Tumgik
#uncontained theme
springdoy · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
#    THEME 088 : LIKE YOU DO.
*          FEATURES:
uncontained, simple theme. different font size and options. five different shapes to choose from + outlines. visible source link. best viewed on chrome.
*          INFO:
by clicking the source link you’ll find the theme’s preview, sizes and links to get the code. if there’s any issue with it please send me an im to help you with it. this is a free theme.
*          TERMS OF USE:
please don’t remove the credit. this is not a base code. do not take parts of the code without my permission. do not buy / use if i have you blocked. do not repost. do not use as inspiration.
773 notes · View notes
peakmars · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
( 🫧 ) - PERFECT DAY : NON-CONTAINED THEME !
NOTES . .
Another version of BETTER THINGS(?) if you will. Did a different layout for the muses popups, so others can add more details? Hope you like it!
FEATURES . .
1 Main Photo, 2 Extra Photos.
5 Clickable (Popups) Icons.
2 Popups: Rules & Muses List.
OTHERS . .
Photo sizes stated in the codes once installed.
BEOMGYU Scans are from BXMGYX_13 in Twitter.
GUIDES . .
Read RULES here. Please, be respectful and DO NOT steal/copy/repost any parts of my resources or remove the credit or use it as a base. DO NOT share the links with others once you purchase it. If you use my resources, REBLOG the post. If there's any inquiries, feel free to leave them in my inbox.
Find related links: Previews. Codes.
This is a PREMIUM THEME ($3.50).
86 notes · View notes
gordonramsei · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
˚. ⋆ ̥ 𖤐  BARE  :  a  tumblr  theme  .
╲ ˚. ⋆  𓊌  ABOUT  .
a  multi  -  purpose  minimalist  theme  .
no  tabs  ,  no  title  ,  &  un  - contained  .
please  like  and  reblog  this  theme  if  u  intend  on  using  or  wish  to  support  my  work  .
╲ ˚. ⋆  𓊌  THEME  SPECS  .
navigation  drop  down  .
six  links  within  menu  .
two  free  links  .
optional  background  '  bar  '  to  create  a  multitude  of  different  aesthetics  .
scribble  svgs  for  accents  .
animated  pinned  post  icon  and  inbox  notif  .
full  list  of  credits  ,  design  inspo  ,  and  fonts  listed  within  the  code  .
𓊌  𓊌   ˚. ⋆  click  the  source  to  be  directed  to  a  live  preview  .
*  this  theme  is  a  patreon  exclusive  . 
39 notes · View notes
windmills123 · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
*You can not grasp the true form of Gaster.
heres my gaster design thats inspired by giygas from earthbound!! :D
3K notes · View notes
soyeonzs · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
›     bombom  :     theme   054.     tumblr theme code
if u find any bugs don’t forget to let me know, so i can help u. thank you very much for your support and i really hope u enjoy it!
*     terms of use and info:
don’t use it as a code base or steal it, don’t edit the credits or remove them and please don’t take parts of the theme and paste them into another’s.   please read my rules!
the appearance may change depending on the size of your computer screen.  
the full credit list is in the code.
if u like what i do or find it useful with a reblog u would be helping me a lot.
the preview and download link are in the source.
get the code on payhip ( for free or pay what you want ) and on patreon !
263 notes · View notes
tulipseason · 2 months
Text
i love S2 of ofmd. not because I think it’s perfect, but because of the sheer overwhelming wave of emotion packed into it. I saw a tweet recently that said it’s ironic max seemed to want ofmd to be something it’s not- an uncomplicated pirate workplace comedy. and when I think about it, not only did they straight-bait their audience, they also sitcom-baited their audience as well. It’s hilarious how the show’s unfurling became uncontainable for them. S2 especially, is so raw edged and frayed and messy. the layers of angst and comedy and queerness and romance feel so BIG, so undefinable as one clean cut genre. It’s euphoric. you can complain all you want about the structure and the story beats and studio interference etc and I’d say you’re right for that. but ultimately - the emotional core and themes of the show (dismantling of toxic masculinity, forgiveness/second chances, queer joy unconcerned with playing defense) ring so true and vibrant to me, shouting at the top of its lungs in S2. and it has a special place in my heart for that.
501 notes · View notes
peachesofteal · 10 months
Text
Home
Part of the Sassy series.
Tumblr media
Simon Riley/female reader 6k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. PTSD. Emotional hurt/comfort. Relationship issues. Feelings of sadness, anxiety, fear. Mention of attempted suicide. Alcohol use. Tenderness. Simon is soft for you. Simon is a good dad. The 141 is a found family trope. Angst with a happy ending. The gang's all here. Lots of crying. Home.
>You need to come down to the pub.  >What? >Simon’s in bad shape.  >It’s hardly noon?  >Just get down here, Sassy.
The text from Price has you walking briskly down the street within a minute, jittery with nerves and heart racing in your chest. The pub is not a long walk, the shortest route is east two blocks, south two blocks, and a quick left turn into the pedestrian alley that runs between two large brick buildings, to where the red painted door is nestled in off the street.
It’s not a long enough walk at all, because it hardly gives you enough time to collect your thoughts. Your feet fly over pock marked asphalt, anxiety shifting around in your mind, finding the softest pieces of your brain to sink its teeth into and derail you. He’s okay, he’s just drunk. He’s okay, he’s just drunk. He’s not hurt. He’s fine. 
You’re practically vibrating with nerves. Your body feels uncontained, unbound by laws and physics, like you could fall apart completely at any moment. Rip apart at the seams and disappear into nothing, never to be seen or heard from again.
It was a struggle, in the next moment, to not follow that previous thought up with ‘maybe it’d be better.’ 
You weren’t allowed to say those things out loud anymore. Or, so says your therapist. You weren’t supposed to think your family would be better off without you, this shell of a human that is neither a mother or a wife now, just a skeleton, just a nervous system, just a heart and a brain.
You grit your teeth.
You are still you. You are strong. You are a mother. You are a wife. You are loved. You are worthy of being loved. 
You fight the eyeroll and repeat it on top of your other mantra for good measure.
Theo is okay. Simon is okay. You’re home. There is no danger. There is nothing to fear.
When you get to the pub’s front door, you stop for a second and stare at it.
Your hands shake on the handle.
There is no danger. There is nothing to fear. You are still you. You are worthy of being loved. 
“What’re you doing ‘ere?” Simon slurs, and you chew on the inside of your cheek while Price stands opposite you, adjacent to the drunk man’s shoulder.
“Sassy’s going to take ya home.” Price explains gently, and Simon shakes his head furiously, eyes slamming shut like he’s suddenly been blinded by the sun.
“No.” He vows. You fight to keep your voice even when you try to reassure him.
“Si. Hey, it’s okay, you’re just-“
“No, Sass.” His fingers curl around the small glass that’s filled to the brim with bourbon, before he throws it back and wipes his lips on his sleeve. “Price’ll take me home. Go on.” The directive cuts, but you swallow the hurt down. You put him here. You did this. 
“I can’t, mate. Got to meet the wife down the street for an appointment.”
"I can't go with 'er." He snaps, and you try not to choke the saliva that's building in the back of your throat with your nausea. Price looks at you over Simon’s slumped posture, mouthing something that looks like: ‘it’s okay, call the cab’, and you manage it in record time, the tracker on the screen showing a black vehicle pulling down the street a minute later. Your hands are still fucking shaking, and you can’t stop them, can’t do anything with them except hold them together in hopes they’ll keep you from falling apart.
“Okay Si, come on.” You’ve managed to get him out of the car, and into the house, but he’s fading fast. The irritation from earlier settling into drunk sleepiness, draining some of that tension that he’s always carrying from his body. You shift him so that he’s leaning on you, his massive weight nearly bowling the two of you over as you encourage him to take the step up. “Help me out.”
“Wy’re you here?” He slurs and you grimace, pressing your thigh into the back of his knee so it bends forward and then up to the next step.
“This is ou- my house.” Our house. It wouldn’t have been a lie, wouldn’t have been anything but the truth, if you had said it. Instead, you bit your tongue just in time. “Can’t take you to yours because you’ve drank the city dry of Kentucky bourbon, and I don’t want you to be alone.”
“Always ‘lone now.” He mumbles and you feel the burn of tears in your nose, under your lashes. Don’t fucking cry. “Ya shouldn’t be here.” He protests as you walk next to him, step by step, your arm wrapped as much as it can be around his waist.
“It’s okay, come on.” You heave him up the last stair to the landing, where you keep your hands on his hips and steer him towards the bedroom.
For a split second, you consider trying to push him towards the guest room but disregard the notion as soon as it comes. He won’t be comfortable in there. The bed’s too small. Don't want him to wake up confused either. He grunts when you herd him towards the master. Master bathroom is better. That way he won’t wake Theo if he gets up in the middle of the night to puke. 
You manage to nudge him into the bed, heaving his legs onto the mattress and stripping his giant boots off, throwing them haphazardly in the corner while you glance at the bedside clock. Almost time for pick up. 
“Our room.” He blinks, arm stretching across towards the middle, towards the side you always sleep on, the side you still sleep on.
“Yeah. Thought you’d be more relaxed in here.” You explain, tugging and pulling at the sheets. He’s so heavy, like dead weight against the fabric, but you don’t want him to be uncomfortable, and the sheets are knotted together under his back. His head lolls, body full of slack, blissfully unaware, floating high on a river of Kentucky bourbon and he looks like he’s about a minute from falling asleep. A tidal wave of longing sweeps through you, everything yearning to curl up into his side, bury your face in his neck and listen to the sound of his breathing.
You can’t. You ruined it. You ruined everything. Again. 
“My sweet girl.” His thumb sweeps across your cheekbone and you can’t help but lean into it, close your eyes and take a lungful of air. “Don’ cry.” He croaks and you manage a smile, a small one, mostly for his benefit.
“I’m okay.” You try to reassure him, his brow crinkling in the center like it does when he knows you’re lying and he’s about to call you out on it. You wipe your face with the back of your hand and glance at the clock again. Shit. “Si, I have to go get Theo, I want you to try to get some rest.” He stays quiet for a while, eyes drooping before he agrees half-heartedly.
“Right, I’ll be ‘ere then.” He shifts, rolling partially on his side, and yanks your pillow into his arms, folding it down into his body until his chin is resting on it. You don’t move from his side until his eyes start to slip closed, the dizzying rhythm of drunken sleep pulling him under, and when you finally stand so you can go get Theo, you can’t help but lean over his shoulder and press a feather light kiss to his temple. I love you; you think. I’m sorry I fucked it all up. 
Theo is, as always, pleased to see you on the sidewalk after the bell rings, his voice vibrating with excitement as he goes through his day, telling you about the things his friends did and the stuff his teacher said.
When you get about two blocks away from the house, you stop and he looks up at you in confusion, face creased in the center of his brows, the spitting image of his dad. You sigh, and squat down so you’re just about eye level. “Theo, I need your help with something when we get home.”
“Kay mum?”
“We need to be really quiet when we get home, okay? Dad is-“
“Daddy’s home?” He squeaks with glee, eyes wide and excited. Shit. Fuck. Shit. 
“Daddy’s home but he’s sick… so he’s asleep. To help him get better we need to be quiet so he can sleep, right?” He nods, and you know he understands. “Okay. Maybe we can watch a movie in the living room with our snack instead of playing in your room, yeah?” He agrees wholeheartedly, and you melt a little. He’s so kind, so patient. Such a sweet boy, and you don’t think it has anything to do with you at this point. You consider yourself lucky he’s so resilient, because you’ve already gone and screwed up half of formative years.
When he gets to the front door, he puts his finger in front of his lips and makes a ‘shhh’ sound, the little gesture showing you that he remembers what the two of you discussed and you melt even more.
He’s definitely getting ice cream tonight.
The morning comes too soon. You spent most of the night awake after managing to get Theo in a bath without causing a huge ruckus and putting him to bed, agonizing on having to face Simon, who may or may not even try to slip away undetected. Not to mention, the three of you have dinner at the Price’s tonight, since Johnny is in town, and it will be the first time you’ve seen Kyle in months. You’re already anxious about that, on top of everything. Your nerves feel rubbed raw.
Your brain didn’t let you sleep, not fully, instead choosing to free fall through memories like you were watching a movie, bits and pieces of your entire life playing out in your mind like you were sitting in a dark theatre with a bucket of popcorn.
The first time you met Simon, the confusion over the skull that seemed so familiar, your brain automatically linking it to Mace’s and dousing you in nervous fear. 
The first time he refused to show you his face. The first time you refused to give him your name. 
The moment you saw him in the bathroom, felt the magnetic pull like magic. The time you caught him watching you, standing outside of the safe house, face tilted up towards the rain. 
When he showed up at your house with a battered ultrasound photo and your name on his lips.
When you held his baby, your son, in your arms for the first time while he cried and kissed you over, and over. 
The day you said yes to marrying him, when he got down on one knee in the nursery, hands shaking with nerves. 
Sleep is brief. You’re half-awake on the couch, listening for any sound from either of them, staring at the floor while the rising sun casts shadow across the hard wood.
You hear the creak of heavy feet on the stairs, the hesitancy of someone standing at the top, unsure if they should come down.
What are you going to say when he does? What could you possibly say that would make any of this better?
Hey, I’m sorry I had a panic attack and abandoned you after we touched each other for the first time in almost a year. 
Hey, I’m sorry I freaked out and left which caused you to spiral into a bottle. 
Hey, I’m sorry I’m still a fucking nightmare that doesn’t actually deserve you. 
“Morning.” He calls, and you turn to see him at the bottom of the steps, walking towards the chair next to the couch, the giant one that’s got an imprint of his body in it.
“Hey, morning.”
“You get any sleep?”
“A little.” The living room goes deathly silent, and you sit up, crossing your legs in front of you to face him. Say something. Say anything. 
“Look, I-“ you start.
“Sass-“ and so does he. The two of you stop as soon as you realize you’re talking over one another.
“Sorry, you go ahead.” You follow up lamely, lip tucked between your teeth. He sighs, long and low.
“I’m sorry, you had to… deal with that. With me. Like that.”
“It’s okay. Not the first time I’ve seen you in rough shape.” You try to tease him, try to lighten the giant storm cloud that is bearing down on the two of you, but it doesn’t work. He grimaces instead. Smooth. You curse yourself. “I uh. Didn’t mind. It felt kind of… nice. To do something for you.” He raises an eyebrow, and you shrug. “You’re always taking care of me, you know?”
“You’re my priority-“ a bedroom door creaks upstairs, followed by the sound of little thundering footsteps, and you feel a pang of regret. Of all times to wake up early, baby. You can't fault him too much, he's so excited to see his dad. “you, and this guy.” He smiles across the room to where your baby stands with his blanket tucked in his hands, still in his pjs with a sleepy smile. “C’mere, bug.” Simon pats his thigh and Theo runs, scrambling up onto the chair and nestling into his dad, eyes still wearing their crust of sleep, hair all a mess.
“Breakfast?” you ask and Theo nods into Simon’s chest.
“Pa’cakes?” he asks hopefully, and you laugh.
“Sure, bug.” Simon looks at you over his head. “Will you stay?” you ask, trying not to let any emotion slip into your voice. It’s his choice. Don’t pressure him. He needs to be comfortable. 
“Of course.”
He stays all day. You don’t intend for it to happen, but it does, and you don’t complain. The two of you dance around the other night gracefully, but it doesn’t feel awkward or awful. It feels… okay. Normal. Without the elephant in the room, you could almost close your eyes and imagine this as before, and your willingness to relax and enjoy their company, together, without getting lost in your own head, is something you’ve been working diligently on thanks to Dr. C.
It feels good. It feels good, when you settle Theo in his room to watch a movie while you figure out his dinner before dinner, just in case he decides to be picky later. It still even feels good when Simon asks you if you want a glass of wine before you start getting ready for said dinner, because he can tell you’re nervous, and you actually say yes without feeling guilty. It all feels great, until it doesn’t, and your little bubble pops.
“Do ya want to talk about the other night?” Fuck. 
“Sure…” you taper off and he sits back in the chair, watching you with a scrutinous gaze, the one you’ve seen dozens of times, but not usually in your home.
“It’s important… that we’re honest with each other,” he says, and a knot twists in your stomach. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I need you to… acknowledge. What happened. I need to talk about it with you.”
“Okay.” You rush out. “I’m sorry… the other night, I- I made a mistake.” It’s the wrong thing to say. The words themselves are an error, and his face shutters, the beginning process of him shutting down taking over his body, his mind. No no no. 
“A mistake.” He repeats and you shake your head vigorously.
“No, no. Not like that I didn’t mean… please. I don’t… I don’t know how to feel or say things the right way anymore and my head has been so messed up, but I swear I… I want to try. I want… this marriage. I want us.” You’re crying earnestly now, tears dripping down your face, nails clenched into your palms so hard it burns. “And I… I wanted to take it slow.” He nods thoughtfully but stays silent. “I lost my head, the other night and rushed into things without really thinking.” Why isn’t he saying anything? “You were not a mistake Simon, I swear. You’ve never been a mistake to me.” You gasp the last sentence, throat raw with your tears and your eyes clench shut, hands going slack. Your chest is tight, it’s so tight and the air feels thin, and… you’ve completely ruined this, again, it’s all you ever do now, is ruin things. You ruined your family, ruined your son’s life, ruined Simon’s life, ruined everything. 
“Hey, hey.” You hadn't noticed, but his hand now curls around yours, pressure steady against where your pulse hammers under your skin. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “But we need to talk, Sass. Actually talk. Talk about where you are, how you’re feeling. Talk about a way to move forward.”
“Okay.”
“And I need to be honest with you about something. What happened the other night… it can’t happen again. I-“ He looks down to his feet. “I had a panic attack, after you left. I thought I was dying, I can’t… I can’t do that again. I have to be able to be present.” He doesn’t let go of your hand, but his grip slackens a little, and you feel your heart ripping into two pieces. Oh, Si. What have you done? “If I can’t be present, then I can’t take care of you, or Theo, or make sure nothing happens to the two of ya and I have to be able to-“ He abruptly stops, choking on the last sentence, and you watch as he straightens himself, twisting his back and rolling his neck. You stand, reaching for him, a tentative, seeking hand tracing along his forearm.
Asking for permission.
Asking for forgiveness.
Asking for everything.
He gives it to you. You fall into his arms easily, curling yourself into his lap, and he buries his face in your hair, shuddering breaths the only sound in the room, the only way you’d be able to tell he’s trying to compose himself. He dwarfs you, his embrace swallowing you up easily and you close your eyes, holding him as tightly as possible. You did this. You’ve let him down. 
“I’m sorry.” You whisper and he shakes his head. “I am, I… I am, Si. I'm so sorry.”
“I know.” He answers, a hand smoothing over your hair and then down your back. “I know you are, sweet girl.”
You check the door lock four times, while Theo jumps from crack to crack in the sidewalk and Simon watches him carefully. The sun is starting to set, casting a orange pink glow over the street, lamps just starting to flicker on across the way, the sound of people out and about in the nice weather bouncing off the brick.
“Ready?” he asks, reaching for the bag on your arm. You nod, but reach out to grab his wrist when he turns to head down the block.
“I uh. I’m-“ you think you might be sick, and faint at the same time. You feel too warm in clothes, cold in your skin. You feel unsettled. Volatile. Why is this so hard? 
“What is it?” He’s gentle, voice soft and coaxing, and you try to smile and reassure him, but it comes out wrong, lopsided and nervous. You can do this. Just ask him. Today was mostly great. He’s not going to reject you. 
“I… was going to ask if you… if you wanted to come home with us tonight? After dinner.” His eyebrows raise, and something dark flashes across his face, something guarded.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Not for… that. Not for sex.” Jesus Christ. “I um… I thought maybe we co-could sleep together.” Oh my god. You’re blowing it. You feel like you might vomit all over his shoes. “Just sleep. In our bed. Together.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah… yes. I want to if you want to.” He’s silent for a long time, practically eternity, before he steps forward, and presses the lightest kiss to the top of your head.
“Okay, Sass. I want to.”
“Bloody hell. Feels like I haven’t seen ya in years.” Kyle pulls you into a hug and you laugh, head tipped back, pure joy on your face. You really did miss him.
“You look fit, Gaz.” You quip, and he preens just a bit. Simon scowls and raises an eyebrow from behind him. Price shakes his head like he’s already exasperated with the lot of you.
“Alright, alright. Stop hoggin’ the lass.” Soap shouts, elbowing him out of the way, and when he pulls you in for a hug, you’re not surprised there are tears smarting behind your eyes. Get it together. 
“Hey, Johnny.” You hold him back, arms wrapped around his waist, and he gives you a squeeze before pulling away.
“Hey Sassafras. You well?” He glances at Simon, and then back to you. It has not escaped anyone that the three of you arrived here together. You nod, and he smiles. “Where’s my nephew?” He half yells, because Theo is half hiding behind Simon’s legs, a little overwhelmed by the noise.
“He’s here.” You rub his head affectionately, and he peeks out, eyes landing on Johnny right away and glee lighting up his face.
“’cle Johnny!” he shrieks, and then flings himself at the poor man, barreling into him with the strength of a kid half his age.
“Oof.” Johnny gives you a bewildered look and you shrug.
“Why are you surprised? You know his dad.” Gaz barks a laugh, and Price’s wife rolls her eyes, before giving you a hug herself and dragging you into the kitchen. Gaz has got Theo up on his shoulders now, and you see Price handing Simon a beer out of the corner of your eye before you slip away, leaving them to their conversations.
“You look like you’ve been crying.” She motions to your under-eyes, and you tsk. You really did try to cover it up, but the puffiness is hard to hide.
“It’s been… a day.”
“A bad day?” She asks, and you consider it. Bad? No. Good? Also, not entirely. How would you describe it? 
“Not a bad day just… hard.” She reaches across the counter, squeezing your hand in a gesture of affection.
“If you need to chat…”
“Lunch this week?” you supply hopefully, and she readily agrees. It’s nice, having a friend. Having someone who gets it. Even though she’s a civilian, sweet as honey and soft as cotton, she’s still got an edge. She’s never shown fear, or disgust at the group of you. She married John, after all. And he loves her more than life itself. “So. What did you spend all day slaving away at in here?” you change the subject, and she giggles while popping a cork from a wine bottle.
“Fuck no.” She protests as she pours out two glasses. “I ordered catering. I’m not cooking for all you. You’re too picky.” She hands you a glass, and you chime your rim against hers.
“That’s fair.”
“How’s work, Sassy?” Kyle asks, bowl of salad extended towards Simon who turns his nose up at it.
“It’s good. Kind of dull.”
“What is it ye’re even doin’ now?” Johnny asks. He’s sitting next to Theo, who’s sitting next to Gaz, nestled between his two uncles like it’s a holiday, face beaming with happiness. They’re taking turns picking things off his plate too, since he’s already thrown a fit about eating vegetables tonight.
“I’m on a project. I’m just analyzing and compiling data for the DoD.” You try to keep it short, but Johnny raises an eyebrow.
“What kind of data?” You sigh.
“I’m tracking and analyzing the historical usage of Semtex.” You deadpan and his face lights up.
“Original compound?”
“Yes, Johnny.” You answer drily. Simon chuckles.
“You tryin’ to figure out how much is left floatin’ around out there eh?” You sigh again, louder for dramatic affect, and Price’s wife takes the cue.
“Okay, let’s talk about something other than bombs, hmm?” Gaz grumbles a protest, but she looks at Theo. “How’s school going Theo?”
“Oh yeah, sure use the kid!” Johnny playfully rolls his eyes, and you swing your toe into his shin. “OW!” He yells. You snicker. Price clears his throat. Whoops. 
“’Cools fun!” Theo supplies and Simon smiles softly at him from across the table. You watch him, the crease in the corner of his eyes, the gentle slope of his lips, the warmth and love that he exudes when he looks at his son. It makes you soft, so fucking soft and weepy and… in love. You feel the burn of a tear and rub your face subconsciously before looking down to your lap. Fuck. 
A heavy hand reaches for where yours sits, white knuckling the arm of your chair. A heavy hand wearing a gold wedding band, and you lean into it, hard, pulling his grip onto your lap, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles until you get your emotions under control.
“We’re gon’ miss you next week, Ghost.” Kyle says, cutting a piece of meat into a smaller portion and offering it to Theo who looks at it suspiciously. Simon coughs like he’s swallowed a fly.
“What?” you turn, and he grimaces. Price rubs his hand over his face, and Gaz looks between you and Simon like he’s confused.
“I’m taking some time off.”
“Well earned.” Kyle adds. “I’m sure Ale n’ Rudy ‘ll miss ya though.”
“You’re going to Las Almas?” Your head swings back and forth between the two of them.
“Wots lallamas?” Theo asks with a mouthful of food.
“Chew your food, baby.” You admonish. When no one else speaks, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head. “You’re going to Las Almas?” you repeat it, and Johnny shifts uncomfortably before answering.
“It’s just to help Los Vaqueros out.”
“With what?” you press, and now Simon is shifting nervously. “Soap.” You hiss and he holds his hands up.
“Valeria broke out-“ he starts.
“Someone broke Valeria out-“ Price tries to explain at the same time.
“Valeria’s on the lam and-“ Gaz uses air quotes around the word lam, and they all come to a stop when you laugh out loud.
“Oh my god.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’ll be out of your depth. She’s too smart for you all, and you know it.” The table goes dead silent.
“Well, if you’re lookin’ for something to do lass…” Johnny trails off suggestively.
“That’ll do.” Simon barks, and Theo’s eyes go wide. Gaz looks down at his plate. Price frowns. Simon takes a deep breath, before cutting a glance to you, and you give him a reassuring squeeze. It’s okay. You try to communicate with the gesture. It’s alright. 
Price’s wife stands from the table, a hand on her hip, the other on John’s shoulder.
“Alright. Who wants dessert?”
Bugs chirp in the grass when you step up next to Price outside on the deck. Simon, Soap and Gaz are all in the living room with his wife, Theo asleep in his dad’s arms, cheeks squished together, sweet baby lashes laying softly on his face. Price taps his cigar once, twice, before clearing his throat.
“If you wanted too, Sassy, I could pull some strings. You could come to Las Almas.”
“Thanks, Price but uh. I wouldn’t pass the psych eval for field action? And I’m probably not able to be medically cleared either.” You point to your shoulder, the one that has the nerve damage in it, and he nods. “But, I appreciate the offer.” You sigh, turning around and pinning your hands against the railing, kicking your shoes together before blowing out a deep breath. “I never thanked you.” You say softly. “For taking care of him… during the- when I was- when we were separated. I know… I know he was in a bad place and you both really supported him.” Price nods, cigar pulling free from his lips. “And… I know we never really… talked it out but… I do forgive you.” His head tilts, eyes heavy with full of a world of things you can only imagine.
“What I did, what Simon and I did… it was a mistake. I made a judgement call based on the situation I was put in and… it was the wrong one.” He says lowly and you nod.
“It was, but I consider us square.” You close your eyes. “I remember you, that day. When you guys came for me. I remember… hearing you talk to Simon when the heli landed. When he thought I was already dead. When he-“ Your voice breaks, because it’s too much to try to remember, too much to pull to the forefront of your mind. The memory of Simon’s hoarse screams, his pleas, his hands stained with blood. Your own vision blurred red, Soap holding pressure against two of your wounds, Gaz wrestling a pistol from Simon’s iron grip, Simon trying to die alongside of you, refusing to exist in a world where you don't and Price’s shout, his command for Simon to stand down ringing out above it all. “You kept him alive, kept reminding him he had Theo at home, waiting for him, and I owe you for that.”
“You don’ owe me anything, Sassy.”
“Well, I like to think we’re even at least.” You smile and he nods, blue eyes twinkling under the porch lamp, cigar burning a red hole in the darkness.
“We’re even then.” He agrees, and you turn to look through the living room window, where Simon’s hand is resting gently on Theo’s back, rubbing a soft circle to soothe him as he sleeps fitfully.
“I gotta get them home.” You jerk your head in their direction, and he smiles.
“Goodnight Sassy.”
“Night, Captain.”
You are nervous as hell when you climb into bed that night. Theo’s asleep, locks triple and quadruple checked, water bottle filled and stationed next to your side of the bed. You’re half laying, half sitting up in a mound of pillows, wearing one of Simon’s too big t-shirts and a pair of cotton shorts, tucked under the blankets and staring at the ceiling when the bed dips beneath his weight, his body sliding under the sheet next to you. He’s warm, so warm, like he usually is, and you’re yearning to sidle over and tuck yourself into him, the feeling so strong it nearly saws a hole through your heart.
Breathe. Just breathe. Everything’s okay. You’re home. There is no danger. There is nothing to fear. 
“Sass?” His voice is even, gentle, calming, and you turn to face him a little more than eagerly.
“Hi.” You breathe. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t do anything stupid, or rash, or say the wrong thing, be cool, you can do it, you’re fine, you’re okay now, you’re-
“Talk to me.”
“I want to touch you.” you blurt, partially mortified, even though you can hear your therapist in the back of your mind telling you ‘It’s okay to ask Simon for what you want, if he’s okay with that’. “Sorry. I want- I want… you to hold me? If… you want to. Only if you want to. If you don’t that’s okay.” You frown, fingers twisted together. His gaze grows soft, softer than it was ten minutes ago or an hour ago, and he nods, opening his arm to lift the blankets so you can scoot closer.
When you do, he brings you into his chest, tucking your face into his neck and folding his arm along your back, heavy palm sliding up and down your spine.
Home. It feels like home. It feels like happiness, and being whole, and feeling like yourself. It feels like your bed, your husband, your son, sleeping peacefully within these walls. It feels like everything’s okay, feels like you’re safe, feels like you’re going to be alright. It feels like home, for the first time in almost a year and it shocks you, the emotional swell of your feelings pulling tears to your eyes because you realize, you finally see, that it was Simon all along. Simon is your home, Simon is your anchor, Simon is your sanity. The father of your child, the man you married, the love of your life. It’s always been him. How could you have been so blind?
You’re crying now, tears soaking his skin, the neck of his t shirt and he’s holding you tight, trying to soothe you, his hand now brushing away the rapid tears that are falling down your cheeks.
“You’re okay, Sass. It’s alright.” He tries to calm you, but it only makes you cry harder into him.
“I know!” you sob. “I know it’s okay.” You sound nonsensical, breaths coming in shorter bursts, and you can feel his muscles tightening, his own panic starting to build over the state you’re working yourself into. “I’m s-sorry.” You sputter. “I’m so sorry. I ruined everything. I ru-ruined us.”
“You didn’t, I promise.” He’s lying. He’s lying. He has to be, because how could that be true? After everything. After the hell you put him through. After the way you reacted the other night. After it all, how could he still be here, still want you? It didn’t make sense. You didn’t deserve him. You didn’t deserve anything.
“I don’t deserve you.” you cry, and he goes completely still, hand freezing on your skin, body frozen in the bed. You feel it, the stiffness, like he’s gone to stone, and it makes your heart race, makes you so nervous that your head spins until he speaks.
“I didn’t deserve you, for a long time.” He croaks. “I didn’t deserve to be in your life, didn’t deserve to be a father to Theo. Didn’t feel like I deserved to marry ya either. Could hardly believe it was happening, standin’ up there. Felt like I was in a bloody dream.” He leans back, tilting your chin upwards so he can look in your eyes, his own holding tears that match yours. “You gave me another chance. You forgave me. You showed me grace. Don’t you think you deserve a little bit o’ that yourself?” You take a shaky breath and consider his words. Do you? Do you think you deserve some grace? You close your eyes and count to ten in your mind.
You are still you. You are strong. You are a mother. You are a wife. 
You are loved. 
You are worthy of being loved. 
You are worthy of being loved. 
When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you intently, his eyes full of hope, full of love and understanding, carrying the weight of decades of pain, the strength of survival, the burden of everything. The burden that you too, carry alongside him. The burden that the two of you have always shared, even before this year, last year, before Theo was even born. A burden born out of trauma and broken homes and bloodshed; a weight that doesn’t feel so heavy when he’s by your side.
Two knuckles stroke along the apple of your cheek, and you turn your lips towards his palm, pressing a soft, gentle kiss against his skin.
“I love you.” you whisper it, eyes wide open, looking up at him through blurry and tearful vision.
“I love you.” He says back, pulling your hand into his, kissing your pulse point tenderly, and then folds you back into his arms, your own limbs tangling with his until all you can feel, all you can see, or smell is him. Simon, your person. Simon, Theo’s dad. Simon, your husband.
Simon, your home.
843 notes · View notes
kedsandtubesocks · 1 month
Text
you, my golden hour
Rancher!Javier Peña x Cowgirl!Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: 1997. as a fallen rodeo star, you can handle anything - except maybe your city’s hometown hero
warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, Post Season 3 Javi works on his family’s ranch AU, unspecified age gap (only age mention is reader can drink and Javi is older), major pining & yearning, emotional hurt & comfort, light angst with tender fluff, reader has a backstory and family, no physical description of reader but gendered language is used and reader can ride a horse, use of pet/nicknames, mention/description of rodeo accident, themes of dealing with burnout, small texas town toxicity, light Spanish use, reader & javi having insecurities they bond/heal over, bar scene with alcohol consumption, spicy moments with allusions to smut, intense makeout where Javi gets handsy, soft!Javi, dreamy & protective!Javi
word count: 10.2k (I’m sorry)
a/n: the second installment of ‘let’s rodeo’ and my love letter to Javi & Texas, the heart of this series - this fic is near & dear to me and I just appreciate getting the chance to write this, so to @lowlights @ahauntedcowboy & @perotovar for giving me the courage to post this know I’m so grateful… and to you reading this thank you, so dearly appreciate you too ♡
Tumblr media
You haven’t thought of Javier Peña in years.
Older than you, he was handsome and had a smile that rivaled the Texas Friday night lights. He eventually hooked up with the number one town sweetheart who was even rumored to have won a local state beauty contest.
By the time you heard of their engagement, you already had started your plans for the circuits, for the road. You didn’t mourn or even feel heartbroken over the news.
Even after that, the rodeo consumed you. It kept you in a tornado like whirl for years until that fateful day it spat you out.
When that ride stopped, Javier Peña came back into your mind with a strange fog-like entrance.
While still on bed rest, the news on the TV had been showing a small special on the War on Drugs and the lull of it filled the room.
Your grandmother was the one who brought him up.
“That’s what Chucho’s son is involved in.”
“Wait, Javier Peña’s into drugs?” You asked a bit confused even without the pain killers.
“No. He’s going after the people who sell drugs.” She clarified.
Oh.
“He also didn’t get married either. Do you remember?” She had added.
You did. You heard he left the little Miss Homecoming Queen at the altar. Quite a scandal that made him the talk of the town for a while.
Then he became a big shot drug enforcer who took down one of the largest drug cartels in history and he again became the talk of the town.
It’s been a few years since your accident and now Javier Peña is back home.
Now driving into the Peña ranch you feel both so young, yet so aged at the same time, like you’re stuck between two realities.
Your sister bounces out of the truck with uncontainable glee and you’re grateful she’s excited.
Chucho Peña comes to greet everyone. His classic cream cowboy hat and gentle smile are all a beautiful welcome. It’s also adorable seeing your grandpa reunite with his old friend.
Señor Peña’s kind eyes eventually land on you with a sweet twinkle.
“It’s good to see you, mija.”
You’ve always adored Chucho Peña.
His son on the other hand…
You never knew Javier enough to fully know him. Even with his dad and your grandpa being pals, the years between you and Javier didn’t help. He existed outside your obit, a figure almost out of reach.
“And that son of yours!?” Your grandpa of course perks up asking about him.
“Ah sí Javi’s here, just out in the stables.” Chucho explains casually.
The last time you physically saw Javier Peña he was walking out of the bank. You’d been waiting in your family truck when he stepped out. By that point, a small bit of shadow was forming against his jaw and upper lip as his facial hair began to grow thick. He was a young man on the verge of stepping into the threshold of being grown.
Now before you he’s a fully grown man.
For a minute you think the man in the barn is someone else because it doesn’t seem like Javier.
Yet when he turns, you see his eyes.
Rich soil of the earth stunning eyes and you know it’s him.
His body has filled out and his shoulders even look broader. He sports a similar mustache like his father’s and it adds to his older appearance. There’s a weathered weariness on his face evident in the wrinkles carved out by his eyes and on his forehead.
The button up shirt he’s wearing allows a peek at his chest and his skin shines with sweat from the Texas sun already shining its warmth.
He’s breathtakingly stunning and you can’t take your eyes off him.
He warmly greets your grandpa with a wide smile that touches his eyes and brightens his face. He’s still that charming young man you saw, a brilliant comet out of your galaxy.
But then his gaze lands on you and his eyes narrow. A conflicting recognition and confusion swirl in his eyes. He knows you, seems to remember you, but not fully.
His dad clarifies your name and you deflate a bit. Then Javier’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.
So, he does remember you.
“Oh, yeah. Good to see you.” He nods fully realizing who you are.
“Guess the horse must be for you then?” Javier adds and your heart sinks a bit.
A grimace tugs on your face but you try recovering quickly.
“No mijo,” Chucho thankfully answers quick and gentle. “I told you, it’s for her hermanita.”
You grin small and tight in agreement.
“Oh…yeah of course.” He nods.
Your little sister immediately jumps in bright and eager to share her excitement. Thankfully the focus effortlessly shifts to her and the reason why you’re all here.
The horse is beautiful, playful and eager for attention. This first meeting already feels good. Of course, everyone holds their breaths when your sister goes for the ride.
And it couldn’t have gone more smoothly.
You even exhale relieved.
“You seemed nervous.” A smooth warm voice comes out besides you.
As you lean against the ring’s fence you discover Javier Peña moving to rest beside you.
“Just like the first day of school kinda nerves. Want to make sure everything goes smoothly.” You answer as your sister effortlessly trots around the ring with ease.
“Yeah, I bet. They already seem to be clicking.” Javier notes genuine and you’re grateful too.
Your grandfather now calls out to you.
Both you and Javier turn towards where the older men stand close to each other like conspiring headaches.
“To celebrate, we’re having dinner here!” Your grandpa cheers happily and a dread drop kicks your heart.
Immediately you stammer out panicked about how you all can’t impose.
“No pasa nada, mija.” Senor Peña gently reassures you saying not to worry. “Besides, you’re all more than welcome here. It’s been a while since Javi and I had guests.”
You don’t miss the unashamed hum Javier makes.
“And grandma?” You reply, trying to reach for more excuses not to stay.
“She can walk.” Your sister teases suddenly and you give her a sharp look.
“Will you go pick her up, please?” Your grandpa gives you his best pleading face before simply throwing the truck keys to you
Stubborn old man.
“Hijo,” Señor Peña calls out again, but this time to his son. “You should go too.”
Shit.
“No Pop, it’s okay!” Javi politely declines and you want to second that.
“Aye,” His dad chides and then he pointedly gives Javier a look that screams - Don’t be rude, go with her.
Damn.
The walk to the truck is quiet, awkward as hell, feels like two parents shoving their kids together to play nice.
Heading into the main part of town, silence fills most of the drive. You're also mentally kicking yourself for not getting the radio fixed last week like you should’ve.
“So uh, your grandma…still volunteering at the women’s shelter?” Until Javier offers a small branch of conversation.
“Yup.” You nod.
“Oh good, that’s good.” He replies.
But silence returns.
“So, you taking a break from the rodeo then? Pop used to tell me about you all the time.” Javier comments light, casual.
You feel like a cat with its hairs standing up. But even with that sensation, knowing Señor Peña spoke so fondly of you does simmer the sting.
“Sort of.” You decide to rip this off like a bandaid, get it over with now. “Had a bad accident a while back. Still haven’t decided if I wanna return.”
It’s been two years since you’ve been home.
“Oh…” Javier’s voice drops, the same way everyone does when you tell them.
“I’m sorry.” Except you’re surprise at how sincerely soft his voice is. “I thought I heard something about it. I should’ve fucking remembered… Sorry.”
He apologizes again, surprising you once more as genuine repentance floats off his voice.
You thank him understandingly. After all, it's one of the better responses you’ve been given. But you don’t want to dig into this, especially with him, so you quickly change the conversation.
“So how long are you here for? I’m sure there must be other drug cartels waiting for you to take them down.” You offer casual.
Not only had he taken down Pablo Escobar a while back, you briefly heard of his very recent grand move against the other cartel in Columbia.
He’s impressive, the town’s hero and golden boy.
“Uh actually, I’m retired. Gonna take a step back for a bit.” Javier answers just as polite and calm as you had answered him.
Oh. You hadn’t heard that. Or maybe you did and forgot.
You now feel like the foolish one and genuinely congratulate him.
“It takes a lot to decide when to step away. Besides, you deserve a break after all you did.” You mean those words.
After all, they were the same comforting words his father told you when you came back home.
A pause fills the truck and you worry you’ve maybe overstepped.
“I…yeah.” Javier breathes out. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”
Your heart flutters at how small and genuine he sounds.
“So…how about them Dallas Cowboys, huh?” Javier offers light and for some reason you laugh.
It’s not much, but it feels like a lifeline.
When you arrive to pick up your grandmother she gasps so giddy when she sees the surprise guest with you. Her excitement lights up the drive while she talks about her day taking full advantage of having Javier listening to her.
“Oh I’m so glad you’re back home safe Javi!” She gushes and then says your name.
You’re already panicking.
“With so many of your friends living out of town, maybe you’ll get to spend more time back in the city with Javier!?” She offers to you brightly and absolute horror seizes your heart.
Shooting a petrified face at her you silently plead for this discussion to die.
Javier in the back seat weakly laughs. Because of course Javier, ever the gentleman, had your grams sitting up front.
“Oh don’t give me that look.” Your grandma playfully teases back at you. “At least go rent a movie with him.”
The thought crosses your mind about turning around and dropping her back off.
“Did you know,” Javier innocently jumps in. “The first ever blockbuster was opened in Dallas?”
Your grandma coos in awe as if he’s just explained a miracle.
“See! Now you have to go with him to one!” She urges.
A horrified indignant noise escapes you. While behind you, Javier snickers even more and you’re tempted to drop him off on the side of the road to let the coyotes feast on him.
The minute you arrive at the Peña’s home you can’t get out of the truck fast enough.
Dinner fortunately goes smooth and you’re surprised at how eased the rest of the time unfolds. You do hate how many times your eyes flicker towards Javier like if you’re still trying to soak him in.
Then, from across the table, Javier’s gaze flickers to you fast catching you staring red handed. Your heart transforms into a jackrabbit, petrified and thumping fast, almost making you flee right then and there.
Until your grandpa addresses you. His warm eyes dance with a surprise in his gaze.
“We’ve decided to have some of your sister's training here.”
Your heart now skips over itself.
Your gramps and sister both explain the plan hatched while you were on the road. In order to get used to competing in different spaces, your sister decided to train here at the Peña’s.
You’re hesitant, but understand the logic. You’re even impressed. But you can’t pinpoint why you’re so nervous about this.
Señor Peña now calls to you, sensing your hesitation, and tenderly grins.
“Don’t worry mija,” his kind eyes crinkle with understanding. “It’s no trouble at all.”
His reassurance is grace and you smile back relieved while thanking him deeply.
“Seems like you’re the boss here.” Javier suddenly joins in with a casual tone and you freeze.
“Well yeah, that’s my coach you’re talking to.” Your sister proudly declares.
“Coach?” Javier’s voice perks up curious.
“Yeah.” You answer with a small smile. “That’s me.”
“Been barking orders at me all these years so why not put her in charge.” Your sister innocently adds and in pure sobbing annoyance you want to shove her face into her plate.
Thankfully everyone laughs, illuminating the room.
But you’re faced with a new reality. You’re going to be here more, seeing Javier Peña more.
And you don’t know how you feel about that yet.
-
The Peña ranch in the morning sits tranquil and the peace gives you the focus on training.
You’re surprised at how good your sister and the mare already bond. You explain a few drills and have your sister run a few repetitions of them.
“You sound like a tough one.” Javier’s voice surprises you and you almost jump over the fence.
Glancing back, he approaches you with two thermoses.
“Pop and I thought you might need an extra pick me up.” He offers and you can’t help but greedily grab at it.
“Tell your dad thanks and that he’s a saint.”
Javier snorts at your reply.
Now your focus returns to your sister. You recommend a type of turning drill vividly remember doing yourself. Your sister playfully salutes you and begins.
“How she looking, coach?” Him calling you ‘coach’ draws a dangerous electricity that snaps up your spine.
“Don’t call me coach.” You dryly tell him trying to keep yourself composed.
“Well isn’t that what you are?” He teases casually.
Your face scrunches up annoyed while his eyes crinkle amused.
“Don’t you have things to do, Javier Peña?” You sigh, already exhausted of this man.
“Javi…you can just call me Javi, coach.”
You’re tempted to childishly scoot away from him. Younger you would have never imagined he was this annoying.
“Don’t call me coach.” You dully repeat.
“Okay, coach.”
Now you contemplate just shoving him away.
But all the annoyance washes away when commotion hits. The horse makes a disgruntled whinny and immediately both you and Javier whip your attention towards the ring. Your sister calmly stays on the saddle, gently soothing down her companion.
After asking if she’s good, her eased thumbs up reassures you. She does a few trots to calm everyone down. You even exhale relieved.
“You lost in thought?” Javier comments.
“Yeah.” You answer him with a mutter. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
You almost don’t tell him. But you surprise yourself and do.
You explain the type of pace that comes with training in barrel racing. There’s a pattern and method to it all. You don’t realize you’ve rambled until you blink and realize Javier stares so directly at you. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if he’s focused hard listening to your words.
Embarrassed, you’re about to stammer out an apology when Javier whistles low.
“You know your fucking shit.” He nods appreciatively and hearing his pride ignites something dangerous in your chest.
Another surprise sharp whistle comes. Out from the barn, a further ways away, Chucho stands staring out. He even waves at you and you wave back.
“You gonna work today, hijo?” He calls out.
Javier curses under his breath.
“Busted.” You joke and now he’s the one side eying you.
“Please you’re the one slacking off here!” Your baby sister suddenly complains loud and cheeky “You’re not getting paid by the hour, coach!”
“Guess we’re both in trouble.” Javier snickers.
You roll your eyes but quickly sneer at your smiling sister.
“Alright then. See ya later…bandita.” Javier already walks away by the time you hear his goodbye.
But it hits you.
He thankfully stopped calling you coach. But now, what replaced it…
Little Bandit.
The nickname rips through you with a barbed fierceness you’re not prepared for.
The rest of the month follows this same routine.
On training days Javier shows up with something for you to drink. Once he even came with a few goods from the bakery across town.
No matter what, he watches practice with you for as long as he can before getting called back to the ranch.
During these moments together, he asks about how the turns are made or why you correct your sister when you do. It’s friendly. You actually start enjoying his company especially when your grandfather so eagerly leaves to hang out with Chucho instead.
The greetings and thanks are always the same.
“Thanks, Peña.”
“Javi,” he patiently corrects you everytime.
You can’t bring yourself to call him that just yet.
At the start of the new month everyone sleeps in and arrives later to the Peña’s ranch.
This time you’ve brought more barrels. Thankfully you can move them with the help of your sister. Suddenly besides you, boots clamor onto the truck and rapidly you snap your attention to the source of the sound.
Javier Peña smoothly climbs up to help you with the rest of the barrels.
He’s in a striking soft purple button up shirt. Sweat already shines against his bare arms. Thick worn in working gloves cover his hands. His hair seems a bit curlier today and he wears aviator sunglasses that suit his face.
Effortlessly Javier grabs onto one and lifts it by himself.
You’re stunned. Even your sister stops and stares just as surprised.
Javier is strong. Doesn’t seem like the muscular type but he’s built and radiates a type of seasoned strength of a well grown man, a rancher man.
His arms firmly hold the barrel, sturdy and toned, and you can’t look away.
“Where d’ya want me to put it?” Javier yells and you trip out of your thoughts to dumbly point where the barrel needs to be placed.
Your grandfather whistles proudly seeing Javier.
“If this rancher thing doesn’t work out for you Jav, you got the makings of a fine rodeo man.” Your grandpa teases.
Javier chuckles, with his eyes averted a bit bashful.
“Could add him to the team.” Your grandpa notes with a twinkling gleam of something mischievous.
You reply a dry no as you move to get off the truck.
In a flash, Javier jogs over and immediately reaches his hand out to help you get down. Placing your hand in his, Javier helps you down and you thank him.
He’s wearing gloves. This shouldn’t feel so significant. Yet the way he firmly holds your hand makes your heart sprout wings.
Even back on the solid dirt ground your legs don’t feel as if they’re under you.
Javier doesn’t stick around after that and you’re allowed to focus.
It’s later in the day, later than the usual practice times, and the Texas sun beats down with a fierceness. You call for more water breaks to keep everyone hydrated.
During a break, a rustling catches your attention. There towards the barn, Javi moves in and around the place.
You just catch the smallest glimpse of him with a hammer in his hand as he heads into the smaller enclosure. Curiosity gets the best of you.
Grabbing another water bottle you justify it as wanting to be polite, but curiosity gnaws at you.
The clang of hammering approaches louder and louder until you spot him in a goat pen. He hammers in a reinforced slab, probably fixing a hole. His back to you allows a glorious full sight of his broad shoulders at work.
He even switches to a drill and watching him casually use power tools, you never thought you’d find this so attractive.
One of the goats nearby makes a blep of a noise at your appearance and you almost want to shush them.
Javier glances over his shoulders spotting you.
“Hey there, bandita. Qué pasó?” he nods at you as the nickname flares up your heart.
“Just…knew how hot it was getting and gramps told me just to check up on you.” You lie waving the water bottle.
Javier turns to face you and you’re greeted with the sight of his full sweaty glory. You should be turned off seeing how bad his shirt sticks to him, how he smells of hay and dirt, but it’s incredibly hot.
The hard work of his day evident on every inch of him brews a dark cloud of desire in you.
“Oh well, tell your gramps thanks.” He replies snagging the water bottle from you.
His plus lips, the glorious sight of his thick slick neck, and the movement of the sweat just covering him as he drinks from the water bottle…
Getting this weak over the sight of him just drinking a water bottler you now think is the lowest you can go. You wonder about walking down by the river nearby and just jumping in to cool down.
From a distance, your sister yells out for you.
“Duty calls.” Javier smirks. With a sheepish smile you shrug then wave a quick goodbye.
You practically run out of that barn like a fleeing field mouse.
Later that night, alone in your room, your fingers slip under your sheets to slide under your sleep shorts. You imagine licking the sweat off Javier’s neck, picture his thick strong fingers, that fix up barns, hoist up barrels, and wonder how thick they would feel inside you.
You fall into desire’s blissful sticky release.
When you shower the next morning, you rationalize that those thoughts of Javier simply come from needing to scratch an itch.
Besides, you couldn’t get tangled with Javier. He’s older. He’s Laredo’s golden boy. He doesn’t go after broken cowgirls like you.
In the shower you turn the heat up more. A part of you hopes it will scorch off the building desire in your heart.
-
The morning is muggy, a soupy cloudy early day begging you to curl back into bed. Soft chirping echoes of the mockingbirds fill the air. You opted for earlier practices this week so your sister could prepare for a trip with her friends coming up. You agreed, wanting her to still enjoy moments outside of this.
“You out here all alone, bandita?” Javier.
He breaks the morning’s stillness. Holding his routine two drinks, he approaches you bundled up in a nice jacket that flatters him.
Thanking him, you greedily grab the drink and savor its warmth.
You explain that your sister is free roaming around the ranch this morning and it’s why you’re all alone. You stare at the empty riding area where the dirt sits holy and untouched.
“Do you miss it?” Javier asks. His voice is quietly probing, gentle as the morning mist.
That question holds a million answers all tied up in a messy knot.
“Sometimes.” You answer truthfully because you did. You missed the adrenaline, the wind blowing past you, speeding around a barrel so fast it was like you were out running the wind.
“Can I ask…” Javier and his soft, kind voice presses on. “What happened?”
Might as well. You’re now sort of friends with Javier even though the word feels sticky in your heart.
“You know that saying about how you just gotta get back on the horse? Well it's easier said than done.” You mutter.
It happened during a ride in Arizona. You’ve fallen and wrecked before. But this one just felt different. You took a barrel close and then everything slipped away. You remember being on the saddle, remember feeling your body float. Then the world went dark.
You woke up to a nasty concussion, a broken arm, and a couple of rowdy scrapes. You don’t remember your foot getting caught in the stirrup, but that’s what had happened.
“Holy fuck...” Javier breathes out, the weight of your words hang in his. “Shit I’m sorry.”
You thank him earnestly and reassure him it’s fine, just unfortunate shit like that happens. Everyone knew how dangerous the sport could get. The rodeo was a rough ride and every cowboy knew that.
But for you, you just couldn’t shake it off.
“I’m glad you made it out.” Sincerity blooms in his voice and your lips tug grateful at how considerate he is as you thank him again.
“You haven’t gone back?” Now he dances on a tight line.
“Nope. I tried after getting the clearance from the doctors but… it just didn’t go well.” You truthfully tell him.
You didn’t want to ride anymore, didn’t want to face everyone or the pressure of the race or the terror swallowing you whole. It felt as if you were burnt dry and exhausted from the inside out.
Your grandma gently embraced you and held you for what felt like hours.
“Then don’t go. You don’t have to do anything that makes you this worried and sick. Nothing is worth you being this scared, not even the damn rodeo.” She told you tenderly and with the most profoundly kind smile. You cried out of relief.
“It’s brave,” Javier says so firmly understanding. “Making a decision like that is really fucking brave, hard as fuck too.”
You gently grin and thank him again while blinking away a few tears.
“Same goes for you too.” You tell him.
From your gramps, who had gotten the full story from Chucho, you learned more about what happened with Javier and his final days in Columbia.
“I don’t know much but, what you did was brave too.” Your voice comes out softer than you expected.
He barks a laugh now. It’s dry, bitter, and can catch fire.
“Doesn't feel like it.”
You understand maybe more than he even knows. So you think about maybe what you would’ve told yourself.
“You did what was right.” You begin. “Everyone else might judge you or say shit but it doesn't matter. You’re not meant to please everyone or do what everyone expects you to do. And if that’s seen as a bad thing then…I don’t know, fuck them and fuck that.”
You say it so simply Javier busts out laughing. It’s a true blue laugh, so sweet it crinkles his beautiful dirt road eyes.
You’ve never seen him laugh like this before. And he’s beautiful.
You join in snickering as well but try to ignore the butterflies suddenly nesting in your stomach.
He’s really such a dream. A carved out Texas man so seasoned from the world, yet he still stays so kind and devoted to his family.
You get why many in the town, especially the girls during your time in high school, are all over him. Now you’re afraid you might’ve fallen into the same pit traps they did.
You’re falling under the spell of Javier Peña.
“So you’re really not going back to catching drug dealers and what not?” You ask when the laughter settles.
“I could’ve.” Javi answers. “Damn DEA would’ve taken me back. But…I just couldn’t see a future with it anymore.”
“And now here I am.” He says with a boyish soft grin.
“Now here you are”. You repeat with a nod.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” You truthfully tell him. You knew his dad worried about him. But the quiet truth is that you’re grateful for this time getting to know him now.
His eyes soften and your heat bursts.
“Thanks, glad I’m here. Glad you’re here too, bandita.” Then he softly nudges you. It’s playfully, friendly but it’s his words that almost take you out by the knees.
“Anyway, the government’s dumb. They don't deserve you.” You nod and Javier snorts amused.
“Guess I should listen to a cowgirl like you.” He teases.
You shrug. “Some people say I’m not one anymore.”
Especially because you didn’t ride anymore.
“Fuck them and fuck that.” He repeats your words and your lips twitch with a bubbling giggle.
Right now, it feels like you and him are two lonely birds sitting on a wire. Yet there’s something comforting about it, knowing it’s with him.
Then it dawns on you. You enjoy spending time with him. You know there’s desire already trickling in for him. But now he’s becoming someone precious to you.
You can’t even deny that anymore.
“Thanks, Javi.”
You don’t miss the way his eyebrows shoot up high.
Thunder roars suddenly clashing into the air interrupting the moment.
The dark clouds now loom on the horizon and coat the morning in an impending murkiness.
“Guess a storm’s coming in.” Javi mumbles.
Thankfully your sister rides back in quick and Javi decides to do some final things around the ranch before the storm rolls in. Before the rain comes, you and your sister pack up quickly. But it’s too late.
The rain pours down in a blink, almost like a hole in the sky popped to let a faucet drain out. The wind even picks up dangerously quick. It’s chaotic trying to wrangle the hose back to the stables but you and your sister manage.
“Come inside!” Gramps yells from the Peña’s porch and you and your sister scurry to the shaded sanctuary.
“You coming in?” Your sister asks while drying herself off with a towel. You don’t move from your spot by the steps.
“I’ll be in a bit.” You reassure her. She glares suspiciously and you shoo her away.
Javi hasn’t come back yet.
Noises clang out from the barn. A poisonous worry erupts through you and immediately you rush back out into the rain.
Inside the barn Javi tries yanking up a barn ladder that’s fallen over. It’s sturdy, wooden, and stuck in a hard position.
You move to help. Without any words or having to explain anything you both, as a team, work to yank the ladder out. Patiently and slowly the ladder gets moved to a spot the wind won’t knock it over.
The rush of it all has you breathing heavy.
“Thanks bandita.”
You breathlessly laugh and turn to maybe make a joke about now becoming a ranch hand and stealing his job. But all words, all thoughts, die instantly.
Having to work together to push the ladder, you now notice how close you are to him.
The sight of Javi soaked to the bone from the rain is corruptible. His clothes stick to him showing off his thick frame and shoulders. His drenched hair now seems darker with the curls more pounced.
He’s also heavily breathing too.
Now his lips, how soft and wet they look, have you hypnotized.
The pattering rain pours down hard on the roof, the only noise in the barn. You notice a shift in Javier. His eyes ever so slightly soften, almost hazing over. You might just be imaging it, but his face gradually seems to lean closer. Or maybe, you’re the one leaning towards him.
You’re possessed with an ache to kiss him, to see how the rain tastes on his lips.
It’s just you and him, soaked to the bone. You probably look like a drenched mess of a creature, but you’ve never wanted someone this much.
“Aye!”
Chucho suddenly shouts out from outside the barn and your heart stops.
Like a skittish roadrunner, you scramble away fast from Javier and just in time. His dad walks in from the other side of the barn holding an umbrella with an extra in his hand.
“You kids okay?” He calls out.
Both you and Javi yell back, quickly moving towards the elder Peña.
“You two look like a couple of soaked barn cats.” Chucho teases.
You weakly laugh and thank him for the umbrella.
Javi grumbles at his dad while he grabs the umbrella to open it up. Ever chivalrous, Javier holds it above you and him. Yet the entire walk to the house is quiet.
Fuck. Did you ruin this tentative whatever was forming between you and him? Or were you just imagining things?
You stay quiet the rest of the time waiting out the storm.
“You okay?” Your sister, keen as always, notices.
You lie with a smile saying the weather’s getting to you. When in reality, it’s a man that has.
Because you can’t stop thinking about Javier Peña now.
-
The rain stays for the rest of the week and everyone takes the schedule changes with stride. Your sister even heads out earlier on her trip earlier during a lighter drizzle.
By Saturday night the storm settles down.
Your closest friend from high school, now back in town for the month, even calls your home phone begging you to take advantage of the better weather.
“Look, before I go back to Florida let’s enjoy a nice night out, yeah? Maybe play some pool?” She pleads.
It’s how you now find yourself at the bar. You haven’t gotten dressed up in a while and you’re reminded of how nice it feels.
As much as you jokingly fussed about going out, being with your best friend laughing at the bar is lovely.
Ricky, one of the bartenders, actually was in the same grade as you two and it’s nice reminiscing, snickering over a nice drink.
“So how’s it been hanging out with Mr. Hero of the town himself?” Your friend smirks.
You make an unamused face at her while Ricky perks up.
“Wait, who are you hanging out with?” He whispers excitedly.
“Javier Peña.” Excitedly, she spills and you roll your eyes when Ricky gasps.
“You’ve fallen for the guy half the county is in love with!?” He hisses. You hate it, but it’s true and tastes soberly cold.
“Okay but practically all of our class was and maybe still is in love with him.” Your best friend adds.
“Well y’all do remember, he left Lorraine Wilson at the altar right?” Ricky reminds everyone and your mouth turns acidic.
“Oh fuck you’re right.” Your friend whispers.
“Might be bad news.” Ricky tensely tells you.
You want to hiss that he’s not like that. He’s kind, a bit annoying, but with a good heart.
“Shit, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Ricky says in a low awed tone.
Worried you whip around to see what caught his attention. Absolute horror drowns you.
Javi and another man step into the bar and you want to run.
Your best friend squeals excited beside you, but you can’t comprehend what she says. Javier has stolen your attention.
Ricky called him the devil and he does seem like an angel dipped in temptation.
The sleek blazer he wears is dressed down by his nice button up shirt and jeans. His hair is styled nice, seeming so soft and begging for someone’s fingers to run through it. A buzz swarms in your head seeing him outside the ranch looking this gorgeous.
That’s when he spots you. For a split moment you two see each other. His eyes widen and before anyone can react you whip back towards the bar.
“Looks like you’re about to fall outta your seat.” Ricky snickers and you death glare at him.
“Okay,” your friend nudges you. “The guy he’s with, I think that’s David Martinez. He was in Peña’s class right? He’s so hot now, what the fuck?” She breathes out.
You almost toast to that because you felt the same about Javier.
So you keep your head down, enjoy your drink and maybe wonder about suggesting that game of pool your best friend advertised.
“Would you two beauties be alright with a bit of company?” A sweet male voice comes out and immediately draws the attention to him.
Behind you stands Javier Peña and his friend.
David has always been kind to your family and his mom even worked with your grandma at the shelter. You appreciate that Javi still hangs out with him.
“Yes of course. We’d love some company, right?” Your friend brightly asks you and you smile polite.
Your heart however rages like it’s a wild bucking bronco trying to break free.
The guys buy a round of drinks. Everyone laughs reminiscing about that one famous senior prank where the class managed to get two cows into the school.
The atmosphere is friendly, light. But your eyes constantly flicker nervously to Javi. You can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop thinking about him. Now here he is a Texas dream, or maybe your nightmare.
You turn back to take another sip and in that shift, your best friend turns to direct all her attention to David who moves to sit beside her.
But now Javier smoothly slides into the barstool next to you.
“Nice to see you outside the ranch.” His voice comes out smooth and rich.
You agree. But the air turns awkward, as if neither of you know how to tackle this new situation.
Suddenly heels clicking fast arrive. Standing to the side is a girl you recognize from your sister’s class that just graduated high school.
“Hi,” she smiles, staring at Javi with obvious hearts in her eyes.
He politely but cautiously greets her back.
“I was, um, wondering if you wanted to maybe dance with me?” She’s bold. You can at least appreciate that.
“My friends all dared me to ask you since it’s, ya know, you.” She gushes and giggles.
“Uh, appreciate the thought but I’ll have to pass, sorry.” He turns her down gently.
As if she finally realizes you even existed her eyes blink to you.
“Oh hey!” She recognizes you as an older sister to one of her classmates. And then for something else.
“Yeah didn’t you like, used to be a rodeo cowgirl or something and then something happened so now you’re not doing anything anymore?”
She’s being underlyingly mean. Her misleading chipper tone, vapid smile, are all soaked in venom meant to shake you or even scare Javi away from you.
But you’re used to it by now. You’re about to comment how she shouldn’t even be here.
Javier however speaks first and fast.
“Hey,” Javier’s voice jumps shockingly sharply, almost reprimanding. Your eyes go wide at how fast he reacts. He even glares at the girl.
Besides you, your best friend immediately turns around.
“Oh hey!” She greets the young newcomer. “Weren’t you that girl caught buying weed only for the cops to figure out you were actually buying oregano?”
Her cheerful tone makes you bust out a snort because yeah, she’s right.
The girl’s face falls absolutely mortified.
“Now get the fuck out of here.” Your dear friend finishes sweet but the undercurrent of her voice looms threatening. The disgraced girl rushes away before she can even reply.
You wheeze into your hand and fondly lean against your dearest sweet friend.
“If she or any of her little punk ass friends try anything again, I’ll shove my heel so far up their asses.” She reassures.
“Don’t worry,” Ricky now jumps in. “I’m definitely telling our bouncer those little shits managed to sneak in.”
Gratitude carves out an ocean in you and you’re thankful for those who understand.
David whistles appreciatively and your friend, with a reassuring squeeze to your shoulder, returns to her discussion with him.
You feel Javier’s eyes burning on you.
“Does shit like that happen often?” His concerned and low voice floats out among the music.
You shrug.
“Back when I first came back it did, but it's dying down.”
You were supposed to be a big rodeo star. You even had an official big name brand sponsorship lined up. But, after the accident, not returning to the rodeo painted you a failure in the eyes of the town.
Especially compared to its bright shining star you sit beside.
Suddenly a warmth slides over your hand resting on the bar. Javier squeezes your hand gently, a reassuring comfort.
“I’m sorry.” He mutters deeply sad. “S’fucking awful.”
You thank him, even make a dry joke about small town bullshit which earns you a small dry chuckle.
“The shit I got after Lorraine…” he sighs and now you find his hand doesn’t leave yours. You don’t want it to.
“I get it. Shit’s brutal.” He finishes, a steeled hardness lingering in his tone.
Now your hand squeezes his.
His eyes, gleaming tiger’s eyes gemstones, flicker up to you and you smile softly.
Javi’s hand feels so lovely. It's rough, a bit callous but cozy. Just like him.
“Hey!” Your best friend suddenly cheers. “Let’s dance!”
She interrupts the moment but you can’t blame her. A hesitant scrunched up reaction tugs at your face though.
“It’s a slow dance.” You waver.
“That’s the best kind! Come on!” She urges and you spot her hand already intertwining with the guy’s.
“You go,” you urge with a beaming grin. “I wanna finish my drink.”
“Aw, come on now bandita,” now Javi slides off his seat.
Standing up straight, he extends his hand out to you.
“You gotta at least get one dance in.” He smirks.
It’s just one dance and you don’t know if you’ll ever get another chance to dance with him. That thought alone outweighs the hesitation. Placing your hand in his, Javier leads you out to the dance floor.
Javi maintains a polite distance from you. Yet the faintest scent of his cologne floats off him, a siren’s song pure of temptation. His hand keeps yours in its protective hold while he gently guides you to the beat of the music.
Being this close to him clouds your focus in a tantalizing haze begging you to get lost in. But you can’t. You can’t even stare into his eyes. So your focus flickers out to the rest of the bar.
David and your best friend dance close, already getting cozy with each other. Then your eyes move to the door.
The bar’s bouncer sternly starts throwing the three girls out and the one you recognize stares at you with disgusted hatred.
You snort.
“What?” Javi mutters, his voice silky against the low music.
You nudge your head towards the bar’s entrance and Javi follows your gaze.
“Oh hey.” He comments, noticing the scene.
“Good riddance. Poor girl must be pissed seeing you dance with someone me though.” You mutter a bit gleeful at the thought.
“Wait, what?” Javi sounds insulted.
“Uh yeah,” you reply, confused. “I mean, it’s kinda funny. You’re Mr. hometown hero here with the town’s nobody.”
“No.” Javier snaps fast. “Anyone who says or believes that’s a pinché cabrón.”
They’re a fucking asshole and the way he speaks with a conviction refuses to allow any doubt to refute him.
“And besides…I’m not a hero.” That’s when Javi’s voice drops, transforming into a whisper tangled among the slow country ballad playing.
“I’m not that golden bullshit guy everyone thinks I am.” His voice contains a stinging rawness you recognize.
Now you’re the one snapping back at him.
“Yeah you are. You’re good, Javi.” You begin firm.
“You’re noble and kind. Brave.” The words flow from your heart and you don’t even stop them. “You’ve worked hard to help people. I’m sure there’s shit you regret and you might not think you’re good because of it, but you are.”
He stays silent. Only the tune of the slow jam settles between you and him. You’re worried you’ve maybe said something to upset him.
Then Javier exhales your name and it has never sounded so tender.
Your throat tightens and when you finally look at him, you’re greeted by a galaxy.
The lights of the bar dance in his dark road eyes that stare directly at you as if the rest of the bar has melted away. Javi’s hand gingerly against your back now slides down gently. In that same motion, he slowly begins drawing you to him.
You don’t resist and catch his eyes flickering to your lips.
A sudden clamoring collision erupts and startled, you clutch onto Javi.
The cause of the commotion is a man who tripped into some chairs. He effortlessly laughs it off. The group he’s with helps him up and you’re thankful it’s not a bar fight.
You sigh relaxed.
That’s when you notice Javier shifted to draw you closer to him. In an almost protective hold, he has you now close against his broad chest. His cologne smells divine, makes your mouth water.
Like a bolt of electricity striking you, you’re galvanized and scramble immediately out of his hold.
“Wait, bandita, what’s wrong? You okay?” He’s so concerned and you dare not look at him.
“Just need some air.” You reply moving away from Javi towards the door leading to the small patio outside.
Your best friend swiftly rushes to you.
“Hey, you okay?!”
You rapidly reassure her that you’re fine and just need air. You even joke about not being able to handle your drinks anymore.
“That fucker didn’t try anything, right?” She asks low and deadly.
You shake your head and squeeze her hand. It’s enough for her to let you leave. Your body operates on autopilot until you stumble into the night air.
It feels like you’re resurfacing. You move to lean against the railing and simply gather yourself.
You feel possessed again needing to kiss him.
And it’s not just that. You want all of him all the time now and it’s infesting you. You’re barely keeping your head above water or maybe you’re this far gone under the waves.
For a moment you think it might be drizzling again. Until you blink and realize the water against your eyes are tears threatening to spill.
You’re so afraid of how badly you want Javier, and how badly it might shatter right before your eyes.
Someone says your name cautiously.
Embarrassed, you turn towards the door.
Javi stands a few steps away from you. His handsome face crumbles instantly seeing you. Quickly he rushes to your side, as if on instinct wanting to help, until he stops.
“Bandita, are you okay!? Fuck… did I do this?” He stammers out worried.
“Did I overstep?” His voice is wrecked. He’s so apologetic already.
You shake your head trying to pathetically dab away the tears. Unable to look at Javier, your attention stays on the dark stretch of parking lot.
“I promise it’s not you. It’s me.” Maybe it will always just be you.
“Querida…”
Darling…he’s never called you that.
“Whatever it is, please let me help.” His voice pleads unbearably tender and you want to cry even more.
He really is so good, too good.
“I just…I just can’t take it...” you begin with a watery cough.
You finally look at him. The furrowed brows, his worried soaked eyes, concern paints him so young. You’re reminded of the young man you saw walking out of a bank all those years ago and how a piece of him stands before you now.
“I like you so much Javi.” Through the heartache, you finally admit it out loud. “Maybe even more than I wanna admit and I don't know if I can’t keep fighting it.”
His face scrunches up and his eyes rapidly scan over you.
“Fight it?” He mutters out. “Why fight it?”
Now you stare at him a bit confused. You have nothing to lose now. So you hold your heart out to him. You reveal it all…the fears and worries sprouting in your heart like uncomfortably cacti about how he deserves someone just as refined and established as him, that he'll eventually get bored of someone like you.
All your words come out hollow, especially thinking about how he can have anyone he wants.
Javier, suddenly in the middle of your ramble, interrupts, upset, snapping your name fiercely that any other words you want to say vanish.
“You’re the only one in this town who actually understands, who maybe even really fucking sees me.” He growls.
Your heart even jumps hearing how determined and raised his voice got.
“You…” Javi now chokes out and suddenly runs a hand over his face. Then his hands go to his hips. His eyes fall to the floor as if he’s taking a moment to gather himself.
“Fuck… you don’t even know what you do to me, how much you fucking mean to me.” Javier breathes and the words get caught in your ribs.
“Whenever you’re not around I can’t stand it. I just wanna be with you….all the damn time.” He coughs out as if he can’t even believe his words.
Those earth pool eyes of his flicker to you.
Under the watch of the clouded Texas deep night sky, it’s just you and him.
You don't know who moves first. Instead it feels like two magnets finally flinging together so fast the collision knocks you awake.
Because in a blink Javi’s hand holds face while his other yanks at your hips. Then he kisses you.
It’s all encompassing.
Immediately your hands scramble to claw at him, begging to get him as close as possible.
His mustache scrapes beautifully against your lips. You taste the beer lingering on his tongue and he’s divine. The wall of the bar suddenly hits your back.
Now you’re flush against him, fully pinned under all of Javier, and you moan. His tongue with hungered finesse licks into your mouth. One hand stays firmly holding your face while his other runs across your body trying to map you out.
His hips rut against yours and you go dizzy with aching raw need.
“Mi pretty bebita, so good to me.” He whispers out thick and heavy. You whine wanting him more, wanting him inside you every way possible. Everything feels molten.
Javi playfully bites your bottom lip and your knees almost buckle. Your mind simply chants for him.
A clash of teeth, a burning heat devours you while you chase every taste of Javier that he gives. It’s an unleashing of something raw and aching, as if finally you can breathe against him while something inside you whispers yes, yes you and I are here and you don’t want to ever leave.
A sudden droplet plops onto your head. You ignore it especially when your tongue swipes against Javi’s and he groans out the most heavenly noise.
A few more large obvious water drops come.
You and Javi freeze, halting mid make out like a paused VHS tape.
Then the rain arrives.
“Shit!” Javi coughs out immediately pulling away. He quickly shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over you, a makeshift umbrella.
Filled by the most buoyant bliss, you laugh.
Javier snorts, shaking his head but he must sense it too, all of it amongst the rain.
And it’s beautiful.
-
“I’m surprised you don’t wear this as much.” Javier comments as he picks up your Stetson cowboy hat.
He’s shirtless, only wearing his jeans. You’re treated to his bare broad shoulders and wonderfully sweet ass in his jeans. It’s an utterly devastating combo.
Sitting on your bed waiting to settle in for the night with him, you shrug.
You didn’t expect him to be so curious and constantly snooping around anytime he’s in your bedroom. Then again, you still can’t believe he’s even in your bedroom.
Sneaking away that the first weekend after the bar didn’t last long though.
Your grandma caught him a few Sunday mornings later trying to sneak out and she ran to you screaming excitedly when she could start planning the wedding. You still haven’t recovered from that.
Even with the blessings from both sides, including Chucho and your gramps, you still wanted to just enjoy being with Javi in these intimate carved out spaces.
His presence already is crystallizing here. His wallet and packs of nicotine gum clutter the night stand. His extra pair of sunglasses sit beside yours on the dresser. His faded worn Texas A&M University t-shirt is tossed by the bed and his boots are by the door. You treasure it all.
Javi, now standing in front of you, places the cowboy hat on top of your head.
The familiar presence of wearing it is like greeting an old friend. You bashfully grin at your handsome rancher. Javier’s eyes gloss over you, taking in the sight. His hand moves to tenderly hold your face.
“You look good, like a true damn cowgirl.” He mutters and your heart flutters against its cage.
“Know you can ride like one now too,” his voice dips with a magnetic undertone as his words hold the heavily sexual double meaning.
You playfully smack his shoulder and he smirks.
“I’m still surprised you don’t call me cowgirl instead of bandita.” You note gently.
“Do you mind that I call you that?” One of his eyebrows lifts up curiously.
No, you didn’t mind at all. You were just curious and you even tell him that.
Javi snorts and his thumb now strokes your cheek.
“The way Pop used to talk about you and how you’d race made you sound like some wild bandit trying to outrun outlaws or something.”
You snort now and your fondness for Chucho Peña triples.
“And then,” Javier continues. “When I met you, I knew I was fucked.”
Now your face scrunches up confused and you ask why. A small charming grin tugs his lips.
“Cause the minute I saw you glaring at me in the barn you stole every fucking inch of me.”
Javi’s thumb now moves to run over your lip and desire bubbles in you. You kiss his thumb, delicate and reverent.
“My pretty little bandit.” His voice is low, a fond rumble in his chest that you want to drown in as much as you can.
You think of all the awards you’ve won, the tournaments you’ve faced. Yet they all seem to fall so short to those words, to this man you so endlessly adore.
In your cowboy hat, you yank Javi close and kiss him. Quickly you and him both tumble into your bed sheets, melting against each other in pure bliss.
In the afterglow, you snatch up the cowboy hat again and now place it on Javi’s head. Your gruff rancher's face twists into a grumpy frown and you grin giddy.
“You look good, a classic Texas man.” You compliment him, almost mirroring the words he told you.
His face scrunches up more.
“Always thought I looked stupid wearing these.” He huffs taking off the Stetson.
“Everybody looks good in a cowboy hat.” You reply truthfully and place the hat back on him.
“Especially you.” You add letting your hand slide across his bare chest. The sight of him in the cowboy hat, your cowboy hat, flickers to life the simmering heat from earlier. He’s already so beautiful and now a cowboy hat on, shirtless, with the dimming post sex glow radiating from him, he’s personified sin.
“Cowboy hat doing it for ya, huh?” Javi’s little cocky smirk has you glaring playfully at him.
“Shut up.” You huff but then swiftly kiss him. Soon enough you become one again with the man taking root in your heart.
Early the next morning, when he thinks you’re asleep, Javier’s fingertips trace over your face with butterfly wing delicateness.
“So fuckin’ crazy about you, baby.” He whispers to your unknowing sleeping form. You feel your heart blossom, a morning bloom wanting to keep him tangled in your soul for as long as he’ll stay.
You think again of two lonely birds on the wire, maybe not so lonely anymore.
With a soft kiss goodbye against your forehead Javi heads out and you soak molten in his words.
You end up not seeing him for a few days. Over the phone he explains, annoyed, of having to run around trying to find a specific fence wire and how it’s kept him away.
Even with how much you miss him, it does allow you space.
Earlier this month, you decided on a new training schedule. Each week would alternate between practice at the Peña’s ranch and yours.
Currently practice is at your family’s ranch.
“Next time you talk to that boyfriend of yours, tell him to get tacos from that place he got us lunch from last time.” Your sister yells as she finishes up a few drills around the ring.
You roll your eyes. “He isn’t a food delivery service.”
She simply shrugs.
The day is winding down. Early evening approaches and the Texas sun starts to bathe everything in a golden glaze straight out of a George Strait song.
“You know…I’m happy for you.” As you and her start putting everything away for the day, your sister casually drops that line.
“About what?” You smirk.
“You and Javi.” She clarifies. Her face is messy with sweat but she beams bright. “You deserve someone like him.”
Your sister, always so kind, maybe too kind for a world this harsh sometimes.
“What? Someone who always manages to steal the last biscuit or flirts with grandma more and more everyday?” You tease and your little sister snickers.
“Well yeah. But what I mean is…you deserve someone who sees how great you are.”
Her words crash into you with a tidal wave of emotions. Her attention rests with her horse, getting in a few final brushes before she turns in for the day.
“I know you… think you’re some sort of failure or that you’re not good. But you are. You’re actually the fucking best.” She says so simply. “And I’m happy Javi sees it too.”
Tears clog your eyes and dry out your throat.
“You sound like a bad hallmark card.” You laugh watery but the gratitude flows out.
Your sister glares then throws the grooming brush at you. You laugh harder when she misses and once she’s out of the stable you playfully shove her.
“You heading back?” She notices your slow pace that hangs back.
You reassure her you’ll be home in a minute and just need a few minutes to yourself. With an understanding nod she walks back to the house.
Now alone you head to the very last stable and head to your ace. You miss your old companion and seeing this sweet creature nudge his muzzle against your hand conjures a sad nostalgic tug in your heart.
Grabbing the saddle, and untangling the reign, you head out to the ring.
You’ve been talking about your old rodeo days with Javi a lot recently. You ask him about Columbia as well. In the sacred soft space of pillow talk. you and him gently unravel more memories, more secrets to each other. It’s made you nostalgic, even a bit wistful.
Plus, you haven’t done this in a while. You frequently rode at a leisurely place along the trails by the river from time to time. But getting into the ring is still so sacred.
With your horse all set, you hoist yourself up and onto the saddle.
Just a few laps is all you do. You focus on the sound of the dirt under the hooves, the light breeze on your face, the feel of riding again.
Then, after gaining more confidence, you speed up.
It’s not even close to the speeds you used to hit, but it’s quick. You even make a lap around the ring going this speed.
One rotation, one good lap and you’re soaring.
It’s nothing. It’s not even an attempt to get back into the rhythm of racing. But it’s a ride and home in its own way.
You slow down, let the horse trot out of his groove to calm down. The entire time, your chest feels so light.
Your eyes glance out and then your heart drops.
Javi, with his flat out jaw dropped, stares at you as if you’ve spouted wings. You didn’t even hear him approach.
He breathes out your name.
Scrambling, a bit embarrassed, you quickly dismount, and after guiding the horse to the side you rush towards him.
You’re about to apologize for not noticing him when Javier ends up speaking first.
“You’re incredible.” He exhales in awe and it knocks the wind from you.
He must see whatever emotion colors your face because he repeats himself again firmer.
“You’re amazing, bandita.”
You weakly laugh thanking him.
“Does that mean-”
“Nah,” you gently cut him off and explain how you just enjoy a ride like that from time to time.
“It’s like just taking a casual drive type thing.” You shrug.
Suddenly Javi’s hand moves to rest on your arm leaning against the fence. He rubs so soft and comfortingly.
“Thank you,” he says gently. “For letting me know you.”
You want him to know every inch of you. The same way you want to know Javier in every way that you can. You want to carve out a home in your heart for him.
The hand that was on your arm moves to your cheek tilting your face towards his. He wears his classic aviator sunglasses you’ve grown fond of stealing from him.
He’s so gorgeous. It’s like the Texas sun was made to bask Javi in its glow. He’s a modern Helios, beautifully crafted with his deep earthy eyes and golden face.
“Proud of you, mi bandita.” He mutters with words soaked in adoration.
You swallow hard and let the truth sink into you.
“Thank you Javi… I’m proud of you too.” You earnestly tell him.
He snorts bashfully and you think you might be doomed to think about this man forever now, but it’s alright.
There’s something foreign in your chest growing so bright you feel as if you’ve swallowed a sun and maybe you have. Because Javier is bright, so unexpectedly warm.
A man crafted right out of the Texas golden magic hour.
And as Javi leans forward to kiss you so tenderly, you step forward into the sun, into his kaleidoscopic glow and it’s beautiful.
225 notes · View notes
brummiereader · 3 months
Text
PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST
Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Three/ Dark!Tommy)
Tumblr media
Summary: After a restless night and chaotic start to your day, you arrive late for work. Unfortunately for you, your day of misfortune doesn't end there when Tommy's jealousy becomes uncontainable and he calls you into his office for some stern words and questioning as to where exactly your priorities lie.
Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, stalking, obsessive behaviour, supernatural themes, dark romance, manipulation of time, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)
Word Count: 4164
Authors Note: "Sweet Afton's" are a brand of cigarette seen in the show, smoked by Tommy. The two other brands of cigarettes mentioned in this chapter were also popular at the time. Sorry for being so late posting this part everyone. I hope you enjoy it!
Tumblr media
How long had you been awake? A simple question anyone could ask themselves but a wasted one on you as you frantically rushed past your granddad through the cramped hallway, sending him no more than a faint smile as a greeting the very next morning as you made your way out onto the streets of Small Heath. A lack of sleep and an exhausted mind from countless hours of mulling over what you were sure you had seen the previous night consequently had you stumbling over your feet the very moment you stepped onto the cobbled path, and into a hard object you could only assume was a fellow human.
" Steady there love" a young man said, catching you before you landed face first onto the ground In front of him and further embarrassing yourself in your already flustered state.
" Sorry..." you replied abruptly pulling away from his hold, finding yourself studying his face longer than what anyone would consider socially acceptable let alone polite as you stepped back with caution. Was it him? You thought to yourself as your glare narrowed in on every feature his face possessed, his puzzled eyes turning into ones filled with nervousness when your stare failed to divert from examining each movement he made in an awkward, almost unbearable silence.
"Well...G'day to you miss" he said tipping his hat to you as he walked past your insistent eyes, his slow strides and labored limp absent of the speediness the dark shadow displayed last night quickly snapping you out of your unfounded accusations.
"Shit" you sighed under your breath as you straightened your hat that was now lop sided with a knotted ball of locks contained under it. In all honesty, you looked a bloody mess. A tangly haired, red-cheeked, nervous ball of mess. " Good day sir, and...and thank you!" You apologetically called out waving to the young man who your suspicious mind had all but convinced you in the space of a few seconds was the same creep that had been watching you. "Jesus Y/N, get a fucking grip" you scolded yourself under a heavy breath as you headed in the direction of work which you was already twenty minutes late for, the same place of work that just so happened to pass by the very spot said creep was standing in. As you approached the corner of the alleyway you came to a stop, your eyes briefly darting down to a burnt out cigarette on the ground you was convinced only one person could have been smoking. Bending down you picked up the rolled tobacco with the unintelligible charred words "eet ton's" printed on the filter, bringing it to your face as if you could distinguish the authentic smell of whatever tobacco had been used. In reality, you had no idea what you were looking for, but with wishful thinking and your nagging brain telling you to pocket the discarded cigarette, you did exactly that. Placing it between your hankie and carefully folding it within the embroidered fabric, your eyes shot up to the gulley that was devoid of anyone mere minutes ago when, just like the previous day, someone caught your attention. She was there again, watching you. " Hello?" You called out as the man that never ceased to be absent from her side made his presence known as he turned the corner, a bellow of smoke pummeling to the heavens with every swift stride he took.
" She can see me, Tommy..." Your panicked voice gasped as he approached you, his hand gently resting on your lower back, his bitterly cold cheek pressed against your own as you watched in unison the woman standing at the end of the bricked pathway, a woman that looked in every single way identical to you. Was Tommy right, was that you?
" Shh now darling" he soothed your worries away, his hand creeping under your jacket and grazing over your blouse, his fingers desperate to intimately feel the warmth of your soft skin he had longed to touch once again. This would have to do...for now. "She won't get any closer, I'll make sure of it" he assured you, closing his eyes as your intoxicating perfume brimming with notes of aldehyde and lemon filled his senses, transporting him back to the very year you were standing in, the very same day you were standing in.
"She's coming. Tommy, she's walking this way. Make her stop, please!..."
"Can I help you?" You asked, squinting into the distance as you strategically stepped around a muddy pothole whilst you made your way through the morning mist when a loud crashing of metal onto the cobbled path had you falling ankle deep into the very globe of sludge you was doing your up most to avoid. " Fuck sake. You again" you huffed as the black feline from the previous night ran out from behind a lidless bin. " You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Made it your life's bloody mission to torment me" you ranted as he ran past you without a mere ounce of remorse whilst your eyes followed his nimble steps to the end of the alleyway that was now suddenly empty of the couple that had been standing there. " I'm losing it" you said wiping the whispers of hair from your face, grimacing as you pulled your muddy foot from the deep hole. " New job, no sleep and... I'm finally losing it" you continued to ramble to yourself, unwilling to speak of the very thing that had you in such a state as you took one last quick glance to the end of the path hoping that the past two days' unusual events were just a figment of your over-tired imagination. Fatigue. The only likely, rational reason...right?
" What the fuck-a-doodle-doo happened to you?" Ethel rather flamboyantly asked as you came thundering through the offices looking at you from head to toe, her and everyone else's eyes now fixed on your muddy stockings and disheveled appearance.
" Ethel!" Betsy scolded her. Her dear friend and colleague never able to, or willing to stop herself at any given opportunity to further elaborate whatever thought had entered her mind.
"Dear lord" Ada said wide-eyed as she looked to her Aunt who's lips were tightly pursed together, desperately holding back the humor in your uncanny resemblance to the local pigeon lady that had taken up residence on the church steps of Small Heath.
" I'm sorry love, It's just ..." Polly started to say, covering her mouth behind her cup of tea before her and everyone else burst into a fit of giggles, you quickly following suit as you got a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a glass cabinet in front of you.
" Well Christ" you laughed, slumping down into your chair as you pulled your hat off.
" Dare I ask?" Ada said through a smile as she sat on the edge of your desk, receiving only a grunt from you in response. " Late night maybe? Followed by some cross-country hiking?" She teased, arching a brow as she looked down at your mud-drenched tights.
" Stepped in a pothole" you huffed, burying your head in your hands suddenly feeling sorry for yourself.
" And the birds nest currently residing on top of your head? " She asked as you ran your fingers through your knotted locks. " Getting there..." she smiled affectionately to you as your hair started to smooth down into something more manageable. " So, are you going to tell me what's got you looking like you was pulled through a hedgerow backwards ? " She asked as you started taking of your shoes, your lack of clothing in your frantic departure from home that morning making it near impossible to unbuckle your three-inch heels with your now, numb fingers.
" You know, they really should do something about all those potholes, Ada. I could have broken my ankle"
" Y/N"
" A foot deep, it was like a trench"
" Y/N!"
" Nothing" you replied, avoiding her gaze as you hitched up your skirt and unhooked your stockings, simultaneously avoiding Ada's worries and your own. With a room full of women, you were at no risk of further embarrassing yourself. Or at least you thought you were, when not only your boss but his two brothers and another man accompanying them sauntered in, coming to a sudden stop at the sight of your toe balancing precariously on the knob of your desk draw, the clasps of your garter belt on show and a stocking halfway down your leg. Oh, for fuck sake.
"I think I've just died and gone to heaven. Catch me Arthur..." John said, falling into his brother as a thunder of laughter resonated through the building, all but Tommy's that was.
" Get off ya bleeding egit" Arthur said, giving his brother a sharp elbow to his side.
" Gents" Tommy cleared his throat, motioning what might as well have been the entire British army and all the Kings' guards into his office as your face reddened, and you felt like bursting into tears at the sheer embarrassment of them seeing you in such a predicament.
" Kill me now. Just kill me now and throw me in the cut" you mumbled under your breath, tucking your legs under the desk as Tommy glanced back at you, his jaw tightening in what you could only assume was annoyance at your inappropriate display in a work place.
" Oh stop it" Ada scolded you as she rolled her eyes at your dramatics. " It's not like they've never seen a pair of legs before" she said placing a cigarette in her mouth as she tried to downplay your small mishap.
" Yes but maybe not at eight in the morning, and legs belonging to someone they hardly know" you huffed pushing your forehead into the palms of your hands, pushing the disastrous morning's events from your thoughts.
" You do realise you're in Small Heath, right?" She giggled, pulling a laugh from the frustrated pout that had weighed down your lips as you shimmered off the rest of your stockings under the cover of your wooden desk. Small Heath, you was begining to realise just what kind of place it was.
The remainder of the morning was thankfully a lot less eventful. You'd spent almost the entirety of it signing for letters, each delivery boy hanging around for a chat to see the latest newcomer to the Shelby offices after word had gotten around about the pretty-faced girl Thomas Shelby had hired. Though, every interaction had not gone missed by the watchful eye of the very man who had brought you into his firm, the same man who was starting to get increasingly angry with what he thought were your distracted priorities. Unbeknownst to you, you had already handed him two documents that didn't need signing for another month, and the ones that did have a deadline had all but gone missing. Second day of work, and you were unknowingly still making a mess of everything. The next interaction, or what Tommy believed, distraction, would be one he'd swiftly put a stop to before the annoyance his Aunt Polly had burdened him with got any ideas.
"Y/N love, come and meet Michael, my son" Polly ushered you over to her desk as you scooted out of your seat, catching the eye of Tommy who was watching you from his office through the glass windowed door separating you.
"It's nice to make your acquaintance again, Y/N" he said reaching his hand out for you to take as Polly looked straight ahead at her nephew who was now stood up at the window watching the whole interaction, his deathly stare enough for her to know he was getting progressively frustrated at the attention your presence had brought to the office. Was his dear, loving Aunt doing this on purpose? Tommy seethed to himself as he watched you smile to his cousin. Never having been able to stop her nephews' depraved ways, maybe this was her attempt at bringing Tommy's "Hobbies" to an end. For she knew better than anyone how your innocent beauty had already captivated him, how he'd already set his sights on his next endeavor. If his Aunt thought he would not take the needed measures to dispose of her beloved son, her judgment in his determination to get what he wanted was severely lacking, severely.
" Right yes, hi" you said, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks having now learned of whom the third man was that saw your misfortunate leggy display. " Sorry you had to see that" you said looking up through your lashes as you fidgeted with the pendant of your necklace sitting on your chest.
" Well, it was certainly one way to leave a lasting impression" he replied with a chuckle as you silently begged for the floor to swallow you up, and not leave one ounce of you left to endure the remaining embarrassment you were sure you hadn't heard the end of.
" Alright that's enough, leave the poor girl alone. She's had enough ribbing from us lot all bloody morning" Polly said as she lit a cigarette, the corners of her eyes turning up to match her smile at her son's less than subtle enamorment with you. " Y/N's been having trouble with her typewriter Michael"
" Uh huh.." Michael could all but reply as he watched your lashes flutter in the evening sun beaming through the windows as your fingers flicked through the file of documents on Polly's desk.
" Maybe you could show her...how to change the ink cartridge?" Polly encouraged him as you finally looked up to see the young man staring back at you.
" Erh yeh, sure" he promptly replied, sending you a smile to diffuse the look of confusion on your face. What had him all flustered? You thought to yourself furrowing your brow as you showed him to your desk whilst Polly sent her nephew a satisfied smirk. So she was doing this on purpose, purposely getting under his fucking skin. Tommy thought to himself as he marched to his door.
" Y/N, my office. Now" Tommy's voice boomed as he waited, checking his pocket watch in what could only be a blatant sign for you to, hurry the fuck up.
"Excuse me" you said bolting away from the young man with Tommy's appointment book in hand, tucking your hair behind your ear as you entered what felt like a triangle of stares between Tommy, his Aunt and cousin.
"Don't have something to do, Michael?" Tommy asked with a quizzical brow, not bothering to wait around for a response when his cousin opened his mouth before Tommy slammed his office door shut. " Sit" he demanded, his tone of voice absent of the niceties from the previous day as he leaned against the frame of the window lighting a cigarette, his eyes studying you from head to toe. Whatever did happen to your stockings? Tommy mused as his eyes darted down to your bare legs, his tongue wetting at how far up those legs he had seen mere hours ago." Now correct me if I'm wrong, but did you not say you were serious about your position in my offices? No distractions? Is my cousin a distraction for you Y/N?" Tommy said clearing his throat, flicking a scattering of ash into a decorative glass dish resting on the windowsill as he looked out onto the streets below him. Day-dreaming would have to wait.
"What?...No, no! You replied profusely shaking your head, feeling your emotions bubble up from an overwhelming start to your new life in Birmingham, and the telling off you were undoubtedly about to get from the most feared man in the smoke-fogged town.
"And the delivery boys are they a distraction too?" Tommy said as he blew a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling before the heavy sound of his pristinely polished boots traveled across the room to the edge of the desk in front of you, the buckle of his belt at eye level causing you to glance away in embarrassment. Well, isn't that sweet? Tommy chuckled to himself, your blushing cheeks giving him enough reassurance to know you weren't a woman of loose morals like the others.
" No. No...I was just being friendly, I..." You said feeling your eyes suddenly brimming with tears as he sat down on the edge of the desk. You had made a fool of yourself, once again.
" Friendly. Anyone else you plan on being friendly with love? Does the whole of Small Heath have the pleasure of looking forward to your charm?" He replied with a tone of disdain and irritation as you searched for a response. You were just trying to get by in what felt like a completely different world, just trying to be nice. " And here's me thinking you were serious about working for me" Tommy said with a look of disappointment spread across his face as he glanced down at your eyes fixed on your thumbs frantically rubbing against each other as a shame you hadn't felt in your attempts to be cordial suddenly heated your cheeks to a fiery warmth with every loud thump of your quickened heart. " Maybe you're not suited for this line of work, hm? Tommy said arching a brow as he went to stand up, and you, without an ounce of reflection, grabbed hold of your boss's leg.
" Please don't fire me..." You sobbed, your emotions finally getting the better of you. " I was just...trying to be nice" you wept, clutching onto him as Tommy's lips parted at the unexpected, but undoubtedly welcome contact of your delicate grip on him." I'm sorry" you said quickly pulling your hand away suddenly realising how inappropriate you had been. Is that what he thought you were, an immature girl that loved the thrills of flirting with any man in her presence? You thought to yourself as you tucked your hands under your thighs, shamefully looking up at your boss and the piercing stare he was now giving you.
" Y/N, there are two things I expect from my employees. Professionalism and trustworthiness. But from you, I expect a third" Tommy said as he watched your tears stream down your cheeks, hanging on to every word he said. " Loyalty" he finished as your fidgeting suddenly stopped and you locked eyes, Tommy's briefly darting between your own and your cherry red lips now stained from your trickling tears. Everything about you was so intoxicating, even that expensive perfume you had probably spent half of your life savings on. Lemon and aldehyde was it? Chanel No5. My my, someone was trying to make a good impression. Was this all for him? Tommy thought to himself as he watched you nod your head in agreement, desperately trying to hold onto your new life, and it's future he now held in his hands.
"I'm sorry I disappointed you. It won't happen again " you replied to the very man who's whole agenda has suddenly become, you.
" Good " Tommy ended his interrogation as you wiped your tears from your cheeks, searching in your skirt pocket for anything to dab away your embarrassment when your handkerchief fell onto the floor. " Sweet Afton's" Tommy chuckled, raising a brow as he picked up the burnt out cigarette between his fingers you had found that very morning. An unusual thing to save. He thought to himself when he suddenly realised, had you seen him? Had you been... meddling? " Would have taken you for more of a Craven A girl" Tommy said throwing the burnt rolled cylinder of tobacco in a bin next to his desk, clearing his throat as you watched your only evidence and reminder of the previous nights events being discarded of. "Here" Tommy said pulling out a fresh square of neatly folded cotton from within his suit jacket and handing it to you as he bent down to pick up your own, his finger grazing momentarily over the smoothness of your leg as he swiftly placed yours in his pocket as you wiped you cheeks.
" It's not mine" you confessed without realising the severity of what you had just said. So you had seen him. Tommy thought to himself as he tried to gauge exactly how much. " Sweet Afton's, I've never heard of that brand. Is it new? " You inquired as you sniffed away your remaining tears.
"New enough " Tommy replied, a small smirk playing on the corner of his mouth over something so mundane and insignificant as the brand of a cigarette you naively thought the man that had been watching you only used. Did you think you could fish out the owner of a cigarette that the majority of the country smoked? Tommy quietly chuckled to himself as a glint of mischievousness shone in his eyes, the sweetness in your naivety sending a shiver of goosebumps down his spine. You wouldn't last in Small Heath, even as a Londoner. Tommy thought to himself, waiting for another one of your queries as if this was a playful game, him having the upper hand, of course. But when your sweet voice stayed silent, Tommy could only assume you knew nothing more of his little late night stroll that just so happened to end up in front of your home. " Michael has a particular liking for them"
"Michael, Polly's son?" You asked, your brow quickly furrowing as Tommy watched your thoughts frantically tick over.
"An acquired taste. I tend to be more of a Woodbines smoker. Tobacco of the working man" Tommy lied, betting on your naivety to believe him as he continued to further sow the seeds of your suspicious mind.
" Woodbines? I'd say you've surpassed the class of a working man, wouldn't you Sir? " You replied as you looked around his costly office filled with luxurious rich mahogany furniture and the finest of staples any man of the upper class would possess.
" I'll let you be the judge of that Miss Y/L/N" Tommy replied, his mouth parting at your use of such formalities. Maybe he could do things the proper way this time, the correct way. He thought to himself as his eyes drifted down to the way the small rose pendant on the end of your necklace subtly moved with each breath you took, playfully luring him in. Who was he kidding, he would be a fool to think he could be so patient. And Tommy was no fool.
"I should get back to work" you said standing up, your movements snapping Tommy out of his deviant thoughts as you headed for his office door.
" Y/N" he stopped you, catching your elbow before you opened the door. " I feel I may have been a little harsh with you hm? " He confessed, the sudden softness in his voice catching you of guard. A brief glimpse into his lesser intimidating side piquing your curiosity.
" You wasn't" you looked up doe-eyed, your telling off still uncomfortably too recent to forget. For what was the briefest of moments, you found yourself getting completely lost in the oceans of his eyes as the man that never showed an ounce of fear held your gaze. There was something about him you couldn't quite put your finger on. Was it his charm, the authority he possessed or something entirely different? With each fraction of a second that past, you began to feel he was hiding a whole different self behind his crystal eyes as you sunk deeper into his stare.
"Y/N" Polly's voice awoke you from what had only been mere seconds of you pondering who your boss really was.
" There's a delivery that needs your signature" she said holding the door open as Tommy let go of your elbow, his Aunt looking right past you to her nephew who was now causally leaning against the frame of the door, watching you gracefully walk away.
"Not this one Tommy. You let her be. She's a good girl, she deserves someone..." Polly said standing in front of his line of sight, blocking him from the only thing his mind was hell-bent on having before he cut her off.
" What? Someone Like Michael?" He replied with a scoff as he reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. " I feel a change Aunty, a good one" he smiled wickedly, blowing the fumes from his cigarette in her face. " Now, stay out of it" he warned, his smile quickly dropping as the blues of his eyes turned to coal. " We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt from you interfering, would we? He smirked as he nodded to her son Michael in the adjoining office.
" You wouldn't dare" Polly's eyes widened, grabbing his arm as he turned to leave, a mere shrug of his shoulder and a sharp look he had conjured up from the very depths of hell, worthy of his only true fiery opponent enough for her to let go as she stepped back with heed.
" Wouldn't I?..."
NEXT PART
Tag list: @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @prettywhenicry4 @smayhem49-blog @pacifymebby @indierockgirrl @globetrotter28 @theshelbyclan @zablife @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings @everysage
213 notes · View notes
justjams2003 · 5 months
Text
Fast Pace-2
Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?
Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader
Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic.Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk
Taglist: @httpjeonlicious
Word count: 2,8k
Masterlist
Part 1~Part 3
Tumblr media
"What? Am I hearing this right? The Carlos Sainz, famous Ferrari Formula One driver approached you, in an alleyway, during your smoke break and paid you three hundred euros to hide in a cramped bathroom with you.” One of your best friends from high school screams into your ear. You can’t help but cringe, hearing exactly just how famous he is. You blow the smoke from your cigarette and gaze out across your balcony.  
You wish you could say the view is beautiful, with the Eiffel Tower in the background with music of the people in the background. It’s none of that though. The view is another apartment block, and you so wished the man on the balcony would close the curtains. You avoid the balcony in the fear of getting treated to a view of his wrinkled body. How you wish you didn’t have to deal with the gross apartment building.  
“Um...Yes...?” You reply, not really sure what to say. “Not only that, Jasmine, but he then gave her his number and said he would make sure he would see her again!” Your other best friend, Ilsa, on the group call squeals out. You facepalm, knowing they can’t see you, but still, your embarrassment is uncontainable. “What are you going to say?” Jas asks, you can already hear her plotting.  
Your silence says a thousand words. “You are going to text him, right?” Ilsa clarifies and they go quiet only to hear your sigh. “What would I say? Hi, mister million-dollar man, I really liked being cramped in a bathroom with you, and would love to do it again!” You scoff at the ridiculousness of it all and take another puff from your cig. “I mean...” Jas says but you quickly shoot the idea down.  
“Okay, okay, how about this? Address the elephant in the room. Tell him you googled him and then ask him what exactly he wants with you.” Ilsa suggests and it actually doesn’t sound that bad. Your stomach rumbles and as you open the fridge door you can’t help but sigh. Some old cabbage, one egg and a pack of cheap tomato sauce. Another hungry night.  
“Yeah, so that you can be prepared if he just wants a quick fuck!” Jas calls out and again you can’t help but cringe. “Jasmine!” You yell out, glad they can’t see you blush. Even that wouldn���t be so bad. It’s been weeks since someone touched you with any sort of kind intent. Much less how close you two were today. 
 You’d already given the full three hundred euros to your landlord. He just scowled asking where the rest of it is. Not to mention, the electricity is threatening to shut off. Along with the student loans, water bills, phone bills, and insurance, everything is piling up and you feel like you can’t pick up enough shifts to survive.  
I hear her groan, “Come on, Y/N, this could be a really great opportunity for you.” This time it’s Ilsa encouraging you. She’s right, maybe a little distraction from life is just what you need. Not to mention you’d do anything to look at that handsome face of his one more time. The photos and videos online don’t even come close. He’s so much more even just being near him makes you want to beg him to hold you.  
“Fine, but if he gave me a fake number, I’ll ignore you guys for a week.” It’s an empty threat as always. “Yes, of course, as expected.” Jas’ voice is dripping in sarcasm. “I’ve got to go, je vous aime les gars, au revoir.” Ilsa says goodbye, and with that, the call ends. Dinner, wouldn’t that be such a good idea? You open your banking up only to see but a meek two hundred left for the end of the month.  
While you’re on your phone, you might as well text him...right? 
Y/N: I assume you wanted me to google you when you gave me your real name?  
Carlos Sainz 🌶��: And, do I live up to the pictures?  
Y/N: No, you’re much shorter in real life 
Carlos Sainz 🌶️: A dagger in my heart! 
Y/N: 😝  
Y/N: I’m glad you didn’t give me a fake number then. But I can’t help but ask what exactly it is you want with me?  
Carlos Sainz 🌶️: How about this: I’ll explain it all to you on our first date 
Y/N: You intrigue me... 
Carlos Sainz 🌶️: When do you get off from work, tomorrow?  
Y/N: I work the morning, until lunch tomorrow. So I’m free from 16:00 
Carlos Sainz 🌶️: Send me your address, and I’ll pick you up at 18:00. Wear something nice.  
Tumblr media
What on earth am I thinking? He could kidnap me! And yet you find yourself in front of your closet picking the one nice dress you bought for your first interview. It’s a simple black, form-fitting on the top but flares at the bottom with frills on the sleeves. It looks so boring to wear on a date with someone like him, but it’s all you have. 
 Along with the only heels you have, once more plain black chunky pumps. Your hair lays right below your shoulders in your natural waves and curls.
You can’t help but groan at your situation and throw a pack of cigarettes into your handbag. It’s a bad habit, you know and everyone around you has told you so many times to stop. But it’s so hard to when living in France and not only that it’s the only thing that seems to help.  
You finish it off with a red lip, hoping to add a slight bit of colour to the dull outfit. Not that you have much time to think of something else, at exactly six, there is a knock on the door. With your heart in your ears, you open the door to Carlos holding a bouquet of pink tulips. 
Not only that but he looks ravishing in black dress pants and a dress shirt, but of course with the sleeves rolled up. You bite your lip, already wanting to jump his bones.  
That tan skin of his has you imagining him, shirtless under the hot summer sun on a Mediterranean beach somewhere. Not only that but his hair seems to fall perfectly in place. So soft and silky and voluminous. Your hand twitches, wanting to rake through his inky black strands and then, of course, ask him about his hair-care routine.  
“How did you know these are my favourites?” You ask, walking inside and placing them in the sink before returning to him. He shrugs, “I have my ways. But enough about that. Querida, you look enchanting.” He takes your hand and guides you to a spin, showing off all of you. Your dress flows and his touch is like fire lighting in your body.  
“Really? I hope it’s fancy enough, it’s all I own, and I don’t really have the money to buy something right now.” You say with a blush coating your cheeks. Why would you tell him that? Now he’s going to think you want him to buy you a new dress. Or maybe you’re only going on the date because you know who he is.  
“Of course, niña bonita, I’m honoured to have such a pretty lady on my arm.” He then takes your hand and helps you down the stairs. And his words cause a blush on the tips of your ears. He helps you all the way to his fire-red Ferrari. “Woah....” You can’t help but utter out, you’ve never been so close to such an expensive car and the fear of breaking it looms in the back of your mind. 
“You like, niña bonita? Comes with the job, of course.” He winks and then opens the door for you, which of course opens upwards. You can’t help but let out a playful scoff, “Duh, of course!” He chuckles at your reaction. “You must tell me if I’m going too fast, no? I like speed of course.” His wink shoots electricity through your skin, not only that but that breath taking smile of his. 
 You don’t have a licence, you never needed one living in France all your life. Even in the smaller town where you grew up, you could walk everywhere. And yet the way he speeds down the freeway causes a thrill to tickle your toes.
Every time he switches the gears, his forearm muscles flex and you have to control yourself. Not to mention, he doesn’t even have road rage, every move, every turn, every gear shift is as smooth as can be.  
If it wasn’t for your culinary degree you’re certain you wouldn’t have understood anything on the menu. Even so, you’d been eyeing this place for a while and some of them you’re still unsure how to pronounce. What shocks you the most is the prices, some things on the menu are half the price of your rent. “What do you think of getting?” He asks, leaning back in his seat. “Um...the breadsticks?” He looks over his menu and raises his brow.  
“The breadsticks are free?” He clarifies, those luscious brows of his furrow in confusion and you nod with a smile. You try not to show him how nervous a fancy place like this makes you. And also how you yearn to be at home in a place like this. “Yes.” He sighs, “Niña terca, I am paying, pick what you want.” That actually makes you feel even worse.  
“Oh, no, it’s alright you don’t have to. I brought my wallet.” You reply, clutching your purse as a reminder. “It is not up for discussion.” He replies, going back to the wine list he’s holding. The guilt shoots through you. You desperately need to accept the money but stil your mother’s manners creep up on you. “Then the...salad.” He rolls his eyes and takes your menu and closes it for you. 
 You go to protest, but he calls over the waiter before you can. “The lady will have the Salmon Meuniere and I shall have the steak. With the Chilled Pinot Noir.” Again, he chooses your favourite option. “How did you....” As if he knows exactly what you’re about to ask, he just shrugs, “We must have similar taste.” 
The fact of these two choices being so similar doesn’t make you suspicion. Instead, it makes you feel warm and at home almost. How similar are you two already, and how much more can fall into place? You eye him, raising your brow as he too studies you. “What is it, estimada. You want to say something.” He guides with his hand to open up the conversation.  
“How do you know?” You ask, in awe of how much detail he sees. He chuckles and then leans forward and smooths out the area around your eyes by your temples. “You get this crinkle, when you are holding something back. I noticed it yesterday.” You can’t help but blush and cover your face.
“It’s my job, estimada. To notice the small things, in the car, in the track, in the ladies I like.” His words are smooth like butter and those dark eyes of his stare you down.  
The waiter comes and pours your wine and places down your food. You take a sip from the cool beverage. “You owe me an explanation.” You shrug, the only response you give. Not trusting your throat. His jaw locks tight and he leans in a bit closer to you. He bites down on the juicy steak and the way his jaw muscle flexes causes obscene thoughts to fly through you.  
“What I tell you next is not to be known by anyone besides you and me. Let’s put it like so, my managers believe that I should, how you say, casarse ya.” He switches to Spanish so easily. You have no idea what he said but merely nod along. All while savouring the taste of the perfectly cooked salmon and expensive wine that pairs so well.  
“I turn 34 next year, one of the oldest on the grid. They believe that I should stop wasting my time and just settle down already. My publicist also believes it would get more sponsors and boost my public image. So, I am coming to you with an offer.” I raise my brow; I knew this would be too good to be true.  
I should have known that someone like him wouldn’t bother getting close to someone like me. Clearly only there to entertain the people as always. Does he want pity points from his fans? Embracing a poor Frenchwoman from the slums. Doing some sort of charity work? I cross my arms and lean back; I can tell that he sees me retracting from the conversation entirely.  
But still, I allow him to continue. “I will pay you, any amount you wish, shopping, jewels, vacations, even something more practical like the rent or student bills. In return, you pretend to be my long-term girlfriend. You come with me to the races, show up in the paddock, and tag along in interviews. The whole deal.” He bites those plump lips of his and now you wish he’d be more hideous.  
For once he actually looks a bit nervous. You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at this. “So...like a sugar daddy situation...?” He senses your resentment towards the idea and is careful to reply. “I suppose so,” his eyes seem to panic and you can’t believe your ears.
You grab your purse, “I can’t believe you, Carlos! I thought I’d finally met a decent well-off guy, but no. Ces foutus garçons. Je ne peux jamais faire confiance aux hommes. Jamais!”  
You can’t help but switch to your native language. The translator in your mind fails due to your anger and you can feel tears prick in the walls of your eyes. With your purse in hand, you push your seat back and in a rage go to leave. But suddenly you’re forced back down onto your chair by Carlos’ firm grasp on your wrist.  
“¡Siéntate, niña testaruda, y escucha!” His translator too, is out the window. You pout and cross your arms, shocked at his audacity. “Listen here, and listen well, little girl, because I can clearly see you are in desperate need of some discipline. Mocoso.” He leans over you and the way he speaks with such a demanding voice makes your core ache. And yet you can’t help but want to defy him more.  
He sits down again but is clearly ready to catch again if needed. He then grabs you by the chin and makes sure you look him into those swirling brown eyes. So dangerous and ready to attack if need be. “I can see it in your eyes, dollface. I can see it in the way you eye the Porche that passes, the Louis Vuitton handbag in the window and the most expensive item on the menu.” 
Has your eye really been wandering so much? Or is his attention to detail so fine-tuned? If it weren’t for his hand clasping your chin, you’d long since would’ve looked away. “You have champagne taste and I’m giving you the whole vineyard. Don’t make another stupid choice and accept the offer. I won’t ask again.”  
His voice is strong and commanding and the way he speaks makes you want to get down on your knees and open your mouth for him. He lets go of your jaw, allowing you to speak. “And if I want something more?” You ask and can’t help but dial up the charm fluttering your dark lashes. He smirks watching you go from bratty to begging.  
“I can feel the chemistry too, estimada and I can see the need burning behind those eyes of yours. If this were to become something more, then so be it. And if you want this to be a quick fling and your intro into the limelight, then so be it. And if you want it to only be an exchange of money and appearance, so be it too.” He shrugs, watching your reaction to each option.  
Then he turns serious again. “That all can be decided later. What must be decided now, is whether you’ll join me or not. I must apologize that I can’t give you much time to think about it, I have an early flight tomorrow. You’ll have to join me.” I furrow my brows, I thought he had the whole week? Anyways a choice must be made....  
Tumblr media
My taglist is open! If you wish to be tagged in this story alone, please comment or reblog with the words 'tag'. And if you wish to be tagged in all my posts please comment or reblog with the words 'tag all'.
264 notes · View notes
sinner-as-saint · 2 years
Text
little nightmare
Morpheus x Reader 
Run-through: Sometimes, though it is extremely rare, Lord Morpheus’ creations don’t go according to plan. And you were an example of that. You were meant to be a Nightmare but somewhere something went wrong and you ended up being a constant pain in his ass instead. You were uncontainable and you made it your life’s mission to annoy the King of Nightmares. And Morpheus, though cold, was not heartless so he couldn’t even bring himself to get rid of you - his accidental, beautiful but bratty creation. He could, however, punish you for your antics. 
Themes: smut, bratty!reader, dom!morpheus, explicit language, spanking, fluff?
a/n: tag list for morpheus is always open :) 
Tumblr media
Very few had the nerve, or even dared to disobey the Dream of the Endless. You were one of those who went against everything he said, shamelessly. 
Given you were a nightmare, it is understood that you wouldn’t be the nicest, or easiest to deal with. After all, nightmares were meant to be painful to deal with. But you surprised even the King of Nightmares at times. 
“You know you are not allowed in my throne room, and yet I find you in here every single day. Is it that hard to do what you’re told?” 
You turned your head to the side at the sound of his alluring, dangerous voice and you found him standing just a few feet away from where you sat. “No, but it sure is boring.” You stated, smirking up at him, earning a cold glare from Morpheus. 
“Get up.” He said, standing so still that he looked like a marble statue. 
You remained planted there on his throne and said, “No, I’m rather comfortable.” 
After a few seconds of silence Morpheus said, “I am not in the mood to deal with-,” 
You cut him off, rolling your eyes at him, “Yes, yes not in the mood to deal with me being a brat, blah blah blah. It’s always the same with you, my Lord. If you didn’t want me here you should’ve never made me in the first place.” You stated like it was a fact. 
“Yes.” He agreed, “That was a mistake.” He said, sounding as cold as ever. “Now get up. Go annoy someone else. I have work.” 
You frowned at him, “But no one ever wants to be around me. Lucienne chases me out of her library, Gregory is gone, and all the other-,” 
He cut you off, “I do not care. Just leave me alone.” 
“Rude.” You pouted, huffing as you got off his seat. Before you got down the many stairs, you turned to look at him. And he almost rolled his eyes again as you said, “I’m leaving, for now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
Morpheus didn’t say a word. He just watched you as you walked down the stairs, your pretty black dress trailing behind you. He shook his head gently. You could be so annoying at times, but you were so adorable - not that he’d ever admit it to anyone - that he couldn’t help but overlook your mischief. 
You were an enigma. He made you, but even he had trouble figuring you out at times. Some days you’d tone down the brattiness, other days you’d find yourself in ridiculous situations and then talk back fearlessly when he pointed it out. 
Each time Morpheus saw you, you were always in dark and flowy dresses. Some days when you roamed around aimlessly in his castle, you reminded him of a gothic princess. Beautiful, mysterious and enchanting. 
He could get rid of you permanently if he wanted to - and as frequently suggested by Lucienne - but as much as Morpheus hated to admit it, he knew that his days would become somewhat monotonous without you around to cause some trouble. Your banters, your brattiness - it was all part of his routine now. 
Like promised, you were there to annoy him the next day. Except he wasn’t on his throne, he was looking out of the stained glass behind it. With a frown on his face and an arrogant pout on his lips which suited him so well. 
“Uh oh, is this a bad time?” You teased him, “Am I interrupting some-,” 
He cut you off by turning to face you with a serious look on his face. “What did I say about you going to the waking world without my permission?” 
Shit. Of course he found out about your fun little trip to the waking world last night. You shrugged, “The other nightmares get to go. Why can’t I?” 
“They go because they have to fulfil their duties.” Morpheus was using that tone which meant that he was not to be messed with. 
But that never bothered you. So you argued, “What about me? I never get to do anything, I-,” 
“And for good reason.” Morpheus said, his voice dangerously low. 
You frowned. “That’s not fair.” 
“No, it’s not.” He said, “And you better stop disobeying me like this. If I ever find out that you have been out and about when you shouldn’t, I will personally drag you back to The Dreaming if I have to.” 
Oh that tone of his irritated you. You scoffed, “If you’re that worried why not just use your precious jewel and get rid of me then? But you won’t do that, would you? Because getting rid of me would mean that you’d have to admit you made a mistake while making me. And you’re too arrogant to ever admit that.” 
Your words made the silence which followed heavy. Morpheus just watched you with that poker face of his which could make one tremble in fear. But you stood your ground. You always had. 
A few moments later, he spoke up. He took a few steps towards you and stopped just mere inches away from your body. He sounded like he growled as he said slowly to ensure that the words stuck, “Watch your mouth, little nightmare. Know your place, and most of all, do not forget who you are talking to.” He still had that damned pout on his damned irresistible mouth. 
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid of that tone of his. You would also be lying if you said that his words didn’t send a shiver down your spine which ended right in between your legs. Making your body throb and making you squeeze your thighs together under the dress. 
With the faint smirk on Morpheus’ lips, something told you that he knew. He knew about the way your body reacted to him using his authority. 
You finally spoke up. “I apologise, my Lord.” And for the first time ever, you apologised for your behaviour. 
Morpheus didn’t let it show, but he was certainly surprised at the sound of apology coming from your lips. And he knew that only more trouble would follow. Because a devilish nightmare like you could not be contained.
And you did it again. One night, you fled The Dreaming. And the moment Morpheus was alerted, he travelled to the waking world in search of you. 
– 
There you were, up to no good - partying in the waking world at some random club. You didn’t even care what time it was, or when you were meant to return back to The Dreaming. You scoffed just thinking about it, nobody wanted you there anyway. 
You needed some air after a while, so you stepped outside. And you thought of Morpheus as you pushed the heavy doors which led to the alley behind the club. 
You scoffed again, speaking out loud to yourself, “Who is he to tell me what to do?” You leaned against the cold metal doors and took a deep breath, “He can sit on his throne and brood all day and all night, and… and, he can be all ‘I am Dream of the Endless and you should fear me for I will give you nightmares for the rest of your insignificant life if you do not bow down and kiss the ground I walk on’” You mimicked Morpheus in the deepest voice you could muster. 
But then… “Do I truly sound like that?” A voice spoke up from nearby. The alley was dark, and dimly lit. But you could easily tell it was Morpheus. Who else would it be? You sighed in defeat, not daring to look up and meet his eyes. 
You groaned in defeat. Instead of talking back like you normally do, you stayed quiet. Because you knew that no matter what, you would surely be punished for what you’ve done. Even when being a brat just for the sake of pissing Morpheus off, you knew that what you’d done was bad. Irresponsible and possibly dangerous. 
“Just… just do it. Use your fancy stone and turn me into a pile of sand already.” You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and stared at the ground. 
He was quiet, then took a few steps towards you and he was weirdly calm as he asked, “Why?” 
“Why?” You let out a dry chuckle. “Because I’m useless.” 
“Do you truly think so?” 
“I’m not a nightmare. Not a proper one. I’m definitely not a dream. I know you’ll never admit it, but what I am is a mistake. You did something wrong and I came to be and now you don’t know what to do with me.” You finally faced him, with defiance all over your face which he knew all too well. “So either get rid of me, or fix me.” You demanded. 
Morpheus was quiet, as still as ever. He waited for a moment then said, “You do not get to tell me what to do, or give me an ultimatum of any kind.” His voice did that thing where it went as cold and dark as night. Morpheus approached you, steadily and slowly - making your heart raced with each step he took in those boots. His smoky voice spoke up again, “I will not get rid of you nor will I fix you because you do not need it. I will, however, punish you for defying me.”
You scoffed in the face of the King of Nightmares. “What punishment, exile?”  
Morpheus smirked. A rare occurrence really. And just as lethal as it was rare. “No,” He whispered, wrapping his long fingers around one of your wrists. Then tightened his grip slightly to prevent you from running. “Let’s go home, little nightmare. Your punishment is long overdue.” 
The timbre of his voice made you tremble just a bit. And before you knew it, you were both in Morpheus’ throne room. 
“Didn’t you tell me never to step foot in here ever again?” You asked. 
Morpheus went ahead and sat down on his throne, looking at you standing just a few feet away from him. “Yes, but when have you ever obeyed?”
You stood there not knowing what to do. Something was different about Morpheus tonight. His eyes, his demeanour. His voice, his stance - it all seemed… darker. And it was not just because there was no other light in the room other than the moonlight coming through the stained glass in abundance. It made the room silvery but the lighting was not what made Morpheus seem more sombre than usual. It was something else. 
And the air was thick with tension. 
“Why are we here at this-,” 
He stopped you with an authoritative hand gesture, then said, with a voice low and dangerous, “I ask the questions. Starting with what do you think you’re wearing?” His eyes trailed down your body, slowly, taking in the short, black party dress, the see-through tights, the sexy boots, and all the metal accessories. “You look more like you belong in Lucifer’s realm than mine.” 
You gave him what can only be described as a bratty smirk. “Now that I think about it, maybe that’s where I belong. With Lucifer. After all, that’s where all aberrations belong, isn’t it?” 
You could’ve sworn Morpheus growled at the sound of that. At the sound of you leaving, like you were not allowed to. Then with a voice which can both console and scar he said, “What I create belongs to me, dreams and nightmares alike.” He paused then added, sending shivers down your spine, “You belong to me.” 
You let those words sink in. His. His. His. 
“You’ve been rather deviant lately,” He spoke like a bored monarch. “And everyone in the realm has been telling me that I should keep you in line. That you need to be disciplined. That you never do as you’re told.” 
He was chastising you and yet… it made you clench your thighs together. And with the way his eyes followed the subtle movement which your short dress did nothing to hide from his stare, you knew he knew it too. 
Morpheus kept talking, “For too long I’ve ignored them, thinking that you’d mend your ways. But it seems, little nightmare, that you are indeed in need of… a firm hand.” 
You shivered. And it wasn’t just because of his words, or that seductive voice of his. It was the anticipation. The excitement mixed with the fear of what’s to come. 
“Come,” Morpheus said, softly. Manspreading arrogantly on his throne, he said, “Bend over my lap.” 
You blurted out, “What?” Heart racing, fists clenching and your body throbbing. 
He smirked. Those perfect, kissable pink lips forming the most infuriating but pretty smirk you’d ever seen, “You heard me. On my lap, now.” 
Your body moved on its own. Stepping closer to Morpheus, eyeing his lap in lust and excitement, but also nervousness. There was no ‘non-awkward’ way of doing this, so you moved as gracefully as you could and arranged yourself over his lap. Your face closer to the ground as you balanced yourself over his knees. Your dress rode all the way up in this position, surely exposing your butt. You waited. Exposed and a little shy now. 
Morpheus was quiet, unmoving save for his warm hands massaging your exposed butt cheeks through the thin tights. You almost moaned just at his touch. He groped and pinched and petted your flesh like it was his to play with. 
“I want you to count for me.” He said. “And I will stop the moment you tell me you cannot take it anymore. Understood?” 
“Understood.” You said, your voice sounding a little different given the position. That, and you were breathless already. Your words earned you an unexpected smack on your ass. 
“Try again.” He hissed. 
Fuck. “Understood, my Lord.” 
“Good.” He whispered, lifting the hem of your dress and exposing even more of your butt to him. He was so very quiet that you didn’t know when to brace for the spank. Then again, his throne room was always quiet. 
You waited. Silence. You waited some more. More silence. Just the faint sound of his fingers brushing against your tight-covered flesh. Silence. And then a tear of stretchy fabric. You gasped. 
Morpheus had torn your tights, exposing your bare flesh to him. Then, before you could fully process it or question him, he lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. 
You yelped, “Ow!” 
Morpheus spoke in that deep voice which lured people into his realm each night. “I said, count.” 
“Okay, okay. One.” you muttered, more like hissed since the spank hurt a little. But it also left behind pleasant tingles. 
“You’d better start counting properly or I will start all over again. We have to get till ten, you understand?” 
You exhaled, loudly. “Yes.” You said it in that bratty tone Morpheus knew very well. Then, you felt a pinch on your butt. Which made you yelp again, “I mean yes, my Lord.” 
“Good.” He said with a voice that made your heart flutter. “Now count.” 
He spanked your ass again, allowing his hand to linger on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where his hand landed. You whined, then said, “Two.” You could feel warmth all over your body. 
And it wasn’t just the borderline humiliating position that left you all open and exposed for him. It wasn’t the fact that you were both in his throne room, where he normally dealt with serious matters - matters which required his attention way more than a bratty nightmare. 
It was just him. His calculated actions, his words, his voice, his body language. It was knowing that that lean, taut body focused solely on you. And you couldn’t see his face but you knew he had to have that slight pout on his soft, pink lips which made him look so kissable even when he was all dark and broody. 
“My Lord…” You gasped, “Please. I’m sorry.” You whined again, wiggling just a bit on his lap. 
Morpheus placed a hand at the back of your neck, squeezing just a little. Like he was letting you know that ‘look, you’re at my mercy and I can touch you here as well if I want to’. It only made you wiggle even more. 
“Oh?” He taunted. “So now you apologise?” He said, pinching your butt again. Followed by another spank. “Now you’re sorry?” 
“Three.” You said, almost moaning at how good the sting felt, and heard him chuckle quietly under his breath. “Please… please,” You murmured. 
“You want me to stop?” He asked. 
To which you replied quickly, “No, no. I just…” 
“What?” He asked in that very Morpheus ‘no bullshit’ voice.
Your face burned as you said, “I want to come, please.” 
Morpheus made a sound, something between a loud exhale and a pleased hum. “I see that.” He said, his fingers trailing down towards your wet folds where he could truly see how badly you wanted to come. “You’re all wet down here,” he said, stroking your folds. “But you can’t have your way so easily, can you, little nightmare?” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. 
“Four.” You whined, sighing in pleasure as he spanked you one more time, hitting the same spot on your butt, “Five.” Then another one, “Six.” You were wiggling so much that Morpheus had to hold your body down with one arm while spanking you with the other. 
“Stop moving so much, or I will stop.” He threatened. 
“No!” You protested, “Please, don’t. Don’t stop.” You unconsciously pushed your ass up in the air and Mourpheus almost chuckled at your excitement. Almost. 
Instead he spoke, while lazily rubbing the tip of his fingers up and down your wet slit making you shiver, “Maybe I should stop. And send you away for the night. You’ve been so bad lately, maybe you do not even deserve my attention.” 
That only made you want to grind against him even more, moaning just at the sound of his voice. “No…” You murmured quietly, “No, please. I want more.” 
“Very well then.” He said, and spanked you again. 
You hissed and moaned, mumbling, “Seven.” His spanks stung a little more now, but it was the kind of pain you wanted more of. You whimpered in pleasure and pain as his hand came down on your ass again, “Eight.” And again, “Nine.” 
“Good. Very good, little nightmare.” Morpheus said, his fingers moving downwards to play with your clit again. “Are you ready for the last one?” 
His voice made your whole body tingle. It was addictive and you were breathless, “Yes, please.” 
He grunted as he spanked you one last time. “Ten.” You said finally, moaning shamelessly on his lap all exposed. 
“Up.” Was all he said, lifting both his hands off of your body and waiting for you to get up. 
You did, quickly. And before you stood up fully, Morpheus pulled you onto his lap again but with you straddling him on his throne this time. You winced as your sore butt brushed against the fabric of your dress.
“Ow.” You mumbled as he guided his hands over to your butt again, caressing it through the dress. 
“Does that hurt?” He asked almost like he was teasing you, looking deep into your eyes. 
You nodded, whimpering as he grabbed your hips and ground you against him. Not only did the movement make your butt sting even more, but it also teased your throbbing clit as you pressed against his erection. 
You moaned and whispered with tears of frustration in your eyes, “Please…” Your hands found themselves against the fabric of his coat, and slowly you slid your hands beneath it, seeking the warmth of his powerful body. “Please,” You murmured again, looking into his piercing eyes. 
Morpheus looked down to where your thighs parted as you straddled him. You both looked down then, watching his hands rub up and down your exposed inner thighs. It was more arousing than anything, watching his hands run up and down your skin like that, like he owned it and it was his to touch. 
“You want to come?” He asked, his voice so deep that you felt the vibrations of the sound of it against your palms that were currently pressed against his chest through the material of his dark clothes. 
You nodded. 
“Go on then,” Morpheus said, “Make yourself come.” He pointed down to his erection and you almost whined in displeasure. 
Of course, of course he would make you do all the work. This was punishment after all. So you did. Your hands reached down in between your bodies and eagerly, rapidly undid his pants to free his cock. 
You whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, then you went on to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking his hard cock, making him throw his head back and grunt under his breath. 
“Go on, you little troublemaker. Put it in.” Morpheus said - more like ordered. 
You lifted your lower body off his, pulled your torn tights and underwear to the side and slowly lowered yourself down on his cock, earning quiet moans and groans out of both of you as you sank down on him. You were wet enough for his cock to slide in, but your body still resisted just a little bit, enough for him to have to thrust up the tiniest bit for it to fully fill you up. 
And you gasped as he did. You looked at him, his head tilted back a little, his hands resting on either side of your waist. His pretty lips parted just a little, and you couldn’t resist leaning in and sliding your tongue into his mouth. You moaned against his lips, stroking the top of his mouth as you lifted up and sank back down on his cock. 
Morpheus growled into your mouth, his hands rubbed up and down your thighs again as he urged you to move. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He asked, feeling you beginning to squirm against him, “Well go on, fuck me.” He grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up and you moaned wantonly as you felt him fill you up. 
You moved against him so deliciously; lifting your lower body just the slightest, before sliding back down on his cock, you whimpered as you felt him snug inside of you each time. The tip of his cock reaching sensitive places you never knew existed. It gave you a warm rush just thinking about where you were and who you were fucking. 
You whined, feeling him stretch you out each time you moved up and down his cock. “Morpheus… please,” You gasped as his hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed the swollen bud lazily. “Oh…” 
“You see, little nightmare? See how well behaved and polite you are after being punished?” He taunted you while you lost your mind each time you lowered yourself down on him. “Maybe we should’ve done this long ago, right when you began misbehaving.” His voice sent chills down your back. 
So you moved faster, impaling yourself down on his cock and whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. 
“But now? Your bad behaviour will no longer be tolerated.” Morpheus said, watching you as you sped up even more, riding his cock like you couldn’t bear not to. He caught the way you winced every now and then each time you felt the sting of his previous spanks, and a twisted part of him loved it. 
It was weirdly arousing to see the contrast in your appearances; him still clothed with his cock out, and you with your outfit ill-fitted on your body, your tights torn and your underwear pushed to the side carelessly just to fit him inside you. You, straddling his lap and desperately fucking yourself on his cock while he sat back on his throne like a god and did nothing but watch you lose your mind to the pleasure. 
“I suppose we will find ourselves in this very situation time and time again if you keep acting up like you normally do.” 
His words had you groaning and whining as you took more of him. The thought of doing this again… oh it excited you more than anything. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his eyes. 
You couldn’t help but speak out the thoughts of your lust-drunk mind, “Your cock… feels so good,” you mumbled, worried that he might just use that against you and deny you the orgasm you’ve worked so hard for. 
“Do it now?” He teased, maintaining his arrogant calm and composure even as you fucked yourself on his cock. “Show me how good, come all over it for me.” He growled in that voice that felt cold and menacing, but also erotic. 
And you did. Moaning and whimpering, squirming and whining. His deep voice encouraged you as you rode him. You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Morpheus, finally, kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you did. 
Morpheus came right after you, groaning and spilling inside of you and filling you up as you trembled and squirmed against him. You caught your breath, leaning forward and pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath. 
He let you use his body for comfort, let you rub your face against his neck like a kitten. Let you kiss up his neck and jaw and his mouth. All while he had a faint smile on his face as he looked down at you, still a bratty mess on his lap. 
“Will you behave now? Or at least try to?” He asked the moment you pulled away from his lips. 
You stared deep into his eyes as you said, “I will try. Only if you promise to punish me again when I don’t.”
2K notes · View notes
ml-nolan · 3 months
Note
For the soft prompt meme: 28. forehead touches or nose nudging or any soft variation on the theme (for your choice of Sandman ship :) maybe Dream/Calliope if that strikes your interest)
Thank you! Never wrote these two before, but I'll take a crack at it!
--
While Calliope falls asleep in her husband's arms most nights, she usually wakes up alone. As the Dream King, Oneiros has no true need for sleep, and he prefers to be there when Orpheus rises. It's time that Calliope is happy to let them share without her interference.
This morning, she is greeted by sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows of their bedroom, and already she knows it will be a good day. There is an opening in the stone wall that was not there when she fell asleep, left especially for her to follow when she awoke. It is easy to find the path to the lush clearing where her son and husband play. 
Little Orpheus's honey blonde curls bounce along with his uncontained delight. Oneiros has created a choir made up of all manner of creatures both mythical and natural, each assigned its own part to play. A cluster of crickets form the string section, song birds warble in place of woodwinds. Calliope even spots a porpoise at the back, standing on its tail fin as if it were its hind legs, clicking along in time to the song Orpheus improvises.
He is so absorbed in pointing at different creatures in turn, cuing them, demanding they play louder, faster, that Orpheus does not notice his mother approaching. The sound of his laughter carries over the music he creates in tune with these creatures conjured from dreamstuff.
Oneiros sits on the bank a few feet away, watching their son and choirmaster. His cloak, royal blue and glittering with stars, fans out on the downy grass behind him. While most would not recognize his expression as enraptured, Calliope sees it plain as the blossoming tree branches hanging above them.
She sits quietly beside her husband, not wanting to interrupt their son's latest cantata. The adoring look on Oneiros's face remains unchanged as he turns it on her. It should be impossible that she could make him as happy as their son, the light of both their lives, does. But by now, she knows better than to question these small pockets of happiness. Eternity is a long time, and only a small fraction of it holds moments as joyful as this. 
She leans into Oneiros, nuzzling at the smooth skin on the side of his neck. He welcomes her into the crook of his arm, pressing his cool lips gently against her temple. The air smells of blooming jasmine, the cloak he slings over her mostly bare back is like a patch of shade shielding her from a warm morning that will intensify into a hot summer day. She closes her eyes, breathes it all in, and knows nothing but music and love.
— This piece was brought to you by these Soft Prompts. My inbox is open if anyone wants to hop in with asks for Sandman, The Magnus Archives, or Malevolent ships (or any of my OCs)!
86 notes · View notes
cuntycheol · 8 months
Text
(Teaser) Shadows of Rememberance (K.MG)
Tumblr media
Idol!Mingyu x Reincarnated!(afab)Reader
Summary:
In 2017, your first love Mingyu's hardwork and a couple of years worth training finally turns to fruition when he sets to debut the next year and hopes to have you by his side. Difference is he debuts, and he has 12 members beside but no you. 4 years later, smaller in size, you got paws for hands, a tail, and limited time to solve your own death. So how do you exactly get to your boyfriend?
WC: TBD (teaser wc is 500)
Genre: more of like fantasy romance? With a small thriller into it?
Theme: lovers!au(childhood sweethearts) typical idol training au (we do not letting the green room slide by :) ) in the beginning, my style of writing is a bit 2017 :3 , flashbacks and transitions(I'll try to make it less confusing as possible), humor, some murder mystery, angst(major), implied smut (no details) Tsundere!Mingyu but eventually turns a new leaf in attitude, alterated seventeen debut timeline (they debut in 2017 with DWC)
A/N: hello readers, carats and gyuldaengies! This one is for you! Not too long ago, I finished See you in my 19th life and you know the phase where you're unable to get out of a particular fantasy-romance lore for a while! Its basically what inspired me to create this whole Korean setting of sojus and starry nights :) I'm actually enjoying the showcase of my work on tumblr even though it's just the beginning but thank you so much for reading my work and liking it! Unconditional gratitudes 😔💙 here's a small teaser from somewhere, in the fic. Feel free to drop comments/or if you're interested for a tag!
Tumblr media
From the twelfth-story vantage point of his dormitory building, Mingyu stood on the balcony, his thoughts mirroring the expanse before him. "Is this how the height felt that day?" he wondered, his gaze drawn to the distant city lights that spread like a sea of stars. Beside him, Wonwoo, his roommate and fellow member, along with Seungkwan, offered silent companionship, their presence a comforting assurance.
"You'll only hurt yourself, so cry as much as your heart has always desired to, Mingyu" Wonwoo's voice, soft and understanding, carried the weight of empathy. The full moon hung in the sky, its luminous glow casting light on the scene below. A subtle shift in the atmosphere seemed to whisper that this was an opportune moment to unburden himself, to relinquish the facade he had worn for so long.
And so, within the embrace of the moon's radiant embrace, Mingyu let his emotions cascade forth. A torrent of feelings, suppressed and concealed behind his persistent smile, surged from the depths of his being. His tears flowed, an uncontainable torrent that mirrored the city's night lights, shimmering with raw vulnerability. Each teardrop he shed resonated within you, a mirror of the emotions you felt, transcending the boundaries of species.
Unbeknownst to Mingyu, the same Calico who had been jumping in and out of the balcony railings, silently witness Mingyu's vulnerability of the misunderstood turmoils he's being put into. He leans on his members, and let the tears paint his pain more vividly than words could.
Your feline instincts yearned to leap across the balcony and into his arms, to nuzzle against him and purr your concerns and comfort him. But the confines of your new existence held you captive. A silent observer.
"Trapped within these fur and paws, I long to bridge the divide, to whisper words of understanding to you, Mingyu" even if you're in your feline form, your heart and mind worked as how it used to when you were a human. But it was this very struggle that fueled my resolve. You couldn't stand idly by, separated from him by a veil of existence. You yearned to show yourself, to bridge the divide that separated our worlds and provide him with the reassurance that he must overcome you. He must live.
Yet, the question of how remained a daunting puzzle. "How could I convey my presence, my empathy, without words or gestures he could perceive in the conventional sense?"
Another glance at Mingyu, your heart beats with a fierce determination. You knew that time was of the essence, that the threads of fate were aligning in a way that demanded action. The moonlit night seemed to hold a promise, a promise that if you could find a way to breach the boundaries that constrained you most certainly could offer him the comfort he so desperately needed. And that's when you muster your courage, in the same moonlit of mystery and determination.
《《______________________________________》》
102 notes · View notes
joonsty · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
ATTENTION ON ME : PREVIEW
: yandere au
: yandere!jungkook x reader
: graphic content & language, mature themes is present in this one shot. they will be all fully addressed in the actual post, but please, minors dni! ✧.*
: ✧・゚:* hope you enjoy this preview! ✧・゚:
Tumblr media
"please y/n… just look at me. did i do something wrong?"
his eyes stared desperately at you, yearning for a reaction, or for your soft lips to call out his name.
nothing.
his desperation took the best of him, he clung onto your legs, his fingers gripping tightly, silently pleading for attention from you.
"please, what's wrong? why aren't you talking to me?"
you harshly pulled back, encapsulated by the phone in front of you, you fingers scrolling. you thought he wouldn't notice but he did. he saw the pictures of the other men that were covered on your feed. you bit your lip as you double tapped.
junkook's desperation turned into anger. his once soft eyes that longed for attention and had a sense of vulnerability, now were filled with uncontainable rage. his anger pulsating through his veins, the blood vessels of his eyes popping with sheer force.
he gripped your leg again but with an intensity that elicted a sharp hiss of surpise from you.
"what are you doing?!!!" you screamed at him.
rule number one. - remember your place in front of your boyfriend.
your voice boomed in a sudden shout, the four walls mocking you as your voice echoed all around, reminding you off your mistake.
he flinched by the sudden unexpected outburst and slowly lost the grip around your leg, softly rising infront of you, his figure casting a shadow upon you.
you stared at the floor unable to look at him.
"y/n" , he whispered out.
your body froze, you couldnt meet his gaze.
you felt a gentle finger, delicately nudging under your chin, making you lift your gaze to meet his, there was a unspoken evil that dwelled in those eyes.
"jungkook.." you squeaked out.
"shh shh" he mocked.
he smiled. his seemingly warm and inviting smile hid a sinister edge. his eyes glimmering with a unsettling hunger and lust.
"y/n…" he called out.
"yes.." you gulped.
"you know what happens to you when you don't listen, right?"
you closed your eyes and nodded.
he took a step back, breaking the tension in the air and strolled over to the sofa. he sat down and leaned back, spreading his legs, his bulge prominent and a devilishly coy smirk playing on his lips as he bit his lip down softly.
"strip for me."
Tumblr media Tumblr media
youtube
Tumblr media
let me know if you also want to be part of the taglist, so you know when i post! ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
@meowyoongii @amyyysposts @theuniverse4koo @era-genius @gukjshi @slut4jeon
MASTERLIST
Tumblr media
53 notes · View notes
orcboxer · 1 month
Text
I'm a big fan of themes of absence. Of nothingness. Of that which is not. It is only in void that infinity lies, in the uncontained emptiness, the hollow of being, unbound by qualia.
31 notes · View notes
soyeonzs · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
›     making the bed :     theme   069.     tumblr theme code
if u find any bugs don’t forget to let me know, so i can help u. thank you very much for your support and i really hope u enjoy it!
*     terms of use and info:
don’t use it as a code base or steal it, don’t edit the credits or remove them and please don’t take parts of the theme and paste them into another’s. please read my rules! the appearance may change depending on the size of your computer screen.   the full credit list is in the code. if u like what i do or find it useful with a reblog u would be helping me a lot. the preview and download link are in the source. this is a paid theme.
26 notes · View notes