someone else could love him for the new man he now hoped to become.

828 notes · View notes

atlabeth · 14 days

Text

wake up, sunshine

knight!luke masterlist

based on this ask

pairing: knight!luke castellan x princess!reader

summary: you and luke repair some things at your kingdom's annual flower festival.

a/n: have some fluff after i destroyed their relationship in the last fic! also this is based off of the scene from rapunzel because how could it not be <3 title from the all time low song bc it is soooo them "somebody loves you for yourself" <3 they're everything

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): once again luke is kinda angsty but this is much fluffier than usual! princess is nice again, they have a couple sweet moments <3

we’ve been focusing on a lot of rough times between luke and the princess but things aren’t all bad for them!! even though she’s trying to ignore him and being forced to court a prince she isn’t interested in at all and war is imminent, war has not struck YET

which means that things are still pretty great lol. and things are going to get a little better

Aurelda’s flower festival always happens at the peak of spring, when all of the flowers (especially the ones only found in your kingdom) bloom, and it is full of revelry and merriment

You’ve gone every year since you were old enough to walk, and though things have been a bit bleak for you, you’re actually excited about it! that boring prince has gone back home so you don’t have to spend the entire festival entertaining him.

For the first time in a while, you actually get to focus on yourself and having fun. and you plan to do just that

Of course, things are still weird between you and Luke — you know it’s your own fault, and you know that’s how it has to be, but you still hate it — but you can’t stop thinking about his words from that night as your lady’s maid helps you get ready for the festival.

You may not care about what you want, but I do. And my loyalty is to you, princess. Not to your parents. And certainly no prince.

Your heart twists painfully but you hide any emotion. The last thing you need is your maids spreading rumors. They already gossip about how close you and Luke are. You don’t need any star-crossed lovers narratives going on when your friendship is being put through the wringer of your own accord.

You’re wearing a more casual outfit than usual—though your parents usually want you adorned in gowns and over the top dresses, you insisted on a simpler dress that cut off around your ankles for the ease of movement. It has plenty of embroidered flowers, of course.

You planned to participate in every festival activity, no matter what your parents said. You deserved to have some fun after being so serious for the past month.

You’re stuck in meetings the entire day before the festival, so you’re brimming with unspent energy the second you step out of the palace. Your leg bounces up and down the entire carriage ride, and you talk at (not to) your parents the whole time.

You’re excited, okay? And you deserve to be. things have been rough lately, and with the prince’s presence, woefully boring. You can’t wait to get back in the middle of your kingdom and see your people. You love your subjects, and you always love when you get to meet and talk to them in person.

Luke, on the other hand, is slightly stressed.

As this is his inaugural year as your knight, it is a season of firsts for him, and every first comes with unhealthy amounts of stress.

His first ball with you, his first time in another kingdom with you, his first festival with you, his first time being at odds with you.

Luke honestly doesn’t know how you feel about him right now. You’ve put an impressive amount of distance between you and him, and you rarely talk to him outside of necessity, but he sees your lingering glances in his direction. He notices when you don’t rebuke his attempts at friendly conversation.

Luke meant every word that he said. He knows you, and he knows you don’t want this—you at least don’t want to leave him in the dark like this. So he isn’t going to let you go that easily.

Your avoidance of him may be a good thing, though, because at least it means you don’t see his reaction when you leave your room wearing your festival dress.

Luke has always thought of you as the most beautiful girl he knows, and that hasn’t changed with time.

You always stun in your ballgowns and any Aureldan finery, but there’s just something about you wearing such a simplistic dress, heightened by embroidered flowers, that makes him weak in the knees.

Maybe it’s because Luke has imagined a life away from all of this so many times. You’re not a princess, and he’s not a knight, but you’re devoted to each other the same—you just don’t have any royal strings attached.

Apart from being a knight, Luke has never really cared where his future took him, as long as it was with you. He knows he would give up all of this and more if it meant he could share a simple life with you.

Thankfully, he’s composed himself by the time you look at him, though he can’t push away all the lingering thoughts.

“Are you attending the festival today, Sir Castellan?” you ask.

He hates it when you call him that, but he nods. “Of course. You’re going out into the kingdom—you need security.”

“It is a festival,” you drawl. “Nothing will happen.”

“It is still necessary,” he says. “You can think of me as your knightly escort.”

That actually gets a bit of a laugh out of you, and he suppresses a smile. “My escort. How improper of you.”

“Today is meant to be a day of festivities,” Luke says. “Impropriety may be allowed just this once.”

Your smile remains as you start to walk together, and Luke knows he could live off of its warmth alone.

And when you finally reach your destination, your smile gets even bigger.

It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten to be in the midst of your kingdom, surrounded by all your people. This is the part of your position that you love—you just wish your parents trusted you with it more.

Your parents are busy with their image—they’re speaking later today, you’re sure, and right now they’re discussing things with some kind of village leader—which gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away.

Luke is right behind you, of course, but it’s always been hard to keep up with you. You’ve grown very skilled at weaving your way through crowds, but thankfully Luke has grown very skilled at keeping an eye on you.

By the time he catches up to you, though, it’s too late.

“Princess—” Luke calls in protest, but you’re already off to greet a group of children calling your name.

You know exactly how to stress him out, running off like that without him immediately behind you, but he can’t find any anger inside of him.

Luke hasn’t forgotten your words. He doesn’t know how he could.

But in this moment, it’s so easy to see why he can’t just do his duty and let you go.

The way you crouch down to be on their level, how you listen so intently to everything they say, your dazzling smile.

Yes, one could say it’s your duty to be kind to your people, but for many royals, that’s not true. You’ve always cared about the people of Aurelda, ever since you were young—that may have been one of the few things that hasn’t changed as you’ve grown. Luke has always admired that about you.

In this moment, you’re not the crown princess. You’re just you. And it’s hard for anyone not to love you.

…It’s hard for him not to love you.

yeah.

this is the moment that luke realizes he loves you. like loves you loves you.

And it doesn’t come as much of a shock to him. Luke has always loved you, one way or another. He’s just now understanding the kind of love he holds for you now.

wants to spend the rest of his life with you, would throw himself onto a sword for you, would do absolutely anything for you type loves you.

If anything, it brings some form of relief.

He loves you. You don’t love him, and you’re going to marry a prince someday. Maybe within the year.

It’s as simple as that.

except it isn’t, obviously

because you love him too!! you just don’t know it yet!! and you don’t really want to marry the prince your parents are pushing at you, you just don’t see any other way.

But it’s not like Luke knows that. he may be the youngest person to ever become part of the kingsguard but he is ~ insecure ~ and he cannot imagine anyone liking him like that, especially you!!!

Luke comes back into himself when you bound back over to him, and he notices the flower crown balancing precariously on your head.

You have the biggest grin on your face, and though the gowns you wear at balls and fancier events are great, you’re nothing less than stunning in your simple dress. You’re slightly out of breath and your skin is luminescent with the glow of exertion. He can’t help but smile.

Have you always been this beautiful? He’s pretty sure you have, but he doesn’t know how he didn’t realize it sooner.

Luke has loved you for a while, he thinks. Maybe he always has—maybe that’s what the warm feeling he gets in his chest when he looks at you is. Maybe that’s what made his heart clench every time a prince danced with you at that ball.

Maybe his love for you has always been what’s pushed him forward.

“Luke,” you said, and once again, you snapped him out of his thoughts. You were absolutely beaming at him, and you wore a flower crown on your head. “Are you there?”

Luke, he realized. Not Sir Castellan, for what felt like the first time in weeks.

“I’m always here,” he said. “I’ve got superior training, princess.”

“Of course,” you said with mock austerity, nodding sagely. “I could never forget.”

You held up another flower crown, one similar to yours, and your smile grew. “The kids made another one, too. They said it was for my grumpy looking knight.”

Luke scoffed, but there was no edge to it. “I’m not grumpy. Merely cautious.”

“Oh, yes,” you said dryly. “I’m sure those kids had devious plans, Luke.”

That got the slightest of smiles out of him, and it spurned warmth in your chest. “It’s my—”

“It’s your job to watch me,” you finished. “I know. Just teasing you.”

“And I welcome it,” he said. “It’s nice to see you like this, princess.”

“Talking to my people and actually making a difference?” you guessed.

“Happy,” he corrected.

“Yes, well…” you trailed off, glancing away for a moment as you shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”

“And for once, you don’t look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Luke’s eyes drifted to the flower crown sitting on your head, and his smile grew. “It suits you.”

“Carelessness or flower crowns?” you asked wryly.

“Flower crowns.” Luke crossed his arms. “You’re far from careless, princess.”

You rolled your eyes

“You’ve got to stop talking down on yourself like that,” he said. “Like nothing you say or do matters. Because it does. It may not feel like it, but you’re doing valuable work.”

“Oh, yes,” you said breezily. “I’m sure sitting in meetings that don’t matter and looking pretty as I stand in the background during my father’s speeches is valuable work.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Luke gestured at the crowd of people around, specifically pointing at the group of kids that you’d entertained. “You fight for them every day, even if you don’t realize it. You care about these people, princess, which is already more than half of the people in that castle do for them. Why else would they adore you?”

You bit your lip and glanced away. It was hard to take Luke’s words to heart when you truly felt like you were doing nothing—when it felt like the only thing you could possibly be good for was a marriage.

But you did argue with your parents near every chance you got on matters of support and aid for your people. It was the least you could do, especially when you knew you would never really have to deal with consequences.

(There was a reason most of your father’s advisors had to suppress groans every time you would sit in on a meeting. You took pride in your ability to annoy.)

“Let’s call a truce, okay?”

You frowned. Now it was Luke bringing you out of your thoughts. “A truce?”

“I don’t want you to keep avoiding me, and I don’t think you’re really enjoying it either.” Luke met your gaze. “We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, princess. Don’t let boring princes come between that.”

You glanced away. “Luke…”

“I know,” he said with a sigh. “I know your duty, and I know mine. But seeing you today, so carefree and happy—it’s worth more than a million gold pieces to me.”

You’d been dancing around this topic since the night you pushed him away. It just hurt too much to talk about, and you felt like you didn’t have a right to be hurt—not when you were the one that did it.

You loved Luke—he’d been your best friend for as long as you could remember. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t hate the time you’ve been spending apart.

“We’re both getting older, I know. And we both have responsibilities we’re going to take on. God, someday, you’re going to be queen.” Luke huffed a laugh, though his eyes never wavered from you. “But that doesn’t mean that we can’t get through it together. Just like we’ve gotten through everything else together.”

Luke held out his hand. “So? Truce?”

You stared at his hand for a moment, unable to meet his eyes. You knew exactly what you wanted to say but you felt like you couldn’t.

Because dammit, your days felt so dull. You always wanted to talk about your day and how boring your lessons were or the bullshit your father’s advisors have been discussing in meetings, and Luke was always the person you wanted to talk to about it all. He always has been.

And you pushed him away.

Before you could doubt yourself, you ignored his hand entirely and pulled him into a tight hug. Luke wrapped his arms around you immediately, holding you close.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” you whispered. God, how you’d missed his embrace—you never felt safer than when you were in his arms. “And I’m sorry for being so stupid.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, princess,” he murmured. “And you’re certainly not stupid. Don’t even think that way.”

You let out a breathy laugh as you pulled away, smiling softly at Luke. “I’m stupid to ever think I could really stay away from you.”

and for the rest of the festival, you and luke are practically inseparable<3 not just because he’s your guard but because you’re best friends.

You’re not going to let anything change that going forward. any prince that wants to marry you is just going to have to deal with that.

(you even get him to wear that flower crown.)

(and though he tries to hide it, he kind of loves it.)

(mostly because he loves you<3)

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan headcanon #luke castellan au #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #knight!luke #sadie writes

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clairewritesjjkxreader · 1 year

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Sukuna's Wife and Yuuji's Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) Part 2

Part 1

Several hundred years ago…

You adored autumn more than any other season. Leaves drying, flowers falling to the ground–you felt most alive surrounded by death.

“The leaves remind me of your hair,” you said to him, holding up a red maple leaf.

“You did not just compare me to a dead leaf.” He watched with crossed arms as you fiddled with the leaf before letting go.

“It’s a compliment. Though…I guess the maple is prettier,” you teased him. The rubiness of autumn maple was rich and with a charm incomparable to any flower.

He huffed.

You laughed a bit, though your giggles were covered up with coughing.

He strolled closer, wrapping a scarf around your neck, his large hands careful not to pull on your hair. “You love autumn but can barely stand the cold.”

You snuggled closer to his side, placing your ear close to his heart. “Then it’s a good thing I married you.”

***

Present day.

Yuuji was the single most precious person to you. He and old man Wasuke were more your family than the actual people who made you. When the toddler first grasped your finger, tightly and warmly, you swore that nothing else mattered in the world.

As the days passed and that little crybaby grew up into a taller crybaby, your sentiments only got stronger.

No one cared, no one mattered, not even yourself.

If anyone deserved to live a long, happy life, it was your sweet, salt of the earth Yuuji.

That’s why, after the man called Gojo explained everything: from curses and cursed energy to Yuuji’s fate after eating one of Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers, you found yourself getting down on both knees and laying your nose on the ground.

“Please,” you begged, “please spare Yuuji. If you need another host, then transfer Sukuna inside me and take me instead, but leave my brother alone.”

All three men were stunned.

Fushiguro reluctantly opened his mouth, “H-hey–”

“Nee-chan, get up.” Yuuji went to grab your shoulders, but he was taken aback when Gojo knelt down in front of you.

He hummed, before asking, “You sure are a good sister. You realize that you’re basically asking us to kill you?”

You said nothing as you kept your forehead on the ground.

“So that’s your answer.” Gojo crossed his arms and pretended to think.

“Darling.” Sukuna appeared on Yuuji’s cheek. He growled, “Get up. You shouldn’t be prostrating yourself in front of these scum.”

Gojo snapped his fingers. “Leave it to me, Y/N-chan!”

“Hey!” “Oy!”

Fushiguro and Sukuna chorused, “You’re not really dragging her into this, are you?” “You damn sorcerer, don’t you dare call her so intimately. Only I can–”

“Raise your head, Y/N-chan.” Gojo chuckled. “I’ll take care of you and Yuuji.”

Despite everything, Gojo needed to be sure of Itadori’s potential as a vessel, so he knocked the boy out and did the same to you before you could try to hit him.

“You’re not really thinking of using that woman as a vessel, right?” Megumi watched as his teacher held you in his arms. “And how do you even plan on transferring Sukuna into her?”

“Tell me, Megumi, do you want Itadori-kun to live?”

“Of course, I do.”

“How about his darling nee-chan?”

“Yes, but–”

“Sukuna cannot be trusted, but if he really does care for this girl then we can use that to our advantage, don’t you agree?”

Megumi couldn’t protest. He didn’t like the idea of getting civilians involved, but if he had to choose between two people and the rest of the world, then the answer was obvious.

The day Old Man Wasuke was hospitalized, you already took a leave of absence from college. Quitting your part time jobs and packing up your belongings took less than a day, and cutting ties with the rest of the world you knew was easy. You had no warmth for your colleagues, or your classmates, or the lonely old house you grew up in.

Sukuna was surprisingly quiet the whole ride to the high school, but when Satoru Gojo started flirting with you, an eye and mouth would open up on Yuuji’s cheek and demand he stay away from you.

“How dare you lay your filthy hand on my beloved–”

“You mad? What’re you gonna do from waaaay over there?” (You seriously started to worry about your brother’s safety while being protected by this moron.)

Yuuji was placed next to Megumi Fushiguro (a polite but reserved boy, you noted) while you were put in the girl’s dormitory, which was practically empty. Sukuna was vocal about “being left behind,” but Gojo was adamant about separating the boys from the girls like the rules state.

Lies, Megumi thought to himself. He just wants to piss off Sukuna. That and it was for your own safety. Though the King of Curses seemed attached to you, he was still a curse, and his attitude could’ve been a mask.

You were used to being alone so living without a roommate or “friends” in a large building was no big deal. Once you were settled in, you returned to Yuuji’s dormitory, but when you found him unconscious and tied to a chair by talismans, you threw a shoe at Gojo without thinking.

“Why are you so violent?” Gojo complained as your shoe bounced off his infinity.

“You said you would protect him!”

“Calm down,” Fushiguro said from behind you. “Please, Gojo-sensei may look and act like that–”

“–oi, what do you mean by ‘that’–”

“–but I promise you, he’s doing this for everybody’s benefit.”

“...You’re lying.”

Fushiguro’s blood froze as you gazed into his eyes. He has never felt such intense blood lust from a single human before.

“You’re not doing this for my baby’s sake… you’re lying… you’re tricking us…” Your voice dripped with ice, your stare glazed over.

Fushiguro was speechless. Something told him you weren’t talking about just Yuuji right now.

“Give him back to me.” You gripped Fushiguro’s arms. “GIVE MY CHILD BACK!”

Fushiguro was at a loss, though your nails dug into him, he couldn’t bring himself to summon his familiars or push you away. You were a bit violent, but he saw Tsumiki in you.

Wait, did she just say child?

@laurcad123 @aidanstan @deepinballs

Part 3

A/N:

I'm getting way too lazy to write full fledged prose.

Anyway, I love soft sukuna.

Also, med school is murder T.T

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neymarsangel · 11 months

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Pushover - Joao Felix x reader

Joao Felix x female!reader

Summary: The anger started when Joao overheard you and Mason discussing his relationship. The brunette tells you he hates you with every fibre of his being but a run-in with your ex during a match suggests something else. After another argument, he corners you in the bathrooms at the end-of-season awards to show you his true feelings.

Warnings: Cheating (ish), smut, unprotected (please wrap before you tap it), angst, swearing

Word Count: 5.3K

—

To put it plainly, Joao Felix was a pushover and it wasn’t just you who saw it, the whole Chelsea team did. Everyone had heard the rumours about him and his girlfriend, she’d cheated on him multiple times and yet he still forgave her, again and again… and again. He wasn’t exactly hard to look at either so you really couldn’t work out why he didn’t just dump her, anyone who was cheated on deserved better, especially Joao.

Working for Chelsea’s media team meant you saw hundreds of women come and go when it came to the lads, some you missed and others you didn’t. But even if you liked the girls or you didn’t, you always supported the boys. After all, they were like family to you, a dysfunctional one sure, but a family.

“I still can’t see why he’s with her…” Mason flashed Joao girlfriends Instagram your way. The pair of you sat at lunch together, he was busy stalking whereas you were attempting to meet a deadline. Glancing over you caught sight of his phone screen.

“I would say money but he’s fine in that department.” You replied, not caring about those around you who might pry an ear into your words. “Maybe he’s lonely.” Your eyes never left your laptop as you continued to work.

“Considering he spends most of his time with us I think he’s fine there.” Mason spared you a glance.

“Any of you ever spoken to him about it?” You asked, your eyes now looking at his phone. “Maybe that’ll sway his mind.”

“Maybe you could talk to him.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe he needs a new woman to catch his eye.” Your eyes met Mason’s as he sent you a suggestive glance.

“I’d rather not.” Your eyes darted back to your laptop screen.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t date pushovers.” As you finished speaking a sudden slam on the table caught your and his attention. Joao was standing before you his face smoothed with rage as he slumped down into the chair opposite you. His eyes burned holes into your skin as he spoke.

“What are you working on?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard your entire conversation with Mason.

“Just a graphic for the game against Liverpool in a few days…” Your eyes were glued to his, you wanted to rip them away from his gaze but you were stuck like a deer in headlights.

“Hmm… are you planning to meet your ex after the game?” You nearly choked on his words.

You’d had what those would describe as a summer fling when he was at the England camp and you’d been asked to cover some work due to having minimal at Chelsea because of the summer break. It wasn’t a relationship, you wouldn’t even consider him an ex-boyfriend more just someone you used to sleep with. Only a few of the lads knew about it, Mason and Ben being the main two you’d told after you and Trent decided a relationship wasn’t in the cards for you.

Your glared at Mason who was now trying to hide himself behind his phone screen. “Did you tell him?”

“It may have slipped out… but it wasn’t just me! Ben was speaking about it too!”

You pulled your eyes away from Mason to focus back on Joao. “He isn’t my ex and my love life doesn’t concern you-”

“But mine concerns you.” He had a point. Could you really tell him he had no right to question you when you and Mason were spending your lunch discussing his love life?

“If anything we’re looking out for you.”

“By implying that I’m a pushover?”

“Her words, not mine!” Mason raised his hands in defence.

“Well, you do keep going back to someone whose favourite hobby is to publicly cheat on you.” You stepped in.

“At least someone wants me enough to be in a relationship, Trent clearly didn’t want you around.”

“Your girlfriend cheats on you if that’s what ‘wanted’ means I’d rather be alone.”

“She does have a point.” Mason looked between the two of you. “Look mate we just want the best for you -”

“You might be she doesn’t!” Joao looked at Mason as he spoke. “Ever since I joined she’s had it out for me!”

“That isn’t true!” You defended yourself, your tone turning sour.

“My first game and you couldn’t stop talking shit about me!”

“You got sent off in your first match meaning you couldn’t play for weeks! This season has been shit for Chelsea and the man they thought would be their knight in shining armour embarrassed them all!”

“We all make mistakes y/n, clearly you made one with Trent. Maybe if he wanted you, you wouldn’t be moping around with an ‘embarrassing team’.” He smirked at his words, something you couldn’t believe he even had the balls to do after looking at the state of his situation. Before you could even reply Joao grabbed the last of his lunch and stormed out of the lunch hall.

“Well…” Mason watched as Joao left. “That went well.”

“Why did you tell him about me and Trent?” Your brow arched as you spoke to the brunette.

“Look I’m sorry y/n, it just came out during training. You know I like to give Trent a hard time when we play after what happened between the two of you, I know you liked him too.” Mason gave you a sympathetic look as you tore your gaze away from him.

Mason had a point, part of you did wish it had worked out with Trent. Over the summer you’d spent every single day with one another and he treated you like you were his girlfriend. He showed you off to the guys and you’d even met his family but only days after the two of you had left the England summer camp he was pictured with another girl outside a club. Any hope you had of the two of you ever picking things back up was shattered the second you saw that photo. Mason and Ben were the only two who knew your feelings towards him but little did you know the two of them had let your true feelings slip to Joao.

—

You found yourself nearly missing the team bus to Liverpool. You clambered on just in time only to find that the only free seat was next to Joao. Everyone’s eyes drifted to you as you awkwardly wished a seat would randomly become free but your prayers were left unanswered.

“Do you want the window seat or the aisle seat?” The brunette spoke up, slicing through the tension.

“I- I don’t mind-” The last thing you wanted to do was to capture more attention on yourself.

“You can have the window.” Grabbing his phone and bag he stood up, towering over you as he let you slide in next to him. You didn’t need to meet his eyes to know he was staring as you slotted yourself into the window seat. You cleared your throat as you pulled out your laptop and started to work on something to distract yourself from the situation before you.

“What are you working on?” His question caught you off guard, after what happened a few days ago you never expected him to attempt to start a conversation with you.

“Just some plain graphics for the game.” You turned your laptop screen to him. Joao moved his head to get a better look at your work. “I leave the background blank as the photographers send us pictures throughout the game that we can put there and the numbers where the score would be are always left blank as we obviously don’t know what the score will be.” You looked over at him, your heart jumping as you realised he was already looking at you.

“Is that what you mainly do? Graphics?”

“Partly, I’ve filmed videos for the social media accounts, interviewed, edited, written captions, tweets, and even detailed a few apologies for some of the lads before. It’s basically a bit of everything.” You gave him a light smile.

“How long have you been working here?”

“Started stewarding when I was eighteen and then when I was twenty I finally got a chance to work full time with the media department so a few years now.” You were beyond confused as to why he was suddenly so curious about you. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just thought if I have to be stuck with you for hours on end that I might as well start a conversation rather than give you the cold shoulder for the journey.”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could say the same about you.” He glanced over at you before pulling out his AirPods. “Convinced you wanted me to fail-”

“I wouldn’t say fail… more hated the way you dealt with things.”

“Well, I hated the way you spoke about me.”

“That’s fair…” You looked up at him to be met with his smirking grin.

“Want one?” Offering you one of his AirPods with his cocky grin you took one and thanked him. He started playing music as he watched you work. The coach was quiet the most you could hear was the occasional chat from the lads and the typing of a few colleague's laptops. “Do you ever stop?” Joao asked out of the blue?”

“It’s hard to.” You spared a glance at him. “We don’t just post things we also have to monitor comments, unfortunately, a lot of football fans believe they have the right to abuse players and discriminate against other fans that aren’t like them. Not all fans are like that though, most of them really do care about you guys.”

“You can tell.” He smiled. “I’ve never heard so many chants about different players.”

“If you like it now then imagine what it’ll be like if you guys start winning.” You smirked at him which earnt you a laugh from him. Attempting to hide a yawn you finished your work before putting it back in your bag.

“Is that why you were late?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you oversleep?”

“That amongst other things.”

“Like?”

You knew he wanted to keep the conversation going so the pair of you didn’t descend into madness during the long journey. “My cat-”

“How can a cat make you late?” He shifted in his seat so he faced you, clearly intrigued by your story.

“Well the last thing I do before I leave is feed my cat -”

“What’s your cat called?” He asked.

“Frank.”

“After Lampard?” His face swelled with amusement.

“When I moved out my best friend got sick of me complaining about how much I missed my cats that lived with my parents so she decided to get me Frank and because I work for Chelsea she named him after Lampard, fitting now he’s taken over as a caretaker manager.”

“And how did he make you late?” His smile grew.

“As I said, the last thing I do before leaving is feed him. I was in my uniform and I was putting his food into his bowl when he jumped up and the food went all over me and well… I’m not exactly coming in smelling like tuna.” Joao couldn’t help but laugh at your words, catching the attention of Mason who was attempting to hear what the two of you were discussing.

“Well,” He shifted in his seat again before patting his shoulder. “My shoulders here if you want it.”

“You’d shrug me off just as I fall asleep.” You narrowed your gaze at him.

“I’m a prick but I’m not that bad.” A small smile fell on both your lips.

“Fine.” You didn’t want to argue, not again.

You knew you and Mason were in the wrong discussing his relationship but he was also in the wrong when he hit back at you with comments about you and Trent but you didn’t want to dwell on what happened any longer. You let your head fall on his shoulder, you felt Joao warm to your touch as you got comfortable. Mason couldn’t believe his eyes at what he was seeing, he couldn’t help but nudge Ben several times in the ribs to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Before you knew it, Joao was gently nudging you awake and the gates to the Liverpool ground were now behind you. You thanked him one last time before handing his airpod back to him. You left him with the rest of the boys as you followed the rest of your media colleagues towards the dugouts and journalism area. Everything ran smoothly despite your horrific morning, Joao was in the starting eleven which gave you the green light to use him as the main poster boy to announce the team news although you would’ve definitely picked Reece James if he wasn’t so nice to you.

In the Liverpool line-up was Trent but that didn’t surprise you. When the teams came out of the tunnel for the match Trent looked up to the journalism area. His eyes met yours and sent you a wink and a smirk, an expression that caught the attention of Joao. He knew how you felt towards Trent after the England Camp and he knew his expression was just a way to get to you after the press continued to pit Chelsea and Liverpool against one another after their horrific seasons.

The first half had ended goalless, Chelsea had a few decent chances, especially Joao but he was yet to get the ball in the back of the net. Within ten minutes of the second half, you watched Joao say something to Trent which had clearly rilled the scouser up. Trent shoved Joao and he quickly retaliated, shoving him back and shouting back at the man in red. The referee quickly ran up to the two of them whilst their teammates pulled them apart. They both received a yellow card and the game resumed.

You watched Joao carefully, wanting to tell him to lay off Trent because knowing his luck he’ll end up getting another yellow which will lead to a red. As if he could read your mind Joao eyed as Trent was given the ball, without thinking Joao threw himself at the lad, studs up causing Trent to fall to the ground in pain. Joao got up and yelled something at him as he clutched his ankle in pain. He stormed off, he knew it would be straight red. Liverpool fans booed and screamed at the Chelsea boy. The travelling Chelsea fans couldn’t believe what they’d seen, two red cards and he hadn’t even played a full season.

Joao stormed down the tunnel and threw the door of the changing rooms open before slumping down on the bench where his stuff lay. You excused yourself from the media spot before jogging down to the changing rooms after Joao. You opened the door to see him throwing his boots across the floor. His eyes met yours as you walked into the room.

“Haven’t you got graphics to make? Posts to make about me getting a red -”

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what? Get a red or put that prick in his place?” He huffed before continuing. “I saw the way he looked at you when we came through the tunnel. He was being a prick, Mason told me -”

“What did Mason tell you?” You snapped, your eyes glaring at the man.

“He told me you liked him and he treated you like you were his girlfriend then after deciding he didn’t want you he ran off with another girl.”

“I’ll kill him-”

“It’s not his fault, I asked what had happened. I shouldn’t have pressed him but I did.”

“Well, maybe Mason should keep his mouth shut.” Your eyes were still fixed on his. “And you should too, what did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say anything to him.”

“Don’t lie to me Joao, I saw you said something to him when you two got your first yellow cards.”

“It was nothing -”

“What did you say to him?” Your voice grew louder. “Joao-”

“I told him I was glad he didn’t want you because if he stayed with you then I wouldn’t get to hear you moaning around me every night.” He looked proud yet embarrassed at his words. He knew it would rial Trent up but he also knew a cheap joke at your expense would also piss you off.

“You’re not fucking serious.”

“y/n I’m sorry I -”

“Look I know I was a dickhead to you a few days ago but I was still right, you are a pushover, you even let Trent push you around all because he looked at me?” You stepped closer to him. “How did you ever make it professional when someone who looks at me pisses you off?”

“He made you uncomfortable, I wasn’t going to let it slide.”

“If it made you that annoyed you couldn’ve dealt with it off the pitch. The fans don’t deserve this and neither do the rest of the lads, it’s not fair!” You took a deep breath. “Why the sudden need to be a hero? I don’t need you to fight for me and make up something that would never happen between us -”

“You know all I was trying to do was to be nice!” He stood up and walked over to you, his breath on your face and his voice raising in aggression. “Most people would thank me for what I did.” He looked down at you. “You really think that wouldn’t happen between us either?” He now smirked at you, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “I could have you underneath me in a heartbeat.”

“I’d thank you if you didn’t get sent off or made some shitty cheap joke about me! And if you ever think I’d even go near you like that you are very much mistaken!”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I get it but you aren’t perfect too!”

“I never claimed to be!”

“You sure act it, judging everyone else's relationships but god forbid someone makes a comment about yours!”

“We were never in a relationship!”

“I can see why…” He snapped, turning his back towards you as he threw his shirt over his head and discarded his shirt. You might have wanted to slap him back down to earth but you couldn’t help but spare a glance at him. How his girlfriend cheated on him you’d never know, the man was gorgeous.

—

Ever since yours and Joao’s dispute you’d hardly spoken to him unless you had to conduct an interview for Chelsea’s social media pages. Tonight was the end of the season awards and just like every single year you were attending. You made sure to match your dress to the exact shade of the Chelsea shirt. Your hair and make-up were done to perfection as you walked through the halls towards one of the lounges which was decorated with a million shades of blue and shades of silver and gold. Every year the hospitality team always outdone themselves and this year was no different.

Mason greeted you with open arms and so did his family. Most of the boys bought their family or partners along however one player was completely on his own and that was Joao. He was sat on one of the tables opposite you, his eyes were fixed on you but his expression was hard to read. Was he pissed off? Was he apologetic? You weren’t sure but one thing was for certain, he wouldn’t look away.

The night seemed to drag on, awards after awards were being dished out, some for credible achievements such as top goal scorer and others for more interesting achievements such as most pints downed after a win. You sat alongside Mason and his family when the awards ended. Music filled the lounge as everyone continued to socialise and drink the night away. You excused yourself from the table, getting sick of Joao watching you, you headed to the bathrooms to touch up your make-up but you didn’t realise someone was following you.

“You look beautiful.” The familiar sound of Joao’s voice made you jump. He was leaning against the wall of the bathrooms, his eyes raking over your body.

Joao regretted everything he’d said to you that day against Liverpool. The pair of you had spent many hours with one another in the media rooms, creating content for Chelsea and although you didn’t get off brilliantly due to his red card on his debut, he could tell you only wanted the best for everyone at the club, no matter if they were a player or simply cleaning staff. He’d come to his sense on the way to the Liverpool game that you were right about his relationship. Hearing your stories about your work and even your cat named after Frank made him think, perhaps that was the real reason why he went for Trent.

“You know this is the women’s bathroom.”

“I’m aware.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to you. “But my point still stands.”

“Thank you.”

“Can we talk?”

“In the women’s bathroom?”

“No time like the present.” He smirked. You were still facing the mirror and Joao was standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

Huffing at his words you met his eyes briefly if the pair of you didn’t talk now the issue would never be resolved and if Joao wasn’t to sign permanently then you knew you’d never forgive yourself for the way the two of you ended things. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have called you a pushover.”

“But, I’m not sorry for what I said and did to Trent.” His hands snaked around your waist as he spoke. “Or for what I said about you.”

“Which part?” You set your lipgloss down, doing your best to pretend that you couldn’t feel his breath on your neck and his touch on your hips. “The part about me having you.”

“In your dreams.” You tried to step away but that would only push you closer to him. His grip tightened on your hips whilst his lips ghosted your neck. “You have a girlfriend-”

“No, I don’t.” He kissed your neck bore he spun you around to face him. “Why did you think I turned up alone?”

“Why?”

“Well… you may have been right besides… the ‘pushover’ has had someone else on his mind recently...”

Joao didn’t hesitate, his lips met yours, one hand cupped your cheek whilst the other went down to your thigh, pushing your dress to the side and allowed his hand to travel along your skin. You hesitated for a second before kissing him back. You couldn’t lie to yourself that Joao was hot, he was beautiful and if this was the way the two of you would make up then well… it was worth getting into a fight with him.

Your hands went to his hair, tugging on the strands as he allowed his hand to travel higher up your leg. “God you’re perfect.” His lips now travelled down your exposed neck, gently tugging on your skin as his grip on your leg tightened.

“You ruined my lipgloss.” You pouted as Joao pulled back to smirk at you.

“You’re lucky we’re in the stadium otherwise I would ruin more than your lipgloss.” His lips met yours once again. He tugged on your bottom lip, making you moan as he pulled the zip of your dress down. Jumping at the sudden gush of cold air against your back he smirked into the kiss before letting his warm hands trail down your back as he peeled the dress from your body. He let the front of it pool around your waist.

Your hands moved from his hair to his suit jacket, pushing it off his shoulders before grabbing his tie and pulling him back into a kiss. He lightly moaned as your nails raked across his white shirt. Joao’s hands went to your bra, unclasping it within seconds. He pulled away from the kiss as his hands cupped your boobs. “We should’ve argued sooner.”

Smiling at his words you watched as he took your nipple in his mouth whilst grabbing the other with his free hand. “Fuck…” You moaned, your legs parting so he could get closer to you. Your bliss was cut short when he moved away. His hands hooked themselves around the backs of your thighs.

“Jump.” He instructed you. Without hesitation, you jumped into his arms and he placed you on the bathroom counter. “Good girl.” His hands went to his own shirt, undoing the buttons so your hands could now trace his skin. Your nails raked his skin as Joao let his hands run up to your underwear.

“You do know someone could walk in right?” You spoke with a heavy breath.

“And?” He kissed you again. “Keep quiet and they won’t.”

“You don’t know that-”

“y/n… shut up and trust me.”

“Make me.” You teased but he didn’t need to be told twice. Joao moved your dress aside so he could see your underwear. Pushing your underwear aside he let his fingers tease your clit. The light touches sent butterflies through your stomach as Joao started to add pressure. Your head fell back at his movements. “Please…” You moaned as Joao watched you come undone around him. Leaving your clit he moved towards your entrance. Joao slowly pushed two fingers inside of you which earnt a sudden moan from you.

“I was right…” He breathed out, his hand pulling your face to look at him whilst he quickened his pace. “Your moans are beautiful.” Whilst his fingers fucked you his thumb went to your clit and started to bring you closer to your high.

“Fuck you.” You breathed out.

“Think I’m the one doing that love.”

You could feel his hard-on against your thigh which only made you wetter against his touch. Joao could feel you getting closer, your moans continued to grow louder as he quickened his pace. “You look so gorgeous about to come around me…”

“Please Joao… please…” You whined at his actions, your nails leaving red marks across his skin.

“Please what?” He taunted.

“Please let me come.”

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted yours as he kept adding pressure. “Come for me then.” He pressed his lips back onto yours as you came. You moaned into the kiss, your grip on his skin leaving darker marks which you knew wouldn’t fade for a while. “Such a good girl for me.” He kissed you before moving his fingers to his mouth so he could taste you. He savoured the moment before he quickly unbuckled his belt and allowed his cock to spring out.

He pumped his cock a few times whilst his free hand went to your face, his thumb traced across your bottom lip before he spoke. “As much as I want your mouth around me right now… I need to fuck you.”

He let his thumb fall into your mouth as he lined himself up and slowly pushed himself inside of you. Your face scrunched up at his size slowly pushing inside of you. Joao cupped your face whilst his free hand gripped your hip. “Is it too much?” He asked.

“No… just go slowly.”

Joao kissed you gently. “Of course my love.” Your heart fluttered at his nickname but that feeling soon spread to your stomach when you felt Joao pull out and thrust back inside. “You feel so good.” His head fell against yours, your lips ghosting one another as he repeated his actions. Feeling used to his size you allowed your leg to hook around his waist and pull him deeper into you.

“Faster…” You moaned in his ear. He didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling out he quickly slammed his hips back into yours and started to move at a quicker pace. “Fuck Joao…”

“My name sounds so pretty falling from your lips…” He moaned in your ear as he continued going faster. The pair of you knew that if it wasn't for the music in the lounge then everyone would have heard you. His fingers go back down to your clit and he quickly started to apply pressure to the bud. Your hands gripped onto the back of his neck, pulling him into a moaning kiss as he continued to fuck you faster.

Pulling away from the kiss Joao pulled out completely before pulling you off of the counter. With one last kiss on your lips, he spun you around so you were facing the mirror and bent you over. With a harsh smack to your ass, he quickly pulled your dress back up and around your hips before kicking your legs apart. Grabbing a fistful of your hair he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“He could never fuck you as good as I can… could he?” He was evidently referring to Trent but your mind was too clouded with pleasure to even care. Joao lined himself up again, slowly letting the lip tease you. He couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from his lips at your wetness leaking onto him, he was so close but he wanted you for as long as he could. “Could he?” He repeated again.

“No…” You moaned out, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you again.

“Who fucks you this good?” He quickly slammed himself inside of you again, tugging on your hair so that you were leaning closer to him.

“You do…” You whispered.

Joao pulled out before slamming back in. “I can’t hear you…” He taunted you with his slow movements.

“You do Joao fuck!” You screamed as he started to fuck you again. His pace quickened as he pulled you against his chest, fucking you as faster. His hands reached around to play with your clit which only added to your pleasure. You started to grind back onto his cock as he slammed back inside of you. You could feel him stiffen inside of you which indicated he was close.

“Joao I’m gonna come…” You let your head fall as you felt your stomach tighten.

“Yeah? Come then baby… come all over my cock…”

You couldn’t hold back for much longer, you felt your high wash over you and that was all you needed for Joao to finish inside of you. He pulled you closer to him as he finished, his groans filling your ear as the two of you slowly came down from your high.

“So good for me.” He kissed your head as he slowly pulled out. He quickly got himself cleaned up before he helped you back into your clothes so you looked presentable to head back out to the party. “Beautiful.” He kissed your lips one last time. “I’ll head back out now, wait for a second and then follow me out. Just in case.” He turned on his heel but you called out to him before he left.

“Joao?” He turned to meet your gaze. “Who was the other person on your mind?”

He smiled at your words before replying. “Turn around and you’ll see her.”

If you turned around you’d be met with a mirror, and you were the only one in the bathroom.

#football imagine #football x reader #joao felix x reader #joao felix x you #joao felix imagine #joao felix smut #joao felix fluff #joao felix fanfic #joao felix fic #joao felix drabble #football fanfic #football x y/n

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holy-puckslibrary · 2 months

Text

━ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — TREVOR ZEGRAS x f!reader (established); JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader; MASON MCTAVISH x reader; trevor x jamie x mason wc — 2.2k synopsis — what better gift on your friends to bestow than the gift that keeps on giving?

note — happy valentine's day, my lovelies!! as my gift to you, i've decided to release whatever the hell this is from the archive <3 i randomly dropped this on patreon post-ficmas '24 because, per usual, i was possessed by the ghost of perpetual horniness! we know it'll happen again, so just know i am totally down to write a follow-up if there's any interest teehee! oh, and to the anons who requested some jd + tz content after the trade (rip), i hope this satisfies the craving!! (and you don't mind masey being thrown in the mix)

and with that... i’ll see myself out 🚶‍♀️

specific content warnings under the cut.

cw — everyone’s a lil bi because why not, trevor is boyfriend of the year, mason and jamie bickering over whose turn it is to munch, tz + reader are switchy and mason + jamie are bratty and subby, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), accidental edging, trevor being a cocky menace and stirring the pot, and a wee bit of a cliff-hanger bc i'm incapable of controlling myself :-) oh, and the current pet name fixation of the week! + trevor calling himself daddy (once) while being condescending to all parties lolz

“—stop getting in my way.”

"or what?"

silence.

then, an exasperated groan.

“i wouldn’t need to be in the way if you were doing it right.”

the long, drawn-out sigh you hear sounds far away, like an echo from somewhere out in the distance, but you know it's coming from behind you—directly behind you.

your boyfriend abandons the soft curves of your chest, which you vehemently protest with a petulant mewl, to massage the tension building between his eyes; if he’d known this would turn into such a headache, he never would’ve suggested this.

“clock’s running, boys. if you wanna waste your very limited time between my girl’s pretty legs bickering with each other, be my guest.”

jamie and mason exchange a glare, united in their distaste for their friend’s tone and attitude in spite of their sudden animosity toward one another.

a pretty girl could do that to a friend group.

only, you haven’t come between the trio in the way one might assume. you might’ve been the catalyst in jamie and mason’s current strife, sure, but that's where your meddling begins and ends. no, you’ve come between them in more of a physical sense, at the behest of your boyfriend and their best friend.

trevor zegras veered toward possessive—territorial, even—most days, but, tonight, he’s feeling strangely generous. it is the season of giving, after all. however, his kindness hardly felt like a gift anymore. the gesture lost its luster soon after the silky ribbon was untied and discarded... and the bitching began. charity work would be a more apt descriptor, in his humble opinion.

he’s expecting an edible arrangement from the ladies of orange county in the near future.

but if anyone deserves some compensation, it's most definitely you, and trevor has just the shiny something in mind. what was originally intended to be the crown jewel of your holiday gifts will now function as a “thank you letting my friends use you as a practice dummy” token of appreciation.

“guess we also need to teach you to share,” you huff, exhausted from the accidental edging and frustrated by trevor's shifted attention.

the worst part is that you don’t think they’re perceptive enough (or have enough experience with a woman’s body, even) to see the agony, the by-product of their inadvertent torture, smeared plainly across your dazed and dewy face. your boyfriend's best friends have unintentionally dragged you to the brink of insanity, and you're reluctantly hanging on by a fragile thread.

said boyfriend's lips caress your temple. “can’t say i blame them. with you freshly unwrapped—just out of the box—and all... i wouldn't know how to share you, either.”

eager is a nice way of putting the boys' behavior thus far, but selfish is a more befitting adjective for their uncoordinated fervor.

two interesting things to note since you were spread wide—presented—to your boyfriend’s closest friends and collegues. the first being that while jamie is enthralled by the way you clench around his lithe fingers, mason favors his mouth; and second, trevor’s harder than a rock from showering his friends with the same domineering aura usually reserved for you in the privacy of your shared bedroom.

(or, the backseat of his car. the abandoned lifeguard tower beside the pier and, on occasion, the recently refurbished dressing room.)

mason also enjoys spitting on your sensitive bits more than he’s comfortable with, the apprehension bright in his eyes. but, watching the run-off of his saliva and your syrupy arousal drip onto jamie’s fingers before both are shoved into your heat is too distracting to pay any mind to the internal chaos of unearthing a new and unforeseen kink.

what jamie lacks in skill and experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. for all his bashfulness, jamie drysdale is not shy about finger-fucking.

momentarily sat on his haunches, mason watches with feverish intent as his friend curls your toes with the simple curl of his marriage and middle, his pinky and pointer fingers splayed wide to keep his eye on the prize, sight unimpeded by plush, silky distractions.

no bells and whistles, just diligence.

soon, watching ceases to satiate the burly man and mason slips his own thumb into the mix. with his lips or his tongue—or his fingers, it now seems—mason mctavish is obsessed with your clit.

trevor shoots him a knowing wink; that's his favorite part, too. never do you make prettier sounds than when you’re having that special, highly-responsive bundle tended to. fingers, tongue, trevor's thigh... it doesn't matter, you fall apart all the same.

mason nudges jamie to one side and, much to your surprise, he goes without a fight this time, still stroking you closer and closer to the summit.

with his greater access, mason leans down. his nose splits duties with his thumb as he places wet, open-mouth kisses on your inner thighs, mons pubis, and, finally, the coveted pearl throbbing for affection. his mouth wraps around the little bud before pausing. he looks up for approval.

from trevor.

with the dip of his chin and a peck to your balmy cheek, your boyfriend encourages his best friend to suck on his girlfriend's clit.

mason needs no further coaxing. he alternates between suction and kitten-licks; his tongue was beginning to feel left out. all the while, jamie’s devoted fingers keep you pleasantly teetering on the end.

it's amazing the difference time and a little scolding can make.

“i think you’re enjoying this a little too much, bunny.”

“—m’sorry,” you whimper.

his warm, familiar chuckle fills your ear as he strokes your cheek. “i’m only teasing. you know how much i love watching you get all worked up. and, this way, i get to sit back and enjoy the view while they do all the dirty work.”

your eyes roll back, and his amusement grows louder.

“maybe, we’ll do this again? i wonder how fast they could get you off when they already know how the tricks.”

a raw, guttural sound claws past your lips.

trevor growls into your neck between love-bites. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, greedy girl? is my mouth not enough for you—y’need my friends’ too? such a slutty little bunny i have..."

"no—only want y-you."

it comes out in a few, demure hiccups, the clarity of your protest impeded by those and the frantic shaking of your head.

your boyfriend can't help but twist your mind when you're like this, too weak and preoccupied by pleasure to give him any lip. his brat's gone sweet, fully subdued. and now he can have a little fun.

“—i know, i know. no need to get all worked up over nothing, silly girl. but it wouldn't matter much if you did, though, right?" the hand cradling your chin moves your head in agreement; he knows you're too far gone—too fucked out, to function. "no, it wouldn't because daddy doesn't share his toys. he needs you all to himself."

in this moment, you aren't sure if trevor loves or loathes you.

“lost your voice, bunny? you’re strangely quiet for a slut i know is close. i can hear it, and i know you can too. we all know you're fucking soaked. go on, don't be shy. i think their good behavior has earned them some praise, hm? doin' so good at following my directions—almost as obedient as you are, pretty thing. be sweet, then you can cum all you want."

his words, coupled with the overstimulation between your bent and parted knees, send your brain down a cloudy, all-consuming spiral. too overwhelmed by the boys kneeling at your altar, you can hardly string together cohesive thoughts, let alone speak adequate praise for their efforts.

...as if trevor expected anything out of your mouth other than garbled, pathetic mumbling anyway.

not to mention, jamie found the spot that makes you see stars on the ceiling as his best friend was busy whispering filth into your ear, and he's been bullying it with his deft fingers—three of them now, buried down to the knuckle. he gives it a short, purposeful rub just to show off his treasure.

you shriek and buck your hips into mason's waiting mouth. as his head dips back down to nestle against you, the angle of jamie's fingers changes and your vision blurs just a tad.

trevor's amusement thunders in your ears as he keeps you from shying away from the new sensation, an arm looped around your waist keeping you tight to his bare chest. and good thing, too, seeing as mason's tongue slips in between jamie's fingers not a second later.

they're right and truly pleasuring you now, and you can't wait a second more.

you surrender.

and, as promised, you show them what real moans sound like from a woman—not that fake shit they subject you and trevor to through the walls on a semi-regular basis.

the sounds of you ripping at the seams spur them on, and it's starting to get difficult to discern who's to blame for the puddle beneath you. this are sloppier and more obscene than ever, and you're loving every single second of it, you almost feel like this is your gift and not theirs.

—which is why you nearly write it off as a trick of a pleasure-drunk mind.

you feel it against your sopping, swollen folds before they notice it themselves; in electing to run their tongues up and down the same path at the same time, their mouths mingled along the way—and continue to do so. the delicious, foreign sensation of their mouths tangled in a clandestine dance buys your silence. and easily.

sooner or later, they’d realize and your fun would mostly likely cease—they've never given any indication of feeling either way—and you weren’t about to speed the process along, especially not when you have the pearly gates in sight.

trevor's won't call attention to it either because he's enjoying it as much as you are. maybe more. he's twitching like crazy against the small of your back, and each time jamie and mason convene between your knees, his hips shamelessly rut into you softness like a feral dog.

he nudges you, warm lips against your cheek. "look."

giving your head a downward tilt, his firm hand directs your attention to the object of his—your boyfriend isn't the only one seeking respite by way of aimless grinding.

mason and jamie have their hips flush to your bed, their burning, sweat-stained cheeks glued to your inner thighs, one slightly scratchier than the other—the best of both worlds. their eyes are nearly black with lust. their frantic movements are more pleasure-seeking than precise, driving into the wrinkled sheets with just one thing in mind.

you've never seen anything quite like it before, and your body reacts in kind.

naturally, trevor sees the signs before anyone. he knows your body best, something he takes great pride in. you'd wager he knows more about what makes you tick than even you do. he's put in enough hours, that's for sure.

trevor doesn't bother disgusting the desire weighing on his voice, "beg."

your lips part as if on cue. your boyfriend (selfishly) indulges your pitiful little whines and repetitive pleas—he'll never pass up an opportunity to rub his handiwork in envious faces—but, eventually, he cuts you off before you get too far into the bit.

"—not you, silly bunny. them."

aghast, mason rips his mouth away and you whine at the sudden loss. jamie strokes your walls sympathetically.

"you're joking."

"does it sound like i'm joking, mctavish? you're lucky i'm even letting you see her like this, let alone touch what's mine, and it's a fucking privilege to watch her cum. convince me that you've earned it."

you weren't expecting to find it so erotic, the power trevor wields over them. you're no stranger to his persuasive prowess; his commands alone were enough to get you off some nights. but this is different, and markedly so.

watching him command his best friends—his friends, reducing them to docile creatures eager to eat from the palm of his hand with words alone, is what tips you over the edge.

their persistent chorus of compliance is swallowed entirely by your wanton cunt, but that was by design.

trevor always knows what you need.

when the dam in your abdomen fractures alongside your voice, he holds your wrists tight to his bare thighs, preventing you from grounding yourself in either of his friends' messy mops or finding purchase anywhere on his body. he can't have you distracted. he needs you to enjoy every second of it. your full, undivided attention must be on the pampering you're receiving, and the tender care with which his friends provide it.

it's okay if you're too weak—of mind, body or both—to make that happen for yourself. your boyfriend is more than willing to pin you down as you ride out your first high of the night. happy to, really.

on the come down, jamie rubs light, lazy circles over your sore, swollen clit almost apologetically. mason laps up your release because it'd be a crime to waste a drop—trevor made that abundantly clear earlier in the night. once he's drunk you dry, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"i think i could, um, use a bit more practice?" he announces bashfully—as if he didn't just make you squirt into his mouth.

jamie perks up at his side, fingers and lips still shiny. he's savoring the fruit of their labors like a precious delicacy, knowing it could be the last time he gets a taste. dark lashes shy and fluttering, his puppy-dog eyes blink up at you. "me too."

a wicked smirk forms on trevor's face; they see it, you hear it.

"gentlemen, how's your stroke game?"

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