#talk out your 18+ years of trauma and emotions! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

turtletaubwrites · 1 month

Text

Misty Eyes ~ Part 5

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 3975

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Feeling good seemed out of reach, but you'd never felt safer than you do with Law. Safe enough to ask for what you want.

Author's Note: Alright friends, patience is required, but rewarded 🥰

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added, Fluff, Sexual Dysfunction, Safe words, Choking, Praise Kink, Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Aftercare

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

“What do you mea–”

“Nuh uh,” Law scolded, sticking his thumb in your mouth like a hook to pull you closer by your bottom teeth. “You know I could always tell when you were lying. I know you faked it.”

You pulled his hand away from your face, frowning at his shit-eating grin.

“I don’t know wha–”

“You little liar,” he accused, sitting up. His movement forced you to slide from straddling his waist to sitting in his lap, the feel of his still firm cock beneath you making you gasp.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, even as you scowled at him. His satisfied chuckle made you scrunch your nose, heat burning your face.

“How could you tell,” you gave in, earning a quick kiss before he flipped you, laughing at you while he laid you on your back beneath him.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Your mouth fell open in outrage, but you couldn’t attack him while he held your fists, kissing your knuckles.

“I’m an incredible liar,” you squirmed, his weight pinning you down.

“See what I mean,” he taunted, your futile thrashing making you breathless. “That wasn’t believable at all.”

A frustrated huff left your lips as you struggled to punch that smirk off of his face, but he stopped talking while he kissed his way along your neck and collarbones, so you let it slide. He finally slowed, releasing your hands as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Why didn’t you just mist away,” he seemed to tease, but his voice was too soft.

“I…” you paused, about to argue until you realized that you didn’t want to answer. You clamped your eyes shut against that feeling, then opened them again to glare at him. “Don’t change the subject. How could you tell I was lying?”

Law took a moment, seeming to search for his answer, which did not appease you.

“I’m not sure,” he smirked at your disgruntled hum. “You always seemed so… cute when you lied.”

He blinked, looking down as if he hadn’t meant to say that, but you wouldn’t give him a pass just for looking adorable.

So you bit him.

“Gah, what,” he sat up, pulling back in surprise until your teeth left his arm.

“Two things,” you snarked, propping up onto your elbows, “I want to know exactly what my tell is so I can get rid of it, then I want to hear all about how you thought I was cute back then.”

“So your tells are,” he grunted, catching your fist at the plural word, “sometimes the corner of your lip goes up just a bit–”

“It does not! That’s the first thing I trained out,” you argued, sitting up on your knees to face him. You narrowed your eyes at him while he ran his thumb over the edge of your mouth, until you sighed at his touch.

“Maybe I just pay more attention,” he mused, voice husky as he kissed your temple. His breath moved to your neck, your need for answers melting away. Until your body reminded you of the moment.

“Uh, Law,” you coughed, pushing him away gently, “do you have a towel?”

He returned from his adjacent bathroom with a warm, damp towel, helping you clean up the mess he’d made before kissing up your stomach and chest again.

“What’s my other tell,” you interrupted, his soft touches ending as he rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers before moving your own thumb across them.

“You rub your thumb over your fingernails,” he reported, brow raised as if judging your performance.

“I do that all the time,” you yanked your hand back, embarrassed that he’d read you so well. Lying was something you prided yourself on. It’s what kept you safe.

“It’s a self-soothing behavior,” he softened, pushing the hair back from your face. “And you’re right, you’re probably a great liar. I just spent too much time watching you.”

Releasing a frustrated breath, you looked at his stupid face, and couldn’t help but smile.

“Is this when you tell me how cute you thought I was?”

Law sucked his teeth, his bright eyes ready for a challenge, but instead, he kissed you. Unhurried lips and tongues, treasuring the taste of each other.

“I thought you were gross,” he whispered against you, earning a hard punch to the arm. He laughed before he continued, holding your wrists again. “But then I thought you were cute, and I thought that was gross too.”

You grinned at the memory of what a grouchy kid he was. For over two years, you’d spent everyday together, bickering, sparring, and causing chaos.

“At first, I studied you to gain an advantage during training,” he confessed with a sigh, looking away while his fingers tugged at the sheet. “I don’t know when it changed, but eventually I was watching you because I wanted to. Because you were cute.”

He teased the last word, caving in to your demands, and you rewarded him with another kiss, wrapping your arms around him. Soon hands and lips were traveling, until he laid you back against the pillows.

“Can I make you come now, or do you have other demands?”

You rolled to the side to hide your face while your skin burned, and his pleased hum and teasing kisses along your side didn’t help.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he soothed, your breath going too slow, and too shallow. “But I would love to make you feel good.”

His voice, his words, his gentle fingers that had pulled away to give you space, all of it made you freeze.

“What can I do to help you feel good, Y/N?”

There were so many strange thoughts in your head, most moving too fast for you to follow.

Except for one thought that felt more like an emotion, a need. You were barely conscious of it, yet it drove you forward, pulling him onto you.

Make him feel good.

Lost again in the way he touched you. Lost in the way he breathed your name while his marked fingers smoothed along your skin. Lost in the need to please him.

“Fu-huck,” he gasped out, moaning as your fingers wrapped around his shaft, already hard again.

Stroking him with purpose, you lined yourself up as you rubbed his tip through the new wetness his touch had drawn. His eyes rolled back before he buried his face in your neck, leaving a sloppy kiss against your skin.

A long whine left your lips, frustration making you writhe when he pulled away. He laid on his side at the edge of the bed, panting while his eyes tried to focus on your face.

You rolled, crawling toward him with your lip caught between your teeth, more needy sounds leaving your throat.

“Gods, you’re too fucking good,” he rasped, catching your hands before they could reach his cock again, “but, you didn’t answer my question, Y/N. How can I make you feel good?”

Your body slumped, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before his fingers brushed across them.

“Let me take care of you,” he pleaded, the words hot against your ear.

All you could do was nod, body limp as he lifted you back to the pillows, propping you up as if you were one of the precious comics on his shelves. That thought made you laugh, making him narrow his eyes at you until you giggled even more.

“Something funny,” he teased with that lovely smirk.

Words weren’t leaving your lips, so he sucked his teeth while he watched you squirm. Your breath stilled at the touch of his fingers along your inner thighs.

“It seemed like you enjoyed me eating you out earlier, until I started fingering you. Did I read that right?”

Your eyes went wide, pausing for a moment before your words spilled out.

“N-no, it all felt amazing! I just got overwhelmed, but you felt so good…”

He watched you closely then, and you wondered if you’d shown a tell.

But I didn't lie…

“Okay… Please tell me if you’re feeling overwhelmed, or if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” you promised, your voice a bit high while you tilted your head down to the side, looking up at him with a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“How about we use a safe word,” he suggested, smoothing a hand along your arm while he ignored your attempt to distract from the topic. “Do you already have one you’d like to use?”

Your eyes were a little wide as you shook your head, but a gentle kiss on your temple slowed your breathing.

“It should be a word that doesn’t mean much, and that we wouldn’t normally say. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed or want to stop, you can say it, okay,” he paused, waiting for you to nod before continuing. “How about… radish?”

“Why radish,” you snorted, your body loosening up.

“Why not,” he grinned at you. His smile was a sight you’d never get enough of. “Do you have any other ideas?”

Your lips quirked, but you agreed to the word.

“Perfect. Now, will you please tell me how to make you feel good?”

He stared at your parted lips while you froze. No words came to mind. Just tension, and a mild sense of danger.

“It’s alright if you don’t know,” he reassured, his eyes going soft as they raked over you. “Just talk to me. Is it alright if I touch you?”

You caught yourself rubbing your thumb over your fingernails when you agreed, stopping the movement before he noticed.

What’s wrong with me?

Law’s hands and lips traveled the length of your body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from your throat. You moved into his touch, reacting, showing him how good it felt.

“I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” he whispered, looking down at your face while he traced his fingers along your leg. Your cheeks were already burning before a breathy moan surprised you both.

He cocked his head at you, repeating the movement. For some reason, the barest touch of his fingertips to the middle of your shin made you moan again, the ticklish sensation feeling better than you thought it should.

“Mm, found something,” he teased, leaning closer to kiss your embarrassed face. “Do you know any other places I can touch to make you moan like that?”

“Law,” you writhed, voice breathy as his fingers danced up your body.

“Come on, pretty. Tell me one thing that feels good. I know you can think of something.”

There was no pressure in his words, but there was heat, and the hint of a challenge. You still couldn’t think of any words, but you managed to move your head to the side, trailing your fingers along the crook of your neck.

He hummed as his fingers replaced yours, as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he purred, the hunger in his words making your toes curl. “Does it feel good when I kiss here too?”

Whining, your body went loose when he laid beside you, one of his legs resting between yours before he kissed your neck again.

It felt so good, you could have stayed in this moment forever. The feel of his lips, tongue, facial hair, even his breath overwhelmed you. That sensitive skin sent electric shocks down to your lower back until you shook for him, his warm laughter only adding to it.

“Thank you for showing me what you like,” he breathed against your ear. “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

Law’s praise took every thought away, everything was gone while your body reacted. Your hands fisted the sheets, your thighs tried to rub together, seeking friction, but his leg was in the way.

“Mm, Y/N, is it alright if I finger you? You can say the word if you want me to stop, okay?”

Hesitation came back, along with anger. Anger at yourself for whatever was stopping you. For whatever was keeping you from enjoying this time with him.

Anger at yourself for not pleasing him by giving him what he wanted.

“It’s okay, hey,” Law soothed, his thumb stroking your cheek, “we can stop here, or we can do something else. Whatever you–”

“I want to,” you choked out. Clearing your throat wasn’t enough fix the broken sound in your voice. “I don’t know why, but… me feeling good seems…”

His soft eyes warmed your skin, even though you couldn’t meet them. He waited for you.

“I keep getting nervous when it’s just me,” you murmured, keeping your eyes wide to fight the heat there.

“Just you feeling pleasure,” he prompted, studying your face while you gulped, nodding to confirm. “You said you want to. Do you wanna try, and we can stop if you need to?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, looking up as you brushed away an unwelcome tear with the back of your hand.

Law pressed gentle kisses across your face, wiping away another wayward tear.

“You deserve to feel good, Y/N.” His fingers followed his pretty words, and you fought to just be here with him. So slow, so light, that tattooed hand trailed lower, until he traced around your entrance, leaning close to your ear again. “I wanna make you come so bad. Please, can I feel you come on my fingers?”

Your “yes,” came out in a whine, and you both moaned at the slide of his fingers, your drenched pussy aching for his touch.

“Gods, you're so wet,” he panted, playing with your clit while he watched your face. “Can I–”

You interrupted his request, nodding permission before he pushed one finger, then two inside of you. His eyes never stopped scanning, and he sat up to free his other hand, caressing down your body.

It felt so good, but there was something. You’d been able to keep memories out, but you couldn’t relax.

“What do you need,” he checked in, his skilled fingers bringing you close, but not close enough.

“I feel like I–” you moaned, his thumb moving over your clit while his fingers curled up to that spongy spot inside you. “I feel like I need to make you feel good.”

“Mm, you are making me feel good,” he rasped, his body seeming to relax at your confession. “I love the way you’re gripping my fingers like this. I love the little sounds you make. Watching you come would make my fucking year, Y/N.”

A laugh fell from your lips, then a moan as he pressed a little deeper.

“You don’t need it, but you have my permission to come,” he teased, his voice just a bit too real, and somehow those words released something. A tiny smirk graced his lips as you started to fall apart.

“Gonna be a good girl, and come for me?”

“Fuck,” you breathed, the steady rhythm he’d found was building so much pressure in your core it almost hurt.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well,” he praised, his free hand grabbing your chin to force your heavy lidded eyes to his. “You’re close, yeah? I want you to tell me exactly what you need so you can come on my fingers like a good girl. I know you can.”

“Law…”

“Can you do that for me?”

So close. So fucking close. But here was a new plateau, and all of his wonderful work was about to go to waste. Until you thought of something.

Something that came with a pile of confusing memories and shame. Something you would have ignored, and stuffed away if you hadn’t felt so safe.

If Law hadn’t made you feel so safe.

“Choke me, please.”

The request was almost silent, but you saw his lips part slightly. A hesitation. A mountain of self loathing threatened to roll over you.

Long, tattooed fingers encircled your throat, a necklace marked with “DEATH.”

“Such a good girl, telling me what you want. Let me feel you– Mm, there’s my girl.”

He wrapped the perfect amount of pressure around your neck, keeping the pace with his other hand until your body started bucking, your eyes rolling white.

It was everything you fucking needed.

And it kept going.

Law never stopped giving and giving, praising you while you shattered. You almost went to mist from the overwhelm, only managing to stay solid because you needed to keep coming for him. For you.

You mourned the loss of those wicked fingers choking and fucking you, but he worshipped your body again while aftershocks tore through you.

“You’re fucking amazing,” he chuckled, laughing harder at the gibberish you replied with. He kissed and caressed you while your body came back to the room. “Can I get you anything? Water, or are you hung–”

He’d moved away slightly, but you reached out with your wobbly arms, pulling him close. He hummed at your touch, then gasped again when your hands found his cock, the heat of him making you writhe.

“Y/N, we don’t have to–”

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, sluggishly rolling onto your stomach. Looking over your shoulder at him, you got to witness the loveliest, most desperate look you’d ever seen on his face when you lifted your ass toward him. “I need your cock.”

There was no hesitation now.

Just the whispered, “say the word if you need to,” before he was behind you, thrusting into your twitching cunt while you screamed for him.

Tattooed hands on your hips helped him slam into you, hitting that perfect spot so fast, so hard, that you came in what felt like seconds.

“Oh fuck. Pussy feels so good, baby,” he moaned, slurring a bit before pressing your upper body into the bed. The new angle made you scream louder, clawing at the sheets.

“You like that, Y/N,” he checked in, voice strained as he fought his need.

“Pull my hair,” you demanded softly.

One of those hands pushed you down, his weight between your shoulder blades while he pounded into you. Frenzied thrusts rocked your body while his free hand fisted into the hair at the back of your head, finally giving you that sting you needed.

“Do it again,” he forced through his teeth, his bruising grip making you drool onto the sheets. “Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock right fucking now.”

“Law, fuck, I’m…”

Words were gone, his quarters ringing with your breathy screams, and his heavy grunts. The slapping of wet, needy flesh nearly drowned you both out until he buried himself as deep as he could go, your toes curling while he filled you with heat. Your body milked the come out of him until you both collapsed, sweaty limbs still reaching for each other.

“Are you okay,” he coaxed, brushing another hot tear away from your cheek.

“I’m happy.”

Those words had left your lips many times over the past few years, but this time you didn’t have to lie. This time you let tears fall without shame, laughing as he left tickling kisses anywhere he could reach, holding you close. More laughter floated through the air while he carried you to the bathroom. You trailed your fingertips along his lines of ink, as though you were walking the paths around your new home, memorizing each lovely view.

“You know this doesn't mean I’m gonna go easy on you, right,” Law threatened as he threw a blanket over your bare skin, wrapping himself around you.

“You’re such an ass,” you hummed, nuzzling into his warmth.

“You could be nicer to your captain, you know,” he quipped, his deep voice making you shiver.

“If you’re my captain, does that make me a Heart Pirate?”

His arm tensed around you, and your mind cringed against your presumption.

Nothing’s changed. I’m still a tool, a threat, even if I am something more. Don’t fucking push–

“Only if you want to be.”

Law’s hushed offer stilled your thoughts. You couldn’t answer without seeing his face, so you twisted in his arms until you could cup his cheek, knowing that the shy smile on his face reflected your own. His eyes poured over you, until his brows creased slightly as he waited for your response. Waited to hear if you wanted to spend your life as a pirate, living on this submarine, putting yourself in danger. Waited to hear if you wanted to stay with him.

It wasn’t a question.

“I do,” you promised with a kiss, pulling back to smirk at him, “but I’m still gonna call you an ass.”

Soon you were begging, breathless as you lost the fight, your cheeks hurting from laughing after his long fingers had stopped tickling you. Being wrapped up in each other still felt unreal. He fell asleep so fast, his light snores a comforting sound, even when you couldn’t stop the tears from staining your skin.

You’d never felt safer.

But memories were still there.

Doffy.

He’ll find me. He’ll take me back. After he makes me watch him kill Law.

He’ll probably use my hands. Just like…

You went completely limp, head lolling as your body fought the sticky memory of blood on your hands.

Part of your brain still had memories. Part of your brain berated you for not enjoying this perfect moment with Law. But most of your brain went to a strange buzzing place, unfocused eyes seeing nothing but a blur.

When this empty space wasn’t frightening, it was relaxing, in a sick way.

Leaving.

Being nothing.

Safe.

“Y/N? You okay,” he checked in, groggy voice filled with concern.

Your limp body rolled as he shifted. A tiny part of you floated above the bed, watching, yelling at yourself to move, hating that he had to deal with this.

The rest of you was trapped in a fish tank, sinking to the bottom.

Law stayed with you. Even though you couldn’t feel, even though you couldn’t hear, you knew he was there. He was there when you returned, soothing your “sorry’s” away. Asking what you needed, bringing you water, then starting all over again as if it hadn’t happened.

Holding you close as he drifted off to sleep, and this time, you followed him.

This time, Law pulled you from the nightmares. He reminded you where you were while he kept you from clawing at your chest. He waited until he saw your eyes stay present, then he teased you until you were his again.

“Hurry up, or I’ll make you use the barracks bathroom,” he warned, pushing you through the door with a towel and a change of clothes. He beamed at your middle finger, and you could hear him counting down random numbers while you got ready.

“Why don’t you just join me,” you challenged, about to turn on the water.

“You know why.”

You showered fast, even though your body twisted with need at the thought of him shoving you against the tile wall, but your mood soured when you looked in the mirror. It was disorienting to see that face on this submarine. To see that face anywhere but at Doffy’s side.

You managed to pull yourself out before you fell too deep, but this time you didn’t push it away. No hiding, no running in fear.

Doffy lived there, behind your misty eyes. The weight of his presence hung around your shoulders like that heavy, pink coat. Your body screamed with the need to be safe, the need to be whatever he wanted you to be. His laugh echoed in your skull as he called for his “pretty doll.”

But you weren’t a doll anymore.

I’m a Heart Pirate now, Doffy. And I’m gonna help Law kill you.

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me all the ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Heeeyyyy we made it. We completed the fic request. It's over... Lol, not! I have so much more planned for this story, but there will be a pause here while I circle back to another fic. But fret not, I'm obsessed with this story, and have already outlined some upcoming chapters!

Thank you so much for joining me! Again, I hope none of you relate to the reader's trauma, and her struggle to enjoy her own pleasure, but if you do, you're not alone 🖤 I hope you are given all the patience and love you need so that you can enjoy all the pleasure you desire.

You deserve to feel good!!

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass | @lovemesomefanfic846

Part 6

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

237 notes · View notes

alltheirdamn · 25 days

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 5 Nevermore

Chp. 5 Summary: It's hard to understand why everything feels so right. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: Pre-outbreak AU, language, heavy kissing, unprotected piv sex, semi-rough sex, creampie, praise kink, (kinda) size kink, aftercare, fluff and a LOT of angst, light banter, lots of emotions, mentions of past trauma, brief flashback of trauma, another cliffhanger (sorry) A/N: Well, if you're here, I hope you're prepared for what's coming. A HUGE shoutout to @loonmartell for helping co-conspire the trajectory of this story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it as always <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in love with you. I think he’s already falling in—

“Miss Smith?”

Your head jerked up at the sound, and the pencil you were drawing circles with fell against your desk. Bradley, one of your students, was standing at the edge of your desk with his test in hand.

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” you smiled, extending a hand. “Thank you.”

Bradley eyed you curiously before turning and skipping back to his desk. You dragged a hand over your face, wanting to crawl into the furthest corner of the world and never be seen again. Beth’s words had been plaguing you for days since you called her. Over and over again, they annihilated your thoughts, a constant broken record that you couldn’t shut off. You still had your nightly calls with Joel, talking past midnight and falling asleep together, but you kept making excuses not to see him.

“I’ve got lesson plans to make,” you lied.

“I’ll help,” Joel had offered.

“You’re a distraction.”

“I ain’t that bad,” he huffed.

The next night, you lied and said you were going out with Maria, which was an even worse lie since you were avoiding her at all costs. Telling Beth the news was one thing, but telling Maria was another matter. She was nosey and a bit too loud-mouthed to trust. The last thing you wanted was for the entire faculty to know your dirty secrets. Joel had to remain a secret—at least for now.

It’s not like you wanted to avoid Joel; you were just scared. You were not ready for this new territory, and if Beth was anywhere near correct in her assumptions, it only made you want to shy away more. The only problem was parent-teacher conferences this week, meaning you’d have to see Joel and Sarah…together.

The class bell rang, and your free period between classes began. You dropped your head on the desk and took a few deep breaths, trying to wrangle some semblance of calm back into your body. The final class of the day would be Sarah’s, and you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to see her. The blaring reminder that her dad had fucked you sore over the weekend still hung over your head, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for it. How was your fall break, Sarah? Oh yeah, mine was great. Your dad fucked me so hard I ended up having a complete breakdown.

Fuck.

You wanted the day to be over.

The free period went by much faster than you wanted, and as you watched the next slew of kids take their seats, you made a conscious effort not to stare at Sarah as she walked in. She wore her usual smile, the impression of her dimples digging into her cheeks. Some wild thought popped into your head that you had no time to recover from: if you and Joel went any further, God help you, you’d be Sarah’s step-mom one day. Your stomach rolled with nausea as you tried to will those thoughts away. Joel wouldn’t stick around that long; you were a lost cause. There was no chance that would happen. Right?

Clearing your throat, you rose from your desk and made your way over to the projector to set up the lesson for the day. Since the school year was nearing Halloween, you decided it would be fun to teach Edgar Allen Poe, completely forgetting you had chosen “The Raven”—which was about losing someone. This would have a bite to it that you weren’t ready for.

“Okay, everyone,” you announced. “Did we all finish the reading assignment this week?”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement, and you quickly shifted to the first few slides of your presentation.

“Alright, so who can tell me the overall theme for Poe’s ‘The Raven’?”

Georgia, one of your top students, shot her hand up without a beat.

“Yes, Georgia?”

“It’s about his grief for losing Lenore,” she answered.

“Good,” you smiled. “Can anyone tell me what other theme the poem contains?”

“Madness!” Another student chimed in, causing an uproar of laughter amongst the students.

“Okay, okay, settle down. Very good, you guys.”

You switched to the next slide, staring blankly at the words typed out. Lenore is gone forever. Something struck you as you silently read it, realizing you weren’t too far off from Poe in his grief. Although Bennett wasn’t dead, he wasn’t coming back. That fact hadn’t hurt as deeply throughout the last few weeks, especially with Joel around, but it still threw salt in the open wounds still scattered over your heart.

“In stanza two,” you cleared your throat. “In stanza two, Poe refers to Lenore as ‘nameless,’ which can imply that she has died, and he’s now consumed with grief. Where else did you guys find his grief prominent?”

Georgia quickly raised her hand again, and you motioned for her to speak.

“In stanza four, he talks about his dreams, which I think he means he’s dreaming of her to return to him. But if she’s dead, there’s no way she’s going to come back,” Georgia said.

Fuck. You felt the sting of tears rim your eyes and briefly paused to gather your bearings. Bennett left. He left, and you had spent years dreaming he would return.

“Good,” you choked out.

You glanced around the room, your eyes connecting with Sarah’s. It took all your strength not to break down and cry as she studied you with the same concerned furrow in her brows as her dad would do.

Clicking to the next slide, you exhaled, focusing on the following theme to discuss. Madness.

“Now, with the theme of madness, where do we see this begin? Obviously, the dreams can be interpreted as his descent into madness, but what else do we find?” You asked.

To your detriment, Sarah was the one to raise her hand.

“Sarah,” you sighed, nodding.

“It’s the raven,” she said plainly. “The raven is what drives him mad.”

“What does he do to drive Poe mad?” You questioned.

“The raven only says one word,” she explained. “And that word drives him mad until the end of the poem.

“And why does it drive him mad?”

Sarah shifted in her seat, looking around at her classmates before responding.

“Because it’s the answer Poe doesn’t want to hear. Poe doesn’t want to be reminded that Lenore is dead, but that’s the only response the raven will give.”

You were swaying in place, trying to hold yourself together as the memories started ricocheting back into your mind. Now wasn’t the time to collapse, not in front of twenty students staring at you, confused and concerned. You only responded with a nod and flipped the projector off.

“Good job, you guys. Now, does anyone have any questions on this unit? Any questions about the stanza format or the themes?”

Sarah raised her hand again.

“Did his madness kill him?” She asked.

“Who?”

“Poe.”

“Oh, um, no. Well, it’s a mystery, really. Some people say he died of delirium, so, I guess, madness. But other people speculate he drank himself to death.”

The class grew morbidly quiet, which made it harder for you to continue. No one else spoke up after Sarah, so you resorted to handing out the quiz and sinking back into your desk chair.

One by one, the students came up to turn in their quiz, and you averted your gaze each time with a nonchalant ‘thank you.’ When the final bell finally sounded through the room, you hardly had the energy to wave goodbye.

Sarah was the last to leave, and that same concerned look lingered on her face as she shuffled out.

That night, you didn’t pick up the phone when Joel called. You stared as it rang repeatedly, watching the light fade from the screen when the ringing stopped. You buried your head under the covers and tried to sleep, but then the nightmares started.

You woke up to your alarm, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. Squinting at the morning sun streaming through the blinds, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Your fingers froze as you read the screen.

Seven missed calls from Joel

Two voicemails from Joel

With shaky fingers, you pressed play on the first voicemail.

“Hey baby, it’s me. I just wanna make sure you’re okay. I’m hopin’ you’re just asleep, but if you’re up, please call me.”

Then you played the next.

“Baby, it’s me again. I miss you, and I’m worried ‘bout you. Please don’t shut me out, okay? I just wanna hear your voice and hear ‘bout your day. If you don’t wanna talk, that's okay. I understand. Just please lemme know you’re alright. I’ll drive my ass out to you if I need to just to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you get this. G’night, baby.”

You dug your knuckles into your eyes to try and force the tears back. Last night, you had the worst of the nightmares: the memory of something you tried to forget. You hadn’t touched that memory in so long. It was just the brutal realization you were truly at fault for everything with Bennett. No matter how badly you wanted to blame him, it was always your fault.

Glancing back at your phone, you rechecked the time: 7:35. Fuck, you were running late, and you really didn’t want to call Joel back right now. At least not right now. You’d muster the energy and strength to do it later, but you needed to gather yourself and get ready for work right now. Tossing off the sweat-slick sheets, you rushed into the bathroom and quickly showered. You couldn’t bother to put makeup on, so you opted to go without it and found a simple dress to wear. It was still in the high eighties in Austin, and a dress was the easiest option for the day.

Scrambling for your purse and keys, you ran to the garage to start your car and head to the school.

It wasn’t until you pulled into your parking spot that you realized you left your phone on the nightstand.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Maria questioned, sipping her lukewarm coffee.

She had nagged you into spending your free period in her classroom, demanding that you tell her everything that you had been withholding. You sat on the edge of her desk, your dress flowing over your knees as you stared out her class windows.

“Nothing, Maria,” you lied.

She said your name sternly, forcing your eyes to snap to hers. Her usual chipper demeanor was replaced with that ‘mother’ look, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed.

“Something is going on,” she pressed. “Could have something to do with Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

“You did it, huh?” She raised a brow.

You exhaled heavily, nodding your head—no point in lying now.

“We talked on the phone the entire break, and when I got home, he insisted on taking me on a date. Then one thing led to another… and yeah, we had sex.”

Maria squealed, clapping her hands and grinning wide. You stared at her blankly, unamused by her reaction to your words.

“This isn’t a good thing, Maria,” you said pointedly.

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re finally putting yourself out there! Oh my god, was it good?”

“It was,” you sighed. “It was good—really good. He’s so sweet and caring.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” she interjected.

“But I can’t let it go any further,” you finished.

Maria leaned forward and placed her hand on your knee.

“Does he make you happy?” She asked softly.

“So fucking happy, Maria. I hate it.”

“You deserve to be happy, sweetie. That’s all I’ve been saying for years, and now you have it! Don’t force it to fail before it even begins. I saw the way he looked at you at the father-daughter dance. You can’t fake that.”

“I know. I know. I just—ugh,” you slid off the desk with a groan. “He’s too good for me. I’m still trying to get over Bennett and everything that happened. He doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of all my misery. That’s not fair to him.”

You were pacing around the room, your eyes darting between the science posters hanging along the walls of Maria’s classroom. You heard her desk chair scrape against the floor as she approached you. She gripped you by the shoulders and leveled you with a heavy stare, but her eyes remained soft.

“He’s still around, right? I don’t think he’s going anywhere, sweetie. If anything, I think he’s in it for the long haul.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you leaned into her, letting her wrap you up in a motherly embrace. She rubbed circles against your back, hushing you as you wept quietly.

The rest of the day passed by in a numbing blur. You packed your things quietly and headed to your car, ready to drown yourself in a glass of wine.

Joel’s truck was parked in front of your house as you turned the corner onto your street. His tall figure was leaning against the driver’s door; his eyes focused on your car as you pulled into the driveway. You inhaled sharply before putting your car in park, mentally preparing yourself for whatever anger he might unleash.

You barely shut the car door before Joel had his arms around you, tugging you into a warm embrace. You couldn’t make sense of it; why wasn’t he mad? He should be angry at you.

“Joel?” you whispered, your fingers twisting into his shirt. He smelt of cedarwood and smoke, the lingering scent of the workday still on his clothes.

“I was so fuckin’ worried ‘bout you,” he muttered into your hair. “Been tryin’ to get ahold of you all day.”

“I left my phone at home this morning,” you explained. “I listened to your voicemails from last night. I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was just running late this morning.”

“Why didn’t you pick up last night?’ He asked, pulling away.

“I needed some space. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I want you—I want this. I just don’t know how to be fully vulnerable. I know that’s silly to say since I’ve cried every time I’ve seen you.” You laughed at the thought of it.

“You coulda just told me that, baby. I would’ve understood,” Joel sighed.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not,” he smiled softly. “Had me worryin’ like crazy, but I ain’t mad. I know this is all new, and you’re scared. Just don’t shut me out, ‘kay? I wanna talk to you and understand what’s goin’ on with you. I told you I wanna work on it with you.”

“I’m s—.”

Joel was pressing his lips against yours before you could say those two words. The kiss was all-consuming and tender, strong enough to erase every thought in your mind. Your mouths moved in unison, tongues intertwined and exploring. It was dizzying to be kissed this fervently; the first kiss couldn’t hold a torch to this moment. You tangled your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck, slanting your lips to open yourself even more to him. Joel’s hands twisted into the fabric of your dress that hugged your hips and pulled you tighter against his body. You whimpered at the feeling of his cock straining in his jeans, and he hauled you upwards until you were wrapping your legs around his waist.

Spinning you around, he pinned you to the metal of your car door, breaking away from your mouth to kiss down your neck. Was it possible to be branded by a dozen kisses? He left a trail of sweltering kisses over every exposed part of your upper body, and all you could do was pant and moan helplessly. To hell with the neighborhood and their lingering eyes; the world around you could collapse, and you’d still be clinging to his body.

“I told you I didn’t wanna hear those apologies,” Joel muttered against the hollow of your neck.

“What are you gonna do about it, Joel?” You moaned, his teeth grazing your collarbone.

“All I want right now is to hear you screamin’ my name, so you better invite me inside before I fuck you right here.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered.

“Wrong name, baby.”

With one strong arm braced around your back and a firm hand on your ass, Joel carried you out of the driveway and through the open garage. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the bare patches in his beard. Joel stumbled into the living room and sat you on the edge of the couch. You clung to him, refusing to lay back, too afraid to disconnect from his body. There was something so addicting, so right about being in his arms—almost familiar.

“Y’look so beautiful in this dress, baby,” Joel breathed. “Turn around.”

You unattached yourself from him, spinning until your thighs pushed against the leather of the couch. Joel’s hands roamed over your calves, dragging your dress up until it piled against your lower back. You gasped as his fingers tore apart your underwear, the scraps falling down your legs and piling at your feet. It was embarrassing how wet you were already, your slick coating your inner thighs.

“Joel,” you whined as he swiped a finger through your wet folds.

“Use your words,” he hummed, slowly pushing in two fingers.

“I need you, Joel.” He curled his fingers against the spot that left you breathless, coaxing you to speak more. “Need it rough—please.”

You needed to feel how bad he needed you; you needed to show him you wanted him, even if it meant doing it without saying it aloud.

“Y’want it rough, baby? I can do that. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to your mouth and smearing your arousal over your parted lips. You hummed as you tasted yourself, pushing your ass back into him. You heard the clang of his belt and the soft sound of his jeans hitting the floor before he swiped his cock across your slick entrance.

“Don’t be gentle,” you moaned.

“Anythin’ you want, baby.”

That was all he said before splitting you open, the fullness of his cock inside you robbing you of all the breath in your lungs. Joel kept his hips flush with yours, his fingertips drifting down the fabric of your dress covering your spine.

“Joel,” you whined.

You shifted yourself onto the tips of your toes, nudging yourself back until the tip of his cock rubbed against the right spot inside you. You mewled at the sensation, wiggling your hips to find some sort of relief from the pleasure churning inside your stomach.

“Impatient, baby?” Joel teased.

He moved against you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. You had been in such a haze last time you hadn’t realized how big he actually was, but now you felt every glorious inch of him inside you. You let out another frustrated whimper, and Joel responded with an onslaught of forceful thrusts. Your body shoved further into the couch, your midsection rubbing against the edge every time Joel snapped his hips against yours.

Joel’s hand snaked around your neck, drawing you back into his chest, the angle of his cock spearing deeper inside you. Your wails turned to sobs as you listened to Joel grunting harder behind you, his fingers squeezing rhythmically around your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel crooned. “That’s it. Doin’ so well for me.”

You gasped for air as the desire coiling within your core became agonizing and all-consuming. Your fingers wrapped around his hand holding you up, clawing at his skin as his thrusts became erratic and determined. You were teetering on the edge of euphoria, your body buzzing with pleasure.

“Touch yourself, baby,” Joel whispered into your ear.

You fought against your dress to find your clit, the instant connection of your fingers causing you to cry out. Joel’s mouth ravaged your neck, sucking marks into the skin as you drew tantalizing circles over the sensitive bud. It was right there— that explosive pleasure bubbling under the surface.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice strained under his grip. “Don’t—right there. Right there, Joel!”

Joel quickened the pace, your eyes blurring as your orgasm raced through your veins and set your nerves ablaze. Your sex clenched around his cock, forcing him to slow his thrusts as he groaned into your ear.

“S’fuckin’ good, baby,” he punched out, releasing your neck.

“More,” you heaved.

“Think y’can take it?” He asked, pinning you down onto the couch cushions.

“Just want you, Joel,” you said. Your words were muffled into the couch as you exhaled, “Want everything with you.”

You didn’t know if Joel heard you, and you prayed he didn’t. Your brain was lost in some euphoric haze, dizzying you and your ability to control your emotions. Joel knew every part of your body, like the back of his hand. He knew exactly what you needed and what you wanted, and it was so confusing.

But all your thoughts grew quiet as the lewd sounds of your arousal and his ragged breathing echoed around the house. Joel’s hand pressed into your hair as he pushed you further into the couch. Bent over this way, you were entirely at his mercy, putty in his hands, and helpless.

“Swear y’were fuckin’ made for me, baby,” Joel grunted. “You’re mine, baby. Mine.”

“Yours,” you cried. “I’m—.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as Joel seized up, choking out your name as he spilled into you. His body slumped over yours, the weight of his chest heavy against your back. The hammering of his heart matched yours as you both recovered in silence, the house growing quiet aside from your labored breathing.

“Too rough?” Joel muttered into your hair.

You shifted your face to the side, rewarded by his lips pressing into your cheek.

“Perfect,” you sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You weren’t lyin’ when you said you weren’t a fan of vanilla, huh?” Joel chuckled, pulling out of you.

You slumped further into the couch, laughing softly.

“I was talking about cake, Joel. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Sure you were, baby. Stay right there, okay?”

You heard his footsteps disappear toward your bedroom, the distant sound of water turning on and off floating down the hallway. A second later, Joel was behind you again, the cool touch of a towel making you jerk away in shock. He gently rubbed the cloth over your inner thighs, taking extra caution of your sore entrance. You’d feel him everywhere tomorrow, and you didn’t hate that for some reason—you wanted the reminder of him.

“C’mere,” Joel urged, helping you stand.

He pulled you over to the couch, curling you into his arms and bracing you against his chest. Joel intertwined his fingers with yours, his breathing evening out as you shimmed further into his embrace. Maybe it was the sex, maybe it was just being around him, but all your doubts and worries seemed to fade away. It was just this moment; you and him with limbs entangled together.

“Tell me somethin’ no one knows about you,” Joel whispered.

“Only if you tell me something in return.”

“Of course, baby.”

You paused, considering all the possibilities of what you could share. You had forgotten pieces of yourself over the years, the layers of heartbreak and trauma suffocating the person you once were. You still weren’t sure if that girl you had once been was still inside you.

“I hate pancakes,” you said.

Joel laughed, his body shaking behind you as you buried your head into the couch.

“Pancakes? Really?” He teased.

“I just don’t like them!” You defended.

“Y’gonna tell me why?”

“I don’t know,” you grumbled. “They’re just too sweet.”

“So y’don’t like sugar in your coffee, and y’think pancakes are too sweet,” Joel mused. “What do you like?”

“Don’t tease me, Joel.”

His fingers prodded your sides, forcing you to shriek at the contact. You hated to be tickled and hated it even more when he kept you pinned to your chest with nowhere to go. You rolled toward him, squirming against his touch. Joel leaned in to kiss you softly, muffling your protests as you settled into his arms.

“Your turn,” you sighed.

“Hmm, well, I like pancakes.”

“Be serious, Joel,” you frowned.

“Okay, okay. I love watchin’ cartoons.”

You giggled, watching that grin stretch across his face.

“Been watchin’ them with Sarah since she was a kid,” he chuckled. “I still do sometimes, even if she ain’t home.”

“That’s cute,” you smiled.

You brought your fingers to his face, scratching at the stubble covering his chin and jaw. Joel’s eyes shut as your touch drifted over the patchy spots, your fingertips drawing circles in the places his beard disconnected.

“Tell me somethin’ else,” he said.

“I think you’re really handsome.”

It was a quick response—almost too fast—but you couldn’t swallow back the words. You glanced up at him, peeking through your lashes to see his brown eyes soften.

“Handsome, huh?”

“Well, I can’t call you cute,” you scrunched your nose. “It doesn’t fit you. I like handsome more.”

“I like it,” he smiled. “Call me handsome all y’want.”

You dragged him to your mouth, saying everything you couldn’t form into words. Joel moved with you, his head tilting and mouth molding to yours. He made everything feel so simple; maybe that’s what scared you. It was too easy with him—falling into this idyllic routine. Joel mumbled your name, pulling himself reluctantly from your lips. You chased one more kiss and settled back into his chest.

“Did you know it’s good luck when it rains on your wedding day?” You thought out loud.

Joel tensed up, his arms flexing around you.

“Superstition says it means your marriage will last,” you continued. “I’ve always thought it was funny, you know? I used to believe in that before my wedding, but after that, I figured everyone had lied to me.”

“Baby,” Joel whispered.

“No, it’s okay. There’s a point to this, I promise.”

“Tell me,” he urged softly.

“I think the rain was good luck. Maybe not in the way people think, but I don’t think Bennett and I were meant to get married. My sister hated me for going through with it. We didn’t really talk once Bennett and I got engaged. Everyone warned me about him; they told me he wasn’t who I should be with. I was so stubborn to make things work. He—he was there for me during a really awful time in my life. I thought I owed it to him to stay.

“But then here you are, and it makes me re-think everything. The rain? It’s still good luck, just in a different way. I wasn’t meant to be with him because maybe… maybe I was meant to be with you.”

Joel was painfully quiet, his eyebrows furrowing together as he closed his eyes. Oh, fuck. You had rambled out everything you were scared to say, and now it was biting you in the ass. This was why you were too afraid to acknowledge your feelings: the rejection. Joel didn’t see it the same way; he didn’t think of you in the same way, and you just made a complete idiot of yourself.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you muttered, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. You kept the tears at bay, trying not to let yourself succumb to the heartbreak shattering inside you.

Joel’s hands wrangled you back to his chest, his eyes leveling with yours. You inhaled sharply as his fingers brushed away the rogue tears falling down your cheeks.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind y’were meant for me, baby. I’m thankin’ God every day for bringin’ you into my life,” Joel confessed. “I know this is all new, but I promise to keep provin’ myself because whatever this is between us, it’s real.”

“It’s real,” you echoed.

“Don’t run away from me,” Joel pleaded. “Gimmie all the good and bad stuff. I swear I can handle it.”

“What if you get tired of me? What if I’m not enough?” You rambled.

“I could never get tired of you, baby. If anythin’, I keep wantin’ more.”

You snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his scent as you pressed your nose into his chest. Joel ran a hand through your hair, his fingers catching on a few knots left from earlier.

“What’d you mean when you said he was there for you durin’ somethin’ awful?” Joel asked after a beat of silence.

Flashes of the crash came back into your mind, or at least the ones you could recall. You squeezed your eyes shut as your nightmares began to see the light of day. It was a memory you never liked to revisit.

“Easy,” your mom whispered. “Easy, honey. Don’t move too much, okay? Take it slow.”

Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh lights above you burning into your retinas as you tried to adjust to the room fading into the forefront. You were tucked into a hospital bed, IVs and tubes sticking out of both arms. Your head was pounding, and everything hurt. That’s all you could focus on. Everything hurt so fucking bad.

“Bennett?” You croaked, searching the room.

Your mom, dad, Beth, and Stella were all grouped around the foot of the bed, their eyes glassy with tears. Bennett was nowhere to be found. Beth’s fear-stricken eyes shifted from your mom to your dad before she bolted from the room.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” your mom announced, turning and leaving the room.

Stella shifted uncomfortably and promptly followed, leaving your dad alone at the foot of your bed.

“How’re you feeling, peanut?” He asked, rounding to the side of your bed.

“Pain,” you cried softly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured. “It’s all gonna be okay.”

“Baby?” Joel said cautiously.

“S–sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about it.”

Joel’s brows scrunched together, his eyes staring at you with concern. You turned away from him, lifting yourself from the couch. Pacing the living room, you stared blankly at your bookshelf beside your entertainment center, still collecting dust after two years. You heard Joel shift against the couch behind you and glanced back to see him staring at you intensely. Anxiety was thrumming in your chest the longer you stood in front of him, too many thoughts reeling inside your mind. You never talked about the accident; you didn’t want to be reminded of what had been the catalyst in your relationship's failure. Because that’s what it was. You owed everything to Bennett for sticking by your side through it all, and in the end, you weren’t enough. Nothing you did was enough to salvage what had been your life with him before it all.

“Hey,” Joel exhaled. “C’mere.”

“I—I need a minute,” you cried.

You bolted from the living room and went down the hall, gasping for air when you reached the edge of your bed. The room was spinning as you dropped your head in your hands, the nausea surging up inside you the longer you stayed stuck in the memory. You needed out of it; you needed out. You needed—.

Joel rushed into the room, falling to his knees in front of you as he said your name over and over to coax you out of the trance. Nothing was working. Your head was throbbing in pain, and you couldn’t work around it.

“Breathe with me, baby,” Joel whispered. “Breathe.”

You heaved in a lung full of air, only to choke on it and gag back the nausea crawling up your throat. Joel rubbed his hands over your thighs, the sensation of his touch jarring you enough to make you cringe.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned, a distant echo of your dad's words. “It’s okay.”

The shrilling sound of your phone ringing pulled you both from the moment, and you crawled over the bed to grab it.

Beth

“Fuck,” you groaned. “I can’t—I can’t answer it.”

“Give it to me, I’ll do it,” Joel offered with an outstretched hand.

You practically tossed it at him while you crumpled into the sheets with your hands clutching your head.

“Hello?” He answered with a brief pause before he said, “This is Joel.”

Silence.

“Fuck, okay. Gimmie a second,” he replied.

“Baby, she needs to talk to you,” Joel said.

You stifled your cries before taking your phone from his hand, already hearing Beth’s frantic voice on the other end of the receiver.

“Beth, what is it?” You asked, your body shaking.

“It’s dad, sis. You’ve got to come home, okay?”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x teacher #joel x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miler tlou #tlou #pre outbreak!joel #the last of us fanfiction #fluff and angst #so much angst

227 notes · View notes

jennifer-jeong · 14 days

Text

[Fluff + Angst] [Wanderer x Reader] Human

SUMMARY You make him feel human.

CONTENT Angst to fluff, mentions of Wanderer's trauma, mentions of suicidal ideation, he's kinda mean to you at first, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR'S NOTE THIS IS WAS INSPIRED BY YOU MY POOKIE @thepurestgirll TY FOR BEING SO SWEET ESP BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MANY MOOTS JFKDS;LAJ I love your fics and aesthetic and I hope to continue to see your content because I will always be here to love and support it >:)

Word Count: 854

Quiet sobs rack through the empty metal chamber. In the middle sits a man puppet of a man. Clutching the electro gnosis to his chest as his tears pelt the cold floor. Wasn’t this all he ever wanted? He finally has a “heart,” he should feel human, loved, and fit in now, right? But why is he crying? Why does he still feel hollow? Why does he want to give it all up to just be a normal human? Why did his mother create him this way just to throw him aside and make him suffer even more? Why not just have killed him long ago? Should he do it himself? Be free of this wretched body? Be free of all the earthly pain?

So many questions swirled in his mind. His gentle soul has been beat and battered to the point where he doesn’t know the meaning of peace anymore. He’s been alive for so long, chasing the same answer, the same goal. Yet, here he is. So many questions and not a single fucking answer.

Even after all that extra bullshit with Nahida, the traveler, and Irminsul, he only got bits and pieces of answers he needed. He was still lost and hurting, not that he’d ever admit that. So naturally he’s a complete ass to you when all you’re trying to do is help. You’re another adventurer and you often help the traveler when needed. You witnessed a good amount of Wanderer’s tragic journey in Sumeru and afterwards asked Nahida (his mom) if it would be a good idea to try to talk to him. She said yes but that it’d be quite… difficult.

You persevered, though. Through every insult thrown your way, all the times he ignored you, and even the times his attitude almost got you hurt when adventuring. After weeks of it, he found himself here, crying, but this time, in your arms.

He was yelling at you like he usually does but this time it was because you almost got crushed by debris while you two were out on combat commissions. He was telling you how stupid you were, how it would’ve gotten you killed, and how he… couldn’t let it happen. You smiled at him, hearing him say something caring for the first time since you started this whole mission of yours. You walk towards him slowly as he continues to insult you.

“You stupid humans, you never think before you act. Imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t call out to you to warn you. You-… You’d be dead! I’d spite you because of it! You and your human body, so fucking fragile. Why did I ever want to be like your kind anyways?”

As you close the distance, he gets panicked and confused, shouting at you.

“Why are you even still here anyways?! Isn’t all this too much for you? Why would you want to help someone like me? Don’t you know I’m not human? Why would you want me here? Why would you want to stay? W-why…”

You reach out your arms to slowly envelop him in a hug as his tears well in his eyes. He puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back lightly as if he didn’t want the contact, but he was barely putting up a fight. You both knew that if he didn’t want you to touch him, you wouldn’t even be able to.

“Why… do you even care about me,” he croaked out as his voice started to crack.

“Because I see all the good in you, and I want you to let others see it as well,” you say gently as you pull him close, arms around his waist.

He feels his emotions finally boil over as waves of sadness wash over him. His legs fail under him and you lower the two of you to the grass. He buries his head into your shoulder, sobbing harder as your warmth permeates his body that has only known the cold for so so many years. His arms clutch your head as he stains your shoulder with tears.

You feel so warm. You feel so human. It makes him feel human.

You’ve been taking such good care of him and he doesn’t think he deserves it, but he doesn’t voice it to you, at least not now. You let him cry it out while patting his back. You imagine he hasn’t ever been comforted while crying before and it’s what’s making him cry harder.

You two end the afternoon with him exhausted and you offer to let him rest his head on your legs. You pat his hair as he drifts into sleep, feeling safe for the first time in a long while. The sun warms both your bodies and you bask in it.

You two probably have a lot to talk about when he wakes up. But you stay silent for now. Enjoying the peace that he rarely gets to have. It’s a long healing journey ahead of you two but this puppet man knows that he wouldn’t rather embark on it with anyone else.

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST <3 ||

#wanderer x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #j's silly ramblings #scaramouche x reader #balladeer x reader #reader x wanderer #reader x scaramouche #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer angst #scaramouche angst #wanderer fluff #scaramouche fluff #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst

191 notes · View notes

dc418writes · 20 days

Text

✨Pairing✨: felon!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Surprisingly, you’re Ari’s first stop when he gets out of prison

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!! Ari (first and foremost because hello☝🏾lol), angst, talks of prison, allusion to violence (male-male), allusion to childhood trauma, a few bad language words, unprotected happy adult fun times (everyone please be safe!)

A/N🎤: Hi! So this is my entry for the Cum Together Extravaganza created by the amazing, talented, wonderful, whore-mone inducing @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 lol, and I hope everyone enjoys☺️! *This idea is loosely based off Nicolas Cage’s character from Con Air (if you know you know✨)

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual was created by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

Prompt: Pining + Running into each other after a long time apart + Frantic Kisses

His heavy boots stop just a foot or two away from the familiar steps he’d climbed plenty of times before. A mix of emotions swirling through his brain causing a tightness in his chest.

He shouldn’t be here.

Not after he’d all but physically pushed you out the visitation room that day. A common tactic of self sabotage he developed over the years, along with his way of trying to protect you from the eventual hurt he knew he’d put you through.

You were so angelic that day. Your natural glow competing with the sun outside shining through the window against your soft skin seemingly made of gold. Brown eyes full of worry, yet still holding that sparkle Ari had never experienced from anyone before. This wasn’t a place for you to be. A place that would soon tarnish your purity - so white the freshest snow, having fallen directly from the sky above, seemed dirty.

“You’re hurt,” you stated wanting so badly to reach out and try to do something for the blue and purple bruise on his cheek. To clean the dried blood around the stitch in his right eyebrow, but you keep your hands to yourself following the strict “no touching” rule.

He only shrugged. Clearly uncaring of whatever happened, but there was also a dimness to his spirit.

Since your first meeting, you could tell there was something hidden behind the walls he’d built. Sense a complicated past before he felt comfortable enough to tell you some of what he’d gone through. However this was different. Past the point of reverting back to the old Ari that was known as a troubled, aloof hermit, it’s almost as if this was a completely different man.

“I uh wanted to bring you cookies, but the officer said no,” you started again, trying to change the subject since Ari wouldn’t tell you what happened. “Something about possible contraband smuggling? As if I could sneak something in a small cookie. Plus it’s me of all people! Where would I even get-,”

“Don’t come back here,” he finally spoke in that gruff voice. It takes you back at first, lightly chuckling to yourself thinking he was joking. His serious eyes - somewhat dark and with new adjoining bags from his lack of sleep - tell you otherwise quickly causing a furrow to your brows.

“Wha-What do you mean-?”

“You don’t need to be waiting for me. Just…leave.”

“B-But I love you Ari.”

He shakes his head before standing to his feet. “We’re done,” he calls over his shoulder as he reaches the metal door. Whoever was in charge apparently heard him from the pad shining green to grant him entrance back to the waiting hall where another officer met him to reapply his cuffs and escort him to his cell.

All the while ignoring your cries of his name and how you pleaded for him to talk to you.

But later that night, staring at the discolored white ceiling as he lied in his top bunk on an uncomfortable, lumpy mattress, it’s all he could hear. Those same tears that ran down your cheeks now silently running down his.

“Fuck,” he silently curses to himself while his fingers pass through his almond strands as he turns away - now hyper aware of how strange he probably looked to your neighbors just standing in your yard. He should’ve just gone to the halfway house he’d been recommended from the transfer counselor.

Try to stay far from you and this part of town for that matter.

He was slowly realizing though, that the heart he thought was closed off desperately craved attention only you could give. Only wanted your warm touch and smile that soothed a childhood ache he’d long suppressed.

Just as he moves to descend your stone path, the front door creaks open to staccato taps on your wooden porch. There’s a continuous clink of metal followed by excited barks as the black dachshund runs down the steps and around Ari’s feet.

“Barry! You can’t run-”

Beautiful as a painting in a museum, there you stood in your cut off jean shorts and some older looking shirt. Your hair much shorter than the last time he saw you eight years ago, but the pixie cut only brought more attention to your gorgeous face and adorable cheeks.

Other than that, it’s as if you hadn’t aged a day.

“A-Ari?,” you stammer stepping further out onto your porch.

He has to clear his throat to get rid of the nerves blocking his words from escaping. “I…I’m sorry for just showin’ up like this. Would’ve called, but when they gave me my phone back it was dead.”

“So..you’re out?”

“Yea,” he softly smiles. You don’t return it though looking as if you’d seen a ghost while staying planted on the top step. Even Barry had returned back to your side, circling a couple times until he felt comfortable enough to lie down. “This was a mistake. Clearly she doesn’t want you here.”

“I’ll uh leave then,” Ari says nervously scratching the back of his neck after a long - and awkward enough - moment of silence between you two. “I didn’t mean to bother-”

Before he can finish, you’re running down the steps - not caring of the dirt and grass on your bare feet. He’s prepared for your deserved anger, whether that be yelling, shoves, or even punches. Instead, your fists clasp the front of his shirt as you pull him down to meet your lips.

After years apart his hands still automatically find their usual place on your body bringing you closer. Ari’s right on the side of your neck, tilting your chin however he needed to gain the access to your mouth he missed, while his left dragged from your hip to the middle of your back holding you to him.

Your moan hitting him in a deep, long ignored place that has him embarrassed like a teenage boy how fast his blood runs southward.

The need for air has you both begrudgingly parting, while your foreheads stay connected. “I’m sorry..for everything,” he whispers letting his thumb graze along your petal soft bottom lip. It’s as if he thinks you’ll break he’s so gentle - like it’s a fragile piece of artwork he dared touch.

"I didn't-"

"Shh," you reply leaning up to peck his lips once more. "Later."

Your lips barely separate journeying the short distance from your front door to your bedroom. Both of them red and swollen, yet neither of you attempt to stop as your back hits the light blue comforter - fluffy and soft as a cloud.

His hands grip your thighs curling along his sides, yet fail to move where you need them most making you whimper as his mouth slides to your neck. Taking matters into your own hands, you pull his shirt over his muscled back - silently giggling to yourself and filling with a sense of pride hearing his pleasured groan as your nails rake against his warm skin.

They’re set for his buckle next, but Ari’s quick to use his rougher and stronger ones to pin on either side of your head. “Ari please,” you whine eagerly trying to grind your hips so your soaking core can get some type of relief. You know he’s desperate for something too briefly nudging the tent formed in front of his pants.

“I know, I know.” He unsuccessfully tries to kiss the pout from your lips. “I..I wanna take my time tonight. It’s been eight years sweetheart.”

The deprived and needy part of you wants to counter, urging him for the opposite since it’s been so long. Instead, you nod letting him completely take control.

Slowly, he helps remove your clothes before open mouth kisses and taps of his tongue flow down from your neck and across your heaving chest to your stomach. You moan arching your back to lift your breasts closer to his face when he returns there taking his time attacking one nipple with his tongue while the other is groped and plucked in his free hand.

By the time he finally reaches your waiting and wet core, it only takes one lick and your sweet release is covering his beard.

“S-Sorry,” you stammer feeling your skin heat even more from shame not wanting that to happen so quickly.

“Sorry?,” he softly chuckles before leaving a kiss on your mound. “That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

The sound nearly has you in tears knowing your Ari was back. The one you knew loved you just as much as you loved him.

Having had a taste after going so long without, he can’t wait for more switching between his skillful tongue and fingers until your juices flow again, His mouth attached to you; greedily slurping everything you could give him. Your fingers are seemingly locked in his hair as he rises enough to remove his pants. Grunting as he grabs the base - past the point of painfully hard - to direct himself inside you.

“Fuck,” he moans into your neck feeling you rapidly pulse around him. So warm and tight he has to restrain himself from taking you like a wild animal.

Not that you would mind.

“M’not gonna last baby.”

“Spose to happen,” you slur clutching around him urging him to move.

His hand tightly pinning your hip to the bed, his thrusts start slow yet hard before gaining speed the closer he feels. Simultaneously, your cries of his name get louder as well while his mouth and tongue move along your neck and earlobe.

“Shit, I feel you right there baby come on. Come with me.” You can’t comprehend anything with your brain in this foggy, love drunk state, yet somehow your body complies when his thumb finds your swollen and throbbing nub squirting against his skin and down to the sheets below. “Mm good girl.”

His final pumps have you filled until no more can stay. A small mix of both your releases leaking from your hole with every surge of his hips until he’s drained.

Exhausted, he carefully tries to pull out but your whines have him stopping. Softly smiling to himself while slowly lowering until he’s comfortably laying on top of you. “Calm down I’m here.”

Soon your even breaths fill his ears and he’s able to lie on his side - gently moving you with him- to completely take in the area surrounding him. His fingertips mindlessly tracing along your thigh as he reacquaints himself to your bedroom. It was fitting for you in every way, from the light yellow of the walls to the books lining the shelves he built for you long ago. Your few stuffed animals in a wicker basket in the corner as if they were prepared for bed themselves.

Ari notices one in particular - a white bunny with long ears and pink bows he bought you during a trip to the store one day - on your dresser next to a framed picture you must’ve secretly took. He appeared to be taking a break from something dressed in a gray tee, dark jeans, and work-boots with his utility belt on his hips. A bottle of water in his hand lifted to his lips as he looked off somewhere in the distance. Now that he thought about it, he was watching a bird peck the ground trying to find bugs or seeds to eat.

And he looked so peaceful. So calm for once in his tormented life. He had you to thank for that being kind and willing enough to share your light when he fought so hard against it.

In the bit of moonlight peeking through the blinds, he can make out ‘Home’ in the corner of the picture causing the slightest curl to his lips as he holds you closer.

“You kept putting up with me,” he quietly speaks pecking your temple. “So patient even after everything. Know I’m never leavin you again sweetheart. I’m home for good.”

#CT 2024 raffle entry #ari levinson #ari levinson au #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x black!reader #red sea diving resort #ari levinson x woc #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader #CT 2024 community extravaganza

148 notes · View notes

zoeykallus · 6 months

Note

Hello! 👋

I LOVE your work and the way you capture the personalities of the characters. You're incredibly talented.

I'd like to request an 18+ one shot with Crosshair (fem reader) that's a little different than normal...

Cross is always very cold, rough, and distant, so I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he started being gentle with the reader. But still in a Crosshair kinda way.

Here's what I was thinking (TW, i briefly mention the reader having past sexual/relationship traumas): The reader and Crosshair have worked together on and off for years. They never really talk about personal things or get emotional because they're both kinda similar. But they have feelings for each other that are on a deeper level than they've experienced before with others. Something happens where they end up being alone and emotionally vulnerable in front of one another (perhaps Cross saves the reader from something and gets all protective and has to calm the reader down from panicking and it gets steamy 😳🤤) and it basically ends in getting laid. But perhaps the reader is afraid of romance and intimacy from past experiences that Crosshair knows a bit about, and he truly loves her so instead of being quick and rough with her, he starts really slow, gentle, and sensual and it gradually gets more intense 🤭.

Take your time and prioritize your mental health!!

And I know that this could potentially encompass some heavy topics, so don't feel obligated to write this! 🫶❤️

Aloha!

🤔 Okay, I needed a while to read through all this and I did it repeatedly because for some reason nothing of it stuck in my head. That's what sleep deprivation does with you, no focus at all.

Now, I don't think Crosshair is always very cold, rough and distant. First of all, he's mostly playing it. I think it's mostly part of a self-defence act. 'Stay professional and don't let anyone get too close.' That stoic pure soldier behavior is kinda like a shield I think. Well, at least in my HC. Anyway, I know what you meant, so never mind 😅

Let's see if I can do this...

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-Shot - The Unexpected Gentleness

Warnings: Angst/Tension/Protective Crosshair/ Soft Grumpman Crosshair/Suggestive/Described Sexual Intercourse/Spicy Handsy Stuff/ Implied Past Trauma Of Reader/Soft Smut(?)/18+

AC: A hundred years late, I'm finally done with this request. This may, or may not be, the longest One-Shot I've written so far... I don't know anymore by now, it certanly feels like it. I definitely wrote too much stuff to remember 😅 Didn't proofread this yet, because I'm close to keeling over any minute, sorry.

You never thought you would end up in this situation. Crosshair and you have been separated from the rest of the group by a storm. Since you were supposed to explore a cave system anyway, and you are protected from the storm inside, you continue to explore and scan the tunnel system. However, you are not the only ones seeking refuge from the storm in the caves. The group of black market smugglers you are looking for are also there. It all happens very quickly, from one moment to the next you are attacked. Blaster shots fly through the tunnel system and echo off the cave walls. Your flashlights only partially illuminate the cave, many dark corners where the enemy could be, remain lightless, and so two of the men are able to sneak up behind you. Someone jumps into your back and rams you hard to the ground, at first you can't breathe, you feel a knee in your back, your attacker holds you on the ground while he takes off everything you could have used as a weapon.

The impact was hard and painful, you gasp for air in panic as it almost feels as if the oxygen will never return to your lungs. The helpless position you find yourself in stirs up panic in your mind. There it is again, air, frantically you breathe in and out far too quickly. Your eyes are burning, fine stone dust and tears. You can't move, you can't defend yourself, you can't breathe properly, you can't even find your voice to scream. Then you hear a thudding sound, a startled gasp and in the same second the weight is gone from your back. You roll around, crawl to the cave wall and crouch down. You nervously scan the surroundings with your flashlight. Crosshair. He is standing over a man, presumably the one who was kneeling on your back earlier. The man on the ground is no longer moving, Crosshair is standing over him with his blaster. The Sniper looks in your direction, shielding his eyes with his hand against the beam of your flashlight. "Stop blinding me," he growls. "Sorry," you stammer, lowering the flashlight beam. You tremble as Crosshair crouches down in front of you and takes a closer look at you. "Breathe evenly, slowly, in and out. You're hyperventilating."

You blink several times, then force yourself to breathe in and out slowly, feeling your pulse finally calm down. "That's it," Crosshair grumbles, "Keep breathing," and helps you to your feet. He shakes his head and growls to himself, "That's what you get for having to take untrained staff with you"

For a second you want to say something defiant, but you see the look on his face and swollow it down. Usually you can handle his sass and grumble, but you are still shaken from what happened.

You bow your head in shame and silently follow him further along the tunnel system to a junction that looks like a small room. Slightly elevated from the rest of the tunnel, a slightly larger alcove. "We'll camp here for now," says Crosshair, and takes off some of his equipment, including his backpack and its contents. You do the same, and you pile up your blankets so that you can sit and lie reasonably softly. He also sets up a camping light, so you can see each other. Crosshair steps to the edge of the alcove, away from the blankets, and silently, impatiently beckons you towards him. You hastily follow his invitation, still with your head bowed. You hear him sigh, then you feel his hand under your chin. He forces you to look at him and scrutinizes your eyes. "You need to rinse your out your eyes, or they'll get infected. They're already red. You have stone dust in your eyes" He hands you his water bottle, which you take with a shaky hand. But when he sees the trembling in your fingers, he takes the bottle from you again.

"Head to the side and open your eyes," he demands curtly. You comply with this request too. You squint as he begins to clean your eyes. "Pull yourself together," he says quietly, almost gently. After a while, he hands you a clean handkerchief with which you dry your face, then he asks, "How are things looking, do you still feel foreign particles in your eyes?" You blink to test, then shake your head. "No, it's all gone." Crosshair nods and hums, "Good" He sits down on the blankets he spread on the floor earlier and beckons you over. "Sit down" You comply and sit down next to him. When he takes off your jacket, you flinch and stiffen. Crosshair pauses and looks at you questioningly, then says calmly, "I want to see if you've been hurt, bruised or anything, things you might not have noticed under adrenaline" You take off your jacket yourself and say, "My chest hurts a bit, but I don't think anything is broken" He carefully touches you over your T-shirt and applies pressure to your ribs. "Does that hurt?" You shake your head. "No, it's more of a constant, slight pain. It'll just be a few bruises" "Can I have a look?"

You blink uncertainly. You actually trust him, but you're still hesitant. "What's wrong?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. You swallow and say quietly, "I had more than my fair share of unpleasant experiences in the past with letting my guard down with people, physically" He growls softly then says, "You can be sure that won't happen to you with me. I don't cross boundaries I'm not supposed to, you're in control. A simple word is enough." Crosshair sounds unusually gentle, and at first you can only look at him in surprise. But he doesn't push you any further, waiting patiently. Finally, you nod and take a deep breath. You take your shirt off over your head and sit next to him in your bra. He wants to stare, to take a close look at you, but he concentrates decently on your rib area. His fingertips glide carefully over one spot. The touch gives you goose bumps. "Here," he says calmly, "A slightly larger bruise, not too bad" You breathe a sigh of relief and smile nervously. "Turn around," he says gently, "Show me your back."

You do as you're told and feel his fingertips on your skin again. "It looks the same here, a bruise, nothing to worry about" His hand moves to the back of your neck, and you feel a gentle shiver run down your spine. He says a little growling, "That asshole got you pretty good, saw him sweep you off your feet. I was attacked by his buddy at the same moment, otherwise I would have reacted faster" "Thanks for saving me, I would have been lost without you" Crosshair snorts softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "Indeed" You slowly turn to face him, still half naked, your shirt lying next to you on the blanket. He's not staring at your breasts though, but at your face as you say, "I'm sorry if I'm a liability on this mission" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but his voice sounds soft as he says, "You do your part, I'll take care of the rough stuff, we complement each other well enough" He studies your face in silence for quite a while, and you find it hard to look at him, you're always so nervous around him even though he doesn't really give you a reason to be.

Braver than you feel, you ask him, "What are you thinking about right now?" Crosshair blinks, looks back into your eyes and says, "About how much I'd like to touch you right now. But that's probably not appropriate. Apart from the fact that you probably don't want me to." Your heart starts to race. A mixture of joy, nervousness and a little fear flood your system. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you can feel it all the way up into your throat. You fight with yourself while he looks at you calmly, patiently, waiting. You're fascinated by him, you've liked him for a while, maybe you even have a crush on him. But you didn't expect him to say it so directly here and now. "You want to touch me?" you ask, as if you're not quite sure what these words mean. He tilts his head slightly to the side, then nods and says, "I'm thinking about it, yes. But having just seen how nervous my closeness makes you, I'm holding back." You say honestly in a low voice, "I just don't know how to read you. Sometimes you seem so considerate and thoughtful, other times rather harsh and rude" Crosshair raises his eyebrows, then says, "I'm a soldier, I can't always be gentle" You sigh softly and say, "I know that, I meant explicitly when dealing with me"

He frowns critically and asks, "I was rude to you? When?" "Not rude," you say hurriedly, "Just... grumpy" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit impatient sometimes, that may be. I'm not used to working with civilian agents, even though we've known each other for a while now and have worked together from time to time. I'm usually surrounded by other soldiers. There's not much room for subtlety, especially in the field" You nod, you can understand that. Nevertheless, he is very different from his brothers, Wrecker or Tech, for example, are much more relaxed, even Hunter, but you keep this observation to yourself. "Quite understandable," you finally concede. His features relax a little, and he asks you, "Are you afraid of me?" You shake your head and answer without hesitation, "No, not at all" He smirks and says, "I think so too. If you were, you'd probably have put your shirt back on by now. Physical nakedness is also a certain form of showing vulnerability. If you didn't trust me, you would have covered up again long ago"

You blink and realize with surprise that he is right, your shirt is still next to you, you had almost forgotten about it. He slowly reaches out to your face and gently places his hand on your cheek. You hold still and look at him, fascinated, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin. His face comes closer, closer and closer. You automatically close your eyes a second before his lips touch yours. It starts with a gentle touch, almost chaste. A few breaths pass before you feel gentle pressure on your lips and return it. You let yourself be pushed backwards, slowly, gently, until you are lying on your back and Crosshair is halfway over you. His lips part from yours, and he lifts his head to look at you. "I had to try it now," he says with a smirk, "How do you feel?" For lack of better words, you say simply, "Warm" He chuckles softly. "Warm is good" You smile too, even though your heart is racing, you're not afraid of him or his touch, you know you're in good hands, you know you can trust him. He would never hurt you, never push you. You know that a simple word will be enough to put him at a distance again, that he will always respect your boundaries. You feel safe, and your hands wander over his arms, on his chest, over the cool material of his armor.

"Maybe I should at least take off the hard parts of my gear?" You nod and say, "That would be better" Crosshair straightens up again, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him remove one piece of armor at a time until he's wearing only the Blacks on his body. He lies half over you again, resting his weight on his arms and knees. Crosshair looks you straight in the eye and says, "You're not forced to do anything and I won't be upset if you'd rather have me at a distance, you can always say something and I'll back off" You smile at him and nod. "I know, I really appreciate that" He shakes his head and says, "That should go without saying, for everyone, you don't have to be grateful for that. But I noticed earlier how insecure you are and when you mentioned that you've had bad experiences, I thought I should mention it. I don't want you to feel forced into anything" You nod again. You automatically want to say thank you again, but you swallow it. "I don't feel any pressure at the moment" He kisses you again, this time more urgently, more sensually. Close to your lips, he whispers, "Tell me if that changes" You want to answer him, but then you feel his tongue gliding over your lower lip, testing, questioning, searching for access. Your lips open automatically and let him in. Your tongues meet in a velvety collision that sends a shiver through your whole body and makes the heat move under your skin, between your thighs. A soft, sweet sigh comes from your throat, a sound that triggers an intense feeling of success, satisfaction in Crosshair. His long arms wrap around you, one of his long legs slips between yours. Immediately you feel the pulse between your thighs, in the intimate heat of your womanhood. His tongue flicks playfully against yours again and again, chasing it with velvety strokes. Every touch of his tongue in your mouth makes your clit pulsate as if he were kissing you in a completely different place.

His long, elegant fingers undo your belt and pants, pull your belt out of the loops and put it to one side. Just the idea and anticipation of every touch makes your pulse race, your nerve endings vibrate and your panties get wet. You imagined it differently, you expected more fear, but you feel completely safe, Crosshair is gentle, considerate, something unfamiliar, unexpected, but very welcome. As his lips part from yours, he lets out a somewhat shaky breath. His muscles are tense, he holds back. You both know he wants more, but he's taking it a lot slower than his body wants right now. "Is everything all right?" you ask softly, your mind still foggy from his kisses. "Of course," Crosshair grumbles and kisses your neck. The touch makes your nipples harden and causes you to wriggle out of your pants automatically, almost of your own accord, and slip them off your body. Another shaky gasp from Crosshair. His fingertips glide over your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh and back up again. They barely touch your skin, just very gently, then they grab, your thigh, then past your thigh to your right bun. His grip is firm, but not hard.

"I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity for us to get closer," he says, lost in thought, you're not even sure if the words are really meant for you.

His hand leaves your bun and moves forward, over the fabric of your panties, gliding gently over them, drawing teasing circles. Your thighs open for him, your mouth slightly open, another sigh comes from your throat. His lips brush gently over your chin and when he looks at you again, he grins. "You seem pretty comfortable around me by now" Your cheeks are warm as you answer him with a grin, "You could say that" You feel his hard length against your thigh through the fabric of his blacks. He presses himself closer to you, kissing his way from your chin to your ear. Once there, he whispers to you, "Feeling good so far?" A shiver runs through your body, only a small hoarse sound comes out of your mouth. Then his face is over yours again, he smiles smugly, he knows exactly what his words have just triggered in you. The moment he kisses you again, his nimble fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, slowly moving further down towards your heated, wet center. He is gentle, teasing, gliding and caressing over your soft folds. You feel a pulse very clearly, Crosshair's gentle touch awakens in you the desire for more. You buck up your hips, the motion causing his fingers to slide further down, to your expectant wet opening, and a fingertip slides in ever so slightly.

"I can see," he says contentedly, in a smoky voice, "I've whetted your appetite for more" And he's right, you want more, so much more, more contact, to feel more of him. You tug on his blacks, try to take them off. He is only too happy to help. At last you are both completely undressed. Your bodies press against each other, naked skin against naked skin. You're both giving off so much heat, you've long since stopped feeling the coolness of the cave. Crosshair's fingers are all over your skin, gliding, caressing, groping, one pleasant shiver after another coursing through your body. Everything blurs in your perception, all you feel is the heat of your bodies, the pulse between your thighs, Crosshair's touch. As soon as he's on top of you, you cling to him, pulling him closer to you, not giving him a chance to wander. You are so unexpectedly hungry for him that even the Sniper is surprised when you reach down between you, grab his cock and guide it to your wet entrance. He pauses, however, the tip barely an inch sunk into your pussy. "Are you sure you want this?" You blink, your face heated, looking up into his face. Your legs hook around his thighs and press him closer to you, making him slowly sink into you.

Crosshair is well-hung, you can clearly feel him stretching you, sliding deeper into your pussy. But he's careful, even bracing himself a little against your leg clamps that push him deeper inside you. "Slow down, kitten, I don't want to hurt you" You realize he's right, it doesn't hurt yet, but his massive cock is clearly making itself felt in your wet heat. You loosen your grip and let out a soft, deep sigh. He looks at you scrutinizingly, then smiles and says, "You're doing very well, kitten" Slowly he sinks deeper, as far as he can go, then he pauses, leans his forehead against yours and has to collect himself. The tightness that surrounds him feels incredibly intense. You see him bite his lip before he slowly begins to move inside you. Your legs cling to him again, your hands move to his shoulder blades, your fingers cling to his shoulders. It feels like his whole body is the perfect fit for you. The stimulation is everywhere you need it as your bodies melt together. You feel every taut muscle in his body, hear his soft, raspy gasps. Your bodies move together in perfect unison, your head sinks back, a smile spreads across your face as Crosshair looks at you mesmerized, you close your eyes and take in the feeling of him filling you completely.

It's not invasive like you feared, not at all. It feels tender, just right, the way his body nestles against and into you. The pulse intensifies, your fingernails press into his shoulders automatically. Spurred on by this, Crosshair moves a little faster. A hoarse moan escapes your lips, louder than expected, followed by a quiet, surprised, "Oh fuck..." You weren't expecting this intensity, this feeling. Your hands automatically move to his ass and claw into it as you feel yourself slithering towards a climax. Crosshair lets out a small, surprised grunt as your nails dig into his buns, but then he lets out a satisfied growl and a grin twitches at the corners of his mouth as he intensifies his thrusts. You don't hold back at all, your moans and gasps, hoarse, expectant, about to explode. It's music to his ears, adding more fire to his own arousal. As your thighs twitch around his body, your pussy around his cock and you drop beneath him with a long, husky sigh, the knot in his abdomen loosens, the tension dissolving into a long, intense, slowly ebbing pulse as he cums inside you.

You laugh, quietly, grinning. You feel so good, so relieved, liberated, safe. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised. "Feeling good, I guess?" You giggle. "Good? No, great." Crosshair smirks, kisses your chin, your nose, your lips, and leans his forehead against yours with a sigh. "Mission accomplished," he murmurs softly.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

173 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

Alone / Chapter 2

Part eight of the Sassy series.

Simon Riley/female reader 4.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, panic attacks, angst, PTSD, trauma, blood and torture, hospitals, emotional hurt/comfort, medical stuff, coparenting, relationship issues, reader is going through it, soft dad Simon Riley. You’re living in a nightmare.

Blood has a distinct smell. To many, it’s the pungent minerality that turns their senses but to you, it’s the tang of the metal that makes your lip quiver. It’s the saltlick iron that makes you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth and breathe through your nose slowly, an effort to try to prevent the tossing of your stomach.

Here, the scent is everywhere. On the walls. On your face. On your clothes. There was a puddle of it, beneath your knees. It’s a combination of yours and nameless others, their blood one of the only things left of them in the world, seeping into the fabric of your jeans, staining the concrete blocks of-

“Mrs. Riley?” Your doctor, your therapist, looks at you expectantly over the rim of her glasses, and you huff. “Where were you just now?” You try not to scowl. Be honest. You’re supposed to be honest.

“The room.”

“Where you were being held?” You nod. You force your fingers flat against your thighs, beating back the urge to scratch your nails against your skin. “And what were you thinking, about the room?”

“I was remembering what all the blood smelled like. What it tasted like.” To her credit, your shrink doesn’t flinch. She holds your gaze steady, until you are the one looking away, glancing over her shoulder at the clock that always seems to move too slow.

You’ve tried this once, already. Tried to get her to crack, to push you off. Tried to get her to cower, or recommend you speak to someone else. She’s stronger than you originally thought, you’ll her give her that, but you supposed it didn’t hurt that she’s been having twice weekly sessions with Simon when he’s not away on an op for over two years now, and you’re well aware your dog and pony show are nothing compared to whatever he’s been telling her.

Simon Riley, the closed off ghost who wouldn’t even show you his face when he got you pregnant, turned father of the year who bent over backwards for his wife, now goes to therapy, and meditates when he’s out on ops.

“Do you remember how you felt, when you were in that room?” Oh, for fucks sake. You nod, lips pressed into a line. “Can you tell me?”

“Worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“Theo. And Simon.”

“Not for yourself?” You shrug. Your lungs hurt, like they’re being constricted, and you look down to your shoes.

“Can we talk about something else?” You say it to your laces, not to her, but you know she hears it when her pen clicks and the scratch of the tip scrawls across her pad.

“How is co-parenting going?” Your head snaps up, and you smother the glare that pulls at the edges of your face.

“It’s fine.”

“You and Simon are communicating alright?” Jesus christ.

“Mostly.” You shrug and don’t elaborate. She nods at your silence, an indication she wants you to keep going. You grit your teeth. “Sometimes, he calls, or texts and I don’t answer him. Or I don’t answer him in a timely manner.” Your fingers make air quotes around the timely manner bit.

“Why is that?”

“It’s… hard to explain.”

“Are you uncomfortable with the communication?”

“No!” you rush out. “No, no of course not… I want him to see Theo as much as possible. I just feel, mixed up. So, when I see him, or hear from him, it makes those mixed-up feelings feel… more intense. More mixed up.”

“Can you name a few of those feelings?” You close your eyes and picture Simon’s face. You see him holding Theo’s hand in the supermarket or pushing him on the swing set in the park. You see him in bed beside you, before, eyes soft and full of love, his smile beautiful and easy on his lips. Unburdened.

“Sadness.” You pause to take a deep breath. “Sadness and anger, confusion. Guilt.” The pen scribbles on paper when you pause, and you glance up at the clock. Bingo. “Looks like we’re out of time.” You supply, smiling at her cheerily when she narrows her eyes, and then writes something down before giving you a nod.

The man says your name.

Not Sassy. Not Sass.

Your real name, before he tuts in your face, like you’ve let him down.

“Yer da ‘d be real disappointed in ye.” Saliva builds in the back of your throat.

“Don’t talk about my father.” You hiss and he outright laughs.

“Still fightin’ even when broken.” His fingers fold over the wound in your arm, pressing into the open, infected flesh, digging against it with his fingernails and the pain burns, it scrapes across your skin like a million little knives. “Maybe ye’re not so worthless after all, eh?” You launch the spit into his eye, grim satisfaction creeping over you when he staggers back in surprise, rage brewing across his face before he’s gripping you by the collarbone and thrusting you backwards, tipping the metal chair until you’re slamming into the ground, your head bouncing on blood slick concrete like a child’s ball.

“Stupid bitch.” His leg draws backwards until he’s firing the toe of his boot into your stomach, kicking you once, twice before you’re gasping for air, pain blooming across your abdomen as he batters you.

You close your eyes, and think of Theo. You think of Simon, of the two of them together. At home, safe. You pull the string of a memory until it comes to the forefront of your mind, Theo’s first words, his first steps. His second birthday party, when Johnny bought him that obnoxious drum set, and Simon bent you over the couch after Theo went to bed. The day you got married, your first wedding anniversary, the hotel room in Florence. You slip into these memories like they’re real and try to block out the smell of the blood and the pain in your body, try to drown in the shadows of your old self, your past, while you lose everything to the present, over and over again.

The little house is quiet when you get home in the afternoon.

At first it doesn’t bother you. Theo is with his dad for the night, already been picked up from school and probably taken to the park, his favorite Friday activity. Si will probably get him pizza, because he spoils him endlessly, and he’ll let him fall asleep while they cuddle on the couch and watch some awful kid’s show. You can see it, in your mind, the image of Theo in the crook of Simon’s elbow where he still fits, his little arm stretched across his dad’s ribs, Simon with his feet on the coffee table.

It rips your heart apart. The swell of emotion is strong enough that tears pool in your eyes, dripping down over your cheeks while you curl up into a ball on your own couch, blanket tucked up under your chin. You did this. You are a nightmare. You did this to yourself. You press your palm to your lips and scream into it, smothering the sound as best you can, your throat turning raw with each breath. Your body shakes with sobs until you’re exhausted and your eyes slip shut, tears still webbed in your lashes, while the sun shines through your living room window.

Your phone jolts you awake a few hours later, your hands scrambling to find where you’ve lost it in the couch, the realization that it’s going to be Theo breaking through the heavy weight of your misery. Must be close to bedtime. When you slide open the facetime call, he’s grinning at you, little dab of red sauce on his chin.

“Mum!” he shouts, glee coloring the word and you smile back at him easily, hastily rubbing your face to erase the evidence of your state. “Dad got ‘izza!”

“I see that.” A big thumb drifts in front of the camera to wipe the glob of red away and Theo giggles.

“Say goodnight.” Simon says in the background and Theo pauses, little eyebrows creased in confusion before he recovers and looks back to the phone.

“Goodnight mum. Luh you.”

“Love you too bug. Have fun with dad.” The phone shifts, darkness covering the camera for a second before it’s righted, and Simon’s face fills the frame. Your stomach clenches.

“His mates from school are all gonna be at the fields tomorrow morning. I told him I’d take him, if it's alright with you.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Thanks.” You can see him studying you through the screen.

“Everything alright?” his tone shifts, takes on something softer, something sweeter, something that feels like a memory, and your chest tightens.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

“If you need-“

“I’m fine.” You snap. He sighs.

“Alright then. Goodnight, Sass.”

“Night.”

“There she is, see?” Simon points, and Theo frowns when he sees you, lower lip tugging downward, his face confused before he looks back to his dad, burying his face in his chest with a cry.

“Hey bug. Come here.” You hold your arms out to him, but he just cries into Simon, the scared wailing splitting you open and pouring concrete into your lungs, so it feels like you’ve got an entire building sitting on your chest. “It’s okay baby.” You call, hands still waiting, voice edging on desperate. You want your baby. You want to hold him, to feel him in your arms and know he’s okay, that he’s here, that Simon’s here, and you’re here and there is no danger, nothing to fear. Simon steps closer to you, his emotions raw across his face, and Theo screams in his arms, legs kicking ferociously.

“It’s mum, Theo. Stop. Look.” Simon tries but it’s no use. You know Theo is terrified of you, your battered and bruised face, the wires and tubes that are connected to your chest and the IV that’s stuck in the back of your hand. Your brain buzzes, a low droning noise between your ears making your head spin and you call Theos’ name with a croak.

“NO!” Theo shrieks, he screams it at the top of his lungs and Simon looks lost as you stare wordlessly, hands reaching out into the void, begging to hold your son that doesn’t even recognize you.

You don��t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears drop down onto the arm that’s folded across your abdomen.

The door slides open, and Johnny appears, pulling Theo from Simon’s arms, patting his back softly and giving you a sympathetic look.

“C’mon lad, let’s go get a lolly, yeah? Give mum and dad some time.” Theo hugs his uncle around his neck, and heaves little sobs into his skin while Johnny shushes him and carries him back out the door.

“I-“ you choke on whatever it was you were going to say, the buzzing in your head so, so loud that it drowns out your thoughts, covers up your feelings until you’re pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes.

Knuckles tap against the glass, Johnny’s face appearing in the window.

“I’ll be right back.” Simon assures you, leaving his foot in the door while he talks to Johnny, their voices fuzzy, and suddenly, the world is tilting and all you can smell is blood.

The buzzing in your head is ferocious, a searing sharpness that feels like a lobotomy, your mind screaming inside your head. The stitches in your skin burn, and you swear you can feel each cell trying to pull closed, the sticky edges of your wounds slowly seaming back together, sealing shut everything inside of you, trapping the buzzing away within your own body so you’ll never be able to pull it out.

You need to go home. You have to get out of here. You can’t stay here. You have to get home. Where everything is safe. Where there is no danger.

You fidget with your central line, trying to unclick, unscrew it until you’re just tugging on it as hard as you can without making a sound, pain throbbing into the hole that’s been created for the port as you start to pull the sticky pads off your lower rib cage. The noises in the room are going berserk, bells and whistles chiming and beeping while the buzzing in your head gets louder and louder, and your fingers dig into your IV, trying to rip it from your skin before Simon is grabbing your hand.

“I have to get out of here.” You tell him. He’ll understand. You know he will.

“Bloody hell Sass, stop.” Your fingers are still scratching away, trying to crawl towards the IV, the last thing tethering you to this place, keeping you from your family, and you push against the pressure holding you still. The buzzing in your head is screaming now, louder than Simon’s voice, louder than the frantic beeping of the machines that have lost their leads.

“Let me go! I ha- have to go. I have to get out.” Simon tries to grab your other hand but you’re too quick, nimble and lithe like you always have been, and you latch onto the needle in your skin, ripping it free, blood trickling down your arm and dripping across your thin hospital gown. Heavy hands grab your shoulders and press you back against the bed.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” His elbow pins your collarbone down while his hand comes up to cradle your face. “Everything’s alright.” What? No, it isn’t. It’s not alright. This is certainly not alright. Can’t he hear that noise? You shake your head vehemently and he tries to hold you steady.

“No. N-no, no, Simon. I have to go. Please, we have to go.” The door swings open and a man in blue scrubs with a badge walks through, a nurse at his side, capped syringe in her hand. Your stomach roils. “Simon.” You plead as you eye them, their slow steps bringing them closer and closer to you, and you shift on the bed, up against your husband, trying to bury yourself in his body, hide from whatever the people in scrubs are going to do. “Simon, we have to go home. Please, we need to get home.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He strokes the hair away from your face, and you realize he’s got tears in his eyes, his gaze heavy and sad, and your own eyes widen in fear when you feel a new set of hands on your body.

“Get off me!” you scream, thrashing in the bed, Simon trying to talk to you, trying to calm you while the man in scrubs pins your arms down.

“Don’t hold her like that.” He snarls, and the foreign hands on your body adjust, letting your forearms go loose while the pinch of a needle punctures your skin. “It’s alright, I promise.” Simon’s voice breaks. “I’m here, Sass. I’m right here. You’re safe, you’re safe, I swear.” The needle pulls free of your arm and the world shifts, bright light blowing out the edges of your vision until your eyes are slipping closed, Simon’s face the last thing you see before everything goes dark.

It's three in the morning. The dark and stormy nightmares that keep you under in your sleep have finally slipped away, and you’re staring at your bedroom ceiling while your brain turns a mile a minute until you’re reaching for your phone.

Your thumb hovers over Simon’s contact for too long, way too long while you think about what it might be like to hear his voice before you’re scrolling to the next name and clicking the digits.

The phone rings and you try not the count it, try not to think about what you’re doing and the line clicks open to a bleary, sleepy Scotsman saying hello.

When you don’t say anything back, you can hear him sitting up.

“Sassafras?” Johnny tries, and you blow out a breath.

“It’s me.”

“Ya okay?” No.

“Yeah.” He sighs, and then starts to tell you about his day, his family, what he’s been doing in his off time. It’s not the first time you’ve called him in the middle of the night, and probably won’t be the last, and he knows it. He fills your head with mindless details, funny stories about his latest op and the 141, other things he thinks you’ll want to hear. You never talk, just listen, and he does a good job of distracting you from whatever it is that’s going on in your head until you’re chuckling on the other end of the line, spirit just a hair lighter than it was when you called.

“Thanks, Johnny.” You murmur into the phone.

“Anytime. One more thing-“

“Yeah?”

“Call your husband next time, yeah?” Prick.

“Bye, Soap.”

“Bye Sassy. Love ya. Kiss the wee lad for me.”

“I will.”

At ten in the morning, the doorbell rings. Even though he has a key, he won’t use it, just waits patiently for you to open the door, not wanting to encroach on your boundaries.

Theo runs straight at your legs when you open it, and you scoop him up in a big hug until he’s complaining, insisting you put him down and let him show you the picture that’s clutched in his hand, something he drew last night.

“That’s you!” he points to a sloppy stick figure that’s holding hands with a little stick figure, a bigger stick figure on its other side. “an’ that’s me and that’s dad!” His eyebrows raise and you rub his head affectionately.

“Good job, you’re a real artist!”

“Put it on fridge?” As soon as you nod your approval he takes off, running towards the kitchen, leaving you and Simon in the living room, the straps of his backpack fisted in his dad’s hand.

“Johnny called me this morning.” You draw a quick breath before letting it out slowly. Traitorous bastard. “If you want me to take him for the rest of the day so you can get some rest-“

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Simon sets the backpack down, and you hear the click and clack of the alphabet magnets against the stainless steel.

“You can… call me, too. If you want. If you need… someone to talk to.” You expect to rebuff him immediately, to snap at him, to tell him you don’t need to talk to anyone, let alone him. You want to. You want to keep taking it out on him, keep dumping it on him, over and over until there’s so much of it between the two of you that he’ll never find his way back. Why would he want to? After everything you’ve put him through? You’re broken. Useless.

“Why?” you blurt, and it surprises you. Looks like it surprises him too.

“You’re my wife, Sass. I love you.” Your skin feels hot and your heart thumps loudly in your ears. “Your trauma, the torture, what happened after… nothin’ is ever gonna change that.” You scoff, anger flickering in your veins, the heat of your irritation warming you from the inside out.

“You can’t mean that. Not after… everything that’s happened.” He studies you for a long moment, eyes pinning you where you shift your weight uneasily, until he’s raising the back of his hand, holding it upright to display the ring. The ring, that he refuses to take off. The ring, that he still wears, even after you tossed your own at his head. The ring, that has your call sign and his last name initialed on the inside.

“I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” He whispers it, and you swallow the lump in the back of your throat.

“Mum!” Theo yells, and you turn away, shoulders tight under your ears, fingers clenched together. “Mum, can we ‘ave popcorn?” Theo shouts again and you give him a tight-lipped smile when you reach the kitchen, your enthusiastic four-year-old trying to push a chair in front of the pantry.

“Popcorn?”

“Daddy said you might wanna watch a movie.” Theo pauses, eyes flicking between you, and his father, who you can just feel at your back, before he nods decisively, like he’s already determined that will be his next activity. “Moana?” He shrugs a little, face hopeful and you ruffle his hair.

“Sure, baby. We can watch Moana.” Your heart pangs when you realize that Simon probably told Theo you’d want a movie because he was thinking about how you didn’t sleep, how you might be too tired to go to the park or do something more involved. He’s still taking care of you, after everything. Still wears the ring, still calls you his wife, still tells you he loves you, he-

“Can daddy stay?” The room suddenly feels devoid of oxygen.

“I’m sure dad has things he’s got to do tod-“

“I don’t.” He cuts you off and you smother the glare that threatens to pull across your face. You look down at Theo, who’s so excited, so blissfully pleased at the idea, head shifting as he looks back and forth between the two of you and you crumble a little bit, unable to take his happiness away from him. You destroyed his family, why can’t you let him have this? Guilt sears across your skin, the pressure of it so intense that you’re nodding your agreement before you even realize it.

“Okay then.” Theo shouts with excitement and sprints to the couch.

“I can go, if you’re not comfortable.” Simon offers when he’s out of earshot and you shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. Makes him happy.”

“Mum! Make popcorn!” Theo calls to where the two of you still stand, an awkward distance apart in the kitchen.

“What did you forget?”

“Pwease?”

“Thank you, much better.” Your crinkle the thin plastic of the popcorn bag into the trash, the noise similar to the static that’s now playing in your head, before you clear your throat. “Want to uh, go get him settled? And then I’ll be in. In a minute.” Simon doesn’t respond, just disappears from the kitchen, and you focus on the minute countdown on the microwave while you take deep, long breaths, a desperate attempt to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible, until it beeps and you’re pulling the door open to dump the popped kernels doused in butter into a bowl.

You’re tracing the wood grain pattern in the living room floor between your feet when you distantly hear a voice, calling you over and over. It feels far away, impossibly far away, like you’re at the bottom of the ocean or you’re on another planet.

“Hey, mum.” Simon’s voice draws you out of the depths sharply, and he strokes a gentle fingertip down your arm, over the pockmarked scar beneath your shoulder. The touch startles you, your head snapping up to see Theo standing in front of the coffee table in a red cape, construction paper mask, and Simon sitting delicately on the couch next to you. “Someone’s trying to show you something.” He inclines his head to the excited little boy, and you blink before shaking your head, trying to clear the fog that’s settled in your brain.

When it doesn’t, you shake your head again, and then look to Simon hopelessly. He reads you instantly, ushering Theo upstairs, enticing him with blocks and promises of story time later.

Blood. The scent of blood fills your nostrils, so strong that you think it might be dripping from your face, washing over your tongue, filling your mouth, filling the whole house.

Not real. It’s not real. You’re not there, you’re here. There is no danger.

Large palms cover yours, and then you’re looking up at Simon, his eyes soft, sympathetic, and you know he knows. You know he can see, what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking.

He can see it all, because he’s been here before, too. He’s survived, he’s fought, he’s lived.

But he’s never been… this. He’s never been a nightmare. Never been useless. Never been this broken like this, dirty and pathetic like this, weak like this.

Simon was strong. He fought. You failed. You couldn’t even get back to him. Couldn’t get back to your baby, your family.

You feel his touch again and you choke on a gasp.

You can’t let him touch you, he’ll know. He’ll see it. He’ll feel it.

“D-don’t.” you hiss, forcing a hand forward to hold him at bay.

“Shhh. It’s just me, Sass. I’ve got you.”

“No, n-no.” He can’t know. “No, I… I need” You stand, stumbling forward, catching yourself on the coffee table before straightening, Simon’s confused gaze tracking your every step while you put as much distance between the two of you as possible. “I need to lay down.”

When you cross into the living room, Simon’s sitting on the couch, Theo already snuggled up into his side, both watching the television intently. Theo looks so happy, his eyes light and joy filled, body weightless with love and the knowledge that he’s with his family.

His family, that you broke. That you destroyed. That you took from him.

Simon’s thighs are spread wide, their width in his jeans momentarily distracting you before you’re cataloguing his face, his lips, his eyes, the line of his nose, all things you used to know better than yourself, things you used to be able to trace in the dark. Your stomach flips, and the walls of your house look like they’re shaking, the buzzing noise in the back of your head roaring to life, drowning out the sound of Moana singing to sea.

“Mum?” Theo calls, hand out for the popcorn, and you deposit the bowl on the table before you’re backing away.

“I have to go fix something, in the kitchen really quick.” You explain to him, and he shrugs, eyes fixing back on the movie, fingers mindlessly bringing pieces of popcorn to his mouth.

Theo doesn’t notice when you take the stairs instead of turning into the kitchen, but you know Simon does, and you’re not surprised when he’s rapping his knuckles against your locked bedroom door, where you’re sitting with you back against the wood, hands pressed to your head, trying to control your breathing. He knocks again, but there’s only silence to answer him, and it stretches on for miles.

“Sass?” you hear him shift, feel his weight press against the door and at first you think he’s trying to come through but then you realize, he’s sitting against the other side, just like you.

His fingers slide underneath where there’s a gap between the floor and the door, just wide enough for a few fingers, just enough for you to see the glint of his ring.

Without thinking, your own fingers cover his.

Neither of you speak.

#sassy series #simon x sass #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x female reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod mw2

490 notes · View notes

joels-golf-club · 10 months

Text

Exhaustion

A/n: So this turned out way more angsty than I originally planned it to be but whatever. I also kinda hate it but I just wanted to write a little bit to get back into the swing of things.

All my work is 18+ MDI

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Lowkey angsty but fluff at the end, kinda established relationship, reader doesn't know how to cope, miscommunication, implied traumatic past, mention of nightmares, post outbreak! Joel, no use of Y/n, swearing, self harm in the form of sleep deprivation if that's a thing. Please don't read if any of this is triggering to you.

When you were out on the road it was easy to avoid your nightmares. You would barely sleep in between watches with Joel, and when you did it was a light enough sleep that you wouldn't ever dream.

But in Jackson it was different. It took a few months to get adjusted to the new way of life, the somewhat normal life in the commune. Once you, Ellie and Joel had gotten used to the new town you had quickly fallen into a routine. Ellie would go to school while you and Joel took patrols with each other before coming back home to share a bed. For a while you would still sleep light enough that your dreams, or rather nightmares couldn't reach you in Joel's strong embrace, but eventually you got comfortable and your past crawled it's way into your subconscious.

On more than one occasion you had jolted awake in a panic not knowing where you were while Joel was forced to calm you down. It was these moments that filled you with guilt and shame. Joel had been through just as much, if not more than you had and he didn't need you ruining what little sleep he got just because you couldn't handle something that you had escaped from over a year ago. It was then that you decided to push through and suck it up. If Joel could handle a little trauma, then so could you.

So as the days went on you forced yourself to sleep as little as possible. Sure it made you a little jumpier on patrol but so far Joel hadn't noticed and you hoped he would just chalk the bags under your eyes up to long patrols nights and 'waking up' earlier than usual. You had made it almost a month sleeping just enough to keep you functioning, which meant about an hour or two a night, before Joel decided to corner you during patrol.

"So you gonna tell me what's going on with you?" He spoke one day while you were hiking up to a abandoned hunting cabin that had been shaped into a patrol outpost you two occasionally spent a weekend on patrol at.

His words caused you to momentarily freeze up during which he sent a glance over his shoulder at you, eyeing your reaction. "What do you mean?" The words left your mouth carefully with no emotion as you tried to focus on anything other than your pounding headache and the way Joel kept glancing back at you. Just another mile and then you would avoid Joel at the cabin. You've held off this conversation for a month, you could do it for another 30 minutes.

Joel, however, seem to think otherwise. He scoffed at your response and stopped walking, causing you to pause for a moment before walking past him towards the cabin. Just a little more...

"Don't bullshit me, darlin'. You're shaking and sweating right now just walking when you can usually do this hike without breaking a sweat. You're pale and you've had bags under your eyes for the past month. So tell me what the fuck is going on and why you won't talk to me."

Shit.

He noticed. Those weeks you had gone laying in bed awake while we slept at your back and you tried to play it off hadn't gone unseen like you had hoped. Now he was mad at you and you were just causing him more stress, the opposite of what you hoped your efforts would do. "It's nothing Joel. Just drop it, alright?" you kept walking and ignored the ever growing headache pulsing behind your eyes as the exhaustion caught up to you after not getting a wink of sleep the past three days and then hiking with this conversation thrown at you. Joel called out your name angrily and stormed up to you forcing you to stop walking and face him. The cabin was only a quarter mile up now.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!"

"Yeah, and I'm trying to avoid it!" You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth because they only confirmed that something was wrong.

"And why's that, huh? What aren't you telling me?" His expression changed then and he dropped his gaze down to his hands for a moment. "Did I do something wrong? Is that why you won't talk to me?" His fears broke through you just a bit and you could feel your throat tighten up against the tears building up. When you spoke your voice came out thick and brittle.

"Jesus, Joel, no it isn't you. Shit. You didn't do anything wrong, it's just me, okay? It's just something I have to handle." Joel met your eyes again then and stared into your glazed over gaze. He only nodded then and started walking again. Thank fucking God, he was dropping it.

It wasn't until you thought Joel was fast asleep that your exhaustion truly hit you. You knew that if you slept now you would be out hard and it would be impossible to avoid the memories of unwanted grasps against your skin and cries of pain as you were struck would reach you. So instead of laying in bed with Joel where you knew you would be out in seconds if you stayed any longer you slowly climbed off the dusty bed and downstairs to sit by the fire place where a few glowing coals remained from your earlier tense dinner.

You sat there for what could've been hours or minutes just rubbing your temples with shaking hands, trying to physically force away your pounding migraine. You hadn't even noticed Joel appearing in the doorway until his voice caused you to all but jump out of your skin.

"This is you handling it then?" His voice was raspy with still and you couldn't help but be jealous at the precious hours he had to sleep in peace. "Jesus christ darlin, when's the last time you slept?"

His words immediately brought tears to your eyes and the walls you had spent weeks building high came crashing down. You crumbled as the first sob tore through your body, your entire being shook and you brought your hands up to cover your face as shame and pain ripped into you.

Joel was upon you in seconds and wrapped you up in his strong embrace as he slowly rocked you back and forth, trying to calm you down. "Breath, darlin', just breath. Listen to me okay? In...and out," when you only continued to shake and sob in his arms he lifted one hand to your face and used the other the grab your own hand and place it against his chest, forcing you to feel his deep breaths. "Come on you gotta work with me here. You feel my breaths? Yeah, you do, just match my breathing, I know you can do it. In, and out. Yeah, just like that, good job." When your breathing had finally evened out and all that remained was a few sniffles you began to speak.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, I didn't mean to wake you up. You can go back to bed." Joel just grabbed the back of your head and pressed you into his chest while shaking his head.

"Don't do that. Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong. I just need to know what happened so I can help you, alright?"

You shook your head and mumbed against him, "I don't wanna tell you." When you looked at his face he had a deep frown and concern etched across his features.

"Why not, darlin'. You know I'm here to help you, that's how this thing works." He gently pulled you away from his chest and made you look at his face while he spoke.

"I don't want you to think I'm weak..." You avoided eye contact when you saw his face crumble and realization flood his gaze. He had finally figured it out.

"It's your nightmares isn't it?" You just barely nodded and continued staring at the ground you sat on. "You've been forcing yourself to stay awake? Sweetheart, you can't do that, it'll get you killed out here if you aren't able to function properly. Why didn't you just come to me?" His words were spoken quietly but still firm in your ear.

"I didn't want to be a burden. You've been through so much as well and you don't wake up screaming every night. You're so strong. I didn't want to make you see how weak I am, so I figured if I just didn't sleep then they wouldn't be able to hurt me again." You shook your head in disbelief at yourself and scratched at your arms anxiously. "God I spent so long getting out of there and trying to heal and I'm still just the dumb little slave. Nothing's changed." Joel grabbed your arms and forced your scratching to stop and looked you in the eye with anger behind his eyes.

"Hey. Don't say that shit. What you went through is unspeakable and it doesn't make you weak to be affected by it." You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off before you could get any words out. "No, I'm talking right now. You are so incredibly strong, darlin'. You've been through so much and you still manage to push forward and live. So don't you dare call yourself weak because that is absolute bullshit and we've promised not to lie to each other. How about we go upstairs and get you some sleep, and if you have a nightmare you wake me up, I don't care how often or what time it is and you tell me what you need me to do, okay?"

You nodded your head and leaned forward to press a soft, barely there kiss to his lips that he immediately reciprocated. "Thank you. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me for anything, darlin. This is what I'm here for. Please don't ever feel like you can't tell me stuff like this, alright." You just nodded again and allowed him to help you back upstairs into bed where you fell asleep in his strong embrace within seconds of your head hitting the pillow.

#x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou series #joel #joel the last of us #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff

259 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 11 months

Text

Death Becomes Us//Part 2: When Doves Cry vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader//True Blood AU

⚠️18+Only pls⚠️ adult themes, blood, drinking blood, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, violence, reader and vampire!Eddie both get physically hurt--but they end up okay, talk of needles, alcohol consumption, talk of addiction, mention of sex, sanguivoriphobia, talk of the supernatural, death. Word Count: 6.7k

Series Masterlist

Summary: You start your first day at Main Vein, the vampire/human crossover bar owned by Bob Newby, flanked by vampire!bartender!Argyle and you learn what a risk humans can be to vampires as you begin to navigate their world. You and Eddie have to rescue each other as you're forced to share an intimate exchange that brings you irrevocably close. Playlist

Important words/phrases for this chapter: Fanger (derogatory term for vampires) Fang Banger (derogatory term for people who like to be bitten by vampires during sex) Sanguivoriphobia (fear of vampires)

✂️

If you are in the group of people who are familiar with True Blood, parts of this chapter will feel familiar. I won't be sticking to the storyline of the show religiously, but there are so many clever elements I wanted to incorporate. Please read the warnings above, as some of the things mentioned in this chapter might not be for everyone. ❤️

--------

Death Becomes Us Part 2: When Doves Cry

For years, you tried to cover your scars up with makeup, but then they ended up looking lumpy and odd, and it made people stare even harder trying to figure out what was under the heavy layers of foundation and powder. You’d never met anyone like you before, and it made you feel a type of deep loneliness that you never talked about because you knew no one would understand.

You’d left some tuna on your porch for Dio before you went to bed, and you were pleased to find the saucer licked clean when you left your trailer the next day. You could tell that she was well fed and that your nasty vampire neighbor was taking good care of her, but you wanted to reward her for proving to Eddie that she did, indeed, like someone other than him.

The white BMW was gone, and the old van was back, parked next to Eddie’s trailer. You were more curious and interested in whatever he was up to than you should be, considering you wanted nothing to do with him.

It was still daylight out when you rolled up early to Main Vein, and Bob got you to work writing out the specials on a sandwich board in your best handwriting, to hopefully attract customers in as they strolled by on the sidewalk. You shadowed Bob as he taught you the basics of tending bar while a couple humans (also known as “breeders” in the vampire world, because vampires, of course, could not procreate) came in for a few simple beers, and one guy ordered a jack and coke.

As a child, you were always an emphatic soul; you could tell what a person was feeling, even if they told you with their words that they were feeling something else. It was a trauma response to surviving in the emotional chaos you grew up in. Now, since the accident, you could read human emotions and intentions with ten times the intensity.

Vampires, on the other hand, were impervious to your gift—or, curse, as you often referred to it.

For instance, you could tell that Bob Newby had a heart of gold; his enthusiasm was not a fake front to hide dark intentions. He truly loved his vampire girlfriend, whom you had yet to meet, and he harbored nothing but the best intentions in the brainstorming of his human/vampire crossover bar Main Vein. He believed that vampires were good people who just happened to be dead, and that we were all equals, despite the fact that they were stronger, faster, immortal, and subsided on blood alone.

You were behind the bar, concentrating on putting the exact amount of alcohol in a drink that the recipe card in front of you called for, when Argyle slid in next to you and bumped your arm. His skin felt like ice.

“Careful!” He snickered. “Don’t spill any,” but half of the liquid had already dripped down your fingers. Since you couldn’t get a read on vampire’s emotions, it was a relief for you to be around them. Feeling other people’s emotions often meant that you had to experience them, and that was not to your benefit in many cases. Being around crowds of people sapped your energy in a way you still struggled to recover from.

Argyle wore his black hair straight and parted down the middle; it was shiny and soft and you wanted to touch it. He had on a colorful, button down shirt, and a blue visor that said Main Vein on it. He nodded at what you were working on, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whadda we got going on here?”

You sighed and told him what the customer ordered. Argyle smiled and waved you off. “I got this, foxy dudette. Let the master take over,” he cracked his knuckles and interlaced his fingers, flexing his palms out before he brought things from the under bar at lightning speed.

You were more than happy to shove off and get to the group at the front waiting to be seated.

When you were half way there with menus tucked under your arm, you realized that this group was mean and anxious and desperate; a combination that made alarms go off inside of you as your skin exploded in a wash of goosebumps.

They were nice enough to your face, though. It was a woman with two men, all dressed in denim and plaid; one of the men had an American flag on the front of his t-shirt. The other one had his greasy hair squished under a trucker cap, and two missing teeth in front. The redhead woman wore an Ed Hardy tube top under her flannel, and she was pretty in a whiskey and Marlboro reds kind of way. Her smile was big and gracious as she smacked her green gum, and they followed you to a booth.

They ordered a round of beers with potato skins from the appetizer menu, and just as you excused yourself to give their order to Bob in the kitchen, the woman grabbed your wrist.

You squeezed your eyes closed until you could calm the surge that went through your body when you felt threatened, waiting for the fire behind your eyes to settle before you met her gaze again.

“Sorry, darlin’ but this is a bar for vampires, too, right?” She was bent forward, whispering to you, her pupils tightly pinned in her dusty blue eyes. There was a faded, long stem rose tattoo on her white freckled forearm.

“Um, yes,” you looked around. “Will there be more with your party? Should I bring over a menu with our plasma options?”

The two men chuckled across the table at each other as if you’d just made a joke.

“That’s okay, baby,” the woman said sweetly, releasing your arm. “But, are there any vampires in here right now? Me and the boys were just hoping to see one up close, is all.”

You thought about what they were asking you, and the fact that their emoting of desperation was getting stronger, and decided not to point Argyle out to them. They’d eventually figure that one out for themselves because he loved to show his teeth. “I’m not really sure,” you lied with a shrug. “I never can tell the difference.”

The woman frowned and turned back to the two men as they started to discuss something.

The other waitress, a human named Erica Sinclair, tucked her Main Vein t-shirt into her shorts as she joined you on the floor, rolling her eyes. Bob introduced the two of you in a rush as he flipped a burger, and Erica gave you a bored look, but her gaze did not linger on your your scars like most. “You’re new here, right? You’re smiling, so you must be. Nothing much to smile about around here.”

You told her you’d only been in town a few days as you grabbed a second round of beers for the table that had been asking about vampires. You weren’t paying too much attention when the front door opened, but then some of the other customers seemed to still, conversations coming to a halt, and Erica’s attention shifted over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

The song When Doves Cry by Prince was playing on the stereo system as you turned on your heel to witness your neighbor Eddie step across the threshold with ease; one initial invitation was all that was needed, apparantly. According to Bob, invitations could also be reversed if necessary. It was the couple waiting behind Eddie for their invitation that alerted everyone to the presence of something supernatural.

The two behind him could’ve easily passed as “regular” mortals. They had a very mom and pop look about them; she was a brunette in a floral dress and he was in trousers, a dark blue button down, and had a receding hairline. She clutched her white handbag at her stomach, and the man with her had his hand at her back, coaxing her in.

Eddie pretended not to see you there as he cupped a hand to light his cigarette and made his way over to the bar to take his normal seat at the end to order a Fang Tang, not even giving a second glance to the vampires stuck outside. Maybe they weren’t his friends? Not all vampires were friends, surely, as you were not close with all humans.

Bob would’ve been the first to greet them and welcome them in, but he was knee deep in the kitchen, wearing his “Bob the Brain” custom embroidered apron, and when you turned to Erica, she shook her head. “I’m not a fan of the Fangers myself. It’s going to take me a minute to get used to this new world.”

Your eyes snapped to Argyle, but he was busy at the other end of the bar doing a Tom Cruise juggling act with the booze to impress two of the local Fang Bangers.

So you straitened your shirt, squared your shoulders, and made your way over to greet them.

Meanwhile, the redhead woman with the rose tattoo on her arm and the two men with her were hyper focused on the new arrivals; you could feel the cold, wet tug of some kind of rot in their veins, surging though them and clouding their rational thoughts.

At the time, you did not know that there was an underground market for vampire blood, not only for its healing properties, but the euphoric high and transcendent experience it gifted the user. It enhanced sexual performance and gave humans the mental prowess of superhuman strength. Needless to say, it was a highly prized commodity; expensive and addictive.

Hunched at the bar in his leather and battle vest, and a handkerchief hanging from his back pocket, Eddie appeared to be ignoring you as you walked to greet the newcomers. You had never professionally invited a vampire in before, so you might have overcompensated with how cheerful your tone was. “Welcome to Main Vein,” you plastered a smile across your face. “Please enter and follow me. I will show you to your seat,” you also added a slight bow and extension of your arm like you were back in theater class again.

They stepped inside with a swoosh—a sound like they were breaking some invisible barrier you couldn’t see. They asked for a booth, and the only one out of the five that was available happened behind the party that was eager to see vampires up close: now they would get their chance. This vampire couple was not at all what you envisioned when people talked of “bloodsuckers from hell”. They seemed grateful to be able to come out to a bar with regular people---perhaps it reminded them of the human lives they’d once lived.

The guy in the trucker hat with two missing teeth turned around in his seat to get a better look as they sat and you offered them the plasma menus. You explained the different categories for synthetic blood, and how each offered the same taste and nutrients as real human blood. They offered replicas of a whole range of blood types, for those vampires with discerning palettes. You frowned at the guy in the trucker hat to make him turn back around and take his seat.

On your way back to the kitchen, Erica caught you by the elbow, her eyes wide. “What did they say to you?”

“They just wanted menus,” you said with a shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the couple in question. “I don’t think they’re all as bad as they seem on the news.”

“Oh, believe me,” She gave you a dire look. “They are evil. Don’t let the Laura Ashley dress and the Newport loafers fool you.” Truly, Erica had not yet properly met more than a handful of vampires in her life, she’d only heard the rumors.

“Have you ever met one?” You asked, assuming that she’d known plenty.

“I’ve met enough of them,” she promised, hands on her hips, and then she gestured to your neighbor at the end of the bar. “I know Eddie. But that’s only because I met him...before the change. And I’m forced to be around Argyle because I work here.”

When Erica walked off, you made the mistake of glancing over at the Eddie in question, and he tried to lower his eyes to his synthetic blood beverage as if he hadn't been watching you.

Argyle was working a metal cocktail shaker over his shoulder when you came back to the bar, and he nudged his chin at you. “What’s up with the freaks?” He asked, referring to the redhead with the rose tattoo and the two beefy men with her. He filled two martini glasses with a dark red concoction and trimmed each with a tiny pink flower.

You leaned forward a bit so you wouldn’t have to yell, tilting your head. “They specifically asked if there were any vampires here tonight,” you glanced over at Eddie again, but he was engrossed in something he was doodling on a napkin. “Do you think they’re tourists?”

“Nah,” Argyle wiped his hands on the rag at his waist, eyeing the table in question. “That’s Angie Klemp and her inbred brothers. They’ve been around forever.”

You could tell by his expression that he was weary of them, and you knew that he had excellent hearing which probably allowed him to listen in on some of what they were saying as they huddled together at their booth.

Wanting to change the subject, Argyle winked at you. “You’re doing a rad job, surfer girl. These are for the vampire couple that just sat down,” he pushed the two martini glasses toward you. “It’s our signature synthetic blood cocktail. Tell them it’s on the house.”

As the night picked up a bit, you took an order to the wrong table and fumbled a glass that shattered behind the bar. While you were cleaning that up, and mumbling apologies to Argyle, a woman wearing glasses and her honey-streaked brown hair in a bob took a seat at the small table by the window. Erica had a tray of drinks in her hand, so you dumped a dustpan full of glass in the trash and went over to wait on the new guest.

“Do I know you?” You asked as you took your pad and pen out to take her order.

She clamped her top teeth over her bottom lip, tucking hair behind her ear, shyly. “I own the bookstore down the street,” she answered. “You were in earlier, but I never got a chance to introduce myself.”

Of course, it came to you almost as quickly as she said it. You’d been so early for work that you took a walk around the block and ended up wandering into the quaint bookshop on the corner with the wind chimes made from seashells in the window. You had mentioned to her as you purchased a used paperback that you were starting work that day.

“The bookstore with the cats,” you grinned, pointing your pen at her. There had, indeed, been two resident cats in the shop, lazily draped over their carpeted perches in the sun, and sleepy, cream colored bigger dog behind the front counter.

“That’s the one,” she nodded, and then she stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Robin, in case you ever come back in, you can ask for me,” that seemed to fluster her and she shook her head. “You don’t have to ask for me, I’m usually there, but if you ever come by again, that would be nice.” Her cheeks got pink as she fumbled for the glass of ice water in front of her and took a sip.

You met her eyes and told her that you be back in soon to finish the series you were reading, and then she ordered a glass of wine with her salad. You could tell her heart was racing. She was nervous and excited to see you, as if maybe she’d had to give herself a pep talk before she came in. You noticed there was a certain warmth about her that wasn’t present in other humans. Whereas vampires were abnormally cold; Robin was pumping off heat like she had a temperature, and you were instantly fascinated by her.

----------

A bit later in the evening, Eddie said his goodbyes to Argyle, and you took casual note of his departure out of the corner of your eye while you bussed a table.

What you also noticed was the way Angie Klemp and her brothers paid quickly, and got up to follow Eddie out only a minute behind him. They’d had 6 beers and just as many tequila shots between them, and you got the feeling that they were up to no good. The two men were tapping their knees under the table, and scratching their necks and hands as if being actively attacked by ants.

The pulses of emotional electricity coming off of them instantly made your pores on your scalp blossom with sweat at how panicked they were; how hell bent. But again, what would they want with Eddie? To take their picture with him? That was a common tourist occurrence in Hawkins. But, the tourists in question usually preferred the subject to look like a stereotypical vampire; maybe wearing a cape, or dressed like Elvira. As far as you could tell, vampires usually kept with the same style they had when they were turned.

Eddie did naturally have that “vampire” look, though. He was a loner, he wore all black, he had spooky tattoos, and that long dark hair framing his pale face.

You were refilling someone’s water when you overheard Erica tell a guy at the bar to stop staring at her ass before she stabbed his eyes out with her pen, and it made you chuckle, mostly because you knew she wasn’t bluffing.

Ten minutes or so later, you were grabbing napkins from the storeroom in the back hall when you heard high pitched voices, screaming at each other from the alleyway parking lot. You hesitated with your hand on the shelf, wondering if it was just two people arguing and probably none of your business, but then you heard another scream, and decided to crack the door and peek out.

You had to scan the area at first, but then your eyes widened as they took in what was happening: against the brick wall of the next building, in a parking space between two cars, your neighbor Eddie was on the ground, his neck and wrists wrapped in silver chain, pinning him to the ground. You gasped and swallowed as you saw the steam rise up from where the silver was burning his flesh, his mouth set in a grimace.

Angie Klemp made fast work of jabbing a needle into the crease of each of his elbows draining his blood through tubing into clear bags. The brother in the American flag shirt paced at Eddie’s feet, barely able to contain his need for the drug, and the other one with two missing teeth kicked Eddie in the leg and then spat on him. “Yeah? Whadda ya think about that? Not so tough now, are you, Fanger?”

You stepped inside only to grab the fire extinguisher off the wall before heading back out, careful not to make any noise as the door shut. You tip toed around so that you were hidden behind the van next to them.

Angie seemed to be doing all the work, jerking the port out to fill another bag on the filthy pavement. “Goddamn it, I knew we should’ve taken him home first. This is risky as hell.”

“There’s no time for that!” The brother with two missing teeth took his hat off and scratched his head viciously. “I need some of the blood now, can’t I just have a little bit?”

Angie threw him a disgusted look. “You’re a fuckin’ addict, Clyde. How are we supposed to make money on this shit if you drink up all the profits? Get your shit together!”

You peeked your head out from behind the van, and Eddie saw you. His eyes were black and his fangs were out, but the silver had him rendered completely incapacitated. You could only imagine that the amount of blood they were taking was also making him weak.

You lifted up the fire extinguisher to let him know you were coming to his rescue, but he shook his head, trying to warn you off.

The two beefy men were too caught up in the throws of withdrawals and had their backs to you as you came up behind them. With a mighty heave, you cracked one in the back of the head with the big metal canister, and then when the other one turned around, you sprayed him in the face with the foam that comes out of the nozzle, blinding him. He clapped his hand to his face, yowling, and tripped himself on his own feet, going down hard.

Angie slowly stood, realizing that both men were on the ground, dazed, and she gave you a nasty snarl. “Why, you stupid, cut face whore,” she bit out just before she lunged at you.

You were about to swing the canister at her face when, from out of nowhere, a huge, boxy, beige pit bull terrier lunged from the darkness, barking and growling at Angie, barring its teeth, forcing her to back up. You looked down, a bit shocked: you’d never seen that dog before in your life. Would it attack you next? Hesitant, you let the dog move between the two of you, protectively, as it curled its lip and growled.

You pointed the nozzle at the woman. “Try us, bitch.”

The pit bull started barking a loud alarm that would soon have people coming to see what the hell was going on. Angie clenched her hands in the air as if she wanted to wring your neck, and then she was shouting for the two stumbling men to get in the truck.

“Go, go, go, you dickheads,” Angie demanded, grabbing the one covered in white goo by the collar, dragging him along.

The one with the crack to his skull was bleeding down the side of his head. “But what about the blood? Let’s take the blood!”

You and your new, aggressive pit bull friend stepped in front of Eddie, your weapon ready. “Don’t even think about it, fucker.”

You waited for them to pile in the truck and speed away before you dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground with a thunk and got on your knees next to Eddie, bits of gravel cutting into your shin.

The pit bull licked your cheek and stood guard next to you, looking from you to Eddie as if it understood everything that was going on, head tilting every so often. You were too concerned with how the silver was sizzling on his skin like bacon on a frying pan to wonder about your new companion. There were still needles in his arms and you slipped them out, cringing as you did so. You watched in awe as the hole marks in his arms disappeared and healed right before your very eyes.

“Can you move?” You asked him.

Eddie could barely talk, the pain of the silver was so excruciating. That, and he was extremely low functioning after so much blood loss. If those three had wanted to end him, they very well could have. He wondered how many vampires they had trapped and drained over the past few years.

He managed a scratchy, whispered, “no. It’s...the silver…”

With a gulp, you went to work unwrapping the chain from his neck and then his wrists, peeling layers of skin with it. He was an immortal vampire, but you could only imagine how much it must hurt, and yet, he hadn’t even made whimper.

His eyes never left you as you worked on him so diligently, your brows knitted together with focused determination. His neck was kinked forward, as his head and shoulders were propped up against the brick wall.

Unwrapping the last coil from around his wrist, you noticed that the wounds were staying the same, and you met his eyes. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I’m too weak right now,” his eyes flicked away from you. “I won’t be able to heal until I feed.”

At that, the pit bull whined, and took its cue to turn and disappear back into the night.

You looked over your shoulder at the door to Main Vein. “Would synthetic blood work?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head once, rolling it against the wall. “Has to be...human,” he breathed, bangs sticking to his clammy forehead.

His once rosy lips were pale and the mangled wounds left from the silver made you feel bad for him, even though you weren’t even sure if you liked him.

“What if I just left you here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Would you die?”

The corners of his mouth stuck together as he talked. “If I don’t feed soon, I won’t be able to protect myself. More will come to take my blood, and if I’m still out here at daybreak then, yes, the sunlight will kill me.”

Your gaze moved from his ripped throat to his eyes again, hovering there. There was a thick leather cuff on your wrist that you used to cover up your scar, but you undid the buckle, exposing the underside of your forearm. You wondered if he was too weak to expose his fangs, so you used the back of one of your earrings to slice a thin opening across your skin, wincing in pain as you did so.

Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation as you lifted the bleeding gash to his mouth. He couldn’t lift his arms, so you pressed it there, and his eyes locked on yours as you felt his tongue lick across the cut just before his eye went black and he began to suck, moaning, drinking you as a small trickle of blood dripped down to his chin.

At one point, he got some of his strength back, and his hand with the three silver, chunky rings came up to push your forearm against his eager mouth as he fed, and your heart raced at the sight of it. The passion of his need made your pussy clench around nothing as you knelt there in the grimy parking lot.

When his swallowing finally slowed, you tugged your arm away and clutched it to the underside of your apron. Eddie licked his blood-stained lips and met your eyes again. “Seriously,” he was strong enough now to brace his hands and push himself up so that his back was no longer on the ground. He leaned close as if he could read the answers in your eyes. “What are you?”

Your face was inches from his. “Do I taste different?”

“Yes,” he returned, without hesitation. The mauled skin around his neck and wrists were completely healed. “I’ve never tasted anyone like you before.”

You got to your feet, clipping your leather cuff back on, realizing you’d need to find a first aid kit before you went back to work.

“I owe you big time,” Eddie looked you up and down as he sat for a bit to catch his breath. “If you ever need---”

The back door to Main Vein opened and Erica was standing there with her arms crossed, shouting across the parking lot at you. “What the hell is going on out here? Am I working the floor by myself tonight or what?”

You walked to the back end of the van to tell her you’d be right in, and when you turned back to say something to Vampire Eddie---he was gone.

-------

“What the hell were you thinking?” Erica blanched as she helped you wrap up your arm at the desk in Bob’s office. “You know these Fangers eat people, right?”

She was still yelling, but you were trying not to take it personal. “Well, he didn’t eat me, so I guess there are exceptions.”

“What the hell do you call him drinking your blood, then?” Erica had a very soft touch while bandaging you up, careful to make sure she cleaned the wound and inspected you to make sure you didn’t have a bite mark.

“You girls okay?” Bob came around the corner, flushed, his face red and glistening in sweat from a long night behind the grill.

Erica jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. “This one decided to play vigilantly in the parking lot to save one of your vampire buddies.”

Bob beamed. “Aw, you made a vampire friend? They’re awesome aren’t they?”

This time, you and Erica exchanged a confused look.

---------

At the end of your shift, Bob and Argyle stayed to finish up with two vampire customers at the bar who were lingering. With a heavy sigh, you took your blue, blood-stained apron off, grabbed things from your wood cubby in the back, and then walked with Erica down to the end of the sidewalk. The two of you had to split up and go in separate directions because your hearse was parked at the curb, and Erica only lived a few blocks away. You offered her a ride home, but she declined. You could feel that she had some personal issues weighing on her heart, and besides that, she had a deep well of emotions inside for the people she cared about, and it took her a while to trust people and open up. If you didn’t have your curse, you’ve might’ve just assumed she hated you.

It was late, but because of growing vampire population in civilized areas, there were several lights in windows, and the low hum of conversations drifting down from higher up apartments. There were streetlamps on each corner, but the dark side of the building cast a heavy shadow on you as you fumbled for your keys.

You were just about to unlock the door when you heard the shuffling of footsteps, and then before you could turn, the hard edge of a rope edge dug into your neck, gagging you, and then you were yanked back, off your feet. You tried to scream, but it only came out as a gargle. Your ass caught most of the fall to the pavement, but then your head clapped back onto the hard surface and it caused a ringing sound in your skull. The person holding the rope around your neck pulled it tighter, and you struggled, kicking your feet, trying to get free.

Angie Klemp and her brother in the American flag t-shirt were standing above you, sneering. She kicked you in the ribs and you wailed at the pain. She squatted down to mock you. “Oh, darn, I guess that fanger boyfriend of yours isn’t around to return the favor now, is he?”

They were dragging you now, pulling you by the neck around into the alleyway where no one could see what they were about to do to you.

Your vision was getting blurry as you heard the woman's voice again. “You cost me five thousand dollars worth of fanger blood, and we’re gonna take it out of your ass.”

The rope burned as it slipped off your neck and you were somehow able to roll on your side and stand, just as one of the men punched you across the face and you went down again, coughing, tasting blood. You were on your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath, and one of them kicked the steel toe of their boot into your stomach, making you double over in pain as they laughed, tears squeezing from your eyes as you tasted bile.

You wondered if you were going to die there.

In a blink, with spots in your eyes, you tried to focus as you swore you saw the guy in the trucker hat get his neck broken right there where he stood. His head twisted all the way around, forced by seemingly invisible hands, and then he slumped to the ground, dead. Before the other two could figure out what was happening, you saw Eddie pick the guy with the American flag shirt up and throw him onto the hood of a car, his head crashing through the windshield with a bloody splat. Angie tried to run, but Eddie caught her by the back of her neck and picked her up off of her feet. With one hand, he threw her into the nearby dumpster and slammed the lid with a bang.

This had all been done in seconds; he moved at the speed of light.

You were on your side, choking on blood, feeling scared as your vision began to tunnel. But then, strong arms were lifting you up as Eddie scooped you against his chest, “I got you, I got you,” he murmured against your bloody head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You might have blacked out for a bit because when you opened your eyes, you were on the grass in the park across the street, propped up against a tree. You mewed in pain as your head throbbed and you choked on a sticky pool of blood in the back of your throat.

Eddie took his jacket and denim off as he knelt in front of you, revealing the Metallica t-shirt he had on. You tried to hold your head up as he produced his fangs and sank them into his own arm, and then held the leaking bite marks out to you.

“You need to drink my blood, so you can heal,” he said. He didn’t want to scare you in that moment, but you had a serious gash in your skull, and he had no idea how bad that kick you took had affected your internal organs.

You tried to push away from him, your eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“You won’t be,” he assured you. “Believe me, I don’t want this for you, either.”

There was a tenderness in him then that you were noticing for the first time. You’d been taken by surprise, but under normal circumstances, you would’ve been able to handle the Klemps on your own. You weren’t used to feeling helpless and in need of someone’s care. You could feel the blood dripping down your neck and your vision was starting to fade again.

“Just a little bit,” you breathed, sticky lips parted.

Eddie cupped your head in one hand as he brought his arm over, similar to how you had fed him earlier. The weeping holes from his fang marks were right in the middle of one of his tattoos and you closed your eyes as your mouth latched on, nursing on him like your life depended on it---which it did. It tasted ordinary, like sucking on a penny, but it felt like velvet on your tongue, warming your insides.

Consumed with a sudden lust for the juice in his veins, you sucked harder, whimpering, and you didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes went back as he growled in the back of his throat at the pleasure of the sensation. You drank until your brain stopped throbbing, and then you rested your head back against the tree, a smear of his blood across your chin.

You noticed Eddie was close to you, his mouth at your temple as he licked a bit of your blood from a scratch there as it was healing. You jerked to the side, surprised to catch him wanting to sample you again.

Your eyes locked. “What do I taste like?”

He searched your face, aroused by the sight of his blood on your mouth. “Like...memories. Like ice cream and summer breeze and suntan lotion melting on warm skin.”

Your lips were almost touching as he confessed this to you. There was no vocabulary for him to properly explain the many layered depth to your blood; it was sweet and savory, and it also tingled in the back of his throat like pop rocks or fireworks and made him feel alive again if only for a few moments.

You lifted your hand to your throat to find that the rope burn was gone, and your ribs didn’t feel like they were broken. You were just about to ask him another question, but then he was on his feet in a flash, putting his jacket on.

“Also,” he flipped his hair out of the collar of his leather. “Now that you have my blood in you, I’ll always know where you are,” it sounded more cryptic than he meant for it to, and so he added, “just in case you ever need my help again.”

You frowned. “But, how will you know if I need help?”

He busied himself rolling his cuffs up. “I’ll be able to sense your fear.”

You were letting that sink in when he spoke up again. “And don’t be surprised if you have some dreams about me.”

“Dreams?” You raised an eyebrow.

He turned his head and rested his tongue between his teeth as he figured out how to say it. “The sexual kind.”

“Oh,” you looked down, suddenly embarrassed. He stood there shuffling his foot on the grass and you had so many questions for him. How had he become a vampire? Was it something that he chose, or was it forced on him? How long had he been one? You were trying to choose which one to ask when he spoke.

“Hop up,” he said, gesturing for you to get on his back like you were a little girl. “I’ll take you back to your hearse.”

Normally, you hated when men tried to pick you up, but Vampire Eddie carried you across the street like you weighed no more than air. You had your arms around his shoulders and his hands were cupped under your thighs; the vanilla sandalwood of his hair blew across your face in soft tendrils. He lowered you to the ground once he got to the parking lot, and you both looked down the alleyway at the Klemp bodies that Eddie had dropped in his effort to rescue you.

You swallowed. “It’s illegal for vampires to kill humans,” you said in a hush. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this. I’ll tell the police I was---”

“No police,” Eddie stopped you in a gruff voice. His jaw muscles flexed as he turned to you. “It’s also illegal for humans to drain a vampire for sport,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and bit one with his teeth to pull it out of the pack. It bounced there as he talked, squinting one eye at you. “I’ll take care of them, you don’t have to worry about it, princess.”

Since he’d just saved your life, you decided to let him get away with the pet name.

He lit his smoke and took a tight, hissing inhale before aiming the exhale over your head. “I’ll stay here to make sure you get on the road okay.”

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah, I suppose I should get home and take a shower,” you noticed that your bag was in the gutter next to your front tire and you bent to pick it up, along with your keys up. “Guess I’ll see you around the trailer park.”

Inside the hearse, you watched from your rear view mirror as vampire Eddie leaned his back against the wall to smoke and make sure no one bothered you. He picked something off his tongue as you started the engine, and then you lowered your head to shift into gear.

You were not surprised this time to find him gone when you looked up.

-----

"Dig if you will the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss The sweat of your body covers me Can you my darling? Can you picture this? Dream if you can, a courtyard An ocean of violets in bloom Animals strike curious poses They feel the heat The heat between me and you How could you just leave me standing alone in a world so cold?"

-- When Doves Cry//Prince

------

Part 3: The taste of you

——-

Thank you for reading!

#vampire eddie x reader #Eddiemunson #eddie munson series #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie munson #trueblood #eddie munson fic

345 notes · View notes

wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

Learning to Live Part 16

summary: It’s obvious Javier Peña loves you, it just catches you by surprise how he decides to finally tell you.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), creampie(s), oral sex (f & m receiving), rimming (f receiving), cockwarming, overstimulation (m), spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, nude photos, Javier begging, love confessions, miscommunication, arguing, angst with a happy ending, period typical sexism, canon typical drug talk, emotions, dysfunctional family, past relationship trauma (Javier), Not Lorraine friendly, Javier’s poor little ass being bruised, Javier being so in love, the most romantic sex I have ever written)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (reader is a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 17.8k+ (This is who I am)

a/n: Here we go! The first draft of this chapter was 3k… I’m as shocked as you are. I know some of the tags aren’t my norm, but I promise it’s a good time and things are resolved quickly. Shoutout to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing this. I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The time you spent reading had dwindled quite drastically since Javier Peña waltzed his way into your life, and you weren’t necessarily upset about this new development.

Generally, you’d get home from work, shower, have dinner, then unwind by reading or watching a movie, wanting to relax after the busy day. Getting a couple of chapters in before bed was a must, needing it to lull you to sleep; that is, you did, up until Javi showed up, and now your bedtime routine had changed to either getting fucked and being so blissed out that sleep came easily, or laying in bed cuddled up with him while the two of you talked, getting so warm and cozy that you found yourself drifting off in no time.

So, you weren’t getting much reading done, and your to-read pile on the living room bookshelf was haunting you, knowing that at the rate you were going, it’d probably take you years to get through the dozen or so books.

It was a sunny Saturday, and not at all surprising that you’d awoken to a naked Javi pressed against your bare back, his hands ghosting over your skin while his lips trailed over your shoulders and neck, making you smile as you came to.

He’d eaten you out until your legs were shaking, and the sheets below you were wet from your release, Javi telling you he’d take care of washing them after breakfast.

God, there was something about a man taking the initiative.

The windows in your apartment had been opened to let the early sunlight in and to air out the place; Javi not only putting the sheets into the wash but also replacing the bedding and folding the laundry that had been in the dryer, all while you’d tackled organizing the three junk drawers in the kitchen.

It took everything in your power not to suck his dick when he asked if he’d folded your panties okay, knowing you had a special way of bundling them up. You’d approved of his efforts and smothered his face in kisses, him looking very pleased with himself.

When your task was finished, the drawers finally organized, and Javi extremely happy with what you’d done now that he knew where he could find things, you’d decided to spend the afternoon reading.

Settling on the couch, your legs curled underneath you, you’d opened to the first chapter of a book you’d gotten almost two weeks prior. Javi was sitting beside you, so close your bodies touched, his hand on your thigh as he watched tv with the volume low.

This was another very welcome change in your life.

None of your ex-boyfriends would have wanted to spend their Saturday morning cleaning your apartment, then be content to just sit on the couch and watch television while you read.

They would’ve wanted to go out and do something, not waste their day lounging around, always needing to be active when they weren’t working—if you wanted to just relax and spend the day in, you were left to do it alone.

But Javier Peña was different.

All he wanted was to spend time with you, and he didn’t care what you did.

Want to go to the diner for breakfast? He’s down. The farmers market? No problem. Run errands? He’ll drive. Clean the apartment? Tell him what to do, and it will be done. Relax on the couch and read? You’ve got cable, and there’s a Lethal Weapon marathon that will keep him entertained.

Honestly, he was clingy, just not annoyingly so. You found it endearing and adorable how he had to be touching you if he was sitting next to you, a hand on your thigh or feet in his lap, and he loved when you’d lay on top of him; showering with you was essential after work, he honest to god pouted if you took one alone; in bed, you always ended up wrapped in his arms, him seeking you out even in sleep, needing you close. He never let you cook alone, him wanting to help, or at least keep you company, if not distract you a little with some impromptu dancing.

Here you were, cozy on the couch, Javi rubbing circles into the skin just below where your shorts stopped, so caught up in what you were reading you weren’t entirely sure how much time had passed.

The book was surprisingly good and had sucked you in; an orphan boy finding out about a secret magical world and his life changing for the better, reading page after page, chapter after chapter, wanting to know what was going to happen next.

“Want more water, Cielito?” Javi asked.

“Yes, please,” you murmured, eyes glued to the words, but knowing you’d finished your glass in the time you’d read six chapters.

“I’ll be back.”

He squeezed your thigh, groaning as he got up from the couch.

At some point, he returned to set down the cup on the coffee table, letting you know it was there and noticing he didn’t sit back down.

You were engrossed with the story, fascinated by the magic and world-building, and metaphorically on the edge of your seat when suddenly the light of the television was blocked by a mass, realizing Javi was standing in front of you.

“Need something?” you asked, eyes not leaving the book.

“No,” he answered.

“Okay,” you distractedly answered.

He didn’t move, which made you realize he was trying to get your attention.

“Want something?” you asked instead.

“Maybe,” he replied.

Glancing over the pages, he was standing there with his hands on his hips, noticing his damp hair from showering, your eyes taking in the nakedness of his broad shoulders and moving down his chest and soft belly to the tantalizing trail of hair that you knew led to his big di—your eyes went wide when they landed on his crotch.

“Underwear,” you breathed. “Oh my fucking god.” You blindly reached on the table beside you to grab your bookmark to shove between the pages, the book practically getting thrown onto the tabletop.

Your eyes were stuck on his bulge, the white material hiding nothing, seeing the clear outline of his cock, your hand moving without thinking, reaching to touch your fingertips to it, and seeing him noticeably getting harder.

“Holy fuck,” you said, maneuvering on the couch to get on your knees. You took in how they sat on his hips and hugged his thighs, rubbing both your hands up them, feeling the soft material and his muscles flexing, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “You fucking spoil me,” you purred. “This is what you grabbed before we left last night?”

The previous night you’d met Javi’s father for the first time, and everything had gone better than you expected, Chucho making you feel welcomed into their family. When you were leaving, Javi had run back into the house for something, and you hadn’t bothered to ask, so caught up in all you’d learned about your boyfriend and his parents.

“Yeah,” he answered, a smirk on his plush lips, looking proud of himself. You couldn’t help pressing your face against his half-hard cock. “If I’d known I’d get this kind of reaction, I would’ve—fuck,” he groaned as you mouthed over him, wetting the boxer briefs with your saliva.

Pressing a loud kiss to his now fully hard dick, you grabbed his hips, leaning back to forcefully make him turn to see how he looked from behind, but he didn’t budge.

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion showing on your face when you met his eyes.

“Let me see your ass,” you said.

He was frowning.

“I liked what you were doing.”

“And I’ll blow you after I see your butt. I need to know how it looks.”

Grabbing your hands, he held them.

“Or I can eat your pussy?” he bargained.

Your eyes narrowed, realizing something was up.

“Why are you being cagey about this? What’s going on?”

He sighed, looking away, his thumbs rubbing circles on the backs of your hands.

“I just don’t want you looking at it.”

“Because..?”

“I got bit by a horse…” he said slowly and matter of fact.

It was just hitting you that you hadn’t seen his ass since showering after work the previous day. He let you shower by yourself the night before, which you should’ve found suspicious. If he didn’t want you to see it, that meant he knew you were going to freak out, worry swirling in your stomach.

“Javier, how bad is it?” Your tone was serious.

He grimaced.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Turn around.”

“Baby…”

“With the way you hate clothes, I’m going to see it. Pull off the bandaid, babe. Let me see your ass.”

He let out a long sigh, dropping your hands to perch his own on his hips, slowly turning.

Fuck, he looked amazing in the underwear, the way they clung to the globes of his ass, it taking everything in you not to grab handfuls of him, wanting to squeeze the little bit of butt he had.

Your fingers moved up to the elastic waistband, sliding them under and slowly peeling them down, gasping when you saw his right asscheek.

“Javier Peña, you fucking liar!” you exclaimed, staring at the large black and purple bruise that had to hurt like hell and was about the size of his fist, and his hands were so fucking big. “Please tell me you washed it with soap and water,” you said, automatically going into nurse mode, examining as best you could, needing to make sure he was okay and that it wouldn’t get infected. “Do you want me to pull out my first aid kit? I can put some antibiotic cream on it, and are you up to date on your tetanus shot?” You leaned in closer, gently feeling it. “I can’t tell if he broke the skin, and it can be transmitted through animal bites. Shit, babe, it looks so fucking bad.”

“I’m okay, Cielito,” he sighed. “Washed it when we got back to Pop’s and got a booster the first time that fucker bit me,” he seethed.

“Javi, be real with me. Are you in pain? I can’t believe you sat next to me for hours! Your poor little butt. Do you need some Tylenol? Want me to ice it?”

“It’s fine, baby—I can handle it.” He twisted his upper body to look down at you behind him, his eyes rounded. “I promise I’m okay. Just fucking sore.” He frowned.

“Let me get you some pain medication then,” you said, starting to get up, but he stopped you with a shake of his head.

“Already took some—I’m good.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

Your eyebrow quirked.

“You really took some Tylenol to make sure you could fuck, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a smirk.

“And you really thought you could hide your ass from me while wearing underwear? Javier, you know how I feel about your butt.”

“Love it as much as I love yours.”

“Exactly! Oh!” you exclaimed, remembering something.

Leaning forward, you pressed a loud smacking kiss to his bruise, followed by smaller ones all around the area, Javi chuckling.

“Does it feel better?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

He smiled, “Yes, Cielito,” he replied.

“You’re a lying liar who lies,” you accused amusedly. Smiling at him mischievously, you said, “I do know something that will definitely take the pain away, but it has to be administered orally.” You grabbed onto his tiny waist and made him turn around, his cock still hard in his underwear. “God, just look at it,” you marveled.

“Fuck, baby,” Javi groaned, his head falling back. “Keep looking at my dick like that, and I’ll need to put it in you.”

He looked down to meet your eyes, seeing his own had gone darker, his cheeks and chest pinking up.

“I want you in my mouth,” you replied, stroking him over the boxer briefs. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed hard. “Can I, Javi?” you asked. “Can I have your dick in my mouth?”

“Yes, Cielito,” he answered, the words coming out rough. “You can have anything you fucking want.”

Smiling, you hooked your fingers into the waistband, slowly pulling them down to uncover his straining cock and heavy sack, wanting to taste and feel him, your mouth watering at the prospect.

“Have I ever told you,” you started, eyes locked on his as you took him in hand, feeling him hard and hot in your palm. “That you have the prettiest dick?”

The head of him was reddened, a pearl of precum beading at the tip, stroking him up and down.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

“I dream about this dick,” you continued. “Fucking crave it. Want you inside me—my mouth, pussy, ass.” His eyes squeezed shut, groaning loudly, his cock twitching at your words. “You’ve ruined me for all other men, no one could ever compare, but that doesn’t matter because I only want you.”

He met your gaze again, pupils blown wide.

“It’s yours,” he rasped. “It’s only fucking yours—I’m yours, you fucking own me.”

Hearing him say that had your body going warm, your pussy throbbing.

“And I’m yours—all of me belongs to you, Papí.”

A strangled noise came from his throat, his cock twitching in your hand again.

“Take what you want, Cielito.” Desperation was in his tone. “Fuck, do whatever you want. Please.”

Precum was steadily flowing from him, helping your strokes glide. Letting go, you licked your palm, taking him back in hand and gathering spit in your mouth, hovering your head over him as it dripped onto the tip. He groaned when your mouth followed, the heft of him sliding along the broad flat of your tongue and relishing in his taste, moaning around him.

Your hand continued to work his shaft while your head bobbed, letting your saliva coat him, hearing the slick sounds as you worked him over, moans and groans filling the room. His hand went to the back of your head, his eyes on what you were doing, looking up at him as you licked from base to tip, and swirled your tongue around the crown, his mouth falling open in a gasped fuck.

Moving back down again, you went lower, drawing a ball into your mouth, sucking on the delicate skin, Javi moaning loudly, his eyes squeezing shut with furrowed brows.

“Shit, baby,” he panted. “So fucking good—so good to me.”

At the tip, you let more spit fall onto him, taking him back into your mouth, your hand like a sheath around the base of him, pumping easily from how wet it was, while your head bowed forward, letting him hit the back of your throat before swallowing him down.

He was breathing hard, his fingers digging into your hair as his hard cock carved out space in your throat, tears pooling in your eyes, saliva dripping out the corners of your lips. His dick was so solid, loving how it felt inside you, humming appreciatively around him that earned a punched-out groan that shot straight to your cunt, making you clench hard.

You were so turned on, loving the noises he was making and hearing just how much he was enjoying himself.

“Gonna make me come,” he groaned. “Don’t wanna come down your throat.”

Coming off of him, you were panting, his dick glistening as your hand wetly stroked him.

Looking up through your lashes, seeing his attention on you, you asked huskily, “Where do you want to come? My face?” You pressed your breasts together in your shirt. “My tits? On my ass?”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes wild, looking wrecked with his pinched brow and the gorgeous flush all over his skin. “Wanna be inside you.”

A grin turned up on your lips.

“Of course, you want to finish inside. You’re fucking addicted to cream pies.” You rubbed your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles tighten. “You like coming inside me, baby?” you asked. “Love filling me up—knowing you’re the only one who gets to?”

His cock jerked.

“Shit, fuck,” he gasped. “Yes, please, Cielito.” His eyes had gone round, pleading. “Please, baby. Can I fuck your pussy? Wanna feel you come around my dick—wanna fuck you full of me. Please.” He was begging, and it thrilled you, your cunt pulsing with want, panties drenched, wanting him as bad as he wanted you.

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely? Javi, baby, you have to know I want you. My pussy is all yours.”

He was on you immediately, his big hands cupping your cheeks as he bent to press his mouth to yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue eagerly licking into your mouth.

It was almost disorienting how quickly he got your clothes off; his lips leaving yours to tug off your shirt and sports bra, pushing down and off his underwear, laughing when his hands grabbed onto your ass, and he practically picked you up, manhandling you onto your back on the couch, his hips slotting into the cradle of your thighs.

He kissed you deeply before sitting up on his knees between your legs, a look of concentration on his face as he pulled off your shorts and panties in one go, dropping them to the floor.

His eyes were locked on your pussy, moaning when he spread open the glossy lips of your sex with two of his fingers.

“Fuck, that’s pretty,” he murmured, his other hand stroking his cock, hearing the slick slide of his hand working. “Look at how fucking wet you are for me, Cielito.” He slid a thick finger through your slit, pressing it inside your sopping entrance. “Mmm, you’re fucking soaked. Bet you don’t even need my fingers.” He pushed in a second, and you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. His eyes met yours, all dark with want, languidly pumping his digits. “Want me to get you off like this, baby?”

Shaking your head, you answered in a moan, “No—want your dick. Wanna feel it. Love the stretch.”

He smirked.

“Always hungry for my dick.”

“Yes.” You nodded.

His fingers left you, watching as he sucked them clean with a groan.

“Taste so good,” he said, pulling them from his mouth with a wet pop. “Keep your legs open—don’t move.”

He moved toward the coffee table, reaching to grab the Polaroid camera that had been gifted to you both the day before, your heart hammering in your chest, realizing what he wanted to do. Your lip was pulled between your teeth as he looked at you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, holding up the camera.

“Yes.”

“Press your tits together for me.”

Doing as he said, he leaned back, holding the Polaroid camera up to his face.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he said, the flash going off, the device whirring as the picture came out.

The photo was put on the table, Javi’s free hand spreading open your pussy, dipping his head down, his jaw working as he spit onto your clit, getting a shot of the hot saliva dripping down to your opening.

You were so into what he was doing that your cunt was throbbing in tune with your heartbeat.

“I’m gonna fuck my hand looking at these,” he murmured, setting the picture with the other.

“Really?”

He glanced at you, smiling.

“Oh, yeah. If I jerked off right now, I’d be thinking about this tight little pussy.” He cupped his large palm over your center. “Now, I have visuals. Wait—” His hand moved to grip his dick, knees shuffling to get closer so his thighs were flush between your legs, letting his cock drop onto your mons and stomach to see how far he’d reach inside. “Look at that.” The flash went off again. “Shit, what’s that thing you say about your guts?” He asked, meeting your eyes, the photograph getting placed with the others.

Saliva and precum were smearing onto your skin, feeling how hot and hard his dick was.

You snorted.

“That I want you to rearrange my guts?”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I get so deep in there; I really do rearrange your guts.”

You noticed his chest puffing up a little in pride, and it had you lowering your voice to speak in a sultry tone. “Yes, you do,” you purred. “You’re so big, making me feel so full. No one else has ever filled me so good or gotten so deep—only you, Papí.”

His cock twitched.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “One more.”

He pressed his length through your folds to get himself wet, notching at your entrance, your eyes squeezing shut as he pushed in, moaning in unison.

That first stretch was always the best—the slight burn, the way he made space for himself inside your depths, your inner walls hugging him close and pulling him deeper. He slid home in one smooth thrust, your back arching at how fucking good it felt to have him filling you.

“Fuck, Javi,” you breathed.

The camera went off, and you knew it was a picture of him inside you, making your cunt clench.

“Shit,” Javi groaned.

There was the sound of him setting the camera down on the coffee table.

His big hands gripped your thighs to hold you open, rocking his hips, letting you feel his thick cock move slowly in and out of you.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped. His hand pressed to your lower stomach over where his dick was inside you. “Always take me so fucking well.”

“So good,” you whined.

He was sliding along all those spots that made your toes curl, loving how full you felt, how deep he went, filling you so perfectly it took your breath away. He sped up, getting into a steady rhythm that had his hips slapping into yours, hearing the rough sounds from his throat and the wet suck of your pussy taking him.

You were panting out breaths, feeling the heat in your belly starting to build with every deep kiss of his cock inside you, pushing in and pulling out, your head fuzzy with pleasure. He pressed his thumb against your clit, making you gasp from the shock of ecstasy shooting to your core.

“Want you to come for me,” he said through gritted teeth and heavy breaths. “Wanna feel you, Cielito.”

It felt like every nerve in your body was lit up, your skin hot and buzzing, the fire in your core growing hotter and hotter while soft sounds spilled from your lips.

You were getting closer, moaning louder, it building higher and higher.

“I know you’re almost there—fucking fluttering. Give it to me.”

He was thrusting harder, his thumb moving faster.

“Soak my dick, Cielito. Come.”

His order had you shattering, coming with a cry of his name, your body clenching up so tight he had to slow to a grind, letting out a long, low groan.

“My good girl,” he said thickly. “So fucking good to me, baby. Shit.”

Waves of pleasure radiated through your body, him drawing them out with every thrust, letting you ride it out, your pussy pulsing around him.

She was so fucking gorgeous, spread out for him on this couch, his eyes locked on her pussy, all wet and puffy, swallowing his dick to the hilt. He took in her body—the sheen of sweat on her skin, her eyes closed, lips parted, her perfect tits rising and falling as she panted.

She looked absolutely blissed out, pride swelling in his chest that he was the one to make her feel like that—that he was the only one that got to feel her come while balls deep inside her.

Fuck, his dick was throbbing, heart pounding, knowing he was close to his own end, waiting for her high to subside, shallowly thrusting into her wet heat.

The moment her breathing got under control, and she relaxed, Javier was pulling out, seeing her eyes spring open in surprise.

“Want you on your knees,” he grunted, grabbing her legs that were bracketing his hips and helping her flip onto her belly, pulling her ass up by the waist to get her into position, shuffling her knees apart so he had more space.

And if it wasn’t the prettiest sight, seeing her all open and ready for him, his tongue peeking out between his lips, wanting to taste the slick that had dribbled down between her asscheeks to her tight hole, mesmerized by how it shined in the light of the room.

Looking over her shoulder, their eyes met, causing a sharp spike of arousal to shoot down his spine at her lust-blown gaze.

“You gonna fuck me?” she purred, wiggling her backside.

“Maybe,” he replied, seeing her eyebrows crease in confusion.

His knees sunk into the couch cushion as he shuffled back a little, slapping both of his hands down on the plump flesh of her ass, hearing her moan as he grabbed handfuls, squeezing it hard and spreading her open.

“Fucking love this ass,” he growled.

He bent his head, gathering spit on his tongue and letting it drip onto her asshole, following that up by licking a stripe from her entrance back up to the tight ring of muscle, groaning into her sensitive skin at the salty-sweet tang enveloping his tastebuds, her tasting so good.

“Oh, fuck,” she whined.

His hand moved to squeeze the base of his cock, needing to restrict the blood flow and calm himself down, the flat of his tongue lapping at her hole, feeling like fire was prickling under his skin, hungry for more of her taste—working himself up almost to his breaking point, needing to stop before he stained the couch in his come.

He pressed a kiss to her asscheek before sinking his teeth into her skin, leaving a slight imprint as he sat up, taking his dick in hand, not wasting any time to sheathe himself back inside her drenched cunt—the way she cried out his name made him jerk inside her, and his breath go shaky, a low groan rumbling from his chest.

Shit, he was so fucking hard he could probably fuck her through a brick wall.

His fingers dug into her hips, swallowing hard at how tight and warm she was, her pussy fluttering around him, pulling out until just the tip of him remained, and thrusting back in, setting up an even rhythm that had her moaning.

“Love being inside you, baby,” he groaned, looking down to see his wet cock disappearing inside her. “Push back on me—get me deep.”

“Yes,” she gasped, pushing her ass back, Javi meeting her over and over, the wet slap of their bodies colliding sounding in the room.

He wanted to get her off again, but pleasure had his stomach knotting up, fucking into her harder, the tight squeeze of her cunt overwhelming him, compelling him, making him lose his fucking mind at how good she felt—he was fucked, gone, he’d hit the point of no return, his balls tightening up.

“Shit,” he grunted, pounding into her, “fuck, fuck, fuck, no.”

His cock thickened, pushing into her hard one last time, a strangled moan ripping from his throat, his come flooding her hot depths, gushing into her. He rolled his hips with a shuddering hiss to get it deeper until it was too much for him, coming to a stop while euphoria coursed through his body.

He felt wrung out and dreamy, wanting to touch her, needing to feel her skin, practically collapsing as he blanketed himself over her back, shoving his nose into her neck to breathe her in.

“‘M sorry,” he slurred. “Mmm, you smell so fucking good.”

She giggled.

“You came really hard, huh, baby?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He nuzzled his face against the side of her head, holding himself up on an arm beside her own, and moving his other hand under her body to the apex of her thighs, feeling her tense when he rubbed her wet clit—his dick so tender that when she clenched around him, his eyes rolled back in his head, moaning at the sensitivity.

He was panting, sweat soaking his skin, pushing through the discomfort of her pulsing around him to keep circling her swollen nub—her arms and legs trembling, soft sounds spilling from her mouth as he worked her up, her body crumbling to the couch, him going with her, using one forearm to keep his upper body off of her.

His cock was still hard, it feeling like his nerves were on fire, shallowly thrusting until the pain became pleasurable again, the familiar heat building in his gut.

He pressed his lips to her ear, asking through gritted teeth, “You gonna come for me, Cielito?” His hips fucked into her faster. “Gonna be my good girl?”

“Yes, Papí,” she whimpered. “So, close.”

His eyes squeezed shut at the knife-sharp pleasure that cut through him from her words, his wet strokes moving in and out of her, his insides getting hotter and thicker as he built her up—her mewling beneath him, stoking the flames in his belly.

He kept going, feeling her pussy contracting, arousal dripping down his dick and coating his balls, her finally seizing up beneath him as she came choking him inside her and squeezing him so tight that it sent him with her—the pressure inside him expanding to the point Javier was coming with a shuddering groan, pulsing inside her, pumping her full of himself.

Pleasure washed through him, grinding his hips, the slide of his cock making his come leak out and around him, stilling when it all became too much. To make her more comfortable, his arm wrapped around her middle, him turning them on their sides while he stayed inside, spooning her from behind.

The TV's low volume and heavy breaths filled the room, Javi kissing her bare shoulder, rubbing his hand over her belly, and moving up to grab her breast.

“Did you come again..?” she panted.

“Yeah,” he answered breathlessly.

He kissed her neck, loving the scent of her shampoo and how it made him feel warm and cozy.

“That has to be a record. You usually need a break.”

“Finished too quickly, had to make up for it.”

“...What?” she sounded confused, finally catching her breath. “You were a gentleman and made me come before you. How did you finish too quickly?”

He buried his face in her hair.

“Wanted to get you off again,” his muffled voice said.

There was a pause before she spoke.

“Babe?” She put her hand over his on her breast, lacing their fingers together.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“I know you’re really into making me orgasm so many times my legs turn to jelly, and I can barely speak, but you know one is enough, right?”

He pulled his head back, eyebrows dipping together.

“What..?” he asked.

“We don’t need to have spectacular mind-blowing sex every single time.”

“Why… not?” His heart had sped up, nerves making his chest feel uncomfortable. “Do you not like how we fuck?” he asked uneasily.

“Pause. Can you pull out real quick?”

He did as she asked, feeling confused, and worried that he’d done something wrong, her flipping around to face him, pressing her hand to his jaw and looking him in the eyes.

“Thank god, I got the couch protector. There is so much come dripping out of me right now.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, frowning.

She smiled reassuringly.

“Nothing to apologize about. I enjoyed myself very much—all nice and stuffed full.” She beamed, arousal stirring in his belly at the thought.

Her fingers ghosted over his cheek and up to press into his sweat-damp hair, stroking lovingly through it. Fuck, he loved when she played with his hair; he always turned to putty under her touch.

“Now, back to what we were talking about,” she said. “I love how we fuck, very much. Like, best sex of my entire life, and you’ve ruined me for anybody else—I love fucking you.”

He could hear it coming. “But…?” he asked.

“But, sometimes, I just like how you feel inside me and how close we are, and god, the kissing. It’s the connection and being with you, doing something so intimate. I don’t know. I just feel closer to you when we have sex, baring myself not just literally, but metaphorically, too, because I’m comfortable with you, I trust you, I lo–like—” She stumbled, eyes widening, his heart stuttering “—like you so fucking much. Javi, you’re the only man I’m genuinely okay fucking with the lights on.” Suddenly panic came over her face, her eyes getting big, “Fuck! The windows!”

She started getting up, and he kept her where she was with his hand on her hip, Javier saying quickly, “I already closed them.”

Her head rose to look over the couch armrest to the back windows, then in the direction of their feet to the large front windows, seeing that they were all shut with the blinds and curtains closed.

She let out a breath, moving to kiss him hard, her fingers tangling in his hair. He moaned against her lips, loving her mouth on his, kissing until she broke away, smiling.

“This is what I mean,” she said. “You thought to close up the apartment before initiating sex because you care about me and wouldn’t want to put me in a compromising situation when you know I’m thinking with my pussy.”

“You’re the one that initiated.”

Her eyes narrowed, poking him in his bare chest.

“Because you seduced me by wearing underwear!”

He smirked, grabbing her hand to kiss her knuckles.

“I’d think it’d turn you on more if I was naked.”

Her eyebrow rose.

“Javier, you’re constantly naked. You put on clothes, and suddenly I’m a Victorian woman going into hysterics over the slightest sliver of skin because I know what’s underneath—the feeling ten times worse when you’re in underwear or sweats ‘cause it’s like you’re teasing me, just Mr. Look-at-me-naked-from-the-waist-up-you-know-what-I’m-hiding. So, yeah, it fucking gets me.”

He was well aware, able to see her undressing him in her mind, and it always went straight to his dick.

“I know,” he replied. “Can tell by how you look at me.”

He kissed her.

“You fucking tease,” she murmured into his lips.

“How I feel when you wear your dresses—know I can just lift it up and pull down your panties.”

He was kissing her deeper, his hand grabbing her ass. She pulled back to pointedly look at him.

“You’re distracting me,” she said, making him pout. “As I was saying, I can trust you, and I like the closeness of fucking you, and every time doesn’t need to be toe-curling orgasm central. It’s cheesy as fuck, and I honestly cringe at saying it out loud, but I’d love to, god—” Her eyes squeezed shut, her face pinched in disgust “—it’s so gross. I’d love… to…” She was really struggling, and he wanted to know what was making her so uncomfortable. “Make… love… with… you,” she finally forced out. “Oh, yuck.” Her nose crinkled when she looked at him.

The difficulty it took for her to say it had his stomach dropping, insecurity squeezing his chest tight. He swallowed hard, eyes darting away from her.

“I don’t think you do…” he said slowly.

“Fuck.” She cradled his cheek. “Please, look at me.” He did, her looking apologetic. “I can see how I came off, and I’m sorry, it’s not you; it’s the fucking phrase.”

“Okay..?”

He was so fucking bewildered trying to follow along with everything she was saying, not sure what she meant about making love but understanding the things she said about the connection and closeness during sex, he felt it, too. When he’s inside her, it feels like everything is right in the world, and it’s where he’s supposed to be. He just wasn’t sure what she meant about only one orgasm or not every time needing to be mind-blowing—it was all he had to offer.

Javier was broken, his head fucked from everything with Lorraine and Colombia, trying to do his fucking best navigating this new relationship, not knowing what the fuck he was doing. Cielito tried hard to guide him like a bright star on the horizon, leading him, helping him, but what did he bring to the table aside from knowing how to make her come? He didn’t think his love and devotion were enough; she needed more—deserved more, and all he had to give was his body, wanting to make her feel so fucking good that she wouldn’t want him to leave.

And she’s not happy with what he has to offer—at least, that’s what he thought she was trying to say.

The day before came to mind when she told him she felt the same, that she loved him, too, but would wait for him to say it first, and that gave him hope that maybe he just wasn’t understanding this conversation—his worries getting the better of him, which was a problem of his; spiraling, something negative having him play out all of the worst case scenarios and making dread wash over him thinking the other shoe was about to drop.

He took a deep breath, his hand flexing, listening intently, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

“You know how people hate the word moist?” she asked. “Like it makes their skin crawl and is just so cringy?” She shuddered.

“Yeah, it’s the same in Spanish. People don’t like húmedo, which means the same thing.”

“Love that it’s universal. I have the same kind of aversion to the phrase-that-shall-not-be-named.”

He was curious. “Why?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s overused by people who think sex is a dirty word, and ‘fuck’ is just way too profane for their sensibilities, but they aren’t actually… making love.” She cringed. “It’s usually the guy getting off without a care for his partner—so, basically, it makes me think of really bad heterosexual sex, and it’s gross.”

Javier snorted.

“This is why we fuck,” he pointed out.

She grimaced, and he frowned, rubbing his hand over her back, needing to feel her, grounding himself in her comfort.

“I would like to do the real thing with you…” she said softly.

“I’m sorry…?”

What did she mean?

“To me, I think it’s the perfect way to describe that really tender, intimate fucking where you’re staring into each other's eyes, and taking your time, just enjoying one another. There’s no rush, no pressure to make the other person come over and over, it’s just being in the moment with your partner and feeling it, you know? I wanna do that with you.”

His eyebrows were in his hairline.

“You do?” he whispered.

She smiled, nodding, “Yeah, I do, very much, ‘cause I don’t know if you’re aware, Javi—I really fucking like you. A lot, and I’d be so into it.”

“Oh.”

He was stunned.

She stroked his cheek, worry etched on her features as she asked, “Are you okay, babe?”

It took him a second to wrap his brain around it.

“You don’t care how many times I get you off…” he started. “You just want to have sex with me because you like it… You like me, and not how many times I make you come…?”

That didn’t seem right…

“One orgasm is enough. Multiple isn’t necessary, but sometimes nice,” she answered, shrugging her shoulder. “I like the intimacy and don’t care how many times you get me off. You finishing before you wanted was totally fine—it’s honestly really fucking sexy that you couldn’t hold out, like, fuck, I got you that worked up? Me? Makes a girl feel really good about herself.”

He saw in her eyes that she was telling the truth, and his mouth fell open.

Her eyebrows furrowed, asking, “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Fuck,” he sighed, closing his eyes tight. “You like me.”

“I more than like you, but yes, I do.”

Hearing her say it out loud made his heart pick up in speed.

“Shit, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Javier, what’s going on?”

He looked at her, seeing the concern on her face.

“A long time ago, fuck,” he sighed. “A long time ago, with my ex—”

“What the fuck did Lorraine do?” she cut him off, seething.

A smile crept up on his lips, warmth filling his veins at how protective she always got over him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, rubbing her back. “It was so fucking long ago, but, uh, one time I came too quick, and she bit my head off about not getting her off.”

“You made her come during foreplay, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… Figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, so I let myself go, and she got so fucking mad.”

“That greedy bitch.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner—I can’t believe I was so fucking dumb.”

“About dating her?”

“Yes. My mom tried to warn me, and I fucking brushed her off because I thought she was just being overprotective ‘cause I was her only kid, su bendición, her blessing.” He sighed. “Pop told me when I came back from Colombia the first go around that they knew she was using me to get back at her dad—he thought I wasn’t good enough and fucking hated me dating her. And it’s taken me over fifteen fucking years to realize she was using me for sex, too. She didn’t want me,” he spat, anger simmering in his gut. “She wanted my body and what I could fucking do with it.” His eyes were beginning to burn, pressing his hand to Cielito’s cheek, swallowing hard, his voice thicker when he said, “You want me. You like me. You care about me, and I thought the only fucking thing I have worth anything to give you in return is my body.” A tear rolled down his cheek.

“Javi,” you gasped, tears brimming your eyes, so utterly upset by what he just said. Guilt had your chest aching, thinking about how he’d wanted to take things slow at the beginning—the three dates he wanted to go on before sex, and now it was dawning on you how important that was to him. “I really fucking hope I haven’t made you feel like all I want from you is sex—you know, right, that I more than like you, and the sex is just a bonus?”

“Cielito, baby, I know.” He stroked your cheek, his eyes rounded. “Our relationship is so fucking good, and I’ve felt every goddamn day since I met you how much you care about me. It’s just—” He sighed “—in the back of my mind, I wonder what the fuck I have to offer you?”

It broke your heart how he didn’t see his worth, answering quickly, “You, Javi, not your body, but you, just you,” you said. “You cherish me, you care about me, too, and show me every day with the things you do and say that aren’t even sexy. Do you have any idea how much I love that you wanted to spend time with me today while I read? It made me so happy because none of my exes would’ve wanted to do that, and you keep my water refilled, which is so fucking romantic. I like your company. I like being with you and talking to you. I like everything about you, even if you get into your head sometimes.” You smoothed your hand through his hair. “But Javi, I more than like you a lot, and you give me so much—offer me so much of yourself, and I have never been happier in my entire life.”

“It’s enough?” He asked, barely above a whisper, and you could see the worry in his eyes.

You took his hand from your face, lacing your fingers together.

“It’s more than enough, it will always be enough. You’re enough.”

His eyes were rimmed red, smiling as he crushed his mouth against yours in a searing kiss that lasted until your lungs protested with a need for oxygen, Javi pulling you into his body and holding you close.

Learning about Javi’s past over the last two days had given you a clearer picture of who he was and what he’d been through. He was like a puzzle that, since the first time you spoke, you’ve been putting together piece by piece, starting with the edges—him telling you some of his favorite things and about his job with the DEA; a large chunk in the middle coming together with the story of Lorraine, filling the rest of it in with little clusters of information he’d revealed, and at this point, it was almost completed, there was just this one big empty part in a corner that was still missing—Colombia, and all of the horrors he’d gone through. One day he’ll tell you, and you’ll be there to hold him tight and kiss away the memories.

Time passed, both of you cleaning up, getting dressed, putting the couch protector in the wash, and ordering food to be delivered.

The entire pizza was eaten, the box lying open on the coffee table with six empty beer bottles surrounding the cardboard. You were sitting in Javi’s lap, his arms wrapped around you with your head resting on his bare shoulder, the man only wearing sweats as you both watched the first Lethal Weapon movie, the marathon having started over.

The characters work for the Los Angeles Police Department, one of them being a sergeant in the narcotics division, and it had you wondering something while you watch.

“Javi?”

“Yes, Cielito?” he asked, kissing your hair.

“What made you decide to become a cop?”

He took a deep breath.

“You know how we’re on the border with Mexico?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a fuck ton of drug smuggling. I couldn’t show you all of Pop’s land, but the Rio Grande runs along it, and if you go out to the edge of the property, sometimes you can spot people on boats.”

“Maybe they’re fishing? Enjoying the sun? Not all boats on the river are smugglers...”

“Right.” He didn’t sound convinced and frankly a bit paranoid. “Well, somehow, even with a heavy fucking border patrol presence and the DEA breathing down their necks, drugs are getting into Laredo—my money’s on the river.”

“I can tell. So, you’ve just always hated drugs?”

“No.”

“No?”

Turning your head, you looked at his face, Javi meeting your eyes.

“When I started elementary school, I didn’t speak a single word of English—had no idea what the fuck anyone was saying. They had me in the ESL program, but my regular teacher didn’t know Spanish, and I struggled. The kid I shared a desk with helped me.” There was a sad smile on his lips. “His name was Neil, and he came from one of the wealthier families in town, so he had a nanny who’d taught him some Spanish—he was my first best friend. If you remember from the photo albums, the random white kid with the curly brown hair, that was him.” You nodded. Chucho had said it was Javi’s friend when you’d been going through pictures, remembering him popping up through the ages they were in elementary school, not recalling if he was in any of the later photos. “As we got older, we drifted apart. His dad’s a hardass. He got into high school and pretty much wasn’t allowed to do anything that wasn’t academic or fucking extracurriculars ‘cause his dad wanted him to get into a big university. It was a lot of pressure, and he started smoking pot freshman year to relax—he got me to try it.”

You gasped dramatically.

“Javier, you snorted the mari-j-uana? You? A narc?”

His eyes narrowed.

“Did you just call me a fucking narc..? Snorted..? You don’t snort weed, baby…”

“That’s something a narc would say,” you teased.

He pinched your thigh, making you giggle.

“I smoked it and didn’t like it. Not my thing—prefer booze.”

“Like the narc you are,” you said, kissing his cheek.

Javi sighed.

“By junior year,” he continued, “he was under a lot of pressure, and I guess he asked his dealer for something stronger.” He inhaled deeply, letting the air out slowly, before he spoke again, “Kid overdosed.”

“No,” you gasped for real this time. “I’m so sorry, Javi.” Throwing your arms around his neck, you hugged him, Javi pulling you closer.

“Yeah, it was fucked.” There was an edge of anger in his tone. “They caught the guy who sold it to him, but at that time, police didn’t give a fuck about cocaine possession, pretty much got a slap on the fucking wrist, and they didn’t bother finding out his supplier. A great fucking kid with his whole life ahead of him, dead, and the man who caused it was out before I went off to college—didn’t sit right with me that Neil didn’t get any fucking justice.”

“And so you helped take down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel—Jesus Christ, Javier, you don’t fuck around. I think Neil would be proud of what you accomplished.”

“Maybe.”

The frown was evident in his voice, leaning back to look at his face. It was clear what he was thinking, asking him, “Why don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

His eyes were on yours, “There’s still all the shit here.” He swallowed. “I was asked to go to Mexico after I took down Cali, but I was so fucking tired of all the bullshit.”

You could see the exhaustion, sliding your fingers through the hair above each of his ears.

“Babe, you’re one man. I know you want justice and to right all the wrongs, but you can’t single-handedly dismantle the drug trade—you did more than enough. Rest, let other people handle it.”

He let out a long sigh.

“You’re right, Cielito.” He smiled softly. “I’ve got you now, and I’m so fucking happy about it.”

You smiled back.

“Good,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him.

When you pulled back, he asked, “What made you want to be a nurse?”

“Oh, when I was eight, my appendix burst, and I had to be hospitalized.”

“The scar,” he said, touching your belly.

It was so long ago it was barely visible, it surprised you he’d even noticed.

“Yeah, the scar.” You smiled. “My mom stayed home with my little brother, and aside from my dad being the doctor he is, checking that the surgery was done properly and I was healing okay, I was in the hospital alone for almost a week.”

Javi was frowning. “Nobody was with you…?”

“Nope.” You shrugged. “But, this lovely nurse who had the daytime shift would keep me company as much as possible and make sure I wasn’t lonely. She was wonderful and so fucking funny. I just knew I wanted to be exactly like her—I wanted to make being in the hospital less scary and people smile even when they’re feeling miserable. So, nursing.”

His hand came up to cup your jaw, looking deep into your eyes.

“It’s the perfect job for you—you’re so fucking warm and bright that I know people love you taking care of them ‘cause I sure as fuck do.”

It felt like you were melting at the sincerity in his voice.

“That’s very sweet of you, but you’re not my patient,” you said. “You’re my boyfriend and get special boyfriend treatment, they just get silly jokes and compassion.”

“What’s the special boyfriend treatment?” He asked, head tilting in interest.

“Cuddles, kisses, naked stuff, food, basically anything you want from me is yours.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, saying into your lips, “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m glad.”

He broke the kiss, meeting your gaze with a frown, “I’m, uh, gonna be honest—your family has left a bad fucking taste in my mouth, and I’m happy to meet them or talk to them on the phone, but I don’t know how I’d handle them treating you like shit.”

“Well, we’ll have to figure out different plans for Christmas, then.”

His frown deepened.

“You don’t have to skip because of me...”

“Oh, don’t worry.” You waved away his concern. “You’re giving me an excuse, and I’m taking it. It’s bad enough I talk to my mom once a week or so—if I was strong, I’d go no contact, but I’d feel too guilty.”

His eyes were big, the honesty showing as he said, “Whatever you choose to do, baby, I support you, and know that my family will welcome you with open arms.”

“Are you sure?” you asked softly.

He smiled, “Oh, yeah. Pop loves you, and I know everybody else will, too.”

“That makes me happy.”

“You make me happy.”

Laughing, you replied, “You’re so fucking cheesy, but—” you moved your face closer to ghost your lips over his “—I more than like you, a lot.”

“I more than like you a lot, too.” He closed the space kissing you with such passion that you knew what he said was true, those three little words screaming in your brain.

The sun was high up in the sky, the straw cowboy hat atop his head keeping it out of his eyes. It was hotter than hell today, the heat making sweat rise on his skin as he walked over the neatly cut grass, taking the same route he’d taken hundreds of times before, ignoring the slight ache in his knees.

He came to a stop, groaning as he bent down a little to wipe away some dirt that had accumulated on top of the grey stone with one hand. The white leather ring box was slightly discolored from age, not as pristine as it once was. Chucho set it down where he had just cleaned, popping it open, the diamonds on the ring sparkling in the sunlight.

Straightening, he said, “Mi amor, nuestro Javiercito conocio a una chica maravillosa (My love, our Javier met a wonderful girl).”

His eyes tracked over the engraved letters of Antonia’s name, imagining how she’d react to the news, seeing so clearly in his mind that bright smile he’d loved so much and her excitedly saying, ‘Háblame de todo (Tell me everything).’

A smile was on his lips when he continued, “Yo la amo y tú también la amarías (I love her and you would love her too). Él va a casarse con ella y limpie tu anillo de compromiso para cuando él lo quiera (He’s going to marry her, and I had your engagement ring cleaned for when he wants it). I’m probably jumping the gun,” he chuckled. “Pero sabes que soy un romántico (But you know I’m a romantic).”

“Ojalá pudieras ver lo feliz que está con ella (I wish you could see how happy he is with her). Todo sonrisas, mi amor (All smiles, my love). Los que nos perdimos y pensé que nunca volveríamos a ver (The ones we missed and thought we’d never see again).”

His eyes were starting to water, feeling his throat get tight.

“Él está contento otra vez (He’s happy again). Ayer pasé horas con ella y ella es perfecta para el (I spent hours with her yesterday and she is perfect for him). Ella es amable, y muy divertida (She is kind and very funny). Puedo ver cuánto lo ama (I can see how much she loves him).”

He chuckled again, thinking about what Javi’s Cielito had said the day before.

“Ella dijo que mataría por probar tu comida (She said she would murder to try your food). Hubieron cocinado juntos y Javiercito los habría distraído a ambos (You would have cooked together and Javier would have distracted you both).” Chucho laughed.

“Ellos son buenos juntos, mi amor (They are good together, my love). Me recuerdan a nosotros y estarán juntos para siempre, también (They remind me of us and they will be together forever, too).” He pressed a hand to the stone. “Te amo, mi media naranja (I love you, my soulmate). Déjame contarte sobre mi semana (Let me tell you about my week)...”

One month later…

The cordless phone was pressed to your ear, using your shoulder to keep it in place while you cooked, not paying attention to what your mother was saying, seeing as she’d been going on and on for the last—you checked your watch—fifteen minutes about how perfect your little brother was and all of the amazing things he’d done since the last time you spoke a week prior.

“...and they’ve decided to try for another baby,” your mom gushed, unable to stop the look of disgust on your face.

“Wow, that’s so exciting,” you replied, not sounding excited at all.

It was honestly such an odd thing how couples were so happy to announce they were having unprotected sex to their friends and family.

Javi was running late coming over after work because he had an errand to do. The sauce was simmering in the pan, the noodles boiling, and the side salad was already prepared in a bowl on the kitchen table.

“It’s high time you started thinking about settling down,” she said, making you groan, not wanting to have this discussion. “You know, your father was in Boston this weekend at a surgeon’s conference—he was the keynote speaker and ran into Daniel—Dr. Andrews. I miss Daniel, he was so wonderful and talented. I heard he’s up for an award for a new procedure he invented. Whatever happened between you two?”

Daniel Andrews was a cardiothoracic surgeon you’d met five years ago while working at a hospital in Dallas. He was pretty with his blue eyes, perfectly styled hair, and clean-shaven face, honestly surprised he’d taken an interest in you, and so you’d dated for about six months—him even meeting your family, but it definitely wasn’t meant to last.

“Remember he had the accident?” you replied.

“What accident?”

“When he slipped and fell into another nurse’s vagina.”

“That is so vulgar!” She sounded appalled, and it made you smile. “Why are you like this? If you weren’t so… independent, you could find a nice doctor to settle down with, have his children, and become a stay-at-home mother like your sister-in-law.”

“Wow, mom, it’s not the fifties anymore, and some women like having careers and don’t want to make motherhood their entire identity. I’m happy she loves being at home with her kids, but that’s not something that calls to me—I love working, and if I had children, I’d keep working after they were born, and my partner and I would have equal responsibility taking care of them.”

She scoffed.

“It’s the mother’s job to rear the children while her husband provides for the family.”

“I think you personally just caused a regression in women’s rights, and another thing—” You were getting heated. “—I don’t need to meet a ‘nice doctor,’ I’m dating a wonderful man, thank you very much.”

“The farmer?” The disdain was evident in her tone, and it pissed you off.

With how your parents had welcomed your exes and how charming Javier was, you assumed they’d like him, too, especially since he’s so amazing. It was your mistake to make assumptions because when you finally revealed you were seeing someone, and your mother asked what he did at the hospital, finding out he didn’t work there, she was not very welcoming and outright dismissive of your relationship.

“I’ve told you multiple times he’s a rancher—Javier told you he’s a rancher on his dad’s ranch.”

She’d talked to him one night when he’d answered your house phone, and to your absolute horror, she’d grilled him about his job and how much money he made before you could take the receiver from him.

“Right, but he isn’t a serious relationship—just something to work out of your system, and eventually, you’ll meet a man who makes actual money and can take care of you.”

Your blood was boiling, rage making your heart pound, absolutely done with the bullshit.

“We’re very serious, for your information, and I don’t give a flying fuck how much money he makes because I can easily support the both of us with only my job, that I, a woman with a degree, work!” you yelled. There was the sound of knocking on the front door. “Well, I’ve got to go. My very serious boyfriend, who I plan on marrying, is here! Have a nice night, mother,” you spat, ending the call, the phone thudding across the counter.

Quickly, you were heading out of the kitchen, relief washing over you when you pulled open the door to find Javi standing there with a concerned look holding a small bouquet of sunflowers. Seeing him and the flowers, Javi always bringing you a new bouquet every Monday had you going soft.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I thought I heard yelling?”

“My mom,” you sighed, anger flashing across his face.

“Fuck.” He stepped forward to pull you into his arms while still holding the sunflowers, walking you into the apartment and closing the door with his foot, hugging you tight in the entryway.

Leaning back, he held your chin with two fingers, moving to kiss you so tenderly it made your heart squeeze. Breaking it, he looked at you with round eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

His presence had calmness spreading through you, so happy he was there.

“I’ll tell you while I finish making dinner.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll take care of the flowers.”

You smiled. “You’re the best.” Quickly kissing him, Javi toed off his shoes by the front door and emptied his pockets in the bowl on the console table in the entryway, following you back into the kitchen.

You moved the sauce to a cold burner before getting the strainer out of a cabinet, putting it in the sink, and pouring in the pot of noodles while your boyfriend discarded the dead flowers currently on the dining table into the trash. He grabbed scissors, expertly trimming the stems on the new ones before sidling up next to you to fill a clear glass vase with fresh water.

It was nice how comfortable the two of you moved about the kitchen together, Javi bumping his hip against yours and kissing your hair to make you smile, him waiting for you to start talking.

Sighing loudly, you finally spoke, “Like, because I’m not a fucking doctor, the next best thing for me to be is the wife of one, popping out kids and raising them.It’s just so fucking sexist.”

Javi was listening while he arranged the sunflowers in the vase.

“It’s fucked up,” he mused.

Shaking out the rest of the water from the pasta, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, stay-at-home moms work their asses off, but I never saw myself being one—I wanna be a nurse in a hospital, doing the thing I love.” The noodles were put back into the pot and onto the stove, pouring in the sauce, Javi taking the flowers over to the kitchen table and setting them in the middle. “It’s just so fucking exhausting not being good enough.”

Arms wrapped around your middle, Javi hugging you tight, his mouth at your ear as he whispered, “Fuck what your mom thinks. You’re incredible and hardworking. No one gets to tell you how to live your life.”

It had you going gooey, tears threatening to spill, stirring the pasta.

“Thank you, baby.”

He kissed the side of your neck.

“You’re welcome.”

“Dinners ready.”

“I’ll get water for us.”

The dining room wasn’t much of a room but more of an attachment to the kitchen that featured a two-person table and a window that you’d shut the blinds on so you had privacy while you ate.

The salad bowl was next to the flowers, Javi sitting across from you, each with your plates full of food.

“How are Daphne and Velma?” you asked before taking a bite. Those were the two calves Javi had basically raised from birth that you both jokingly called your bovine children.

A sweet look came over his face, smiling as he said, “Our hijas (daughters) are doing great with the rest of the herd and picked up grazing quickly, but I knew they would.”

He sounds like a proud father, and it makes you wonder if he’d be the same with his human children, deep down, knowing he would—he’d be a fantastic dad, ignoring the sting of sadness that he doesn’t want to be one.

Grinning, you reply, “We’ll have to go have a picnic with them next weekend.”

During the week, sometimes you’d meet Javi out at the ranch after you got off work, and the two of you would sit in his dad’s backyard eating dinner with the two little cows lying down next to you both. With them now out on the land, it’d require a horseback ride, but you loved the picnics and the two girls, who were like giant puppies, always happy to see you guys.

“They’d love it,” he replied. “Any other news?” Javi asked as he started digging into his food with gusto.

“You know, the same shit,” you answered, waving your fork. “Mandatory fifteen to twenty minutes of waxing poetic about my brother. Oh, he’s fucking his wife raw now.”

He choked, coughing as he grabbed his water to take a big drink.

“Sorry!” you exclaimed.

Setting the glass down, his voice was rough, looking confused, “It’s okay—why do you know that..?”

“They’re trying for a baby—like people just broadcast that? ‘We’re trying for a baby,’ wow, thank you so much for letting me know you’re only serving cream pies. My boyfriend fucks me raw on the daily, too. Love when he comes inside me, but I’m not telling my fucking parents.”

His cheeks were flushed, clearing his throat while he reached across the table to hold your free hand. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, sorry, it wasn’t a good phone call—it’s never a good fucking call, and recently they’ve been worse.”

“I’m sorry.” His thumb stroked over the back of your hand, frowning as he said, “It’s all my fucking fault.”

“Don’t say that,” you replied in a serious tone. “It’s not your fault, and you’ve done nothing wrong. They’re too fucking stuck up, and after today, I think I’m done trying—there’s no point with how set in their ways they are.” You were getting angry again over what your mother had said. “I won’t fucking sit back and let anyone talk shit about you, my family included, so they can get fucked. I’ve got you, and that’s all that fucking matters.”

His eyes were misty, squeezing your hand, saying barely above a whisper, “You’d choose me?”

“I am choosing you. Zero hesitation. Next time she calls, I’m letting her know if she says anything negative, then it’s over, and I won’t be answering anymore.”

He was giving you that look, the one where you could see in his eyes how much he loved you and that he was struggling not to just blurt the words out loud.

“You know I support you,” he said thickly. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“You make me happy.”

He chuckled.

“You make me happy, too. Want me to eat you out after dinner?”

That had you perking up, nodding your head, “Yes, that would be wonderful. I planned to serve you ice cream for dessert, but if you’d prefer pussy…”

He crookedly smiled.

“I always prefer pussy for dessert,” he said, winking, making you laugh.

Focusing on eating, it was quiet as you forked bites into your mouths, Javi groaning around bites. He ate like he hadn’t eaten all day, which you knew was a lie.

“Slow down,” you giggled.

“No. It’s too fucking good.”

His plate was empty before yours, serving himself up seconds and finally taking his time.

He was very nonchalant when he spoke like it wasn’t anything to get excited about, his eyes on his plate, saying after swallowing a bite, “I start a new job next month.”

The sentence had you pausing, your fork inches from your face now in limbo. Your eyebrows knit together, eyes narrowing, trying to process the words, thinking maybe you’d misheard.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you asked.

“I start a new job next month. Is this a new recipe?”

“Yeah… what do you mean a new job? Like something different at the ranch?”

He’d told you he was happy working for his dad, finding the manual labor pretty relaxing compared to what he’d been doing with the DEA, and preferring the animals to people.

“No,” he answered between bites, shaking his head. “Sheriff hired me.”

“The Sheriff hired you…?”

Why would he want to get back into law enforcement? He’d been through so much in South America and put it all behind him to live his life, and now he was going back? This wasn’t making any sense to you—the DEA exhausted him, he was miserable, and now he suddenly wants to be a cop again?

Finally looking at you, he set his fork down, you doing the same.

“Yeah,” he said. “Since I came back to the states, agencies all over the entire fucking country have been trying to get me to work for them—the Webb County Sheriff has been up my ass about it, making house calls and sending letters trying to get me. I went through all the job offers I’ve gotten, found the one with the best shit, went to the Sheriff today, and told him if he matches it, I’ll work for him. He did.” Javi grinned, looking pleased with himself.

“Okay…” you said slowly. “I’m proud of you for swindling cops, but why are you getting back into law enforcement? I thought you were done after Colombia? What about your dad, the ranch, Daphne and Velma?”

“Our hijas (daughters) will be okay. We can keep going out there during the week, maybe a day on the weekend, if you want. They’ve got all the other cattle to keep them company, but they’d love seeing us, Pop, too.”

“We can do that…”

“And the ranch will keep going without me—they’ve got it handled. It was time I got a job.”

“You have a job.”

“I needed a real job.”

“Your current job is pretty fucking real,” you pointed out.

He sighed, his eyes darting away.

“I need a job that I can support you with,” he said.

That had you so taken aback you jolted.

What was he talking about supporting you? As you told your mom, you made more than enough money to care of both of you... Shit, your mom.

“Javi, is this because my mother gave you the third degree over what you do for work?”

His eyes met yours, his eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about since we started dating, and your mom sure as fuck didn’t help—but I do need to be able to take care of you.”

Take care of you? What the fuck? Does he expect you to quit your job? You were literally just so fucking upset with your mother for being sexist, her saying it was the man’s job to provide for his family, and now Javi had your hackles rising; this was so unlike him.

“I don’t need you to take care of me financially, Javier,” you said carefully. “Things are perfectly fine how they are, and there’s really no reason for you to be getting a new job.”

You’d thought what the two of you had was great, working similar schedules and spending all of your free time together. If he became a cop, you doubted he’d have that same regularity, expecting he’d work long hours.

He let out a long breath, pressing his fingers to his forehead.

“Things aren’t fine, Cielito.”

Your body tensed, dread coming over you.

“What?” you asked softly, your eyes beginning to burn, afraid of what he was going to say, automatically thinking the worst, like he didn’t want to be with you anymore, or he was unhappy, maybe that he hated your career. You felt sick to your stomach, pushing your plate away.

His hand ran through his hair, meeting your gaze.

“I’ve got money saved from the DEA, and the change Pop pays me to work, but when I think of renting an apartment or buying a fucking house, it’s not enough long term. I’m here all the time, staying over, eating your amazing fucking food, and I haven’t pitched in on your rent and only pick up groceries when you ask. I need a real job to provide you with the life you deserve.”

You had to take a deep breath, processing what he said because now you were upset that he hadn’t been listening about how you wanted to work and didn’t need a man to take care of you. Not once had you mentioned a need for money, frankly living quite comfortably, and this just sounded like he hated that you made more than him, and he needed to save his ego by getting a better-paying job.

“Firstly,” you started, trying to keep your voice even, “I don’t need you to pitch in. I’m happy to offer my home and food to you because you’re my boyfriend, the one I more than like, who always pays when we eat out. Secondly, I was employed and completely self-sufficient before you came along, and I am beyond capable of contributing my share and more for both of us. Thirdly, I will not be told that you need to work a dangerous fucking job that you hated, all for the archaic notion that because you’re the man, you need to ‘support me.’ Not in this house, not ever, Javier.”

His jaw flexed, his right hand clenching, saying in a tone that brokered no argument, “I’m not letting you be the sole provider in this relationship.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your mouth falling open at his audacity, hitting your fucking limit for this shit today.

“Excuse me?” Your voice rose. “You’re not letting me?! Why can’t I, a woman, provide for us?!”

His eyes narrowed in confusion, “What the fuck are you talking about? This has nothing to do with you being a woman. I respect you! I respect women!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

“You said you needed to take care of me and that I couldn’t support us!” you shouted, your chair scraping across the floor as you stood up, staring down at him with your hands on the table. “That doesn’t sound very fucking feminist, Javier! What, are you going to tell me to quit my job, too?! Have me be your good little housewife who waits on you hand and foot?!”

His face reddened, scrunching up in anger, getting up from his seat so forcefully it slammed into the wall behind him, “You’re not getting what I’m fucking saying!” he yelled. “You’re turning this into something it’s fucking not!”

“Then what the FUCK are you trying to say, Javier Jesús?!”

Your heart was pounding hard, blood rushing in your ears, so fucking angry it had your stomach in knots, not believing your sweet boyfriend was being such a dick. He was mad, too, seeing it on his face and how he was so tense, his hands clenched tight at his sides.

He knew you hated your mother implying you needed a man to take care of you, and then he decided it was time to show his true colors and that he wanted to do just that—have you rely on him, be the man of the house, and make the most money. You felt off balance because it made no fucking sense. This was not the Javi you knew and loved. Your Javi respected your job, your hardwork, you, and he’d never take away your agency.

“I’m trying to fucking tell you I love you!” he shouted.

It felt like time had stopped, your eyes going big at his outburst, stunned—speechless—not imagining this would be how he’d finally tell you those three words you’d been waiting so long to hear. It shocked you so much that the hot anger inside you fizzled out as if you were doused in cold water.

It was clear how upset he was with the tears in his eyes, lowering his voice, his words coming out thicker from emotion, “I love you so fucking much,” he continued. “I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you,” he choked on the last word, a stray tear falling down his cheek. His gaze was locked on yours, seeing the truth in the depths of his eyes. “I love you, Cielito, and me getting a job and wanting to pay for shit isn’t me trying to fucking control you, fuck, I’d never want that. That’s not me. It’s not me being fucking better than you either, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you being a woman.” His fingers slid through his hair, his other hand on his hip. “We’re building our future together, and I want us contributing equally—I don’t think it’s fucking fair that you’re taking the brunt of the money shit.” He inhaled deeply. “I want us to be equals—you’re my equal, my other half, my fuckin’ media naranja (soulmate). I want to share my life with you, share everything with you, and live with you in a bigger apartment or a house, fucking anywhere that I don’t have to see Mrs. Hernandez glaring at me like she wants me dead ‘cause you were screaming my name the night before.”

The last bit had you laughing, tears falling down your cheeks, it all finally making sense. This was your Javi—the man who had the utmost respect for women, hated toxic masculinity, was fair and loved you. He was a good man, the best you knew, and you felt stupid for jumping to conclusions that made zero sense for his character.

Standing up straight, wiping your eyes, and smiling, you replied, “I love you, too, and I’m so happy you said it.”

He ducked his head, looking a bit sheepish.

“I was gonna tell you after dinner…”

“Wait, what?”

Looking at you, he said, “It’s so fucking stupid, and I should’ve told you the moment I knew I loved you, but I was scared. So fucking scared that it was too soon, and it had to be too good to be true, except it wasn’t—it was real.” His hands were on his hips, weight to one side. “A couple of weeks ago, I started figuring my shit out, looking into how much money I had and the cost of living—crunching the fuck out of the numbers. I’ve got a pretty good amount saved up since the government basically paid for everything while I was in Colombia. It’s just not enough for me to retire early—too young. So, it was time for me to return to work because I love you, and we’re equal in everything else, like splitting chores and taking turns cooking. I think we’re pretty fucking good at this relationship shit.”

“I think we are, too,” you giggled.

He smiled, nodding, “Yeah, we are. I got the job, and it just felt like everything came together, you know? The universe or whatever the fuck was confirming we’re meant to be together, that it was fucking time for me to just tell you, and I rehearsed how I would say it on the drive here.” He sighed, “But your mom kinda fucked things up, and you didn’t react to my news the way I thought you would…”

“I’m so sorry, the whole conversation with her was a clusterfuck, and then you hit a nerve.”

“Yeah, some of it’s my fault for not saying the right thing, and I’m sorry for that and also for yelling at you.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes, a sad frown on his lips. “I didn’t like that shit.”

Guilt was roiling in your gut, feeling so fucking terrible.

“Javi, I am so insanely sorry that I lost my cool and upset you. I’ll do better not to let it happen again and make sure that we communicate like adults.” He nodded. “Are we okay?” you asked.

Smiling, he answered, “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re more than okay.”

“Good.” You felt relieved, your mouth curling in a little smile. “Wanna know a secret?” you asked.

His head slightly tilted in curiosity.

“Yeah?”

“You told me you loved me before you fell asleep Friday night in Spanish.” He’d whispered it when he thought you were sleeping. “I fucking knew you were gonna break soon,” you said, grinning.

Flush appeared on his cheeks, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Shit, I usually wait for you to start snoring.”

“I don’t snore.” It came out defensive. “You snore,” you accused, pointing at him.

He smiled.

“You snore, baby. It’s cute. You wanna know a secret?”

“Is it that you’re lying about me snoring?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Something better.”

“Tell me.”

“Remember that first time we went over to Pop’s last month?”

“Yes?”

“That’s the first time que dije te amo en español (I said I love you in Spanish). Told you every night after.”

He, along with some of your coworkers, had been helping you learn Spanish, which was your second language when you were in school.

“Why is that so romantic?” you asked. “Friday, I said it back in English, but, te amo, mi amor (I love you, my love).”

He gave you a beaming smile, pressing his hand over his heart.

“Te amo con todo mi corazón—eres el amor de mi vida (I love you with all my heart—you’re the love of my life).”

There was a possibility you would melt into a puddle, hearing and seeing his devotion for you. Remembering what you were discussing had you sobering up, needing to talk about the matter at hand, worry beginning to well up inside you.

“You’re such a fucking sweetheart! Ugh, I love you so much.” Taking a deep breath, you said, “We’ll get back to being disgustingly in love in a minute. I just need to know why you didn’t talk to me about getting a job? And why you’re doing law enforcement again?” You were frowning, continuing in a softer voice, “You’re going to hate it and be so fucking miserable you’ll end up resenting me.” You worried at your lip between your teeth.

There was no point in sugarcoating your fear. Colombia fucked him up, and he was still recovering from it; going back to that kind of job again won’t be healthy for him—guilt will eat at you because he’d be doing it for you, and he’d absolutely resent you for it, you didn’t see it going any other way.

He looked like he’d been slapped. Suddenly, he was moving around the table, his big hands cradling your face, making you look at him.

“Resent you?” His voice was gentle. “How the fuck—” he choked. “I could never resent you. Cielito, baby, no, I love you too fucking much. It’s nothing like the shit I did with the DEA, I’d be consulting.” His thumbs stroked over your cheeks. “Basically, I’d be doing training and offering my expertise—a fucking office job, really, nothing dangerous, no stress, I get to choose my schedule, so I lined it up with yours. Pays pretty fucking good, too, and uh—“ He looked a little nervous. “—I thought when your lease was up, we could see about getting a bigger place together.”

It was a relief to hear that what he’d be doing at the Sheriff’s department would be different from his previous work; now feeling much better about everything and happy, so fucking happy.

“Javi, I own this apartment,” you said.

His eyes widened in surprise.

“What..?”

“It’s a condo that I bought with cash. The big south-facing windows sold me, and I figured it’d be a better investment than renting,” you answered, shrugging.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Planned on living here at least a year to make sure I loved my job, then wanted to buy a house—need room for more plants and a garden.”

That was your dream, planning on a little house for just you, but now you’d need something a bit bigger with Javi.

He looked a little downtrodden, his eyes moving away from yours.

“Yeah, that’d make sense...”

“Javi?”

Hopeful big brown eyes met yours.

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Wanna move in with me, and then we can buy a house together next year?”

He visibly brightened, thinking his dimpled smile could outshine the sun, a happy chuckle coming from his throat, crushing his mouth against yours, kissing you passionately, reverently, feeling his joy.

“Yes,” he murmured into your lips. “Fuck, yes. Please. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Happiness was overflowing inside you, thinking it would seep out of your pores, flinging your arms around his neck, Javi pulling you into his embrace, holding you so close to his body like he was trying to fuse you together, his mouth never leaving yours.

For so long, you’d known how he felt, seeing it so clearly in how he looked at you, hearing it in the words he said, feeling it in his touches. He may not have said the sentence out loud, but he still made you feel loved regardless. Now you’ve heard those three little words that, when said from his lips, felt like the heavens above had opened wide, showering you in contented bliss, spreading the warm fuzziness through your body, and cementing in your brain that he was it—he was home, and now you’d share a home, a life, and your future with him.

Javier Peña loved you, and you loved him, and nothing else in the world seemed truer than that fact.

Neediness hit you like a freight train, wanting him inside you so badly there was a throbbing ache between your legs, Javi greedily licking into your mouth and swallowing your moans, his tongue tasting every bit of you he could reach.

The tension rose until you couldn’t take it anymore, breaking the kiss, Javi chasing your lips as you leaned back to start opening his shirt's buttons. His hand cupped your jaw, his lust-blown eyes on your face.

“I fucking love you,” he said, moving to kiss you again, your fingers getting the last button undone, pushing the material off his shoulders, him shrugging it off.

Grabbing the bottom of your cotton t-shirt, his mouth left yours to get it over your head.

“I fucking love you, too,” you panted, and he grinned, kissing you hard.

The majority of things Javier and you were on the same page about—pineapple did not belong on pizza, coffee was necessary for survival, Coca-Cola is superior to Pepsi, Star Wars is better than Star Trek—and many more you were having trouble remembering, because you both understood each other so well, that you knew at this moment your clothes needed to come off as soon as possible, and you weren’t making it out of the kitchen.

There was eagerness, impatience, and kissing as you stripped one another—which probably wasn’t the best decision when Javi was trying to peel off one of his socks and ended up falling backward onto his bare ass, the air leaving him in a grunt.

Your hand flew to your mouth, unable to stop yourself from chortling while standing completely nude, him trying his damndest to keep a straight face, laughter sputtering out of him with a big, shining grin.

“Your poor little ass!” you giggled.

The rogue sock was thrown haphazardly, finding yourself pulled down into his naked lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.

“My ass is fine,” he chuckled, his lips finding yours again. Big hands grabbed the globes of your backside, him saying into your lips, “Your ass is more than fine.” Squeezing it and pulling you forward to feel the hard line of his cock pressed between you, making you rub your wet cunt against him, moaning at how it was hitting your clit just right to have sparks igniting in your belly.

“Javi,” you gasped.

Kisses were pressed along your jaw, moving lower to your neck, the roll of your hips coating his length in your arousal.

“God, I love you.” His voice was muffled in your skin. He ducked his head down, pulling your hard nipple into his hot mouth, you moaning at the sharp jolt of pleasure.

“Fuck, Javi, let me sit on your dick,” you whined, wanting to ease the needy ache between your legs.

He came off your stiff peak with a wet pop, meeting your eyes, him looking at you with such a tender expression.

“It’s yours,” he rasped. “I’m yours—I love you.”

Every time he said it, a thrill ran through you, a smile immediately on your lips, the happiness consuming you.

“I love you, too,” you replied, holding his cheeks. “And I’m yours—forever.”

That had him kissing you, feeling him smiling into it, you pushing on him to lay down flat on his back, keeping your mouth on his.

Moving to settle yourself over his hips, you held yourself up with one hand beside his head, the other moving between your bodies, lifting up to guide him to your entrance. Sinking down had you both moaning, feeling him stretching you to your limits, savoring the slight burn as everything pulled taut inside you, so incredibly full when you bottomed out.

He’s been inside you so many times you’ve lost count—double digits? Possibly triple? You’re not sure, and even though you’re intimately familiar with the feeling of his dick filling you, nothing had prepared you for this—it had both of your jaws going slack, your eyes locked on each other, staring in wonder at how perfect it felt. The world faded away. Nothing else mattered but the two of you, your love and devotion; this feeling that mind, body, and soul, you were one person in two bodies, and now you were whole once more.

“Fuck,” Javi whispered in awe.

“Do you feel it, too?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his hands coming up to your face. His throat worked, swallowing hard, his eyes shinier, voice deeper, raspier, “Te amo tanto, no puedo vivir sin ti, mi Cielito (I love you so much, I can’t live without you, my Cielito).” You could see and hear the honesty in his words, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the prickle of tears. “No puedo respirar sin ti—me muero sin ti (I can’t breathe without you—I’d die without you).”

“Javier, you can’t just say exceptionally romantic things during sex and make me cry,” you sniffled.

He chuckled, lifting his head to kiss you.

“Yes, I can,” he murmured against your lips, his broad palms moving to skim along your back. Nipping at your chin, he grabbed your ass. “You feel so fucking good. How is it better?”

“Magic.”

He was thinking it over.

“Your pussy is pretty fucking magical.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you giggled, reaching behind you to grab his hand, moving to press it beside his head, one then the other, interlacing your fingers and holding his hands—him happily, letting you pin him down.

“It’s the truth.”

“I’m gonna start calling your dick a ‘magic stick,’” you replied, circling your hips to end the sentence, watching in delight when his mouth fell open.

“You think my dick is magic?” he gasped.

Rocking on him, feeling him so deep inside you, answering breathily, “Absolutely, it’s fucking magic how perfectly it fills me—doesn’t leave any empty room.”

He groaned, his cock jerking inside you, making you smile.

“Can, uh—” he was breathing a little heavier “—can you stay still and kiss me?” he asked, looking up at you with those big eyes of his.

“Of course, baby.” Lowering your head, pressing your body into his, staying seated as you gave him what he wanted, kissing him.

You understood what he wanted completely—that ache in your core quelled by him filling you, loving having him inside you, feeling him throbbing and every vein and ridge pressing up against your sensitive walls, him so hot and hard. Slick was soaking him, gathering where you were joined, knowing it was probably dripping down him, happy to stay like this as long as he wanted, comfortable; Your body relaxing, melting into him, contentedness warming your very soul.

He kissed you fervently, his tongue pressing between your lips to slide along your own, squeezing your hands beside his head, the two of you losing yourselves to each other, basking in one another—your bodies intertwined so tightly, it all blurring where you ended and he began.

It was almost too much how he encompassed everything. Your brain could think of nothing else but him—feeling him, tasting him, hearing him, seeing him, smelling him–it was all Javi, realizing nobody else had ever affected you like he does, nobody else had ever treated you like he does, nobody else had ever loved you like he does.

The saddest part was you were positive that went for family, too—Javier was the only person to ever truly love you, but he was the only man you’ve ever truly loved, too.

The kissing became languid, minutes passing with him stuffed deep inside you, feeling so full and getting worked up from all the emotions you were feeling—happiness, relief, joy, tenderness, love. You were fluttering around him, your tongues tangling, beginning to squirm with the need for friction.

Breaking the kiss, he asked, “Need to come, mi amor?” through labored breaths.

“Yes.”

His hooded eyes showed earnestness, immediately saying, “Use me, Cielito. Take what you need. I’m yours.”

“Fuck, I love you,” she said.

He felt her words in his heart, them dancing across his skin, leaving warmth in their wake that seeped down into his bones, pretty sure he might be drunk on her—feeling euphoric, floaty, so unbelievably happy that it should be illegal. This was the high they tried to achieve in manufacturing drugs, something so addictive the user won’t want to stop, and Javier was hooked; addicted, gone, letting himself enjoy this bliss and the high of hearing her tell him she loved him.

She loved him.

It was embarrassing how giddy it made him feel, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know how she felt—she’d made it known without saying the words, leaving little doubt in his mind. Everything she did, and said, made Javier feel how much she loved him, but hearing her say the sentence out loud made it real; it brought life to the three little words that would title the next chapter of their lives together and solidified how they felt for each other.

Add in her asking him to move in with her, and he was the happiest man on the entire fucking planet.

His throbbing cock was buried to the root inside her, feeling her velvety walls pulsing, burning around him, so wet he could feel her dripping, soaking him in her slick. Sweat had their bodies sticking together, neither giving a single fuck, her face so close he could feel her breathing.

“I love you, too,” he replied. He’d never tire of saying it, planning to tell her every single day for the rest of their lives because she needed to know—she had to be aware of how he felt and that his love for her grew stronger the longer they were together.

Her mouth collided with his in a heated kiss that was over too soon. Unclasping her hands from his, she moved them to his chest, leveraging herself to sit up on top of him. A small noise left his throat as she rolled her hips. His fingers itched to touch her, grabbing her hips before moving over the soft, supple skin of her belly, up to palm the familiar weight of her breasts, her breath hitching when he tweaked her pebbled nipples between his fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he husked.

The shitty hanging light over the dining room table glowed behind her, making her look ethereal, angelic, a goddess above him chasing her bliss. He was enraptured by how she looked with her eyes fluttering closed and lips parted, watching her throat work as she swallowed her moans—thinking she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and she loved him.

She started moving, working herself up and down his dick, her body shivering in pleasure, feeling her cunt squeezing him tightly as she slickly slid along him. She felt so fucking good that it had his breath going shaky, his heart hammering in his chest. The pressure was slowly building at the base of his spine, so turned on by how she was riding him, finding it so fucking sexy watching her take what she needed and using him to feel good.

It was true that he loved getting her off and probably knew her body as well as his own, learning all the little things that turned her on and got her there. He was aware that if he played with her clit, it’d have her coming quickly; teasing her tits enough could get her to finish, too, but he wasn’t the one calling the shots right now; she was in control—she had the power, and he’d do anything she asked.

Her heavy-lidded eyes met his, making his cock twitch.

“Touch me,” she moaned.

Quickly he was pressing his thumb to her clit, rubbing it the way he knew she liked it, his mouth falling open when she clenched around him. Her moans were getting louder, it getting even wetter between her legs, and he knew she was almost there.

He was breathing hard. “You gonna come, Cielito?” he asked. “You gonna let me feel you?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “So close.”

“I know you are, baby.” He pressed a little harder. “Wanna feel you come. Can you do that for me, mi amor? Be my good girl and come for me?”

“Yes, Javi,” she moaned.

Her thighs were quivering, and the way her cunt was beginning to spasm had him feeling dizzy, ignoring the heat growing in his belly.

“Dámelo, mi amor, give it to me. (Give it to me, my love).”

It wasn’t much longer that her body was tensing up, crying out his name as she came, her clenching down hard around him.

“So good to me,” he groaned. “My good girl. Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).”

He grit his teeth, grabbing onto her ass, and started thrusting up into her to extend her high, grunting as he pistoned. Her moans were stuttered, digging her nails into his chest, and when he came to a stop, needing to catch his breath, she’d left half-moon imprints in his skin.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” she croaked.

His head came up to look at her.

“What?” he panted.

She had a lazy smile on her lips.

“I’m gonna marry the man I love one day, and that’s you.” She poked him in the chest.

A laugh escaped him at how adorably fucked out of her mind she looked, groaning as he moved to sit up, an arm around her back to keep her on him, spreading his legs with her in his lap.

They were face to face now, him smiling.

Leaning in, he nudged his nose against hers. “You’re gonna marry me one day, huh?” he asked.

She slid the fingers of one hand into the hair at the back of his head, pressing the other to his cheek.

“Oh, yeah. You’re my dream man; you check off all of my boxes.”

Her thighs were on either side of his hips, his hands gripping her ass, helping her to start moving on him, pressing a soft kiss to her chin.

“What’s on the list?” he asked against her skin, moving to peck one side of her mouth, then the other.

“He’s gotta be loyal.”

“I am,” he replied, kissing her jaw.

She was sinking down his hard cock slowly, canting her hips to get a better angle.

“He’s gotta love me.”

“I do.” A peck to her cheek.

She listed the items, rising up on her knees and falling back down, Javier responding, kissing anywhere he could reach that wasn’t her lips.

“Considerate.”

“I try.” One over her pulse point.

“Affectionate.”

“Always.” A kiss to the tip of her nose.

There wasn’t any rush, her rocking in his lap, sliding along his length smoothly, her inner walls massaging him.

“Romantic.”

“I am,” he said, pecking the side of her mouth again.

“Fun.”

His lips paused, her continuing to slowly ride him.

“Maybe?”

“You are.”

“I am.” He smiled, kissing her other cheek.

“Easy going.”

“I try.” A press of his lips under her jaw.

“Gives me his pickles.”

That had his head coming up to meet her eyes, his eyebrow quirked.

“My dick?” he asked.

She gave him a look, slowing to a grind, her arousal wetting his lap.

“I said ‘pickles,’ not ‘pickle,’ Javier. Literal pickles.” A smirk pulled up on her face. “But, yeah, your dick, too.”

He chuckled, finally kissing her mouth.

“You can have both,” he murmured into her lips.

She held onto his shoulders as she started moving faster, his mouth falling open in a moan, her all warm and wet, fucking herself on his cock. The knot was tightening in his belly, their eyes locked on each other, groaning when she nipped at his bottom lip.

He could feel himself getting closer, her slowing down, grinding on him as they lazily kissed before pressing their foreheads together. They stared into each other’s glazed-over eyes while they shared breaths, him helping her move with his grip on her ass.

There wasn’t any other place he’d rather be than right here, with the woman he loved, who he knew without a doubt he was going to marry one day.

She picked up in pace again, sweat beading on her forehead, his lap wet from her slick, letting her control the speed and intensity. Javier was happily at her mercy, feeling their connection of the love they shared, taking their time, and being in the moment—zero pressure, just doing what felt good and enjoying one another. They found themselves kissing when the need became too high, wanting to feel the other’s mouth—quick kisses or drawn-out ones, biting lips, and tangling tongues.

He knew he’d come soon, could feel it building inside him, but wanting to stay like this for as long as possible.

Through panting breaths, she asked, “What’s on your dream girl list?”

He was so fucking lost with her fucking him that he answered in a weak voice, “What?”

“Your dream girl. What’s on your list?”

There was only one answer that was coming through his pleasure-addled brain.

“You,” he gasped.

She grinned.

“I love you,” she said.

He was quick to reply, “I love you, too.” Kissing her until it got sloppy, breaking apart when she started riding him fast and hard, Javier’s eyes squeezing shut, whimpering, his body trembling with the tension winding tighter inside him—he was so close, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer.

His eyes went wide when she clenched around him on a downstroke, her continuing to do it.

“Oh, fuck,” he whined.

A knowing smirk was on her lips.

“You gonna come for me, Javi, baby?” she panted.

She was doing it on purpose, riding him hard and tightening up to squeeze his dick over and over, trying to fucking finish him.

He smacked her ass, making her laugh.

“You’re—” he gulped, it hard to speak when it felt like he was going to explode “—you’re playing fucking dirty.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His insides were burning up, the pressure getting to the point that he was done for. It was over—his cock thickening, falling over the edge with a guttural moan, her sitting flush against him as he came, gushing so deep inside her he’d be in her for days.

Euphoria had his mind going blank and body lax, her pulling his head into her tits, cushioning him on the pillowy softness as he came down.

He was in heaven.

Both literally and figuratively.

Your fingers rubbed through Javi’s sweat-soaked hair, his face pressed into your bosom.

His shoulders started shaking before you felt his hot breaths and heard his muffled laughter.

“What’s so funny, Chuckles?” you asked.

He said something into your chest, unable to make out the words.

“Gonna need you to get out of the boobies.”

Lifting his head, he looked beyond amused, him trying to hold back his laughs.

“You’re my Cielito,” he said.

“Yes…”

“My little heaven.” Air left his nose in a snort, having to compose himself. “I’m literally inside heaven.” His breath sputtered, his eyes crinkling at the edges as a short burst of laughter sounded from him, ending in his body silently quaking, smiling from ear to ear. You couldn’t keep a straight face, joining in the merriment.

“You’re so fucking dumb,” you laughed, playfully slapping his shoulder.

His arms pulled you in for a hug, shoving your face in his neck, the two of you working out the giggles in your system, bodies shaking against each other.

It took a minute for him to calm down, finally saying, “But you love me.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, his hands rubbing along your bare back.

“I do.” Moving your head to look into his eyes. “I love you very much.”

His chocolate brown eyes were shining brightly, giving you a dimpled grin.

“I love you, too, Cielito.” He kissed you sweetly, pulling back to hold your face, as he said, “Mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (My life would be empty without you). Te amo más que a nada y soy feliz de compartir de mi vida contigo a mi lado (I love you more than anything and I’m happy to share my life with you by my side). Eres el amor de mi vida y mi media naranja (You are the love of my life and my soulmate). Te amo, mi Cielito (I love you, my Cielito).” Your eyes were watering, holding the tears at bay, his lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss that had you sighing happily. Breaking it, he asked, “Do you need me to translate?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I got it, and you can’t just say exceptionally romantic things after post sex giggles to make me cry.” You were so fucking happy, it was taking everything in you to keep from crying. “It’s rude.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. He kissed you, saying into your lips, “I’m gonna keep doing it, because I love you, Cielito—mi amor (my love).”

“I love you, too, Javi.”

“My back is gonna be fucked,” he said between kisses.

“I really fucking love you, too.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

Prev - Next - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @lupinshouseelf @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @tumblertatiana @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession

#pedro pascal #Javier peña #javier peña/reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

550 notes · View notes

mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 2 months

Text

Destiny & Deliverance: Epilogue

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC (Natalia)

Series Rating: Explicit (18+) Word Count: 3.6k

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with the resulting mental health struggles. Just when she has settled into her new normal, she meets a handsome stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor with a heart-breaking past named Dieter Bravo. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, drug use, alcohol abuse, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: “No. No…you’re the reason conditions exist for this."

Five Years Later

I could feel Dieter’s lips lightly grazing up the back of my neck as he pulled me tightly against his chest. I glanced up at the clock on the nightstand through squinty eyes and groaned at the early morning hour.

Dieter nuzzled his face next to my ear, “Come on baby, we need to get up. Everyone will be here soon.”

I scoffed and pulled a pillow to cover my face, “Soon? We still have a few more hours.”

He whined, “Oh come on…I wanna take advantage of our alone time while we still have it.”

Sliding the pillow from my face, I turned to arch a brow at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…we never have time to ourselves.”

He kissed down the side of my neck, moving to hover over me as I settled on my back. His lips met mine briefly before murmuring between gentle kisses, “Shhh, don’t jinx it. We’ve got at least an hour before all hell breaks loose.” Just as his hand began to make its way down my body, there was a crash from downstairs followed by a loud commotion. We both groaned as his forehead dropped to mine. He chuckled, “Aaannd there goes the gate…I’m blaming you for this. You spoke it into existence.”

I shook my head and smirked up at him, “No. No…you’re the reason conditions exist for this. It’s your fault, so I’ll let you go deal with it while I sleep in. Also, you owe me now…and I’m charging tax.”

Dieter feigned a look of shock, “Geez…such a steep price for withholding sexual gratification…” He rubbed his nose against mine, smiling, “I’ll happily pay it tenfold first chance I get, mi amor (my love).”

He leaned down for one last kiss, lingering for a moment as I scratched at the gray patches in his beard. He finally moved to get up and quickly threw on a pair of boxer briefs and gym shorts. As soon as he opened the bedroom door, Moony raced in and jumped on the bed to attack me with kisses. Dieter paused in the doorway, laughing at my grumbles and attempts to get Moony to settle down so I could go back to sleep. Just as Moony started to calm, we heard a small voice from downstairs yell, “Molly is in the pantry again and I can’t get her out!”

Dieter’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. It was my turn to laugh at him now, “You wanted to take care of the baby goat, so you deal with it.”

He sighed, “I think I need to install one of those permanent gates. The tension gate is clearly not working.”

My eyes widened as I snorted out, “Ya think?”

We were interrupted by the disembodied voice from downstairs again, “There’s dog shit on the rug too.”

Dieter stuck his head out into the hallway, “Luca, I told you, don’t say that word. I’m coming...”

“False alarm…I think it’s vomit,” Luca yelled back, ignoring the minor admonishment for his language.

I placed my hand over my mouth to stifle the laughter that was threatening to burst out. Dieter looked at me, shaking his head before turning to go downstairs, muttering something about “a fucking circus” as he went. I sat up in bed, pulling Moony into my lap for a snuggle just as I heard Dieter hiss out a loud “Fuck” followed by Luca saying matter-of-factly, “THAT pile was definitely dog shit.”

I chuckled, hugging Moony closer, “Did you do that, mister? No? I’m sure it was one of the others…”

Several minutes of silence passed before I heard quiet giggles from Dieter and Luca drifting up the staircase. I moved to the bathroom to get ready for the day, thinking there was no telling what they were up to.

Luca had only been with us for sixteen months, but he was already a mini clone of Dieter. He unexpectedly came into our lives with a phone call from one of our close contacts at CDSS, Amber, asking us to take him on as an emergency foster. Luca’s mother had sadly passed after an intentional overdose and CDSS was still working to locate other family members to place him with.

Luca had been attending an after-school mentoring program which was funded by our three-year-old foundation that provided support to families who had experienced trauma. Luca’s dad had passed a couple years prior in a car accident, which qualified him for assistance and trauma support. Dieter was very active in the mentoring program and was matched with Luca early on. As a result, they had built a pretty solid relationship before Luca came to stay with us. It was only meant to be temporary until his relatives could be found, but they never found anyone willing or able to take him in.

Dieter and I had discussed adopting after being unsuccessful in having our own children. I had reservations, of course, but my worries soon disappeared the day we went to the CDSS offices to collect Luca from their custody. Up until that point, I had only seen Luca in passing while rushing between meetings - not really having a proper introduction. Dieter talked about him frequently, often voicing concern about the boy’s home life as they began to spend more time together. I knew Dieter had grown to care about Luca, so I wasn’t completely shocked when he busted into one of my Monday morning meetings asking to speak with me in private about the call he had received from Amber.

As I watched Luca through the glass window at the CDSS offices, seeing his dark curls and sad chocolate-colored eyes caused something stir inside of me that I wasn’t expecting. Dieter didn’t hesitate to enter the room, immediately scooping Luca up into a tight hug. I watched the two of them together as Amber filled me in on what happened and was quick to mention that Luca had been asking for Dieter specifically since he arrived. The six-year-old had clearly bonded with Dieter more than either of us had realized, which is why Amber called Dieter first thing that morning once they knew an emergency foster would be needed.

Dieter and I knew early on that we wanted to adopt Luca if they were unable to find any relatives that would take him. We did have some concerns if the adoption would be approved given our mental health history, even though we had both been doing well for years now. However, Amber assured us that proper paperwork from the doctor would make that a non-issue since it was an in-state adoption. After eleven months of jumping through all the hoops, Luca, now 8 years old, was legally ours. Once things were official, we headed to Sonoma to enjoy the remainder of the summer weather and for much needed family time after the stress of going through the adoption approval process.

The rest of the family was due to arrive, planning to spend a few days with us to celebrate. They were all just as excited as we were about the adoption. They had quickly accepted Luca into the fold without hesitation from the start and were happy that he would be staying with us.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I could hear additional voices added to the mix downstairs. It sounded like Lauren and Alex had arrived earlier than expected. As I moved to pull a tank top from the chest of drawers, I realized our journal was sitting open on the top of it. There was a new entry from last night scribbled in Dieter’s messy script.

“Mi Vida (my life), I love going to bed every night with my arms wrapped around my guiding star and waking up every morning realizing my dreams are real. Everything is better with you. I’m still falling… Something else to note, I seem to have an insatiable sexual appetite for you, but that’s an entry for another day. Don’t judge me...”

I snorted at Dieter’s ability to mix sappy romantic language with his dirty thoughts. It never failed to make me laugh. Once I managed to stifle my giggles and finish getting dressed, I quickly made my way down to greet my best friend, and now sister-in-law, with a hug. Luca and Alex were chatting away about a book while Dieter pulled supplies out of the refrigerator to make breakfast. It appeared that Dieter had raided the laundry room since I saw him last. He had added a t-shirt and a pair of my fuzzy socks to wear with his “house crocs”. I briefly wondered if this was what he and Luca had been giggling about earlier.

As we sat around the island chatting, Molly jumped the gate that was meant to block her from getting out of the “dog’s room” and came running through the kitchen. Lauren had to do a double take as the goat ran past, “Was that a fucking goat in pajamas?”

Dieter snickered behind us from the stove as Luca ran after her.

“Yes, that’s a fucking goat in pajamas. Dieter offered to take care of her because she was rejected by her mother. She’s going back to the farm up the road once she’s old enough. She's a menace.”

Lauren shook her head with a smirk on her face. She knew this had been a thing for a while. I rolled my eyes as I watched Dieter stuff an empty package into the already full trash can, “Luca, would you mind emptying the trash, please?”

Luca shooed Molly away from the pantry as he shut the accordion door and moved to bag up the trash. Dieter mumbled a quick, “Gracias, hombrecito,” (Thank you, little man) to Luca just as an empty cheese package fell from the bag. Moony snatched it and ran within seconds of it hitting the floor. Luca’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped as he watched Moony streak through the kitchen muttering “Mierda” (Shit) as he shuffled off in the direction the dog ran. Everyone’s eyes widened at his chosen language. I couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out before I spoke up, “Luca, we told you to stop saying that word. That means the Spanish version too, bud.”

He paused in the doorway and turned to look at me, “Lo siento, mamá (I’m sorry, mama) …but that means you shouldn’t say it either. It’s only fair.” He shrugged, then skipped off after Moony without another word.

I turned to Dieter with an accusatory look, “I wonder where he learned that from...I swear he’s a miniature version of you already.”

Dieter’s eyes widened as he stuck a spoon in his mouth and shrugged, turning away to busy himself with whatever he was cooking. After pulling the spoon out of his mouth he muttered, “Maybe, but he gets that sassy mouth from you.” I narrowed my eyes at him as Lauren leaned toward me and quietly asked, “So he’s calling you mom now?”

I smiled, suddenly feeling that same rush of adrenaline I felt the first time Luca had said it a couple weeks prior, “Yeah, as soon as we got to the car after everything was finalized, he asked if he was allowed to call us mom and dad now. We all had to take a minute to cry and hug in the parking lot.”

“He seems like he’s adjusted well. Has he said anything about his birth parents?” Lauren asked in a low voice.

Dieter set a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast down in front of her, “We encourage him to, but he hasn’t said much other than he’s happier with us. He makes small comments here and there but nothing major. It seems like he wasn’t in a good situation. We’ve thought about taking him in for a few sessions with Dr. Rosenberg when she feels like he’s ready.”

Lauren gave Dieter a sad look and sighed as Alex came back from putting the goat up. He washed his hands, then sat down beside her, just in time to get his own plate of food. Alex looked up at me, “He’s a good kid...and he couldn’t have been put with anyone better equipped to help him through it than you guys. He’ll be fine. Hell, he’s already speaking Spanish better than Talia. He’s probably gonna be negotiating contracts before he graduates high school.”

I scoffed as everyone laughed, “Thanks for pointing that out…jerk.”

Alex wasn’t wrong though; the kid was ridiculously smart and loved learning. He was constantly reading and watching educational shows on tv. He preferred that over cartoons.

Dieter turned to set a plate down in front of me and another next to me for Luca just as he came stomping back through the kitchen with the cheese packaging in his hand. Dieter quickly pulled the trash bag out and tied it shut, telling Luca to wash his hands and eat. I watched as Luca stretched up on his tiptoes against the sink, attempting to get to the soap dispenser, but it was just out of his reach. Without a word, Dieter turned to grab the soap and squirted some into Luca’s chubby little hands and turned the water on for him. Luca smiled up at Dieter in thanks as he ruffled Luca's messy curls, kissing him on the top of the head before moving to take the trash out. It was little moments like this that made my stomach flutter and my heart happy.

Luca sat next to me, chatting away about the dinosaur book he had just finished reading as Dieter came back inside and washed his hands before quickly making his own plate of food. Dieter stood next to the island with a full plate in hand as he ate since we were a seat short. He paused briefly, watching me smear fruit spread on my toast with a smirk on his face. When I was finished, his eyes caught mine just as I stuck the spoon in my mouth to suck the remnants of the sweet buttery treat off of it. I smirked around the piece of silverware and raised a suggestive eyebrow in his direction. Dieter’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he watched me slowly remove the spoon from my mouth and smile at him.

When Dieter and I finally broke eye contact, we realized Lauren and Alex were staring at us with an amused expression on their faces. Luca was still chatting away, completely oblivious as he poked at his eggs. Lauren shook her head at us, turning her attention back to Luca to ask him a silly question about something he had said. Lauren and Alex were used to our constant ridiculousness by now, so they were not shocked with our overt flirting.

Once Luca seemed to be satisfied with his fact sharing, Alex asked me how things were going with the vineyard since I had left my consulting job to oversee the operations here in addition to running the foundation. I paused mid bite to fill him in on the details, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by it all.

“It’s going amazing actually…Dieter and I agreed to let the contracts with the wineries expire to get out of the alcohol business…aside from the one that’s been a partner from the beginning. We do have several new contracts lined up with some major food companies to make juice and other things. We’ve talked about growing a few different types of grapes to expand on that more since we’re putting a lot of the profits toward funding the foundation. Everything has started expanding so quickly, it’s crazy.”

Dieter set his plate down as he moved to refill his glass, “Yeah, and we’ve thought about setting up private tours and doing events, horse riding and equine therapy, there are SOOO many possibilities. We have so much unused space, we should really take advantage of it. I have a million ideas that I’m trying to sort through. We have this amazing asset so we might as well use it for something good, ya know?”

I swallowed down the bite of bacon I had been working on, “And we’ve been so lucky to have Mateo and Jose too. We’ve managed to build a good team that we trust enough to run the place while we’re in LA. They’ve been completely onboard with everything and are excited about the plans moving forward.”

Alex smiled, “Wow, that’s awesome. I never would have guessed you guys would take all this on, but it really is amazing what you’re doing. Truly. I’m happy this place is being used for something good.”

Dieter smiled back at his brother, “I appreciate that, hermano (brother) …and please know I still consider this place to be our family home. You're welcome here anytime, no matter if we’re here or not. I don’t want you to feel like it’s not yours anymore.”

Alex patted his brother on the shoulder, “I know that…you know…I think mom would be proud of everything you’re doing with your life and this place…and how everything has worked out for all of us.”

Dieter gave him a sad smile, “Yeah, I think so too.”

Lauren spoke up then, “What’s this you mentioned about opening a trauma facility or something?”

I chuckled, “Oh yeah, that’s something we’re looking into. It’s more like a nonprofit community and resource center...with specialty services in family counseling and mental health treatment for the low-income population. It’s in the planning stages, but we really want something small scale that takes more of a holistic approach to treating the family unit. There isn’t really anything like that in LA. Dr. Rosenberg is on board with it so that’s been really helpful. If it happens and goes well, we plan to open additional locations.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, “Geez, you guys are going for it. Dieter, are you still planning to do movies then? I don’t know how you’ll have the time!”

Dieter shrugged, “It’s not really my top priority anymore. I’ve been taking on smaller things lately. I think I may focus more on the behind-the-scenes stuff…like writing or producing. I’ve also considered giving theater another go…but I think my heart is more into the work we’re doing with the foundation at this point. All that other stuff, I just look at it as a means to further what we’re doing with mental health awareness. It IS a good way to spread the word and stay relevant to get the message out though.”

Lauren nodded, “Makes sense.”

By this point, we were all finished with our breakfast. Luca announced that it was time to take the dogs and the goat out and excused himself. A few minutes later, Moony, Molly, and our three foster dogs clamored down the hallway toward the back door to go outside. They were following behind Luca, who was now wearing his own pair of crocs. Once the door closed behind them leaving us with silence, Dieter again muttered, “Fucking circus,” under his breath as he moved to put everyone’s dishes away. We all burst out laughing at his declaration considering he was the one who had created it.

After Dieter finished putting the dishes away, he asked me if I knew where Daisy was since she hadn’t followed the crowd out. Daisy was our elderly foster dachshund that preferred peace and quiet. Dieter went off to find her, returning minutes later with Daisy in his arms to interrupt our conversation so he could ask me if I wanted to stroke his wiener. Lauren nearly choked on the water she was drinking as Alex snorted in laughter. I sighed, shaking my head at him, “What are you, like twelve?”

Dieter chuckled as he leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek, “Sometimes…I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I continued shaking my head at him as I gave Daisy a quick scritch behind the ears. The four of us moved outdoors after that to keep an eye on Luca and the small herd of animals. A short time later, we were joined by Gabby, Shaun, and their three kids. They had stopped for pancakes on the drive up, so the kids were ready to run off their sugar high as soon as they got there - which worked out well for the young foster pups as they chased the kids around the yard.

I sat in silence, snuggling Daisy in my arms as I listened to Gabby and Lauren catch up with each other next to me. I was intently watching Dieter and Luca playing with Moony while everyone else ran amuck around them. As Luca stood watching Moony tear off after the ball Dieter had just thrown across the yard, Dieter snuck up behind him. He grabbed Luca around the middle, lifting him off the ground, and buried his face into the boy's neck. Dieter began placing obnoxious kisses onto Luca’s cheek while he squealed in delight and struggled to get away from his papá.

Our lives had changed so much in the past five years, in very unexpected ways. Our work was now more fulfilling and having a major impact on others in ways that we never could have imagined. From all the darkness we had experienced, a guiding light emerged and it’s what led Luca to us.

Luca had been the last missing piece to our very complicated puzzle, healing the tiny bit of our hearts that we hadn’t even realized was festering underneath the happiness after things didn’t go as we hoped for our little family. Now I could only hope that we could do the same for Luca.

The End (Sort of...)💜

Luca’s Adoption Story - a one shot coming May 2024 for Foster Care Awareness Month & Mental Health Awareness Month.

A/N: And there we have it, folks. We have finally reached the happily ever after for these two. How are we feeling about things? Is this where you saw the future going for them? Was any of it unexpected? It's not truly the end for these two. We still have the companion serious, The Light in the Darkness, to look forward to. Also, as you can see, I plan to do a one shot detailing the events of Luca's adoption from Dieter and Talia's POV. I had planned to go into the details in the Epilogue, but I felt it was messing with the flow. So, instead, I kept it short, and we will get the more detailed version for Foster Care Awareness Month & Mental Health Awareness Month. 👉Since we have reached the end, I thought it might be fun to open my asks to your burning questions about this fic. Are you curious about inspiration for something? Do you want more details on a specific plot point? Seriously, ask me anything. No question is off the table. Or, if you just want to share your thoughts, you can do that to. If you would like to follow along on the asks/responses, you can view those as they post HERE. 👉Just a reminder...Next week the first chapter of Closed Position is dropping. Dancing Dieter is finally here, y'all! 🕺 I posted a Meet the Characters intro bit this morning that you might want to check out. 😉 Thank you all for sticking with me on this crazy ride and for all the support. I've enjoyed getting to know you all through your comments and reblogs. I've loved hearing your thoughts and personal stories. They kept me going when I hit the ole writing rut. And that's it. That's all I have. 💜Mysty

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent @bunniboo0015 @indiegirlunited @babycatkitty @pedrostories

*If your blog name is marked out, it would not let me tag you. You will need to change your visibility settings for that to work.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic #destiny & deliverance series

99 notes · View notes