softstarlite

[softstarlite]

stay forever (joel miller x f!reader)

catch part one here: stay awhile 💫

summary: you & joel finally reach jackson, and the life you’ve dreamed of becomes reality — with a few twists and turns along the way.

warnings: age gap (29/56 — if this isn’t for you, that’s fine! you don’t have to read it) blood, canon-typical violence, no ellie or sarah, cursing, food, smut, tiny breeding kink (lmao), oral (f receiving), do a shot every time joel hugs reader, unprotected piv, parent loss, anxiety, nausea, fluff & comfort, joel miller dies aged 102 in his bed because i say so. this fic isn’t safe if you’re triggered by pregnancy & childbirth. 18+ mdni.

notes: i was desperate to give these two the happy ending they deserve. a special shoutout to @swankyorange, whose conversations and vulnerability with me about motherhood and loss inspired so much of the love in this fic. thank you, shelly. 💕

a huge thank you to two of the best people in my life: @frannyzooey & @macfrog 🫶🏻 kelli — you walked me through joel’s emotions and gave me so much to work with; i am nothing without you. SDLN is the blueprint, always! max: you’re the best friend & beta a girl could ask for. thank you for your time, your brain, and your endless patience. always. gorgeous gif by @pedgito — i love you, ali! thank you!

“Y’see it, baby?”

Joel squeezes your hip, lips brushing your ear. Your nose is frozen, arms wrapped round yourself inside your jacket in an effort to keep warm. His gloved hands grip the reins in front of you, the horse you share sliding over the ice precariously.

Lifting your head, you do see it.

High walls stretching across the horizon, snow adorning the watchtowers. Jackson. For a moment, your heart stops, reminded of the QZ you’d left behind a lifetime ago. As if he’s inside your mind, Joel’s nose is at your temple, his words soft amidst the howling winds.

“‘s gonna be okay, I promise. Won’t let anythin’ happen to you.”

Nodding, you try to ignore the freezing burn in your thighs, the flurries of snow caught in your eyelashes. You left your sanctuary at Bill & Frank’s months ago, and have been on the road ever since. Shot at, stabbed — you in the palm, Joel in his torso — and hungrier than ever, you’d met the worst of humanity as the seasons changed; a brutal winter sinking her teeth into you both, leaving behind scars that would never fade.

Your bandaged hand moves to wrap around his over the leather, the horse navigating through the blizzard under Joel’s instruction. The animal had been a blessing: the blood from your wound still dark and sticky across his flank as Joel had urged him onwards, fleeing the raider camp you’d stolen precious resources from.

You’ve borrowed, begged and beaten your way here, the reward coming closer with every kick of Joel’s heels. You can scarcely believe it, blinking and straining your eyes, as though you’ll wake up in a few moments still in the damp and dilapidated motel you’d left three mornings ago.

Exhaustion had settled deep in your bones a while back, hope of finding Jackson a flicker in the dark that was often dimmed by every setback, every near miss.

You’d stitched Joel back together precariously after he’d been injured, held him through the fever that burned him from the inside out afterwards. He, in turn, had stemmed the bleeding from the hole in your hand, cleaned and wrapped the wound as you’d sat in his lap, tears carving a path in the dirt on your cheeks.

You’d sustained one another in the depths of despair: bodies curled close, reassuring words shared, the constant belief in something better pushing you onwards.

Now it’s here, appearing in front of you like a ghostly mirage.

The settlement becomes clearer, smoke rising from various buildings beyond the wall, people scattered across the top. Their guns are trained on you both, shouts lost in the frigid gale that blows cold in your face.

“Tommy said to expect some kinda hostility. They’re real protective of this place,” Joel mutters grimly.

You manage a smile he can’t see.

“For good reason, I’m sure.”

The gates begin to open at an agonising pace, Joel bringing the horse to a stop at a safe distance. Nerves tingle along your spine, and you shift a little in the saddle. His fingers drift along your thigh, chest pressed to your back.

“How long has it been since you got a message to your brother?”

“Six months.”

You exhale, steeling yourself. They could’ve shot you on sight, spilt brain matter across the snow. Nothing is to say they still won’t. These people don’t know you, they don’t know what you’ve been through to get here. In a world overthrown by violence and despair, faith in others is hard to cultivate — and even more difficult to maintain.

Frank’s long-ago kindness reminds you that it’s still possible. He and Bill had offered you shelter when you needed it most, and you can only hope you’ll be afforded the same luck twice.

A lone figure strides out in your direction, bandana obscuring most of his face. Black hair sits on his shoulders, gun slung across his chest. You feel Joel hold his breath, his body solid against yours. The man comes closer still; his eyes a rich, deep brown, so like a pair you’ve seen before.

Tommy.

///

“Y’let us know if you need anythin’. Head up the street, turn left, and ours is the first house.”

Joel pulls his younger brother into his arms, Tommy’s chuckle honey-like and comforting, echoing round the kitchen.

Your kitchen.

Tommy pulls back after a beat. “S’good to see you too, big brother.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, pulling his heavy overcoat over his shoulders. You both watch him go, front door closing softly behind him.

Gazing at Joel for a moment, you wonder what he’s thinking. It’s been a long day: the two of you welcomed into the community with many open arms after your dramatic entrance. You’d met Maria, Tommy’s wife, and taken an instant liking to her. She spoke to you like she’d known you forever, promised that you were safe here.

“You okay?” you ask Joel, reaching out for his forearm.

He scrubs a hand over his face wearily. “Think I’ll sleep for a week.”

Wrapping yourself round his midsection, his chin rests against your forehead. You stand like that for a while, snow falling softly outside the windows. The kitchen surfaces are faded, tiles missing in some places. The leather couch in the living room has been patched over with jagged stitches, the coffee table stained with rings, and the bookshelf stuffed with novels you’ve never heard of.

It’s perfect.

“Pinch me,” you mumble into Joel’s chest, feeling his quiet laugh reverberate through you. “Tell me we gotta leave in the morning.”

“No need to, sweetheart. It’s ours for keeps.”

The tears come then, and you gladly let them fall. Joel soothes you, swaying you both on the spot, warm hand rubbing across your back. Your shared wounds are still sore — both physical and mental — but, at last, you have a home to heal them in.

///

You’re given a week to settle in.

Tommy and Maria drop by with meals, clothing, hygiene essentials, and plans on how to integrate the two of you into community life. Joel volunteers to be part of the patrol unit, but you know you’re not ready for that yet — or if you ever will be.

“Don’t think about that now. We need somebody in the dinin’ hall, anyway. Feel like gettin’ your hands dirty?” Tommy asks one evening, eyes twinkling in a way so similar to his brother’s.

Joel’s thumb brushes over your knuckles from his place beside you on the couch, never too far from your side. You agree, eager to contribute in any way you can. In truth, your culinary skills leave much to be desired, but you’re keen to make the most of this new life you’ve been granted.

Joel sees Tommy out, coming back to pull you to your feet. “You don’t have to do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with,” he murmurs, searching your face for any hidden anxieties.

Joel knows you better than anyone, knows what to say whenever you doubt yourself. Pressing your face into his flannel chest, you breathe in deeply: he smells clean, fresh in a way neither of you had been for a long time. You find it both comforting and unnerving; a reminder that soon, you’ll be spending hours apart from one another.

“It’ll be strange, not seeing each other all day,” you confess.

Joel’s eyebrow quirks, grin pulling at his lips. “Better make the most of it now, then.”

You let him lead you upstairs, towards the soft bed you share, scattered with mismatched pillows and a chipped lamp on the nightstand. The pristine furnishings you enjoyed in Lincoln are long forgotten, and in their place are belongings you’ve traded for and made your own.

Joel gently pushes you down onto the plaid sheets, hands splayed either side of your head. You recall the many times you’ve been in this position: hard earth freezing cold against your back, Joel’s warmth the only sustenance as he overwhelmed your senses and stretched you open, his thumb in your mouth to silence your cries.

It’s different, now.

The privacy and protection of your own home affords you all the time in the world to indulge in one another; a job Joel takes very seriously. He sucks at your pulse points, drags your shirt up and over your head. He lavishes your breasts individually with his hot tongue, your back arching off the bed in response, tugging desperately his silvered curls.

The scruff along his jaw brushes against your sternum, your body writhing at the sensitivity. Joel leaves messy, open-mouthed kisses across the curves of your belly, pulling back to wrestle with your jeans. Hopelessly, you try to help, a whine caught in your throat. Joel takes your wrists in one hand, pinning them above you.

His voice is low, raspy. “Be patient. ‘m gonna give her what she needs.”

Heat pools in your stomach at his words. Slick and slippery as he finally frees you, you watch as Joel pries your thighs apart with huge hands, settling his broad shoulders between them. The anticipation bubbles in your chest; you’re still not used to the sensations he’s about to bestow upon you, never having enough time to explore each other like this before.

Joel eats you out reverently, like he’s afraid he’ll never be able to do it again. It’s all you can do to hold onto him as you convulse against his insistent tongue, thick fingers digging into your thighs as you come down from heaven. “Tastes so goddamn sweet, baby,” he tells you, licking one last stripe over your centre, your body trembling from overstimulation.

He gathers you in his arms, kissing all over your face as your breathing begins to regulate. He’s still fully clothed, moustache shiny and dripping. Grabbing at the buttons of his shirt feverishly, Joel aids you in your task, reaching for his belt buckle.

“Don’t lecture me about patience again, old man,” you manage. He chuckles in response, your favourite sound.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

///

Spring arrives, and with it, endless amounts of joy.

The happiness you only knew as a child blooms fervently, like the wildflowers that begin to carpet the mountain ridges surrounding Jackson. The days stretch out longer and later — something you’d dreaded back in Boston, sick to your stomach of the stink, the grey, the death.

Now, the hours are lived out in vivid colour.

Joel’s in your bed every morning, slipping inside you and making you come when you’re still half asleep, bringing you tea before he leaves for the day. You love your job in the dining hall; shy smiles shared between newfound friends, bonds forged and deepened, all kinds of adopted families hosting you both for dinner.

The scar on your left hand lingers, long after the stitches are removed. Your fingers are numb from time to time, Joel pressing his lips to each tip individually to make you smile. You’ve seen much worse injuries — seen the way the residents of Jackson make do, make the most of what they have. You willingly follow suit.

You know everything comes at a price. The peace and solitude you’ve found is guarded heavily, patrol shifts running every day of the year.

You count down the minutes until Joel comes home, often with stories to tell. Sometimes he wants to share; but mostly he just kisses you, pulls you close into his thick overcoat. He’s the most capable man you’ve ever known, but you don’t let him leave in the morning without promising he’ll return safely before the sun goes down.

You never want to waste the simple gift of your lover coming home to you: often scraped and bruised, but alive. The shared feeling of sheer relief often results in Joel fucking you wherever he can take you — slowly, deeply. He pulls you flush to his chest on one such occasion, spilling inside you over the dinner table. Hand wrapped round your throat, lips against your ear, pounding into you until you see stars.

You’re made for this cock, baby, he groans. So fuckin’ tight. So perfect.

Showering together becomes routine, just like you dreamed it would be, the lace you coveted in Lincoln and carried halfway across the country safe beneath your pillows and worn whenever you feel like it. Confessions of love flow freely from Joel’s lips whenever he bottoms out inside of you; eyes rolling in the back of your head, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps as he squeezes your hips.

I know, baby. I know, ‘s a lot. God, I fuckin’ love you. Love you so much, honey. Y’know that, don’t you?

///

From your perch in the bed, you hear the front door close, the scrape of the bolt that means Joel’s home. Usually, you’d be in the living room to greet him, help make a start on dinner. Tonight, though, you couldn’t face it. You’ve been feeling off all day — out of sorts, for the first time since you arrived in Jackson.

His feet fall heavy on the stairs, calling out for you between rooms.

“Up here.”

Joel’s face appears round the bedroom door; cheeks pink, hairline damp, chest rising and falling. Spring had bled so effortlessly into summer, your bedroom windows thrown wide open in an attempt to coax a breeze through the house. You hope it’ll blow the cobwebs away, dilute the feeling settling in your stomach.

“Hot one today, huh?” you comment grimly as he sits beside you, warm hand sliding across the bend of your knee.

Joel shrugs, shoulders flexing. “Not if you’re Texan.”

You roll your eyes, curling your body around him instinctively. He toes his boots off before lowering himself to lay beside you. Usually you’d comment on how much you hate it when he leaves them there, but you simply don’t have the energy, preferring to burrow into him despite the heat.

“Maria gave me a couple eggs as I was leavin’ the stables, was thinkin’ I could do us some omelettes tonight—”

Joel’s theoretical dinner plans are rudely interrupted by your stomach gurgling, acid rising in your throat. You swallow thickly in disgust at the sensation, his eyebrow raised in concern. “Or.. I can go to the dinin’ hall and bring you whatever you want, if you’re not feelin’ it,” he says gently, warm palm rubbing between your shoulder blades.

“I don’t know what I want,” you pout, horrified by how petulant you sound. In truth, you’re startled by the churning feeling in your gut — awakening a fear you’ve so far put to the wayside, too distracted by your happiness to give much thought to. You’ve buried it as the weeks passed, unwilling to let your mind wander down that particular path.

You’re late.

Three months late, in fact.

“Well, just let me know ‘f you change your mind. Might just be the heat,” Joel muses, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. You watch as he rolls away from you, heading for the shower. The thick planes of his freckled shoulders come into view as he tugs his shirt off, leaving you chewing your lip in uncertainty.

His presence has always been soothing, medicinal — everything else falling away whenever he’s near, no problem too big if it’s halved with him.

Except this one.

///

The next day, Maria sets a bowl of soup down in front of you and draws up a chair at the dining table, her face a picture of concern. You’d knocked at her door with shaking hands this morning, asked her if she’d accompany you to the infirmary. The two of you had grown close, even more so since Maria had given birth to a son — Caleb, the light of her and Tommy’s life.

With Joel out on patrol, your secret had spilled into the sweet-smelling summer air, lip caught between your teeth as your voice trembled. Maria had looped her arm through yours, ensuring you put one foot in front of the other in order to meet Jackson’s midwife. She held your hand when the news was confirmed to you, dabbed a tissue to your tears.

You hadn’t said much — you couldn’t. Somehow, your de-facto sister-in-law had gotten you home, ensconced safely in one of the two chairs Joel had built himself for you both to share.

Joel.

You couldn’t bear to think about him; about how he’d react to the result of your shared carelessness. It’s hard to reframe it as anything else in your state of shock: your hand closing over your belly instinctively. The midwife had guessed you to be around twelve weeks along ��� the size of a plum, she’d grinned. Don’t panic, though. It’s normal not to feel the baby moving just yet.

The baby. Half you, half Joel — with fingers and toes and a heartbeat fluttering like a hummingbird.

Maria’s voice drags you from the white noise inside your head, your name echoing round the room as she pushes the bowl towards you. “You should really eat,” she reprimands kindly, sipping her tea. Smiling weakly, you bring the soup to your lips and swallow, if only to please her.

It tastes good, at first. Soon enough though, you’re grimacing, the scent drifting from the bowl turning your stomach. “Everything makes me nauseous now,” you moan. “I’ve been fine this whole time.”

Maria shares a sympathetic smile. “You’re lucky. I was sick — like, really sick — with Caleb from the start.”

You sit in companionable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of Jackson’s children in the street. Classes have finished for the day, and you watch as parents shepherd their unruly offspring home; some sat on shoulders, others swinging from hands. It makes your heart skip a little, your apparent future playing out in front of you.

Maria clears her throat, getting up to leave. “If you want my opinion, I think it’s better to tell Joel sooner rather than later.”

“I can’t.” Your voice is a whisper. “He’ll hate me.”

“You and I both know him better than that,” she says gently. “You’re his life — both you and the baby, now. Besides, am I supposed to believe you got pregnant all by yourself?”

Pinching your brows in exasperation, you confess.

“We just.. Forgot to be careful, I guess. My periods are never regular, and we’ve been so happy here. It just — it didn’t cross my mind.”

Liar, you reprimand yourself inwardly. Memories of begging Joel to fill you up swim through your subconscious, both of you lost in the heat of the moment. You wanted to feel him, let him claim you; and Joel was only happy to oblige, babbling about makin’ it stick.

“Spare me the details,” Maria laughs, wrinkling her nose. “Look, you’ve seen Joel with Caleb. It’s like a second nature to him — remember the animals he carved for his nursery? He painted each one, and now they go on a goddamn safari together.”

Despite yourself, you grin, thinking of Joel’s knees creaking whenever he gets down to his nephew’s level, his stoic nature forgotten as he makes the lion roar to the little boy’s delight, thick finger tickling him under the chin.

Maria continues, coming to rest her hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “I know you’re frightened — you have every reason to be — but, he might not be. This might be the best news he’s had in twenty years.”

Grimly, you cling to the hope that she’s right.

///

Maria leaves you with your thoughts. You spread out across the couch as the sun dies away, golden light filtering through the windows. With your shirt pulled up, your hands splay across your belly, still in disbelief. You’d never entertained the thought of being a mother — not even here, where babies are born surrounded by love, cherished from the day they open their eyes to the world.

You wonder how your own mom felt when she found out about you: if she was frightened, thrilled, or an exhausting mixture of the two, just like you are now. Closing your eyes, you can smell her vanilla perfume, remember her shy smile. You’d shut the door on those memories for so long, death and destruction tainting them with a murky visage you couldn’t — wouldn’t — scrub away, for fear of hurting yourself even more.

You wish so much that she could be here; wish you could hide behind her, hold her hand.

It hits you, then. The clarity is so earth-shattering, you swear you can feel something in your belly. The little life that lies beneath stirring, forcing you to confront what you’ve known in your heart since you first found out about them.

You love this baby.

///

You’re dicing carrots when Joel comes home.

His hands reach for your hips, just as they always do; the grey in his hair reflected in the windows in front of you. He nuzzles beneath your ear, apologising for running half an hour late. You weren’t worried: it’s normal for him to head to the Tipsy Bison with Tommy for a sneaky whiskey, and besides — your mind had been firmly elsewhere.

“Everythin’ okay?” he probes, noting your silence.

The knife slices cleanly, a rhythmic thwack against the cutting board.

“I’m pregnant.”

He stills, his body wrapped round you. You taste blood in your mouth, having bitten harshly into your lip in anticipation. He says nothing, for a beat. You’re sure you can hear the rapid tick of his watch, in time with your heartbeat.

“Pregnant?” he whispers, after an age.

Nodding, you turn in his arms. “I — we’re — having a baby, Joel. I’m near enough twelve weeks along.”

“Fuck.”

The word is brutal, harsh; his face unreadable. He gazes at you, hands braced either side of yours on the kitchen countertop. You reach out to the scruff along his jaw, the heart-shaped patch where it refuses to grow. He leans into your touch, unblinking.

“How’re you feelin’? Are you — alright?” he asks quietly, and for a moment, you’re lost for words. Seemingly forgetting the sledgehammer you’ve taken to his life, Joel’s first priority is to check on you. On reflection, you’re not sure why it surprised you so much: it’s what he’s always done, ever since he pulled you from poverty in Boston.

“I think so.” Holding his face in your hands, you will him to speak. “Explains why I’ve been feeling so off, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he exhales, standing tall, hand carding through his hair. “Y’usually love how I do your eggs.”

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry your eyes out; partly in relief that he knows, that he hasn’t turned on his heel to leave.

Yet.

“Look, Joel,” you start, voice stronger than you feel. “I know this is less than ideal — we should’ve taken more precautions, been more careful, I don’t fucking know.”

If there’s an unspoken decision to be made, your choice is already firm, despite your shaking hands. Joel is your heartbeat, your home. The only thing more important is unborn inside you, existing through no fault of their own.

“No, no,” he shakes his head, pulling you into his chest as your bottom lip wobbles. “Take a breath, honey. Just — take a breath. In and out, nice ‘n slow for me.”

“Nobody’s gonna start blamin’ anyone else around here,” he continues, soothing you gently. “Besides, it’s not a mistake. S’not somethin’ we need to fix. I need to know, though — are you happy?”

You watch his eyes drop to your belly, hidden beneath one of his shirts you’d pulled on as the night drew in. “Yes,” a sob rises in your throat, “It took a couple hours, but I — I want this, Joel. I want it so badly it scares me.”

He gazes at you, long and hard.

“Makes two of us, then,” he exhales finally, squeezing you close. You sneak a glimpse at him: overwhelmed by what you find. His face is quietly joyous, that smile you first came to love so long ago pulling at his lips. His fingers creep beneath the flannel you’re wearing, thumb stroking across your stomach.

“A baby, huh?”

You hear the emotion in his voice, the lump in his throat. Your hand covers his, squeezing softly, elation coursing through your bloodstream. The band of tension that lingered around your ribs dissipates, a feeling of calm left in its wake.

His palms don’t leave your body: moving back to your hips, caressing your belly, squeezing your shoulders. You bask in his touch; baby nestled between you somewhere. You tell him everything the midwife said: you can’t feel them yet; but their heart is beating, strong and true.

“‘m sorry I wasn’t with you.”

“Maria helped — she helped a lot,” you sigh contentedly. Joel’s hand sweeps across your navel again, the lines by his eyes creasing as his grin widens.

“She always knows what to do.”

Dinner is forgotten; Joel leading you to the couch, pulling you into his lap. You thread his hair between your fingers gently, trace the curve of his nose as he asks more questions. “Guess I’ll be goin’ to Tommy for advice for the first damned time in my life,” he grumbles, hand on your hip.

You kiss his whiskered cheek. “I don’t think you need to learn all that much.”

“No?”

Shaking your head, you go on. “Look how long you’ve been taking care of me — how good you are at it, how much you enjoy doing it. Think about the way you are with Caleb. You’re gonna do just fine.”

Joel’s smile is shy, eyes skyward, shining in the glow of the lamps. You’ve caught glimpses of his stoic delight before; when you share slow mornings together, playing guitar with his brother. But this? It feels like a crack bursting open in his chest, sunlight pouring outwardly, filling the room with love.

“Never saw this comin’ for us,” he admits, fingers stroking at your spine. “But I always wondered if it was somethin’ you wanted — somethin’ I might not be able to give you.”

“There’s nothing you couldn’t give me, Joel Miller.”

“Don’t be too sure. ‘m almost fuckin’ sixty, after all,” he hums, dragging the flannel up towards your ribs, drawn once again to your belly. His disbelief is still palpable, the way he strokes your skin so tenderly: the two of you cocooned together in a bubble of confounded happiness.

“Gonna be the best mama, sweet girl. They’ll be the luckiest — I’ll tell ‘em every day.”

The kiss you respond with is long and lingering, Joel’s tongue intertwining with yours; hands seeking out your breasts, heavy in his palms. Feeling him harden in his jeans, you grind against him slowly, relishing the sensation. “We don’t have to,” he whispers, watching your pupils dilate.

“I want to,” you groan, teeth in his bottom lip. “Take me to bed.”

///

Six months later, everything hurts.

Feet impossibly swollen, heartburn ravaging your throat, more tired than you ever thought possible. No sleeping position is comfortable — bundled up in blankets as another freezing winter drapes itself over the settlement.

It doesn’t matter too much though; Joel often staying awake to keep you company, eyes widening every time the baby jerks their foot or fist against your skin. The midwife — Ellen — says it’ll be any day now: your blood pressure looks good, their head is firmly down and ready to make an entrance into this world.

In all honesty: you’re fucking terrified. You talk it over with Joel often, Maria pitching in, Tommy offering a joke or two that usually gets him thrown out of the room by his wife. You practice your breathing, keep a diary, spend hours in the bath talking to the bump that swells well above the waterline.

Maria organises a celebration for you — baby showers, they used to call ‘em. The friends both you and Joel have made in Jackson come together to offer gifts: handmade blankets, tiny crochet sweaters, knitted mittens, scavenged toys and the promise of meals made to order.

You win the battle against your emotions for the better part of the day, until you see an empty chair in the circle. Maria tells you it’s for your mother, soft white satin wrapped round the arms, a beautifully embroidered pillow resting against the back. Joel holds you through your tears — both of sadness and joy.

He constructs the crib carefully: brows furrowed in concentration, the old-fashioned glasses he’d finally consented to wearing hanging off the edge of his nose as he measures, saws and hammers pieces together.

One evening, when the snow is thick and heavy on the ground, it’s finally ready.

“No peekin’,” Joel instructs gruffly, his hands over your eyes, walking you slowly from your bedroom to the nursery. His hands smell of the pine he’s been working so tirelessly with, body pressed close to yours as he escorts you safely.

“Alright, open ‘em.”

Clutching his forearm, you audibly gasp at his craftsmanship. It’s beautiful: smooth, dark wood, sanded and polished to perfection. You know how much he’s loved having a project, something to contribute for the tiny baby who’ll soon be occupying the small space in front of you.

The hours he’s put into it — making sure it’s safe and stable — make your heart ache.

“Like it?”

“Like it?! It’s wonderful. Joel — you didn’t need to make it this perfect.”

He wraps an arm round you, brushing off the compliment.

“C’mon, darlin’. You’re the one doin’ all the hard work.”

As if to prove his point, his hand skates across your bump, smoothing across the taut skin. Your hips are so sore, pelvis struggling with the pressure. “I just want them here now,” you whisper, folding into his broad frame.

“I know, sweet girl. You’re doin’ so good.”

“I just want to pee at regular intervals again,” you moan. “And wear my own jeans.”

“Yeah? Well, I think I’m gonna miss it,” Joel chuckles. “Y’look gorgeous, mama.”

You smirk at him in the low lamplight. “This does it for you?”

He hums his appreciation, hands travelling along your sides, taking his time with your body.

“Want you to have all my babies.”

Tilting your jaw upwards, he kisses your throat, featherlight and soft. It feels so good: Joel sucking and nipping towards your pulse point; thick fingers toying with the band of your panties, moving to push them down your thighs. Desire courses through your whole body, overpowering the discomfort, head thrown back as he continues to lavish you with teeth and tongue.

“Let’s see how we get on with this one first,” you giggle breathlessly, his responding smirk a good enough answer as any.

///

A few days later, the pain starts a little past midnight.

It’s enough to wake you, radiating across your lower back. You’re content to breathe through it at first; Joel snoring softly beside you, the tightening in your belly swelling and falling away in a rhythm that soon becomes familiar. A plan is in place — Ellen and Maria anticipating Joel’s knock against their front doors, towels and tools packed and ready.

Soon enough, you slip out of bed, pacing the floorboards as the discomfort increases. “Don’t make this hard on me, bug,” you whisper through gritted teeth, comforted by the pet name Joel had bestowed upon your bump.

“Mama just wants you in her arms now. Just want you here safely.”

You glance at Joel, asleep on his back. His features are relaxed; the lines on his face softer, jaw slack as he breathes in and exhales. You try to mimic the steady pattern, wondering when you should wake him. You’re almost certain this is no dress rehearsal: that your baby will be here soon, maybe before sunrise.

Everything you’ve endured up until this moment has been a form of preparation. The despair that drove you out of Boston, the anxiety twisting your gut on the road to Bill and Frank’s, the heartbreak of leaving a safe haven behind, the danger that came after.

You can do anythin’, Joel had said. You’re so strong, sweetheart. The bravest person I know.

You choose to believe him; trusting in your body, in a process that’s happened for millions of years. With him by your side, it feels possible — the same belief that brought you here, to a home like one you’ve never had before.

It’s time. You know it is.

“Joel,” you lean over him, shaking gently at his shoulders. His eyes blink open; groggily at first, but as soon as he registers the seriousness of your tone, he focuses. The man you’ve relied upon thus far won’t fail you now — not when you need him more than ever.

“The baby’s coming.”

///

Your daughter is born on the bathroom floor in a slippery rush of adoration and agony, bathed in the weak golden light of dawn.

Joel sits behind you, knees bracketed around yours. His encouragement is constant in your ear, your nails digging deep into his thigh. He lets you scream, a scarred hand against your sweating forehead, watching helplessly as the pain tears through you like wildfire. You have Maria’s hand, crushing it into yours as Ellen coaxes your baby into the world.

She’s sticky with blood and mucus, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

Her wailing begins as yours ends, tiny body placed upon your chest. Nothing feels real; you’re not sure it ever will again, Joel’s cheek wet against yours, fingertip stroking her soft head — covered in dark curls, just like his.

“You did it, baby girl. You did it,” he manages, voice thick with tears. “Look at her. She’s incredible.”

Her cries quieten as she blinks up at you both: his eyes, ones that make it so easy to fall in love with her, just like you did with her daddy. You realise now that your heart will never live inside your chest again — it’s here: snuffling softly into your skin, weeping quietly into your ear.

“Joel — the cord,” Maria nods her head, moving to support you as he takes the sterilised blade from Ellen. Though his eyes are rimmed with red, damp across his hairline with fluids staining his shirt, his hands don’t shake. He cuts cleanly, helping the midwife with fresh towels and warm water.

You figure he regains his place beside you at some point; you’re too enamoured with the bundle on your chest to realise exactly when. His hands — ones he’s used to protect you, to kill for you — look even bigger next to her; thick fingertip touching the velvet smoothness of her nose, the perfect bud of her mouth, dainty curve of her ear.

“Hi, sweet thing. You look just like your mama — you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. So perfect.”

Watching Joel talk to your daughter unleashes a new wave of emotion; her heart-shaped face rooting around against your chest, mewling like a kitten. “Hungry girl, huh?” he chuckles, holding you both close. He’s as warm as ever, kissing you wherever he can reach as Ellen cleans you up.

“Do we have a name?” Maria asks gently, her hand on your shoulder. The baby tries to latch, Joel working to support her head as you shift up a little in his grasp. One singular name circles round your mind: one that you and Joel had discussed months back, one you’ve stuck to.

One that suits her, perfectly.

A word — a verb and noun — you’ve clung to for as long as you can remember. A feeling that carried you through it all; the darkness and the light that followed. A belief that begun the moment Joel met your eye across the QZ, exhausted and dirty and hungry for anything other than the life you were leading. A motivation that only grew when he held your hand in the forest that morning, the first time his lips grazed your temple — the first time you knew.

“Hope.”

///

The first eighteen months of her life pass in a millisecond.

You and Joel both grow older — his hair longer, greyer — but neither of you seem to notice all that much. The world as you know it revolves around your daughter; her first smile, words, tiny little steps. Joel’s arms were stretched out to her, and she gladly went into them without trepidation.

Hope seems to enjoy living her life that way.

Shrieking with glee as her uncle lifts her into his arms, her cousin scrambling onto Joel’s shoulders. Her tiny fist unclenching to let a butterfly land on her palm, only to frighten it away with her gasp of enthusiasm. Little fingers scrabbling at the manes of the ponies her daddy takes her to visit, crying when she has to leave them behind.

It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.

Joel confides his anxiety to you one evening, climbing into bed when he’s settled Hope for the night. He reaches for you on instinct, thick forearm slung across your waist. A painting of the three of you, created lovingly by a friend at the dining hall, sits pride of place on his nightstand.

“She’s changin’ every day, that girl. Sometimes I worry might I miss somethin’, bein’ out there all damned day.”

You pull him into your chest, silver curls against your chin. “I know, baby. I’ll be honest, though — most of the time? I miss things. She’s just too clever for her own good.”

He looks up: the beautiful dark eyes he gifted to your daughter shining back at you.

“Gets that from her mama.”

“Sure. That’s about the only thing that is mine in there.”

Your laugh is quiet, lips against his forehead. Joel and Hope are thick as thieves, often tuckered out on the couch together after tea parties with ancient Barbies, Joel shirtless in the summer months as his little girl snoozes on his chest.

It’s a sight to behold, one that heats the blood in your belly. The tiny child you created together so safe and loved on the broad, strong frame of her father.

If you could, you would have all his babies.

You sigh into his mouth at the thought, tongue tracing along the seam of his lips. He holds your jaw, moving to hover above you — so big and imposing, greying hair littering his chest, thicker and darker along his belly.

You’re certain you’ll never have your fill of him; insatiable for the man who made you a mother and warms your bed every night. You’re overcome with the desire to have him inside you, to claim you and mark you like he so often does. “Please, Joel,” you whimper, his fingers flexing round your throat, other hand busy between your thighs.

Inching the straps of your camisole down your upper arms, the scruff along his jaw drags across your collarbones. He knows all your sensitive spots, the way to make your toes curl, have you scratching and sobbing in his arms for more.

An expert at getting you naked; it doesn’t take long before he’s inching inside you, huge hand braced against the headboard to save you being interrupted. “Goddamn it, baby,” he groans, watching you writhe beneath him in pleasure. You still have to work hard to take him, preening at his encouragement.

“Feels so good, darlin’. So fuckin’ pretty like this, all spread open f’me.”

You tell him you love him, over and over, watching him paint your tummy with his release. Fond memories of a long-ago time in somebody else’s shower surface, and you dream of it as you fall asleep in his arms.

///

“Honey — come look. New neighbours.”

Though you tut impatiently at Joel twitching the blinds, you hoist Hope on your hip, trying and failing to peer over his shoulder as you cross the living room.

“There goes Tommy, doin’ his Mayor of the Town shit. Surprised he ain’t got leaflets at this point.”

Your daughter begins to clamour for her daddy: hands fisting his flannel shirt, tiny crease between her brows — just like his. “C’mere, lovebug,” he grins, lifting Hope upwards above his shoulders to her screaming delight.

Sixty looms on the horizon for your lover, something Joel’s dreading. Don’t want anyone throwin’ me a party, he’d grumbled. Just want a day with you two — see what movie they’re playin’ in the hall. Maybe Maria can make it hotdog night or somethin’.

Birthdays. Movies. Hotdogs. A baby girl.

Looking out the window now, into the street, you count your blessings a million times over.

Tommy’s standing with a couple; their backs to you as he points out the house opposite. It’s stood empty for a while, Joel and a few others pitching in to fix the drainage, repair the ceilings. It’s ready to be a home now — to provide the refuge so desperately sought by the lucky few who make it to Jackson alive.

You ignore the crashing and banging of Hope’s train set behind you, Joel’s enthusiasm for her toys second to none. You watch as Tommy and the couple turn, your brother-in-law pointing towards your front yard. Breath hitches in your throat at their faces: haunted, frightened — the kind of look you can only recognise if you’ve suffered the same horrors yourself.

They clutch at each other, eyes wide with small, shy smiles. It’s then that you notice: the bump protruding outwardly from her threadbare jacket, her partner’s hand moving to rest over it protectively.

“Hey, Joel?”

He’s by your side in an instant, like always. Two halves of the same whole, the final piece yawning in his arms, his hand skating across her spine — soothing your daughter the same way he does you.

And will do, forever.

“I think we should go say hello.”

[softstarlite]

Shhh....

Summary: Being a single parent comes with all kinds of challenges. Challenges that are so much easier to deal with when the father of your daughter's best friend is there to take of your more personal needs. And if that meant sneaking off with you into a laundry room at a garden party? Well who would he be to complain?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, cumplay) friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of flirting, fluff?

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

He didn’t know exactly why he agreed to go to this garden party. It was one of the few Saturdays he had off and he wanted it to spend with Sarah. She’s been in middle school since the summer and with all the changes that brought they only had little time to hang out in the last few weeks. 

So when Sarah brought the invitation for this garden party that the parents of one of her new classmates were throwing, he wanted to decline. But Sarah told him she really wanted to go, and that if he had something else to do that day, he could just drop her off and pick her up after?

But of course Joel Miller went with her. 

And it wasn’t that bad. The drinks were cold, the food was good and meeting all the new parents at the beginning of the year was a good thing too. Even if he already had forgotten most of their names. There were a few faces he recognised from Sarah’s elementary school, so he kept talking to them, all while having an eye out on Sarah who was playing soccer with some kids at the other side of the backyard. 

„Fancy seeing you here,“ he heard your voice behind him, and his eyes closed before he took a deep breath and turned around, fighting unsuccessfully against the smile that sneaked to his lips as he looked down at you. 

„Could say the same,“ he winked and your smile widened. 

This party just got interesting. 

You were running late.

The plan was to leave around twenty minutes ago but Charlotte, your daughter, just couldn’t decide on what to wear. She just turned twelve and if this last half year was a preview on how puberty would be with her, than you were in for a wild ride. 

Usually you used the weekends to charge your mental batteries by having as little contact to the outside world as possible after working at a bakery and having to be social all week. 

But Charlotte had brought the invitation for the garden party a couple weeks ago, begging you to go because Sarah would be there too. 

And where Sarah was, her father wasn’t far behind which was why you said yes in the end and spend way too much time on deciding what to wear before you decided on a light summer dress. 

It had been a while since you seen him, and you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had found the time to have sex.

Because ever since Charlotte and Sarah became best friends some time back in pre school, you and Joel started sleeping together occasionally. The first time happened after a night out at the bar where you ran into him, both of your kids on a sleepover. It had been positively mind-blowing and you were more than eager to agree to keep this going when you both needed a release. 

His wife had left him and Sarah before the girl turned one and your husband had used your pregnancy to fuck his secretary because apparently carrying his child made you unattractive to him.

And with both you and Joel being very devoted single parents, both of your love lives was pretty much non existent. You wouldn't say it was frequent now, but every month or two you would find some hours where you’d meet up at either of your houses, not leaving before both of you were more than satisfied. 

And you didn’t know if it was the secrecy of the whole thing, but my god the way Joel Miller knew how to play your body to the point of a crying orgasm was addictive.

But now you hadn’t really seen him in almost three months. 

With the school change and summer break things were busy not only for you, but for him too. You texted occasionally, trying to figure out a time to meet up, but business was picking up for Miller construction and Joel used the little time he had off to spend with Sarah. 

Something you could understand. 

So you were excited to see him as you parked your car right behind his on the street after Charlotte finally had chosen a dress to wear. You knew all that time deciding on her outfit would be for nothing once they played soccer, but hey. 

Charlotte was off to see Sarah as soon as you stepped into the garden, many people already mingling. The smell of fresh BBQ lingered in the air and before you even had taken two steps inside you already had an iced tea in hand, the host, one of the moms of a new classmate of Charlotte that you had met before, welcoming you. 

You were glad that Charlotte and Sarah where in the same class, both of them loving each other like sisters. With Joel working so much you had Sarah over more often lately, seeing Joel only when he picked her up. 

She was very well behaved and deep down you got the impression she loved hanging around with just girls for a change. Of course Joel was the best father, but there are some things that teenage girls don’t want to speak to their dads about. 

Such as how to use the eyeliner she secretly bought correctly or the awkward question about what to use, pads or tampons or period underwear?

It was nice that she trusted you with questions like that. 

You knew from Joel that she had struggled to not have a mom like other kids and he told you it was nice that she now had you to ask all those questions. 

Not that you were her mom, or wanted to be. 

Well…. Okay maybe sometimes deep into the night when you looked at the empty space in bed next to you, you might imagine how it would be if Joel would be there, every day. How could you not?

He was the hot single dad every mom in class always wanted and you were the one who had him. Occasionally. But still.

You let your eyes gaze through the backyard before you saw the broad shoulders of the man you had hoped would be here.

You could feel the butterflies in your belly as you walked over to him and fuck that smile he gave you when he turned around…

„Work still keeping you busy?“ You asked a little while later, both of you with a plate of food in front of you, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

„Yeah. Can’t remember when I got more than five hours of sleep at night the last time,“ he groaned and you reached one hand over to rest on his knee before you could stop yourself. 

„You got to take care of yourself, honey. Let that brother of yours pick up some slack too,“ you winked and he gave you a bashful smile before one of his hands came to rest on top of yours. 

„He does. As a matter of fact he’s taking over the next project so I have some more free time to spend with Sarah,“ he said and you hummed. 

„And if I’m being completely honest there’s this girl I haven’t spend any time with in the last months and I really really miss her and her little pussy,“ he had leaned in, whispering the last words against your ear and you shivered. 

„Just her pussy?“ You mumbled back as you looked up at him and he smirked. 

„Nah, she’s the whole fucking deal. Should probably get off my own ass and finally as her out on a date instead of just fucking he brains out whenever she lets me,“ he said and you sucked your bottom lip in as you tried to hide your smile.

You looked away from him for a moment, gathering your thoughts, making up your mind. 

You needed him, and you needed him now. 

„Think you can show me where the bathroom is? I think I need a little refresh,“ you asked, hoping he would get the hint. And by the shit eating grin that came to his face, he did. 

„Of course. Follow me.“

„This… This is not the bathroom,“ you mumbled against his lips, his body pressing you against the door of what looked like a laundry room. 

„Less interruptions here,“ he hummed, hand slipping under your dress, finger hooking into your panties, pulling them down. You smiled, hands in his hair as you helped him get your panties off. 

„Been too damn long,“ he ran his hand up your leg, wrapping it behind his back, his other hand on your back puling you closer before he kissed you again, his tongue playing with yours as you reached down, unzipping his pants. 

„Missed me so much you gonna fuck me in some people’s laundry room? Want us to get caught?“ You grinned, hand pulling out his cock, surprised to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Wrapping your palm around his cock you loved the deep groan he released against your lips. 

„Not gonna get caught if you keep quiet baby,“ he hooked your leg over his arm, hand on the door behind you as he stepped closer, opening you up for him. 

„Oh yeah, because I am the one who can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he huffed a laugh, replacing your hand around his cock with his as he pumped himself and lined himself up. 

You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, standing only one one leg, trusting him to keep you there. 

Slowly he finally sank into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly. 

„Fuckin’ perfect,“ he grunted, lips pressing against yours in a deep kiss when his cock filled you completely, both of you moaning quietly. 

„This ain’t gonna take long, sweetheart. Been to fuckin’ long,“ he grunted and you gasped when he moved, bottoming out completely before thrusting back inside. 

„Don’t care, just fuck me,“ you whimpered and he nodded against your lips, fucking up into you, skin slapping against skin every time he filled you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, trying to keep quiet as he hammered into you, his lips now attached to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. 

„Shit,“ he grunted just a couple of thrusts later and you felt him twitch as he came, spilling inside of you. Letting your head fall against the door you gasped for ear, having not cum but fuck it still felt good to just have him inside of you.

You were about to say something when he got on his knees, cock pulling out of you, your leg now hooked over his shoulders as his tongue replaced his cock, Joel moaning as he tasted you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered, hands now in his hair as he looked up at you. He grinned wickedly as he licked into you, licked his cum out of you. 

„We taste good together,“ he mumbled against your cunt, and you pulled at his hair with a quiet whine. 

„Shhh Baby. Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut your are for me huh?“ He teased and you pulled his hair harder, making him moan as he continued to lick you. 

He sucked on your clit, tongue playing with it all while pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

„Joel,“ you moaned softly, your head falling back against the door as you finally came, gasping for air as your body shook in Joel’s hold. You melted against the door once you rode it out, limbs feeling like jello. He kissed your pussy one last time, before he set your leg down, keeping his arms around you as he got off of his knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard once he stood upright. 

„We do taste good together,“ you whispered and he chuckled. 

It was two hours later, nobody at the party had noticed the very explicit things you did in that laundry room, that Joel carried a very tired Charlotte towards your car, Sarah already sleeping in the backseat of his car. 

You opened the backseat door of your car for him and he carefully sat Charlotte down, putting the belt on for her. 

You were leaning against the back of your car as he closed the door and he walked towards you. 

„What are you doing next Friday?“ He asked, fingers tilting your chin up.

„Nothing. Charlotte is with her Dad,“ you said with a small smile. 

„And Sarah is at her Grandma’s for a sleepover,“ he hummed with a smirk. 

„Wanna go on a date with me?“ He asked and you grinned, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. 

„I thought you’d never ask.“

[softstarlite]

When Life Gives You a Lemon | Part 2

Pairing: Neighbor! Joel Miller X fem!Reader | W/C: 8.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: He's brooding, protective, considerate, and hot -- what more could you want from a new neighbor?

A/N: A gift for @adoranion for the @pedrostories 2024 Secret Santa Exchange. I hope I did your prompt some justice.x

Warnings: POV-Switching. Happy ending. Found family. Tension. Flirting/Teasing. Age gap but not mentioned (make it your own). Pet names. Reader is nicknamed Lemon. TLOU au. No use of Y/N. Sarah and Lemon have a good relationship. Implied death (off-page) for Lemon's family. Abandonment is mentioned once. Dating sucks. Joel is a good guy. Oral (f! receiving). Feelings. Kissing/pining. Grinding. Praise kink. Begging. Unprotected sex. Creampie. Christmas references. Reader has female sex anatomy, is noted to have hair, and has slight implied feminine descriptors. Let me know if I missed anything! Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3 | Part 1

YOU

“Hi,” you say softly, padding into the living room in the clothes he gave you. They’re soft and worn, the fabric loose and comforting against your skin. The t-shirt falls past your hips, and the sweats are baggy enough that you’ve rolled them at the waist to keep them from slipping. It’s ridiculous, really—you could’ve grabbed something from your own closet across the street, but somehow, this feels better.

“Hi,” he rasps, his voice rough, like it’s caught in his throat. His eyes rake over you, lingering for just a moment too long. “You look—”

“Like you?” you tease, walking over and sitting down, close enough that your knees bump. Your mood is a little lighter now that you’re with Joel. The shower helped clear your head a bit, too. 

He looks at you, his dark eyes intense, pupils wide enough to edge out most of the brown. “I was going to say beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice softer now.

Warmth blooms in your cheeks, and your gaze drops to his lips, unthinking. “Thank you,” you say quietly, the words barely leaving your mouth as your focus remains fixed on him. You’re staring, and you know it, but you don’t care. More importantly, he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the apology slipping out before you can stop it, though you’re not even sure what you’re apologizing for.

“Hey now,” he says gently, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes softly against your skin, his touch careful, reverent. “You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

He holds you there, his gaze drifting between your eyes and lips. It’s not pity. It’s something deeper, a needy little thing that feels a lot like love. 

“Joel,” you say softly, his name a whisper on your lips. This might be a bad idea, and you probably shouldn’t do this, but every fiber in your being wants to.

You lean in, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can feel it. Your breath brushes his, and your lips meet his for the first time. It’s subtle at first; you’re just testing the waters. But when he doesn’t pull back—when his hand moves to your waist, steady and sure, pulling you closer—it’s all the encouragement you need.

The kiss deepens, and your core aches at the low rumble that leaves his chest once it does. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, devouring you in a way that feels like fireworks exploding in the night sky on the Fourth of July. His hand slides to the small of your back, anchoring you as his other hand grips your thigh. Without warning, he shifts, pulling you into his lap smoothly. You can't help but to giggle against his mouth. 

Your knees straddle his hips as your hands find purchase in the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands settle on your waist, fingers splayed across the thin fabric of his shirt, pressing you down against him until there’s no space between your bodies. He’s hard already, and it makes you a little desperate. 

His hand slips under the hem of the t-shirt, the roughness of his palm grazing your bare skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His lips leave yours, trailing slowly down your jaw, pausing at the curve of your neck. You shiver at the sensation of his breath against your skin, warm and heavy, and when he presses a kiss there, you can’t stop the quiet gasp that escapes you.

“Fuck, Lemon,” he groans, his voice raw and strained. He’s called you Lemon a million times, but never like this, and holy shit, it is sexy.

You grind down against him, feeling the tension in his body coil tighter beneath you. His hands find your hips, holding you to him so tight you think he thinks you might leave. His breath hitches when you lean in, pulling him into another kiss, your lips moving against his with a mix of hunger and tenderness.

His grip tightens, his thumbs brushing over the bare skin of your hips in slow, deliberate circles that send shivers up your spine. He groans again, his head falling back for just a moment before his dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mix of desire and restraint.

“Lem,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “We shouldn’t—God, I want to, but you’ve had a bad night, and you’re sa—”

“Joel,” you cut him off, your voice firm but soft as your hands slide from his shoulders to cradle his jaw. You tilt his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this right now, but I don’t care.”

Your tone shifts, more sure now, your eyes locked on his. “This isn’t like the movies. Sure, we could cut to the part where you tell me you don’t want to take advantage of me while I’m sad, and then I fall asleep on the couch. And yeah, we could spend tomorrow morning stealing longing glances over coffee, waiting, dragging this out.”

You pause, letting the weight of your words settle. “But I don’t want to wait. I’ve wanted you, Joel. For a long time.” You can tell he likes hearing that with the way his gaze goes dark.

“I don’t want to push you,” you continue, your voice dipping lower, almost a plea, “but if the only reason you’re not doing this is because you think you shouldn’t—”

You don’t get to finish because that’s all he needs to hear. His lips crash into yours, the restraint he’s been clinging to finally shattering. This kiss is hungrier, urgent.

His fingers trace the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, exploring every inch of you with a reverence that feels almost desperate. You feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of your borrowed clothes, and it’s not enough—not nearly enough.

His lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw and across the column of your throat, his breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea,” he murmurs against you, his voice thick like honey, “what you do to me.”

You shiver under his touch, your hands threading through his hair as he pulls you impossibly closer, like he’s trying to erase the space between you entirely. And in this moment, with his hands on your body, his lips on your skin, and his voice in your ear, every doubt, every hesitation, every reason to stop melts away, leaving only the two of you and the undeniable pull that brought you here.

Every kiss, every touch pulls you deeper into him, melting away the heartbreak, the doubts, the fears, until there’s nothing left but him. 

His hands tighten on your hips, and in one fluid motion, he twists you around, guiding you onto the couch. Your back hits the cushions with a soft oof, and before you can even catch your breath, he’s on you again, his lips finding yours.

“You want me, huh?” he teases, his voice low and rough as he pulls back just enough to trail kisses along your jaw. His hands slide to the neck of his shirt, tugging it down to expose more skin. His lips find the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing that little spot that makes your that makes you see stars.

“Joel,” you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair as his mouth continues its path, hot and insistent.

He chuckles softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you as he lifts the shirt higher, finally pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. His eyes darken as they rake over your bare chest. His tongue darts out to your nipple, before he takes it into his mouth and sucks, sending both of them into peaks.

He leans down, pressing a line of kisses down your chest, across your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of the sweatpants. His breath is warm against your skin as he murmurs, “How much?” His lips graze your belly, and the teasing edge in his voice drives you wild.

“So fucking much,” you breathe, “Want you so bad.”

“Tell me,” he growls as his fingers toy with the waistband of the sweatpants. His lips press lower, his stubble brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers straight through you. You’re too lost in the sensation to register the command, so he asks again. “Need you to tell me, baby, tell me how much you want me.”

“Need you so much, Joel, it’s not even a want at this point,” you whimper, your hips lifting instinctively, silently begging him for more.

He doesn’t make you wait. His hands grip the waistband, sliding the sweatpants down your legs in one smooth motion, revealing bare skin beneath. He groans, the sound low and guttural as his eyes flicker back up to meet yours.

“Fuck me, baby,” he murmurs, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading you open as he settles between them. His voice drops lower, his gaze filled with heat. “What a pretty pussy.”

The words alone have you trembling, and when he leans in, his mouth so close you can feel his breath, every nerve in your body ignites. The teasing, the tension, the way he looks at you—it’s overwhelming, consuming.

His lips brush against the inside of your thigh, and you swear the couch shifts beneath you, or maybe it’s just you. His hands, broad and rough, press firmly into your skin, holding you steady as he takes his time. There’s nothing rushed about the way he moves, nothing casual. Every touch, every kiss, feels intentional and perfect—like he’s savoring every inch of you.

“Joel,” you breathe, his name spilling out like a prayer and a plea all at once. Your hands find his hair, threading through the dark strands as he works his way closer, the teasing press of his lips driving you out of your mind.

He looks up at you from between your thighs, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a mix of heat and something softer, something you can’t quite name but feel all the same. “Patience, Lemon,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, the rasp of it making your toes curl.

Patience isn’t in your vocabulary right now. “Joel, please,” you try again, a bit more insistent this time, your hips shifting under his grip.

He smirks, a cocky little tilt of his lips that only makes the tension in your core tighter. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, almost to himself, as his hands slide higher, spreading you open for him. And then he leans in, and the world dissolves into nothing but him.

The first flick of his tongue steals the air from your lungs, and your head falls back against the couch, a broken sound escaping your lips. He hums in satisfaction, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine as he settles in, his mouth moving in slow, delicate strokes that leave you gasping.

“Fuck,” you moan, your fingers tightening in his hair as he grips your hips, holding you still when all you want to do is move, to chase the maddening rhythm he’s building inside you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he groans, his voice muffled but still devastatingly clear. “Could stay here all night.”

And you believe him, because the way he’s touching you, the way he’s drinking you down, feels like he’s found something he never plans to let go of.

“Joel,” you cry, his name tumbling out again and again as he pulls you apart, piece by piece, until you’re nothing but a trembling, desperate mess beneath him. His hand slides up, finding yours where it clutches at the cushion, and he intertwines your fingers, grounding you even as he takes you higher.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that’s almost reverent. “I’ve got you.”

And you do. You let go, the tension snapping like a rubber band, and it feels like falling and flying all at once. He holds you through it, his grip firm and steady, his lips still working you gently as you ride out the waves.

When you finally come back down, your chest heaving, your body boneless, he presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling back, his lips glistening and his eyes dark and proud.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, the concern in it tugging at your heart.

You nod, a shaky laugh bubbling up as you meet his gaze. “More than okay.”

He smiles at that, but then his expression shifts, turning serious. “I’m not going to fuck you, Lemon” he says, matter-of-factly. The words hit you like a splash of cold water, and your eyes dart to his face, searching for an explanation. Your pulse stutters, your mind scrambling. Did I do something wrong? Did I misread him?

“Wha—what?” you manage to ask, confusion laced through your voice.

“You’re right, baby. This isn’t like the movies,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your wrist where he holds it. His grip is firm but not demanding, grounding but not forceful. “And you might not feel it right now, but you’re still sad.”

His words make your chest tighten, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability rearing their ugly heads. You open your mouth to protest, to tell him you’re fine, that this is what you want—what you need. But he cuts you off before you can even start.

“And as badly as I want you…” His free hand moves to your wrist, guiding it down, pressing it firmly against the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. The heat and hardness of him, paired with your post-orgasm bliss, is enough to make you a little dizzy

“And I do want you,” he continues, his voice low and almost reverent now. “So fucking badly. But not like this. I don’t want it to be rushed or impulsive. I want to take my time with you. I want to show you just how worth it you are.

It’s not rejection; it’s something deeper, something you’ve never quite felt before. He’s not holding back because he doesn’t want you—he’s holding back because he does.

“Joel,” you whisper, his name catching in your throat as your hand stays where he placed it, feeling the weight of his desire and the restraint he’s forcing on himself. “I—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, leaning in, his forehead brushing against yours. “I just need you to know this isn’t about not wanting you. This is about you being everything I’ve wanted for so damn long. I don’t want to screw it up by rushing into something when you’re not ready. Not fully.”

Tears prick your eyes—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming feeling of being seen, of being cared for in a way you didn’t realize you needed.

“I feel ready,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you press closer to him. “I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His lips press to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze unwavering. “You’ll have me,” he promises, his voice firm but gentle. “Every part of me. But I want us to do this right. You deserve that.”

The tension doesn’t disappear—it just changes, slipping into something quieter but no less charged. You nod, not trusting yourself to say anything else, and lean into him. He lets you settle against his chest, his arms looping around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The steady rise and fall of his breathing calms the restless horny energy lingering in your limbs. Neither of you speaks. It feels like the moment doesn’t need words, like anything you’d say would only get in the way of the way his fingers lightly trace your back.

At some point, your eyelids grow too heavy to keep open. The exhaustion of the night, of everything, catches up to you, and before you know it, sleep pulls you under.

++++

When you wake, it’s to the smell of coffee and the soft clinking of dishes. Sunlight filters in through the blinds, warm and golden, painting the room in an easy stillness. You sit up, groggy, and notice the blanket that wasn’t there when you fell asleep.

In the kitchen, Joel is by the counter, pouring two mugs of coffee. He’s already dressed, but curls are still mussed, like he didn’t bother to smooth them out after waking up. He glances over his shoulder when he hears you stir, his lips quirking up into a small, knowing smile.

“Morning,” he says, his voice low and rough around the edges.

“Morning,” you reply, still a little hoarse from sleep.

He hands you a mug when you wander over, the warmth seeping into your palms as you take it. For a moment, there’s just the soft sound of the coffee machine and the sunlight cutting through the stillness.

You sit across from him at the kitchen table, the silence between you feeling heavier than it should. Not uncomfortable, just... different. You catch his gaze, and he’s already looking at you, his dark eyes lingering in a way that makes your stomach flip.

Neither of you says anything. It’s just glances that hold too much and last too long, small brushes of fingers as he slides the sugar bowl closer, a quiet that says more than you’re ready to admit out loud.

And you realize, sitting there with him in the quiet morning light, that this is its own kind of confession. No grand declarations. Just the way he looks at you, like there’s more to say but no rush to say it.

But apparently, Sarah didn’t get that memo.

She barrels down the stairs, her steps loud and quick, before bursting into the kitchen with a burst of energy. “Lemon!” she chirps, her voice bright and cheerful, cutting through the quiet.

You glance at Joel, whose relaxed posture tenses just slightly, though he hides it well, lifting his coffee to his lips as if everything is perfectly normal. Sarah pauses for a second, her gaze flicking between the two of you. There’s something in her expression—a spark of curiosity, like she’s caught the tail end of a conversation she wasn’t invited to.

“Good morning, Sarah,” you say, attempting casual as you sip your coffee, the warmth doing nothing to calm the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Morning,” she replies, drawing the word out just enough to let you know she’s already reading into something.

She wanders to the toaster, pulling a waffle from the freezer and dropping it in, her movements slow and deliberate. Leaning against the counter, she glances your way again, not subtle in the least.

“So,” she says, her tone almost offhand, but there’s a pointed edge to it. “Did anything... interesting happen last night? You know, while I was asleep?”

Joel coughs into his coffee, clearly caught off guard, and you nearly choke on your own laugh.

“Nope. Nothing happened,” you reply quickly, maybe a little too quickly, your voice pitched higher than you’d like.

“Uh-huh,” she says lightly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she shifts her attention back to the toaster, clearly unconvinced.

Joel sets his mug down, his voice finally steady as he says, “Sarah, just eat your waffles.” His tone is calm, but there’s a subtle edge of amusement, like he’s trying not to crack a smile.

Sarah doesn’t push it further, but you catch her watching you both out of the corner of her eye as she sits at the table with her plate. There’s a quiet curiosity in the way she glances up occasionally, not pressing the issue but making it clear she’s not oblivious either.

You share a look with Joel, and his lips quirk just enough to tell you he’s thinking the same thing. Sarah might not know exactly what’s going on, but she definitely knows something.

JOEL

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve tasted you, which is far too long if you ask me. Holding back that night—telling myself it was the right thing to do—feels more like a mistake with every passing day. If I’d known you’d be called to LA for an art exhibit so soon after, I might’ve thrown my self-control out the window.

Your painting is taking off in ways I always knew it could. Watching you chase your dreams, seeing the world finally recognize what I’ve known all along—it’s everything you deserve. But God, it’s so much easier to miss you than to just be proud of you from afar.

And now it’s Christmas Eve, and you’re still gone.

The house feels different without you. Even Sarah, usually a whirlwind of energy, seems quieter tonight. She’s been working on some project all day, shooing me away with a grin and a roll of her eyes every time I try to sneak a look. “It’s a surprise, Dad,” she says like I’m the one being nosy.

Maybe it’s for the best you’re not here. You and Sarah would’ve turned the kitchen into a disaster zone by now, flour on the counters, sugar trailing on the floor, baking enough cookies to feed a small country. I would’ve eaten every single one, no complaints, pretending I wasn’t already full.

Instead, the kitchen is clean, the house calm, the tree’s lights blinking lazily in the corner. It’s peaceful in a way I should appreciate, but it’s not the same.

Every time my eyes wander to the empty space on the couch or I catch the quiet settling too thick in the room, I think about you. The way your laugh fills a space, the way your smile feels like sunlight, the way you tease me just enough to make me forget my own name. And every thought pulls me back to that night when I held back because I thought it was the right thing to do.

Now I’m not so sure.

++++

“Dad, why is this so hard?” Sarah’s voice cuts through the quiet as she jabs at her noodles with chopsticks, her face scrunched in exaggerated frustration.

“People in the movies make it look so easy,” she adds, flinging a strand of lo mein back into the takeout box like it personally offended her.

I chuckle, picking up my fork and stabbing at a dumpling. “You want easy? Grab a fork. Or better yet, just eat with your hands like you usually do when no one’s looking.”

“Gross,” she fires back, wrinkling her nose but abandoning the chopsticks altogether. With a victorious stab, she skewers a dumpling and holds it up. “Gotcha.” It comes out Scottish, and I laugh. 

We eat in comfortable quiet after that, the sound of the movie we’ve got playing in the background filling the room. The little Christmas tree in the corner glows softly, casting the kind of warm light that makes everything feel cozier than it should.

I find myself watching Sarah more than anything else. She’s growing up too fast—her sharp humor, the way she carries herself—but there are moments, like tonight, where I still catch glimpses of the kid she used to be. The one who believed in Santa and left out milk and cookies every year, her face lighting up when the presents magically appeared.

“Wanna watch the rest of the movie?” she asks as she finishes her last dumpling, dabbing at her face with a napkin.

I nod, stacking the takeout boxes and carrying them to the counter. “Yeah, let’s finish it. Might as well see if that guy finally gets the girl.”

Sarah rolls her eyes, flopping back onto the couch. “Dad, it’s a Christmas movie. Of course, he’s gonna get the girl. That’s, like, the whole point.”

It doesn’t take long before she’s cocooned in a blanket, her head drooping as the movie drones on. I glance down, a soft ache in my chest as I realize she’s out cold. She’s still my little girl, even if moments like this are becoming rarer.

Carefully, I scoop her up, her weight familiar in my arms as I carry her upstairs. Tucking her into bed, I pull the covers up to her chin and brush a strand of hair from her face.

“Merry Christmas, kiddo,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead before slipping back downstairs.

The house feels too quiet now, the absence of Sarah’s chatter leaving behind a stillness I don’t want to settle into. I pick up the book you lent me, flipping to the marked page, but the words blur together.

My thoughts wander—mainly to you. Okay, entirely to you. The way you taste, the sound of your moans when you come, the way your fingers clutch at me like I’m the only thing that matters.

With a frustrated sigh, I toss the book onto the coffee table and grab my jacket. I need air.

The roof is colder than I expected, the winter wind biting at my skin, but it’s better this way. The sharp chill pulls me out of my head, at least for a little while. I set a lantern beside me, its glow barely cutting through the night as I lean back, staring at the stars.

The quiet doesn’t last long.

A glint of headlights catches my attention, and I sit up as a cab rolls to a stop in front of your house. My breath hitches when you step out, luggage in hand, standing in the middle of the street like you’re caught between two worlds.

For a moment, I think—hope—you’ll look toward me. But instead, you walk to your door, the lights flicking on as the cab pulls away.

I exhale, leaning back against the roof. 

And then I hear it—the faint creak of a window opening. I turn, my breath catching as I see you crawling onto your roof, the light behind you framing your silhouette.

“Merry Christmas, neighbor,” you call softly, your voice carrying across the still air.

I can't help but smile, shaking my head. “Merry Christmas.”

“Thought you weren’t a fan of being on roofs,” you tease.

“I’m in construction, baby,” I reply, grinning. “It’s you and Sarah with the two left feet I’m worried about falling.”

Your laugh reaches me, warming something deep in my chest that the cold can’t touch.

“You wanna come over?” you ask, your voice hesitant but hopeful. “I’ve got tea. Or whiskey. Your choice.”

I don’t hesitate. “Oh I’m a big fan of tea,” I tease, “With Lemon.” 

I swear I see you smile even through the distance. 

“Doors unlocked.” 

++++

When I step inside your house, it feels like walking into a secret you’ve been keeping from me. I’ve been here before, sure—but only briefly, never long enough to see you in it. Tonight, I take it all in. The cozy clutter, the faint scent of paint and something sweet, the warmth that clings to every corner. It’s chaotic and inviting, like you.

“Wanna see my favorite room?” you ask softly, your voice tugging me back to you.

I follow as you lead me down a hallway, the quiet hum of your steps on the floor filling the space between us.

When you open the door, I’m struck by what I see. The room is alive, vibrant, every surface covered with pieces of you—canvas after canvas, splashes of color and form. Easels stand at attention, and unfinished works lean against walls like they’re waiting for their turn in the spotlight.

“This is where the magic happens,” you say with a sheepish smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

I take a slow step inside, my gaze sweeping over the room. It’s not just alive—it’s you. Messy, passionate, unapologetic. And then my eyes land on a painting hanging near the back, a large, vibrant lemon, bold and cheerful in a way that draws me in.

“Self-portrait?” I tease, glancing at you with a smirk.

You laugh, the sound soft and warm. “Something like that.”

I step closer, my fingers brushing the edge of the canvas as I take in the details. The texture of the paint, the layers of care and thought behind it. “Can I have this one?”

You blink, surprised. “You want it?”

I turn to face you fully, my eyes locking onto yours. “I want all of you, Lemon. In every form and fashion.”

The air shifts. Your breath hitches, and before either of us can say anything else, I close the space between us. My lips find yours and I drink you in. 

My hands find your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tangle in my shirt. Step by step, I guide you backward until your legs hit the edge of the small bed tucked into the corner of the room. I lower you onto it gently, my lips never leaving yours as my hands slide along your sides. Fuck, you feel good.

“I missed you,” I murmur against your skin, my voice rough and low, filled with everything I’ve been holding back.

Your breath catches, your eyes meeting mine as your fingers brush against my jaw. “I missed you, too,” you whisper.

The words settle between us, and I kiss you again, deeper this time, my hand sliding under your shirt to find the soft skin beneath. Your body responds to mine, arching into my touch, and I take my time, letting every kiss, every caress, linger.

My lips move down your neck, tasting the faint salt of your skin, your scent wrapping around me like something I never want to let go of. I take my time, savoring every inch of you, my hands mapping out the curves and contours of your body like I’m committing you to memory.

“You’re beautiful,” I murmur, the words spilling out unbidden, but true.

Your smile flickers, soft and warm, and your hands slip beneath my shirt, your fingers brushing against my skin with a confidence that sends heat racing through me. I can’t help the way my breath stutters when your touch trails lower, grazing over the planes of my chest, the soft swell of my belly.

Your fingers catch on the metal of my belt, pausing there as your eyes flick up to meet mine. The look you give me—deep and daring, laced with something more—says everything you don’t.

And then your hand slides lower, cupping me through the denim.

I suck in a sharp breath, my body responding instantly to the pressure, to you. I’m hard—of course, I’m hard. Look at you.

“Fuck,” I rasp, my voice coming out rougher than I intend, and you smirk, the curve of your lips enough to undo me.

“Hmm,” you hum, your fingers teasing, exploring, making it impossible for me to focus on anything but the heat pooling low in my gut. “I missed this.”

My control starts to fray as I lean in, capturing your lips with mine in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s a clash of teeth and tongue, of desperation and want. My hands are on you—your waist, your hips, tugging you closer, needing to feel more of you.

You make this soft sound in the back of your throat, and it wrecks me. My belt is undone before I realize what’s happening, your hands working with deliberate ease as the denim loosens around my hips.

“You’re killing me, baby,” I groan, my forehead falling against yours as your hand dips past the waistband of my jeans, skin on skin.

Your smile widens, your lips brushing against mine as you whisper, “I’m only getting started.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t hold back anymore. My hands slide up under your shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it somewhere behind me. My lips find the curve of your collarbone, kissing, biting, tasting as I guide you back onto the bed.

Your legs wrap around my hips, pulling me closer, and I curse under my breath, overwhelmed by the sheer need coursing through me. Every inch of your skin feels like heaven, and I know I’m a goner.

I kiss down your neck, over the swell of your chest, my hands mapping out every soft curve and sharp edge, committing them to memory. When my lips find the sensitive skin just above your waistband, I pause, looking up at you.

“Tell me what you want,” I say, my voice low and thick with want.

“You,” you reply, your voice breathless but sure. “I want you.”

And with those words, every last thread of restraint snaps, and I let you have me. 

We’re both moving too fast to care about the trail of clothes left in our wake, urgency overriding any sense of control. When you lay back, legs spreading wide for me, it feels like the air’s been knocked from my lungs.

You’re perfect—the kind of perfect that rewrites fantasies—and I can’t do anything but stare. The moonlight spills through the window, casting a silver glow over your skin, highlighting every curve, every line, and every inch of you that’s made to drive me wild.

My gaze drops as your fingers slide down, trailing a path of heat and temptation, until they reach your clit. You start moving in soft, deliberate circles, your body reacting instantly, your breath hitching, your thighs trembling just enough to make me grip my cock a little harder in my hand.

“Fuck,” I murmur, my voice rough and thick with need. “Look at you.”

Your cunt glistens in the soft light, a sight so devastatingly perfect it feels burned into my mind. I can’t help the way my chest tightens, the way my cock aches at the sight of you touching yourself, your body responding so beautifully to your own touch. I begin to stroke myself more, my thumb catching on the bead of pre-cum that’s gathered at the tip, using it for lube.

“You like what you see?” you tease, your voice breathless, your lips curving into a sly, knowing smile.

“Like isn’t strong enough,” I reply, stepping closer, my hand sliding up your thigh, guiding your legs wider as I kneel between them. “You’re fucking perfect. The stuff dreams are made of, baby.”

I lean in, watching as your fingers slow, your chest rising and falling in anticipation. My lips trail along your inner thigh, soft kisses that grow hotter, hungrier, as I move closer to where you want me most.

“Don’t stop,” I rasp, my breath hot against your skin. “Show me how you like it. Let me see you fall apart for me.”

Your fingers pick up speed, the circles tighter, more insistent, as your body begins to tense beneath me. I’m close enough now to feel the heat radiating off of you, to see the way you’re trembling as the pleasure builds.

I press a kiss just above your hand, my lips brushing against the slick heat of your skin, and I groan, the sound low and guttural. “You’re so fucking perfect like this,” I whisper, my lips brushing against your clit as your hand moves aside, surrendering the control to me.

And then I’m on you, tasting you, devouring you, giving you everything I’ve got until the only thing left in the room is the sound of your moans and the feel of your body unraveling beneath me. 

I keep my focus on you, watching the way your chest rises and falls in time with my movements, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Your hands clutch at the sheets, your thighs trembling as I press deeper, licking and sucking at your clit in a rhythm that has you crying out my name.

“Joel,” you moan, your voice breaking as your hips arch off the bed, seeking more, needing more.

I tighten my grip on your thighs, holding you steady as I push you closer to the edge. Your hands move to my hair, tugging, grounding yourself as the tension in your body builds higher and higher.

“That’s it, baby,” I murmur against you, my voice rough and strained. “Let go for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

Your moans turn to gasps, your body tightening as the pleasure crests, pulling you under. The sound of you crying out my name, the way your body trembles beneath me, the taste of you—it’s enough to make my cock throb painfully, aching for release.

I move back up, kissing a path along your stomach, your ribs, until I’m hovering over you. Your skin is flushed, your eyes glassy with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you look so damn beautiful it almost hurts to breathe.

I can’t help myself—I lean down and kiss you, deep and hungry, letting you taste yourself on my lips.

“Need to be inside of you, Lemon,” I growl, my voice raw with need.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper, your voice desperate, wrecked. “Please.”

“I don’t have a condom,” I admit, hating the words even as they leave my mouth.

You shake your head, your eyes locked on mine, full of conviction. “I’m clean. I got tested after West, and I’m on birth control. Please, just fuck me. I need to feel you.”

I just look at you, my heart pounding like it’s trying to break free from my chest. Then I’m moving, positioning myself between your legs, my hands gripping your hips as I line myself up.

“Fuck,” I hiss as I push inside, the heat and tightness of you stealing my breath. “Baby, you’re perfect.”

You gasp, your hands clutching at my shoulders as I sink deeper, your body adjusting to me. I know I’m a lot to take—it’s something I’ve been told before—but you’re handling it, your breath hitching with every inch, your nails digging into my skin as I fill you completely.

“You’re taking me so well,” I murmur, my voice low and strained as I pull back slightly before pressing in again, setting a slow, steady rhythm. “So fucking good for me.”

“Joel,” you whimper, your hips lifting to meet mine, your body greedy for more. “You feel amazing”

The way you say my name, the way your body responds to mine—it’s undoing me. My control slips with every thrust, every moan that spills from your lips, and I can’t help but pick up the pace, driving into you with a hunger I can’t contain.

The room is filled with the sound of us—skin against skin, your soft cries, my rough groans. It’s everything, all-consuming, and I lose myself to you, to the way you feel, to the way you say my name like it’s the only word that matters.

“Lemon,” I groan, my head falling to your shoulder as I bury myself deeper, chasing the high that only you can give me. “You’re incredible.”

You cling to me, your body arching into mine, your breath hot against my neck as you whisper, “Joel, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

And I don’t. I can’t. Not until I’ve taken you completely, not until I’ve given you everything I have.

The tension coils tighter with every thrust, every gasp, every desperate cry of my name falling from your lips. You’re moving with me now, your hips rising to meet mine in perfect rhythm, pulling me deeper, tighter, until there’s nothing left but the feeling of you wrapped around me.

I can feel you getting close again, the way your body trembles beneath me, the way your breath hitches and breaks as my pace quickens. My hand slides between us, finding your clit and pressing in time with my movements. Your response is immediate—your back arches, your head tilts back, and you cry out, your body clenching around me as your second orgasm crashes over you.

“Lemon,” I groan, the way you tighten around me pushing me closer to the edge. “Lemon,” your name comes out more like a chant this time.

I’m barely holding on now, my thrusts growing erratic, my grip on your hips tightening as the heat builds, threatening to consume me. And then your voice breaks through the haze.

“Joel,” you whisper, your tone so soft, so wrecked, it undoes me completely. “Come for me. Please.”

That’s all it takes. With a deep, guttural groan, I bury myself as deep as I can go, my body locking up as I spill into you, the pleasure overwhelming, all-encompassing. My forehead falls to your shoulder, my breath ragged, my heart pounding like it’s about to burst.

I stay there for a moment, catching my breath, feeling your body still trembling slightly beneath mine. Then, with what little strength I have left, I lift my head, looking down at you. Your skin is damp, your hair a mess against the pillows, your eyes soft and hazy as they meet mine.

I can’t help myself—I lean down and kiss you, slow and unhurried, letting it say everything I don’t have the words for. It’s not just about the heat or the need anymore. It’s about you, about us, about the way you make me feel like I’ve finally found something worth holding onto.

When the kiss breaks, I rest my forehead against yours, my hand brushing the damp hair from your face. “You’re incredible,” I murmur, my voice still thick and rough from everything we just shared.

You smile, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. “So are you,” you whisper.

I stay like that for a while, just holding you, letting the weight of what just happened settle over both of us. Eventually, I shift, rolling us to the side so I don’t crush you, but I keep you close, my arm draped over your waist, my lips pressing soft kisses to your temple.

The world outside feels far away now, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right. It’s just you and me, tangled together in the quiet, and I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

YOU

Inspiration comes in many forms. 

And for the first time ever, it didn’t happen on the roof. 

++++ Joel doesn’t stay the night. He can’t—not with Sarah next door and too many questions that might arise in the morning. But when he kisses you goodnight, the soft press of his lips lingering on yours, he gives you the kind of look that says he doesn’t really want to leave.

So instead, you pack a small bag. Essentials, mostly—a toothbrush, some clothes for the next day—but also something you can’t help but tuck inside for Christmas morning. You follow him back to his house, slipping in quietly, and for the first time in a long time, you sleep soundly.

Wrapped in his arms, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulls you into the best night’s rest you can remember. And when you wake, it’s with the gentle glow of Christmas morning spilling through the curtains and the kind of peace that only comes from feeling like you belong.

You slip out of bed carefully, leaving Joel still fast asleep, his hair mussed and face relaxed in a way that makes your chest ache. The house is quiet as you pad downstairs, expecting to find it empty.

But then you see her.

Sarah is sitting cross-legged in front of the tree, still in her pajamas, her gaze fixed on the blinking lights and the neatly wrapped presents scattered underneath.

“Morning,” you say softly, unsure if she’s noticed you yet. 

She turns her head, giving you a smile that’s somehow both sleepy and full of knowing. “Morning.” 

You join her, sitting beside her on the floor, the quiet of the moment stretching comfortably between you.

“I’ve decided Santa exists,” she says suddenly.

You blink, caught off guard. “That so?”

“Yeah,” she says, her fingers idly brushing one of the ribbons on a nearby box. “He gave me what I wanted.”

There’s something in her voice—cryptic, sure, but also soft, like she’s holding onto something precious. You remember the Thanksgiving baking session, when she told you she’d stopped believing in Santa years ago.

“What did you ask for?” you ask gently, curiosity tugging at you.

She looks up at you then, her expression earnest and so much older than her years. “I asked for you and my dad to be happy.”

Her words hit you square in the chest, the simplicity of them carrying more weight than you’d expect. You don’t know what to say, so you reach out, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.

“Thank you, Sarah,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

Joel comes down the stairs a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pauses when he sees you and Sarah sitting by the tree, laughing about something she said. His heart swells at the sight, the warmth spreading through him so deeply it feels like it could break him.

For the first time in years—maybe longer—he feels whole.

As you exchange gifts, Sarah surprises you with a box she pulls out from behind the tree, grinning as she hands it to you.

“This one’s for you.”

You open it carefully, pulling back the tissue paper to reveal a painted portrait of a home. It’s eggshell blue, almost identical to the one you gave them a few months ago, but there’s one distinct difference.

In the center of the yard stands a lemon tree, bright and vibrant, its yellow fruit shining like little drops of sunshine. In the corner of the painting, just barely visible, are the words “When Life Gives You a Lemon,” with tiny initials—SM.

Your breath catches, and you look at Sarah, who’s watching you with a mixture of pride and nervousness.

“It’s perfect,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you pull her into a hug.

Joel stands behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders as he looks down at the painting. His smile is soft, his eyes warm, and when you glance up at him, you see it—the unspoken thoughts of more mornings like this, of laughter, warmth, and the kind of comfort you didn’t think you’d ever have again.

When it’s Sarah’s turn to open her gift from you, she carefully pulls at the ribbon, her face lighting up as she reads the certificate inside.

“A baking class?” she asks, her voice shooting up a pitch in surprise. “Oh my god, at Heathfords!?! The one with the rainbow macarons!?”

You nod, smiling as her excitement radiates through the room. “The very same. It’s a whole series, too. Cakes, cookies, croissants—the works.”

Sarah practically vibrates with excitement as she throws her arms around you, squeezing tight. “This is amazing! Thank you, Lemon!”

Joel’s hand tightens on your shoulder as he leans down, his voice low and warm. “You know she’s gonna bake us out of house and home now, right?”

Us.

“Is that you complaining?” you tease, nudging him lightly.

When the gifts are all opened and the room is quiet again, you glance at Joel, suddenly aware of how he’s looking at you—like he’s already anticipating something. You swallow a laugh as you turn toward him. “So… I didn’t have time to wrap yours,” you admit, your cheeks heating slightly.

His eyebrows lift, his grin spreading. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

You lean in a little closer, just enough to keep Sarah from hearing. “It’s, uh… something I’ll give you later.”

Joel leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “You already did.”

The words send heat rushing to your face, and you pull back just enough to glare at him, though the grin tugging at your lips betrays you. “You’re impossible,” you mutter, nudging him lightly.

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice low, that smirk still firmly in place. “But I’m not wrong.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the grin that keeps threatening to break free. “Well, maybe you’ll like this one even better,” you say, your tone light, teasing.

He leans in again, his voice softer this time, just for you. “I doubt that,” he says, his eyes catching yours for a moment that lingers longer than it should. “But I’ll take it anyway.”

Sarah, oblivious to the quiet exchange, is still marveling at her baking certificate, already listing out all the things she wants to learn first. Joel gives you one last look, his hand slipping from your shoulder to rest gently at the small of your back.

You're around a Christmas tree with family for the first time in a long time. It’s not perfect, but it’s yours.

END

A/N Continued:

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[softstarlite]

Small Touches and Simple Gestures

Summary: Javier Peña x Fe!Reader -> For years you've pretended to be married to avoid unwanted attention. But what happens when the lie you've been living, suddenly becomes true. Well, at least a part of it.

Disclaimer: Swearing, fluff, one of the agents making a move on Reader though nothing happens (Javi stops it). Fake dating, falling in love, embarrassing mothers, office romance. Heavy smut towards the end, so 18+. Happy ending. A lot of smaller intimate moments between Javi and Reader away from the smut, too. Kinda a long one. Not Proof Read.

If someone had told you that three years into working with Agent Javier Peña you’d be wearing a wedding band, marrying you to him for at the very least, the foreseeable future…you wouldn’t have believed them. 

And you would be right not to. Because that, technically, wasn’t what it was for. 

And it had all started with a question that Peña asked you one day as you sat at your desk. 

“Was he real?”

You slowly tore your attention away from the case file in front of you. “What?”

“Your husband.”

For a moment you forgot all about how you’d first come to interact with Peña. He had asked you out. Well, flirted heavily then asked you out. 

“What husband?”

Javi stood as he talked, walking towards your desk and sitting down on the edge of it closest to you. “One day you’re wearing a wedding ring telling me you’re married, the next it’s gone.”

You looked at your hand. “Oh. Yeah.” You decided to admit the truth. “I made him up.”

Despite his constant theories, he was still shocked. “What?”

“I made him up.”

You said it as if you were asking him how his day was. Like it was nothing new. 

“You made him up?”

“You try and be a single woman in this office who doesn’t like getting hit on by every guy who thinks with his dick,” you told him. “See how quickly you make up a fake family.”

He had to laugh. “But I hit on you.”

You looked at him, suppressing an already knowing smirk on your face. “My point exactly.”

“Think I got something.” From the door, Steve came sweeping inside and threw a couple of files down on Javi’s desk. The previous topic was dropped for now but you took a moment to revel in the shock graced on Peña’s face. 

However, a few hours later, it was brought back up again. 

You’d been standing in the evidence locker, looking for yet another misplaced case file. Could people not read in this office? Had they lost all sense of the alphabet? You sighed heavily. 

“How long have you been doing it?”

You jumped and found Peña standing behind you. “Jesus, Peña. Make a noise or something. Fuck.” You turned back to the messy shelf in front of you. 

“So?”

You sighed. “Doing what? This? Feels like hours.”

He shook his head and rounded you before leaning against the side of the shelves. “Not the files. You being married.”

“Oh, uh…” You pulled a few hefty files and handed them over to him before reaching down onto the lower shelf and pulling those files up. “Couple years, I guess. Since before the Academy.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t you hear me earlier, or do I need to repeat myself, Peña?”

He shook his head again and put the files down. “No, I heard you. But that’s here. Why did it start?”

You sighed and stopped what you were doing to look at him. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

He let out a small chuckle. “What? Come on, you’re one of the first Agents here to reject me not once, but three different times.”

You raised a subtle eyebrow. “I was married when you did that.”

“The first time, yes.” Javi corrected. “But that was an honest mistake. The second and third time, there was no ring on your finger. And, after this morning, you technically weren’t married at all. Look, just answer my questions and then I’ll drop it forever.”

“You promise?”

He held up his hand. “Scouts honour.”

You gave a questioned hum. “It’s difficult to imagine you as a Scout.”

“Y/l/n.”

You groaned. “Fine. It started because I got asked out a couple of times by this guy. He seemed nice and all but I wasn’t interested. So, when he asked why I kept saying no, I told him I was married. Swapped my rings over under the bar top before showing it to him. He took it well, apologised and said my husband was a lucky fella.”

Peña continued to listen. 

“Then I moved away. The second time I was with someone but this guy just kept hitting on my friend. She went to the bathroom and then he started on me. Told him I was with someone. He didn’t believe me. So, I showed him my wedding band. Said my friend was married, too. He,” you sighed. “Eventually backed-off. After that it just kinda became my go-to. People I interviewed preferred to see a married woman than a single woman being a cop. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t start out my job as married. But the minute the compliments, and the touching and the dates being pre-arranged because they expected me to say yes…once they all started, I started wearing my wedding ring.”

“So why take it off?”

You shrugged. “Guess I must have forgotten. Besides, nobody has tried anything in the last couple of years. We’ve all been too busy.”

For a moment, Peña’s demeanour seemed to shift. “But I’ve flirted with you.”

You smiled a tired smile and stepped back from the files for a moment. “I work with you, Peña. I like you but I think I’m immune.”

“That hurts.” He deadpanned before placing a hand over his heart. “That…wow.”

You laughed. “I think you’ll bounce back.”

And he did. That night he walked out telling Murphy he had a date with the stall girl he’d met a few days ago. 

The following weeks were hectic as different cases made their way across your desk, all with connections to Peña and Murphy’s biggest case; Pablo Escobar. 

From interviewing victim’s families, to interrogations, to the crappy coffee in the break room. Your days and nights were spent looking over files and dealing with your case loads. Until one afternoon in the breakroom led to something you never had expected. 

There was another Agent working at the Embassy. You’d seen him around a few times, shared a conversation or two. But most importantly, he had seen your wedding ring. You hadn’t missed his behaviour over the last couple of days. It started with smiles in the hallway – innocent enough. Then you found him in your breakroom more. Apparently the coffee was better. Then he was sitting at your table during lunch – apparently his partner was out for the day and he felt like some company. You didn’t miss his eyes clocking your hand. 

“Your wedding band. It’s gone.”

You didn’t know why at the time, but the lie fell from your lips. “Oh, yeah, It’s in for a cleaning. It had a couple dark patches and scuffs on it.”

More things started creeping up. Like how he always stood just that little bit closer and not in a comforting way, when you were both talking. Or how his eyes looked you up and down before you got to speaking distance from each other. 

Then in the breakroom, the ‘compliments’ started. How your hair looked – how it always looked. How you always made ‘women’s clothes look so much better’. How he enjoyed spending time with you because you actually talked to him. 

“You know,” he trailed a finger up your arm and you were three seconds away from breaking it and running to take a scalding hot shower. “I was thinking we could get away for a while. After all, we both deserve a break. Maybe take these lunches outside of the office.”

You stepped back. “I’m married.”

“Oh, come on, we both know that’s a sham.” He told you, taking a step closer as you took another one back. “You never bring him to office parties, there’s no pictures on your desk-”

“I don’t need to prove to you or to anyone else that I’m married.”

He laughed. He actually laughed. “You’re not about to tell me he lives in Canada are you?”

“No. He-”

“He’s right here.”

It was safe to say you were shocked, but the agent didn’t seem to notice as he turned round and found Javi standing in the hallway. 

“Peña. I was just-”

“Scaring my wife?”

The guy was turning paler by the second and yet somehow his ego carried him through. “You mean work-wife, because I have to say Javi, that doesn’t really count.”

“How about a marriage certificate? Does that count for you?” Peña finally found you by his side before he whispered to you.

“You okay, cariño?” All you could do was nod, the shock of him pretending to be your husband still settling over you. 

He looked back to the agent who had been hitting on you. “I’m gonna tell you this once and only once. Hit on my wife or scare her again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Javi-”

“I don’t think Messina would be happy to learn one of her best Agents was being sexually harassed.”

He nodded, backing away. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Javi shook his head. “Not to me. To her.”

Awkwardly, the guy looked from Javi, around the room, back to Javi and then to you. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. Peña’s your husband?

“You can go.” 

Taking Javi’s instructions, he left. Peña then waited a minute before turning towards you. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “I’m fine. Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“But you shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” He asked, holding the coffee pot in one hand and your mug in the other. 

“Javi…” You looked around the room before looking back at him. “This is gonna spread around the office. You and I -- married.”

He shrugged. “What’s the big deal? Now you’ve got a physical person to pretend to be your husband.”

“Javi.” He handed you your cup of coffee before pouring his own. “Please tell me you are aware of your own reputation? And the fact that we are colleagues? And the fact that I have been making a husband up for god knows how long? People are going to know this is fake and then I’ll be judged – heavily – for it.”

“Why would you be judged?”

You rested a hand on your hip. “This is gonna look like I’ve used you to be my pretend husband and everyone will just feel sorry for me and make a big joke about it with you.”

“Except I’m the one that told him.” Peña pointed out. “If anything, that’s what’s going to spread around the office.”

“Ah yes, I can see the headlines now; ‘Agent Javier ‘slut’ Peña finally ties himself down with a female colleague.’.”

He shrugged. “We don’t have to be tied down if you don’t want to.”

You hit him on the arm. “Be serious.”

“Look,” he set his coffee cup down and took you by the shoulders. “If it becomes anything then we just fake it. We already spend most of our time together anyway, and who hasn’t had an office romance once in their life?”

“I haven’t.”

Peña paused for a second before nodding. “Congratulations. You’ve just lost your office romance virginity.”

“Peña.”

He shook it off. “All I’m saying is, if it becomes a thing, we just…roll with it.”

“Roll with it?”

He nodded. “Roll with it.”

“There’s a chance our careers hang in the balance because I’m pretty sure this breaks at least three rules in HR. And your grand solution is to…’roll…with it.’.”

Javi nodded once more. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

It was not fine. Neither of you were fine. Especially considering two days later you were both forced into Messina’s office where, before you could spit out the truth, Messina interrupted and said she didn’t want to know. Just that you both had to remain completely professional and that if someone ever caught either of you, you’d both be suspended. 

So, things remained somewhat neutral. You both received a couple of looks from other co-workers. Murphy teased both of you relentlessly, despite being the only one to know the truth since you stopped the elevator when all three of you were inside to tell him as much. 

But then the loud rumours started and people didn’t even try to hide them. 

Whilst pouring you and Peña a cup of coffee each – something you had done almost everyday for three years, you could hear people gossiping. 

“Maybe he knocked her up. Shotgun wedding, you know?”

“I don’t think they’re even a couple. I mean, they never show any kind of affection to each other.”

One disagreed with that statement. “No, I’ve seen him with her a few times. Little touches here and there. Must be their love language. Small touches and simple gestures.”

“That’s cute, I guess. But I kinda expected more from Javi. He was always so…you know.”

The woman beside her sighed, “Yeah.”

You walked away more confused about life than you had been since before you started highschool. 

It was clear the rest of the office ‘knew’ about ‘you and Javi’. And that they each had a different opinion on the matter. And some of them you didn’t even know about, but Javi did. 

He’d heard everything from your marriage to him being a sham because he got you pregnant, to both male and female staff asking him “why y/n?”. Except, it was never in a friendly manner. To the men, it was either because they thought “Javi could have any choice he wanted, and he went for her?”, or because he’d gone for one of the women they had wanted “a shot at” themselves. And to the women it was…much of the same thing, with an added jealous streak wondering why he went for “the one woman who didn’t want” him, when most of the other women who’d worked with him “actually wanted” him. 

Javi’s eyes trailed your every move from the coffee station, back to your desk and then towards him. “You okay?”

You zoned back into reality and handed him his coffee. “Yeah. Fine. What have you got?”

Turning the case file around, he told you. 

Around a month or so later, not much had changed. People were still gossiping about your marriage to Peña, the case was gathering little evidence so the constant reviewing of previous case loads was underway. Between keeping up the lie of your marriage to Javi – despite neither of you having to do much out of your normal routine – and the case work and the constant heart attack you got when Messina would stop walking when stood directly between your desk and Peña’s before humming and moving along, you were running out of energy. 

“Come to mine after work.”

You looked around. People were looking but they were too far out of earshot to hear. 

You took the paper from Javi. 

“Why?”

“You’re tired, and I’m tired watching you eat that shitty stuff from the cafeteria. I’m cooking dinner.”

You looked up at him, shocked. “You can cook?”

He smiled. “Yeah, yeah. After work. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

Javi tapped your desk twice before walking away and looking around the office. Everyone who had been looking quickly looked away before looking back at you. Once they found you looking, they turned back to their work. 

For a moment, you looked at the half stale coffee on your desk. It would be nice to have a decent meal considering you’d been eating left-overs for about a week and half. 

And he kept his promise. 

Javi had left work an hour before you were supposed to. He’d grabbed his jacked off the hook behind your desk, bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, your body too tired to fight off leaning into him when he did so. You had meant to clock out of work an hour later but staring at words, losing concentration and trying to focus back in meant when you finally looked at the clock, you were getting close to being forty minutes late. 

“Shit.”

Not bothering to drop your stuff off in your apartment two floors up, you found Javi’s door unlocked like he’d said and you walked inside. 

It smelt like heaven. Good, hot food. And Javi. 

It was quiet as you walked down his hallway and eventually found him relaxing on the sofa, his legs thrown across the rest of it. He was watching reruns. 

“Relax,” you could hear the smile in his voice despite not being able to see his face. “Figured you’d be late. Food’ll be ready soon.”

With a relieved sigh, you dropped your bag by the steps and walked around. He moved his legs for you to sit down and he watched you for a moment as you pushed the heels of your hands into your eyes and leaned back. 

“Tired?”

“Exhausted,” you admitted. 

“Come ‘ere.” His voice was soft and quiet as he reached out for you by the shoulder. Looking at him for a moment before silently agreeing, you let him pull you down until eventually you were laying beside him, your head on his chest, his legs tangled with yours. 

It took him a moment, but Javi removed your hair-tie letting your hair loose before running his fingers through it. You relaxed almost immediately, feeling the once growing headache slowly melt away with each touch of his hand. 

You could have fallen asleep but he didn’t let you. “You’ve gotta eat. I didn’t slave over a hot stove for nothing.”

You groaned a little and buried yourself deeper into his side. “How are you this calming?”

“It’s my natural touch.” Javi told you before kissing the top of your head and sitting up. “Come on. Dinner’s ready. Then I promise, you can fall asleep.”

“Hallelujah.” 

It took you a moment but your head eventually stopped spinning long enough for you to sit up and walk over to the table where Javi had set down both of your meals. And it was one of the best you’d ever had; either because he was a great cook, or you were starving enough that any food that wasn’t cafeteria left-overs would taste like heaven at that moment. Though, you had a feeling it was the first one. 

In silence, you both washed and dried. Until you spoke out the pressing question on your mind. 

“What happens if we meet ‘the one’?”

“What ‘one’?” Javi handed you another freshly washed plate. 

“I mean,” you spun it through the dish towel. “To everyone else, we’re married. But what if we end up meeting the person we actually want to date and marry? What do we do then?”

Javi shrugged. “Guess we get divorced.”

“But we’re not actually married.”

“Then we play it by ear. They say when you know you know…maybe when we know, we just…tell them the truth. But I doubt that’s gonna happen.” Javi nearly crapped himself. “For me, not you. I doubt that’ll happen for me.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

For a moment, he was quiet. Thinking. Deliberating. “Back in Texas, I was gonna get married. Lorraine. She was a wonderful woman but…I don't know. I was driving to the church and I just stopped.”

“You left her at the altar?”

“I never made it to the church,” he admitted. “I don’t know. I suppose at some point I’d settle down but…” Javi shrugged. “I can see it happening for you though, so, whenever you do meet him, I can be there to help explain this whole…situation we’ve got going on.”

You laughed a little at that. “Thanks.”

Twenty minutes later, you were half asleep before Javi pulled you over to him once more. The last thing you could remember was you taking a deep breath in, the scent of him, his home and his cooking fill your senses. 

When you woke up, you found yourself still on the sofa, the news playing on the TV and Javi cooking in the kitchen. It took you a while before your brain registered you weren’t still dreaming and you’d fallen asleep not only at Peña’s, but also on him. 

“Hey,” Peña shook you back awake. “Breakfast is ready.”

You placed your hand over his and nodded. “Okay.”

Neither of you said anything when you ate, just listened to the news that passed over the speakers of the TV. 

“Who taught you to cook?” You asked, turning to look at him as he drove you both to work. 

“My dad. My mom helped, but dad was the one who burnt less stuff.”

After eating, you’d run to your apartment to get a fresh change of clothes and run a brush through your hair, only to be greeted by your husband at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll drive us to work.”

So, now you were driving to work with Javi before hopping out of his car and being led with a warm hand at the bottom of your back through the hallways of work before you both finally reached your desks. 

And for the first time in weeks, you finally had the energy to get through your work day. And so did Javi. 

Although things started to change when you got a surprise visit from your mother.

You’d been working for weeks on the same case and in between all of the case work, the fake marriage and the few months that followed, you’d forgotten to write to your mother. 

It was her one agreement with you moving to Columbia. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop you – it was your job and you were good at it, plus, despite all of the gear grinding you had to do every now and again, you loved it. But knowing she didn’t accept your decision to work as DEA in Columbia would have slowly killed you – and her, too. 

Any time she called, you’d either been dead asleep – either at yours or Javi’s – or at work. So, she took the notion to come and see you. 

So when you walked down the hall towards your office and heard your mother’s voice ask you a question, you felt your entire body crash to a screaming halt before realising what and why she was asking. 

“You’re married?” 

“Mom.”

Your mom called your full name and walked towards you. “What this lovely woman just told me better not be true, or else that means I’ve missed my daughter’s wedding.”

You tried your best to remain calm and relaxed. Two emotions you were desperately clinging onto for dear life. “She tells me his name is Javier Pen…”

For a moment, she looked back to the secretary who nodded and whispered his name again for your mother to repeat with full confidence to you. “Javier Peña.”

“Mom, maybe it’s best we-”

Then the secretary spoke up in excitement. “Oh, there he is. Javi!”

Looking up from his own case file, about to turn down the hallway, he found who was calling him before seeing who was standing in front of them. You and, from what he could guess, your mother. 

Shit. Your mother? No. She was back in the States. Maybe he’d remembered her face wrong from the picture behind your desk. 

Walking over, Javi’s hand came to your lower back before he quickly brushed a kiss against your cheek. “Cariño, you okay?”

You tried to remain calm as you said the next sentence. “Javi, this is my mother. Mom, this is my..husband..Javi.”

Then something you hadn’t expected to happen, happened. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs Y/l/n. Y/n’s told me a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” But she still shook his hand and allowed him to press a light kiss to the back of it. 

Carefully, Javi stepped back and pulled you closer towards him, your mother’s eyes never once stopping to not examine the couple that stood in front of her. 

Javi nodded. “We are sorry about that. But, maybe we can make it up to you.”

You looked at Javi a little panicked. But your mother was already interested. “Oh?”

“I’m guessing you’re staying here for a few days? Come and stay with us. I can make us dinner and we can all get to know each other.”

Then your mom smiled. Apparently Javi already had her approval. “Well…I think that would be lovely. But don’t think either of you are getting off lightly. I missed my daughter’s wedding that I didn’t even know about.”

“Honey, give your mother our address, I’ll ask-”

She shook her head. “No, no. You all seem busy. I can take myself there. And I’d like to see what’s around the market stalls. Is there anything I can bring for dinner?”

Javi shook his head. “No, not at all.”

You smiled. “He’s got it covered, mom. Just bring yourself.”

“Alright then. Well, I look forward to seeing you both for dinner.”

In the space of five minutes you’d all said your goodbye’s and you had ever so sweetly pulled your husband towards your office before closing the door and blinds and turning back to your partner. 

“What the hell are you thinking?”

Javi shrugged. “She’s come down here to see you. We might as well make the effort.”

“We? Javi. We don’t live together. She’s gonna take one look around my apartment and realise I still live there. She’s gonna take one more look at my face and realise everything that’s happened is a complete sham and then she’s gonna parade it around town that I’m still single. She won’t mean it harshly, but she will.”

“So, we don’t tell her and just say we haven’t had a chance to move things since getting married. We’ll be okay.”

You let out a panicked laugh before you started pacing. “I knew this was a bad idea. It’s bad enough we’re lying to people here.”

“You’re the one that started it before I got roped in.”

“Hey! You roped yourself into this. You were the one that said you were my husband.”

“Would you have preferred for Agent Dickbag to keep pushing?!”

You took a breath. “Javi…I don’t know if I can lie to her. What…what do I tell my family when they find out? This was just meant to keep people like Agent Dickbag away…”

Reading the panic all over your body, Javi stood and walked towards you until you were wrapped in his arms. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll keep the secret up long enough to make sure nobody else finds out the truth, and then you can just say we rushed into things. We got a quick divorce and moved on, civilly.”

“I think you missed your calling in Acting.” You told him. “I think my mom already has your seal of approval.”

“Really?” He pulled back a little and smiled. “That’s a first.”

“We’ll be okay?”

He nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

And you believed him. 

Because it was true. 

In the space of about fifteen minutes, you and Javi managed to move some things from your apartment, into his to make it seem more…homely. Like two people actually lived there. Especially since your mom would be living in your apartment for the next couple of days until she flew back home to the rest of your family. 

“Will she really check the bedroom?” Javi called from the kitchen. 

You’d moved some things to the second bedside table. One or two books, a couple of hair-ties, plasters, “stray” pens. You tried your best to make it look believable as possible. 

“You don’t know her like I do. This woman is Jessica Fletcher. Unsuspecting to the world, but in fact sees everything. Trust me, you do not want to end up in interrogation with my mother. Happened to a perp once. She came in to visit my dad but he was wrangling a couple of the officers so she walked around, found the perp sitting in holding and she actually got a confession out of him. Cops had been trying all day and nothing. A five minute conversation with my mother and they got a full written confession out of him.”

Javi gave a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah. So, trust me, what I’m doing? It’s gonna, hopefully, save us some grief.”

Javi was still cooking by the time your mom knocked on his door and you brought her inside. Immediately her eyes scanned the place picking up on the pictures, books and music. 

“It smells delicious.”

“He’s a good cook.”

And for the first couple of minutes everything ran smoothly. Your mother did everything you’d expected her to do. She even passed Javi in the kitchen to look into your bedroom. 

“She really did it.” Javi mouthed. 

“Told you so,” you mouthed back. 

“Mom, do you wanna come and sit down? I can get you a drink.”

“I’ll have a soda if you have it, please.”

You got your mom a soda and poured it into a glass with ice, handing it to her as she stood still examining your home. 

“So, how is he in bed?” She whispered a little too loud to you. 

You felt yourself go bright red. Redder still when you heard Javi chuckle from the kitchen. “Mom!”

“What? I’m allowed to ask my daughter these questions. I need to know you’re being satisfied in every aspect of your marriage.”

You groaned and covered your eyes. “Mom.”

“You’re being careful? Using condoms? You know pulling out doesn’t work as birth control.”

You could have died. “Mom, please. Stop.”

Javi let out a small laugh as he walked from the kitchen and handed you a drink. “Mrs Y/l/n, if you really want to know-”

“Oh no. No, Javi, please. Please don’t encourage her.”

“We’re being safe. Having a family right now probably wouldn’t be the best move for either of us.”

Your mother just graced him with a soft smile. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m not,” you groaned a little. “Can we please change the conversation?”

“You know, she’s always been like this.” Your mom told Javi who only seemed to revel in your terror. 

“Really? This isn’t a new thing?”

“No,” you mom told him. “She went just as red when I gave her the birds and the bees talk.”

“That’s because you decided to tell me in the middle of my middle school hallway during a Parent’s Evening.”

“And when I took her to the doctors to get her on the pill.”

You covered your face. “I’m in hell.”

Javi’s hand reached for your shoulder and shook you lightly as he sat on the arm of the chair beside you. You leaned into him. 

“I’d finally got it out of her that she’d had sex and next-”

“And next thing I’m being wrangled into an office chair with the doctor having my mother shout from the rooftops her daughter was no longer a virgin.”

Your mom gasped. “It wasn’t like that,”

You leaned into your husband who’d just let out a small laugh. “Please make it stop.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

“But I’m glad to know you’re being satisfied. Your face tells me more than you think.”

“Okay!” You stood up quickly and tried to run away, only to feel Javi’s hand reach out and pull you back, spinning you to stand by him. From the light red in his cheeks, he felt a little embarrassed, too, but he seemed to handle it a lot better than you. 

He was chuckling. “Don’t think you’re able to run from this. I wanna know more about you from your mom.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be here for it.” You tried to make a break for it again, but Javi caught you and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to slowly disappear from sight as you found yourself trapped in his hands and arms, and his gaze on you, just as yours was on his. And for a moment, you wondered what it would be like if you kissed him. 

Little did you know, he’d been thinking the exact same thing. 

Then a timer went off. 

“That’ll be the food.” Javi kissed a quick peck to your temple before standing and walking towards the kitchen, leaving your gaze to trail after him. 

“You really do love each other,” your mom pointed out from her spot on the sofa. “I can see why you got married. You both need to tell me what your wedding was like!”

And so you did over dinner. With the added linger of whatever had happened when he’d pulled you closer to him. 

You caught Javi looking at you a few times, and subsequently, he’d caught you, too. And, without rehearsal, you’d both managed to bullshit your way through explaining why you’d both decided to get married so quickly. 

From you and Javi, your mother had learned you’d both met when you started in Columbia and you were both ‘friends’ for a while. Not much had to be lied about in that department. Javi’s reputation. Your “ability” to make every man that asked you out believe you were taken. How you’d worked together for a long time before becoming actual friends. Then the lies started…right?

About how you and Javi made a true friendship of sorts over the late nights working, swapping smaller stories until something changed. 

“It was like…my heart had stopped and rebooted itself. Suddenly, everything felt like it had shifted and changed somehow.” Peña explained to your mom. “Nothing had ever been more…clearer and more daunting than ever.”

Then Javi looked at you, and you found a mirrored expression. Sadness? Confusion? Desperation? Fear? Realisation? You didn’t know what to call it, but whatever it was, you felt it. For some unknown reason, everything he’d just said rang true in your ears, your head and even your heart. 

Nothing had ever been more clearer and more daunting than ever.

By the time your mom decided she was ready for bed, you were already fast asleep against Javi. At some point in the evening when he’d sat beside you, he’d slung his arm behind you and between the warmth and familiarity of him, you’d let yourself truly relax. 

“I’ll walk you up.”

Your mom shook her head as Javi led her towards the door. “I know my way and you’re both tired. I’ll be okay. Get her to bed.”

Javi looked back at you for a moment and smiled.

“You really do love her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Your mom smiled at her supposed son-in-law. “I understand why she fell for you, but I hope you know, just because you’re the first one of her boyfriends, well, husband now. But just because you’re the first I approve of, doesn’t mean I won’t be judging you. You look after her, and you look after her well. Love her everyday. It’s not every day someone gets to spend the rest of their lives with my daughter. I hope you see that as a privilege.”

Javi nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Javi was telling the truth and your mom nodded. “Good. And thank you for dinner. Sleep well.”

“You, too, Mrs Y/l/n.”

Javi waited until he heard your apartment door lock before he shut his own, locked it and kicked off his shoes.

His socks padding his footsteps as he walked back to you, he was careful to pick you up before carrying you to bed and covering you up. You were still fast asleep by the time he climbed into bed beside you, but either way, you naturally rolled towards the slight dip in the bed before reaching out for him like you did almost every time he’d carried you to his bed because you’d fallen asleep in his apartment. 

The only times he didn’t was when he fell asleep with you and woke up as the sun peeked through his blinds in his living room. 

With a contented sigh, you slipped into a dreamless sleep beside him and for a few minutes, he laid awake, listening to your breathing. Then he let his mind slip back through the evening. If the funny feeling in his stomach and chest wasn’t what he hoped it was, but rather was what he suspected it to be, then he would have to soak up your actions as a married couple over the next couple of days before everything went back to semi-normal. 

Because if he was right, and he was growing feelings for you, then these days would have to be enough. Your marriage with him and his marriage to you was meant to be for appearances, only. Nothing real was meant to come out of it, was it? 

Because the feeling in his chest as he looked down at you, asleep by his side and in his arms…that feeling sure felt real. 

Waking up in the morning, you felt more comfortable than usual. No creaky mattress spring giving you a sneak attack from beneath your sofa and into your back, no blinding light coming through curtains you’d forgotten to shut, no cold side to your bed as you turned over. 

Instead, you felt warm. You found warmth. 

Asleep on his front but his arm still across you, you found Javi. Fast asleep, seeming as though not even a gunshot would wake him. 

And rather than jump out of bed or rollaway like you usually would when you found yourself in this position with any man, or even him going off the last couple of months. 

You’d found yourself falling asleep countless times at Javi’s and the majority of the time, you woke up in his bed. 

But waking that morning, especially after the night before, had something feeling different. So you took your time. 

For the first time you…studied him. 

You’d found yourself doing it more and more in recent months. How he sat in a chair, the look on his face when he was annoyed, amused, sometimes even scared. 

And for the first time, maybe ever. He looked…

Peaceful. 

As if it was a Sunday morning and neither of you had to get up for work. Like when he’d wake, you’d both spend the morning in bed before relaxing in your home. 

And for a moment, you let yourself dream about that life. A life where there was no fear of maybe never coming home. A life where you could both…be peaceful. Happy. 

Together, maybe?

After a few moments, you felt a gentle touch against your cheek, and slowly opening your eyes, you found Javi’s hand cupping your cheek, his fingers brushing soft patterns into your skin. 

“Cariño…”

You smiled, finding comfort in the common nickname. “Hey.”

“You been awake long?”

You shook your head, softly. “Not long.”

“Good.” Javi then leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Come here.”

Granting yourself permission to do as he said, Javi rolled over onto his back and pulled you into his side before he decided to ultimately face you. 

Down your back, he traced a singular line back and forth as you both synced calming breaths and listened to the comfortable silence of the room. 

“We could call in sick.” Javi said after ten minutes. “We’ve built up enough time to take the day off. You could show your mom ‘round.”

“We can’t,” you pointed out. “What about the case?”

“The case will still be there tomorrow. And besides, if something changes, they’ll call us in-”

Then you both heard the front door lock open. 

“Javi-”

Pressing a finger to his lips, he sat up and so did you. Quietly, he moved over towards his bedside table and pulled out his gun before checking the bullets. 

You both heard the door open and just as Javi was about to leap out of bed, you both heard your mother’s voice. 

“Y/n? Javier? You two sleepy heads awake yet?!”

You let out a huge sigh of relief and sat back against Javi’s headboard. “Jesus Christ.”

“Your mom has a key?” Javi put his gun back and closed the draw as he looked back at you. 

“I told you. Jessica Fletcher.” Then you called out to her. “Mom! We’re in here.”

Letting out a breath, Javi sat himself back beside you just as your mom walked into your bedroom. “Mom, you can’t just break in,” you told her, tiredly. 

“I didn’t break in. I had a key.”

“Both of us could have shot you.”

Your mom looked over both of you and gave a coy smile. “Then it’s a good thing I called out then. You both look…well rested.”

It was too early to even pretend what she thought had happened, had happened. So, tearing your eyes from Javi, you looked to your mom. “Why are you here?”

“Because I have made breakfast for both of you since Javi cooked us such a wonderful dinner last night.”

“Mrs Y/l/n, you really didn’t-”

“Hush now. I was happy to do it. Now, chop chop.” Your mom clapped her hands. “There’s plenty of time for this,” she gestured to you, Javi and the bed, “later. Come on. Before the day is gone.”

And as she walked out, you felt yourself collapse into Javi’s sheets, already feeling your face go hot. 

“She really doesn’t hold back, does she?”

“No.” Your voice was muffled through the sheets. 

Ultimately, Javi convinced you to take the day off with him and after a homemade breakfast, yet another awkward conversation surrounding love-making in the shower – to which Javi nearly choked on his toast. Both you and Javi had showered (separately) before getting changed and deciding to show your mom around the different places in town. 

And despite the stories shared by your mother; thankfully not all of them made you want a hole in the ground to open up the floor. 

You also found spending the day with Javi, outside of work talk, to be more than pleasurable. With his hand in yours, or his arm around you, holding your own across your stomach, you’d both walked side by side for most of the day. He told your mom some things about Columbia even you didn’t know before, easily sharing some stories of his own childhood when your mom asked. 

And you felt…glad, maybe? Like for the first time since moving to Columbia you were home. And it wasn’t just because your mom was there, but rather because of the person who stuck by your side all day, letting you see behind the personal walls he had up at work. The ones that, if you didn’t look closely, you wouldn’t know were even there. 

Yet, despite the entire day feeling like one giant butterfly in your stomach at every touch, look  and graze you felt from Javi, nothing made it feel like the tornado it was when your mom asked if she could film your ‘first dance’. 

Dinner had been long over and the TV had shut down. In the background, a few different records played until one came on and your mother gasped. 

“Oh, please. Please let me see your first dance. I love this song, and I’ve always imagined seeing you dance to it the way me and your dad do.”

From your side, Javi lifted his hand. It was up to you. 

Looking at your mom’s face, you couldn’t say no. So, you nodded and both stood. Javi started the song from the beginning and turned back to face you. In a matter of moments, you were in his arms, your hand in his whilst your other lay on his arm. You could feel his firm hand at the bottom of your back, holding you up steadily. 

Finally, leaning into each other, you could feel his moustache at the shell of your ear. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

That was when you found out Javi could dance. At the very least, much better than you could. He led you around the small section of the floor, your temple’s still touching and for a small moment, you closed your eyes. 

You’d also both forgotten anybody else was in the room other than you two. Breathing, heartbeats, pulse, chemistry. It all became one. 

And just as the song slowed, Javi lifted his head to look at you. It was like there was a new light to you in the fading sunlight. New features he’d never noticed before. The small freckles dotted across your face, probably having surfaced after a day in the sun. The soft streaks of baby hairs framing your face. The arch and bow of your cupid’s bow and lips. The light flush in your cheeks as for a moment, he caught your eyes doing the same thing he was. 

Looking. Gazing. Studying. All to commit it to memory. 

Javier Peña, for as best as he’d known, he’d never been so scared in all of his life. But there was one final thing he wanted to commit to memory, whether it be good or bad. And if he didn’t do it then, he was afraid he never would. So, for the first time with you, he did what he wanted to do because, and he hoped, by the look on your face, you wanted it, too. 

With the final few notes of the song, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was firm, steady, strong and then softer. The kind of kiss that you feel long after it’s over. Silence washed over the room as the record came to an end and you and Javi found yourselves looking at each other, only realising you weren’t alone when your mom gasped. 

“Oh, that was just beautiful.” She stopped the recording. “Thank you so much for doing that for me.”

You and Javi seemed to step away from each other despite it being the last thing either of you wanted to do in that moment. It wasn’t long after that your mom decided to go upstairs to bed. And once Javi heard the door lock upstairs, he locked his own and took a moment before turning back around to find you. 

But you were already trying to avoid the conversation that came next. 

Javi took his time. You both needed a moment to find clarity. After the faucet had been running for a few minutes, only to be switched off by you as you washed the plates in the bowl of soapy water, Javi stood at the kitchen door. 

He watched you for a moment, wondering what to say. What just happened? I’m sorry? He didn’t mean for it to…be that way? Did you feel it, too? Did you want it, too? Did he cross a line?

Then he realised he didn’t have to say anything at all. 

You felt him before you heard him walk slowly across the kitchen floor and stand by your side. With a gentle hand guiding your arm, he spun you to face him and in the silence, your faces shared a thousand words between each other. 

Javi brushed your hair from your face before gently cupping your face. It took enough time between each of his movements to let you object if you wanted to. You stepped closer into him. 

Then he kissed you. 

Having dropped the sponge into the sink, you felt yourself tumble against him as your own hands came to pull him closer towards you. Things seemed to move slightly quicker than before. His hands moving down your body to eventually lift you up and move you onto the counter top, his fingers pushing their way through your hair as your own pulled him in by his collar to kiss you once more. 

With your legs wrapping around his waist, securing him against you, you let out a small sigh behind your kiss. Javi only chased those small noises more after you made your first one. 

“J-Javi.” You managed to find your voice in between his kisses. “Wait.”

He stopped, forcing himself to pull his lips from yours. And for a moment, all you could hear was his breathing and your heartbeat. Both rapid. Both unsteady. 

“We…we shouldn’t…”

His hands still tangled in your hair and his forehead against yours, he shook his head in agreement. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

All either of you could do was breathe. Slowly. Trying to catch some form of air that was at least a close equivalent to the others. 

Kissing you was like a lifeline, and without you he was dying. 

His eyes finally gazing into yours, he found your own tracing his face, already reminiscing on the kiss, wanting more. 

Kissing him was like life was finally being pushed back into your lungs, letting you breathe clearly for the first time and without him, nothing was in focus. 

“Fuck it.”

His lips on yours again, he began to devour you and your taste. He could feel your hands pulling him closer to you, like if you’d let go of him, you’d drown. 

He needed you more than he wanted to admit. 

But you didn’t want him to hold back. So leaning away from his kiss for a moment, you made sure he focused on you. 

“Bedroom.”

He was still drunk on your kiss. “Javi, I’m not fucking you on the kitchen counter. Bedroom.”

His lips curved onto a smirk as he pulled you towards the edge and lifted you up. 

“Didn’t anyone tell you we’re married? Cariño, it’s called making love.”

You laughed and so did he before it was muffled out by another kiss. 

By the time morning rolled around, you found yourself wrapped in Javi’s arms, his scent swirling around your senses, locking it into a memory you’d never forget. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t. From the arms wrapped around you, to the soreness in your legs, your body was too happily exhausted to move. 

For the next few moments, you watched as he slept peacefully. His mouth parted slightly, simply looking at his mustache made you blush at the memories from barely a few hours previous. Tracing the curves of his face, you leaned over and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. 

His arms twitched around you. “Javi, I need to use the bathroom.”

Still half asleep, he returned the next kiss you pressed to his lips before mumbling; “Come back.”

“I will,” you kissed him once more before climbing out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. 

Whilst in the bathroom, you picked up the long forgotten towels on the floor and picked up the tossed body washes and shampoo bottles from Javi and your haphazard entry into the bathroom after the first two orgasms before the third. 

However, you must have taken too long because as you stood at the bathroom skin, a newly familiar pair of arms made their way from holding your hips, to cradling around your waist. 

You could feel the hair from his moustache as he kissed your bare shoulder, making his way towards your neck where you leaned back against his chest and placed a hand behind his own neck to hold you steady. 

“Javi.”

One of his hands slowly made its way under your top before running his fingers from the top of your chest, across your breast and down below the waistband of your shorts. 

“I missed you.” His tongue dampened the graze of his teeth against your neck. 

“Javi.”

“Is this okay, baby?”

You bit your lip, your hips bucking against his fingers, chasing the pressure he was beginning to swirl around your clit. You hummed a response. 

“I need your words, baby. Is this okay? Do you want this? Because I can stop.”

You shook your head quickly and wrapped your hand around his wrist before he pulled away any further. “No. Don’t stop.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

With his fingers circling your clit and his mouth having free range of your neck, you felt your knees grow weak. “Want me to stop?”

Again, you shook your head. “I need…I need more, Javi.”

“How many, baby?”

“Two, ohh…” Your mouth opened and you threw your head back against his shoulder, reveling in his fingers slipping inside your cunt and his thumb applied pressure to your clit. Then you heard him chuckle. 

“Asshole.”

“You fucking love it, baby.”

You did. You really did. It wasn’t long before Javi could feel your walls pulsing against his fingers, growing tighter for him. And his dick hadn’t even left his pants yet. 

“You’re so fucking wet, cariño. This for me?”

You found the strength to nod. “Just for you, Javi baby.”

But whatever strength or control you had left disappeared as the wave began to crash over you and you chased Javi’s fingers as they pumped deeper and faster inside of you. “Ride ‘em, baby. Take what you want.”

You moaned his name, almost chanting it as you came over his fingers. “Fuck,” Javi growled. “You’re so fucking hot when you come.”

Letting out a breathy laugh, you felt the ache in your legs, still leaning against Javi. 

“Then maybe you should do it again.”

Sharing a look with Javi, he smirked before biting down on your bottom lip, then kissing it better. Pulling his fingers from inside of you, he slowly spun you around by your hips until you faced him. Once he’d tasted everything he could from your mouth, he teasingly made his way across your jaw, down the length of your neck, under your clothing before pulling your soaked shorts down your legs, leaving your glistening and sensitive cunt for him to see. 

Then he tasted the rest of you. 

Pushing you onto the edge of the sink counter, you white-knuckled the edges in fear of gripping his hair too tight to pull him closer to where you needed him. 

You could feel the burn of his moustache against your inner thighs, panty-line before finally his tongue circled your already sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, Javi.”

“You like that, baby?”

You nodded, “Fuck. Yeah.”

“Want more?”

“Y…yes. Javi, please.” Your hips bucked as you chased the feeling of his tongue licking your pussy. “Fuck, Javi.” You let out a gasp as his tongue dipped inside of you for a moment. “Fuck, right…right there.” With one of your hands tangled in his hair, you pushed him closer in order to taste all of you. 

And just as you leaned back to grant him more access, he pulled back. You whimpered, wanting him back. “Touch yourself.” 

“Javi-”

“I want to see how long you can hold it before I fuck you. Touch yourself.”

So you did. All the while watching him take his sweet time watching you as he pulled down his own underwear and pulled a condom on, pumping himself a couple of times before finally settling closer to you. 

“I want to watch you cum again.” And so he did. 

Filling you with his dick, inch by inch, he felt you stretch around him, swearing as you took him in. And then he took his time with you. Reveling in every needy buck of your hips, chasing his dick before he couldn’t hold back anymore. He needed you just as much as you were begging for him. 

Moaning his name over and over as your orgasm hit you, Javi watched as you came over his dick, him finishing not long after you did. 

Sweaty and covered in sex, Javi pushed the fallen hair from your face and kissed your lips after the silence had settled away from heavy breathing and racing hearts. “We should get cleaned up.”

Pulling his cock from inside of you, he disposed of the condom before walking towards the shower and turning it on. And over the next forty minutes, Javi’s hands were all over your naked body before his fingers tugged at your hair as the tiles of the floor made indents in your knees. By the time you’d both finished, gotten washed and finally dressed, Javi was changing the sheets as you placed the ones from the night before inside his washer. 

For the rest of the day, Javi rarely left your side.

Going back out to the markets with your mom, his hands were constantly finding ways to touch you. His hand pinching onto the skirt of your summer dress, his fingers grazing against your hip and lower back as he changed from standing on one side of you to the other. Holding your hand around you, his arm across your shoulders, his lips in your hair, on the shell of your ear as he talked to you. And when you’d stopped inside a cafe, he sat next to you, his arm across the back of your chair which practically was sitting in between his legs as his body was constantly turned towards you. 

And when you’d both finally gotten home, your mom saying she was going for a nap, the moment Javi’s door shut, the bags were dropped and your back was against the wall of his hallway, his lips on yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“So have I.”

Then a question fell from your lips. “How are we going to keep this up? At work, I mean.”

“They already think we’re married.” He kissed your neck. 

“I’m being serious, Javi.”

“So am I.”

“Javi, Messina already warned us what would happen if she ever caught us. And that was before we were even…”  A couple? Fucking? Dating? Married?

Javi smiled. “So we keep it a secret.”

“Says the guy who can’t keep his hands off me for more than two seconds. You’ll never be able to keep it a secret.”

“Says the woman whose been eye-fucking me all day. Are you sure you can keep a secret?”

“I can keep a secret.” Then Javi noticed your coy smile. “In fact, I’ve been keeping one all day.”

Taking his hand in yours, you pressed his hand to the dip of your hips. He couldn’t feel anything but fabric. Then it hit him. With his chest flaring and his dick hardening, he stepped closer towards you. 

“Mrs Peña…have you been naked under that dress all day?”

You bit your lip. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

His eyes flicking to the hem of your dress, he looked back up at you before slowly dragging the fabric of its skirt up and bunching it in his hand until he could slip his hand under it. And when he was met with bare skin, he swore. 

“Fuck.”

“I’ve been hoping you’d fuck me all day,” you admitted. “I wanted to be ready.”

“Since you walked out of that fucking bedroom in this dress…I’ve wanted to fuck you in it.”

Pulling him closer to you, your voice turned into a low whisper. “Then you better get on with it, Agent Peña. Before I do it myself.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. Capturing your lips on his, his finger coaxed at your pussy, already feeling your wetness build for him. As his fingers began to curl inside of you, you let out a moan before your fingers deftly unbuckled his belt and jeans. Javi let out a small whimper as your fingers stroked down his cock, wiping the pre-cum away with your thumb before finally pumping him a few times. 

“Take it easy, baby. Otherwise I’m not gonna- fuck.”

With one hand, Javi picked you up where you stood, his fingers digging into your ass before he guided his tip in. Letting out a moan by his ear, you told him to start moving. 

“Fill me up, baby.” 

And he did. 

Fucking you against the wall in his hallway, Javi pulled the top of your summer dress down and began leaving his mark across your collarbone and down the bow of your breast, all the while his cock pumped in and out of you before filling you up with him cum. 

“That’s it baby,” Javi told you as you screamed his name as you rode his dick. Then he watched you come. He’d never get sick of that sight. It seemed to get hotter each time. You begging him for more, your moans, his name falling from your lips as he makes you unravel completely. 

But he wasn’t done with you yet. Pulling out from you, he moved you both down the hallway and towards the sofa where he made you come again before moving into the kitchen where he finally fucked you senseless on the kitchen counter. 

Both of you wished it could have continued like that forever, but sadly after your shower, both you and Javi were interrupted by the jingle of keys in the door as your mom let herself in before you and Javi could continue your heavy make-out session on the sofa. 

But that was something you both had to get used to. 

Interruptions. 

From people banging on the copier room door thinking it was jammed, to people walking back into the office after their lunch breaks. But despite the ever growing need to constantly be touching him, or him touching you, you’d both found subtler ways to show how much you not only wanted each other, but also needed each other. 

From the smaller touches when he always found an excuse to stand beside you, to the ever longing looks you both gave to each other as the other one walked away from the desks. There were crappy cups of coffee always being poured, lunches being made and shared, blankets being used to cover up the one that fell asleep first, the knowing looks when a case load became too much, the soft moments spent after a long day of work just laying together on the sofa watching crappy TV and falling asleep, dancing to slower records on down-days, quick kisses goodbye during lunch or during a stakeout for cases, jealous and warning glares being given to those who tried to flirt with the other, and finally slow Sunday mornings that were spent inside the apartment, neither of you leaving unless for a dire emergency. 

And somewhere between all of that, you and Javi had taken a flight to your home where your family and his watched as you both swore actual wedding vows to each other; your wedding party not realising it was the first time for both of you. 

Maybe it had taken a while for you both to come together, and maybe it wasn’t the most conventional of get-togethers. But it was yours and Javi’s story. One that, the more you thought about it, started off with those softer moments. One that always had, and always would, contain those smaller touches and simple gestures. 

[softstarlite]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: You're not sure what to get Javi for Christmas, until he gives you an idea for a gift you can't put under the tree

Word Count: 3.3K (I wrote this in two hours, the thots do be thotin)

Paring: Husband!Javi x Wife!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex (whoops), breeding kink (I'll say it once and I'll say it again, you KNOW this man deserves 17 kids) vaginal fingering, creampie (big time), family planning, Javi gets so excited about the idea of another baby he literally can't control himself, terrible, sexual Christmas puns, cute and sweet Christmas fluff bc I love this family more than life and you know they give their kids the most magical Christmases 🥺

A/N: I'll take Javier Peña with a big fat breeding kink for a thousand, please!!! I was feeling in a writing rut, until I read @notjustjavierpena Husband Javi Christmas fic last night, and lord have MERCY, consider me inspired 🫡 I'll never shut up about the fact that this man wants a football team, and every Christmas will ask to put another baby in you as his only Christmas gift BYEEEEEEE I need to be institutionalized at this point sorry this is poorly beta'd, it's me, I'm allergic to editing!!!

Forever and Always Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“Javier Peña, there has to be something you want for Christmas.” 

“As long as all my girls are happy, that’s all I want.” 

“Unfortunately, I can’t wrap your sappy sentiment, Javi.” 

There was nothing more that you enjoyed than showering Javi with gifts for the holidays. There were few people on earth you could imagine being more deserving than your husband- you’d find a way to wrap the moon and top it with a bow, if that’s what he wanted. Unfortunately for you, Javi was so sweet, it made buying gifts for him nearly impossible, considering there was rarely ever a tangible item on his wishlist. 

“I don’t need anything, baby.” Javi smiled, reaching for the roll of bright pink and sparkly wrapping paper in front of him to start covering the new Barbie Dream House Lucy had been begging for all year long. “Toss me the tape.” 

“Well obviously I have things for you, but I always wanna make sure I’m getting you things that you want.” You sighed, gently throwing the roll of Scotch tape you had been using over the pile of gifts between you and Javi you were working on wrapping while your daughters were asleep. 

After six Christmases under your belts, you and Javi had learned from the one grave mistake of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all your daughter’s presents, now taking a few nights before the big day to wrap and assemble any gifts being left under the tree for your own sanity. 

Now that your girls, Lucy, Elliot and Harper, were six, four and two, it made Christmas even more magical, knowing that they were beginning to understand the concept of what the holiday meant, and all the joyous anticipation that led up to the 25th of December. 

It also meant that there were a lot more presents to wrap- 1, because Lucy and Elliot knew that they could ask for gifts they wanted, and 2, because Javi would say he’d be done buying presents and then show up the next day after work with another toy for his girls. 

“Honey, you get great gifts, for me, but especially for the girls, too. Fuck, I forgot this needs batteries…” Javi mumbled to himself, carefully undoing the wrapping paper he had started working on, “You make a very good Santa.” 

“I think the girls like your version of Santa better, since that’s how they end up with double the gifts under the tree.” You giggled, playfully rolling your eyes at Javi before reaching for the next toy in the pile, “I’m being serious, Javi. I love spoiling those girls just as much as you, but you also deserve to be spoiled too, ya know.” 

“You’re my wife, gave me three beautiful daughters, and tolerate me on a daily basis. Baby, that’s plenty fucking spoiled, if you ask me.” Javi grinned, giving you a reassuring nod and little shrug of his shoulders. 

“You’re much more than tolerable, you goof.” You laughed, cheeks pink at the warmth of your husband’s words, never failing to make you melt a little more each day. “Will you please just tell me one thing you want? Then I’ll let it go, I promise.” 

Javi sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with the edges of the wrapping paper he was working on before a boyish smile began to creep into the corners of his cheeks. 

“Uh oh.” You laughed to yourself, immediately recognizing the goofy grin Javi was trying to contain, “What is it, Peña?” 

“You’re not gonna like it.” Javi snickered to himself, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Jav, if it’s another dog, I told you, when the girls are older and-” 

“No, it’s not another dog.” He smirked, still softly laughing to himself as you tilted your head at him in confusion, trying to piece together what kind of gift Javi would want that would take any convincing from you, crossing your arms over your chest as you attempted to decipher the devious splayed across his face. 

It only took about two seconds and that look to figure out what Javi was in the market for.  

“Javi…” You sighed, your tone jokingly stern. 

“Osita?” He responded back, trying to downplay his giddiness now that you had figured out his gift suggestion. 

“Javi, four kids is a lot of kids. One more, and they’re doubling us in ranks.” 

You had always been on the fence about having a fourth baby. Not because you didn’t love having kids, or that you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it, mentally or financially, but because your brain worked in logistics- adding one more member to your family was getting you to the point where you’d have so many kids, you wouldn’t even all fit in Javi’s truck anymore, unless someone got demoted to the trunk, which, in all honesty, you were sure Elliot wouldn’t mind. 

For Javi, on the other hand, there was no need to worry about logistics- the two of you would figure it out sooner or later. The only logistics he was worried about was instigating the baby making process.  

“You asked what I wanted!” Javi replied, chuckling as he held his hands up in defense, “I think I’ve been a very good boy all year, if you ask me.” 

“What you’re asking for is definitely putting you on the naughty list.” You huffed, trying to distract yourself with finishing wrapping the present you were working on to hide the fact you were genuinely considering Javi’s present suggestion. “You really think we can handle four kids, Jav?” 

It took everything in you not to laugh at the way Javi instantly perked up when your first response to his gift idea wasn’t rejection, eyeing you up and down and gently biting down on his lower lip. 

“Mhmmm.” He nodded, slowly making his way around the pile of presents to scooch closer to you, “I’ll take care of everything, mi amor. You, the girls, the baby, I can ask for less hours at work so I can help around here, whatever you want, you know I’ll give it to you.” 

“You really want this baby, huh?” You giggled, smirking at Javi as he crawled next to you, hungry look in his eyes while he began to cage his body over yours, carefully laying you down on the floor beneath him. 

“Fuck, I wanna knock you up again so bad. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Javi groaned, planking overtop you, his hot breath dancing across your skin in between his soft nips at your pulse point. “Let me fuck another baby into you, Osita. Please.” 

Any inhibitions you would have had in protest had completely flown out the window, arousal soaking the fabric of your underwear as Javi kissed up your neck and across your collarbone, softly palming at your breasts under one of his old sweatshirts you had thrown on. 

Truth be told, you and Javi had talked about baby number four enough that you were already leaning towards saying 'yes' anyways, but that wouldn’t stop you from having a little fun in seeing how badly Javi really wanted the Christmas gift he was asking you for. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, Javi. Tell me how much you wanna fuck another baby into me.” You devilishly whispered into his ear, smiling to yourself at the pathetic groan that rumbled from his chest in response. 

“Fuck me-” Javi moaned, hands feverishly groping your body, “Fuck, I want it so bad, quierda. Wanna fill you up ‘till it has no choice but to fucking take, fuck this pussy so full of me, let everyone know who it belongs to, watching you carry our baby. Please, Osita.” 

It was a good thing you were already prepared to be easily swayed, because even if you weren’t, listening to the way Javi was begging to put another baby in you would have easily been enough. 

“Okay. Merry Christmas, Papí.” 

Your green light was all Javi needed to spark something completely feral in him, practically ripping your clothes off you in the middle of the living room, sprawled out on the carpet. 

“Javi, we can go upstairs and-” 

“No. Fuck, I need to fuck you right now, just like this.” He grunted, shedding his clothes before his hand was cupping over your underwear, jaw going slack at how absolutely soaked the fabric was under the pads of his fingers. “Apparently you do too, huh, Momma? She’s so wet for me, isn’t she? Pretty pussy wants me to fill her up so bad.” 

Your stomach churned in arousal as Javi ripped your panties down your legs, revealing the puffy, glistening mess beneath. Javi had barely touched you, and you could already feel the way you’re dripping, admittedly just as turned on as him at the idea of letting him add another addition to your family. 

“Christ, baby.” Javi muttered, settling between your legs. Letting his hands run up the insides of your thighs, he took his thumbs and slid them between your folds, spreading you open to get a full view of the way your slick was coating your cunt. “Making a fucking mess for me already.” 

“I think I’m ovulating soon.” You sigh, doing some quick math in your head, trying to account for just how worked up you were, Javi’s eyes so going wide at the realization, you were worried they may just pop out of his skull. 

“Oh, fuck me.” Javi groaned, shaking his head in disbelief at his luck, “You’re right, Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me then.” 

Swirling the pads of his fingers against your clit, your back arched against the floor at the shockwaves the pleasure sent through your body, making you gasp so loud, you were worried you risked a real possibility of waking up your daughters. 

“F-Fuck, Javi-” You whimpered, already bucking your bottom half towards him as he sunk his two fingers into your cunt while the heel of his palm rubbed deliciously against your clit. Reaching up, your grasp wrapped around Javi’s bicep, muscles flexing with each pulse of his fingers as you left half-crescent moons in his skin. 

It took everything in you not to scream as a third finger joined the first two, stretching you out as he bumped against your g-spot, tension already beginning to build in your core. A sudden gasp escaped your chest, surprised by the newfound emptiness that had you clenching around nothing, looking up to see Javi reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with your entrance. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I need to fucking feel you, baby. Swear you’ve got me feeling like I’m about to bust like a fucking teenager.” Javi grunted, running his tip against your clit and down your cunt, collecting your arousal before thrusting himself inside you, filling you to the brim with every inch of him. 

Unless you were desperately pressed for time, Javi normally had a bare bones minimum of pulling at least one orgasm out of you before he fucked you, but seeing how worked up and needy he was to feel you wrapped around him, it was about as close to an orgasm you could get withtout actually having one. 

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you whined, feeling the tip of his head kiss your cervix as he began to thrust in and out of you, feeling dizzy from his fullness. You could tell he was trying to hold himself together, his hips slamming into you in deep, slow thrusts, breath hitching in the back of your throat every time he buries himself deeper inside you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill her up, give you every last fucking drop. Taking me so fucking well.” Javi moaned through gritted teeth, already scrunching his face in concentration through his pussy drunk babbling.  

Running his hands up the back of your thighs, Javi pushed your knees to your chest, pinning your legs in place against your stomach to stretch you out even further, letting him sink himself even deeper to hit the spot he knew drove you just as crazy as it drove him. 

Despite how lost in pleasure the two of you were, Javi was at least conscious enough to realize how loud you had gotten, quickly reaching up cup your mouth, catching your muffled moans in the palm of his hand. 

“I know, hermosa. Fuck, I love hearing you, but we gotta keep quiet enough, baby.” Javi huffed, snaking the hand covering your mouth between your bodies, circling at your clit, almost as if he was putting you through some sort of cruel test to see how far he could push you before he had you screaming at the top of your lungs. 

“Fuck- fuck, I know. You feel so good, Javi.” You whined, hand pressed against his bare chest, his warmth and weight pinning your body below him. 

You feel the way Javi’s thrusts become quicker and harsher, filling himself as deep as he could as your cunt began to clench around his length, sucking him in with your warmth and wetness. Your eyes had been scrunched, so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t even noticed the nearly pained look on Javi’s face, furrowing his brow in deep concentration with each slap of his hips against yours. 

“You okay, Javi?” You asked, panting out each word as he pounded into you, circling your clit faster and faster as his grip tightened around your thighs, trying to keep himself grounded. 

“Yeah, I- Fuck- fuck me, I’m trying so hard not to finish before you do. Pussy feels so fucking good. Wanna cum so fucking deep inside you.” Javi moaned, the rhythm of his hips already starting to falter thinking about his endgame. 

If you weren’t so lost in your own ecstasy, you probably would have giggled at Javi’s admission, giving him shit about how he couldn’t hold it together for even just a few minutes, knowing he could finally try to get you pregnant again. But right now, you’re just shocked you can even get any words to form coherent thoughts to string together, let alone tease him. 

“Put a baby in me, Javi. Fuck, want you to cum so deep inside me, please, baby.” 

You could barely finish the whimpers of your sentence before Javi’s pace became sloppy and erratic, hips stuttering before his jaw went slack, letting a low, long groan escape from his chest. 

“Oh, f-fuck-” Javi stammered, flushing his hips against yours as you felt his warm spend coat your walls, pressed so deep inside you, you were convinced it’d have no choice but to stick, in a few weeks finding out baby number four would be on the way. 

Javi’s chest rose and fell, looking down at the way your bodies melted together beneath him, igniting something primal in him to see the mix of your arousal seeping around where the two of you met. His eyes darkened, looking down at you with a feral sort of smirk, not even giving you the chance to speak before his lips were crashing into yours again, hips slowly thrusting while his fingers rubbed at your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“J-Javi, what are you-” You muttered, cut off by the messy dancing of tongues and teeth in your mouths. 

“I’m not done yet, Momma. Not until I fuck myself so deep in there we know it fucking takes. Wanna keep you stuffed so fucking full of me.” Javi grunted, rubbing your clit faster at the way he could feel the walls of your pussy starting to flutter around him, determined to make sure he wasn’t the only one who finished. “Cum for me, baby. I know you’re close. Can feel how tight she’s getting for me.” 

You knew just as well as he did that the tingle that had been building at the base of your spine had slowly begun to flow to every inch of your body, building up through your legs and into your core, clenching down harder and harder around Javi’s cock, knowing there was no doubt the mess between your legs was surley just as wet as it sounded as he slid in and out of you. 

“Oh fuck, Javi, oh fuck- fuck, fuckfuckfuck- ah!” 

It didn't take long before your orgasm crashed through you, lighting up every inch of you in radiating pleasure, your cunt clamping down so hard around Javi’s cock, it made him let out a strangled gasp as he choked out curses under his breath. 

“Jesus, fuck. Gonna squeeze every last fucking drop outta me, huh? My greedy fuckin’ girl.” Javi smirked, planting a soft kiss on your lips before he slumped on top of you, your chests rising and falling as one as you finished coming down from your high. 

The two of you laid there for a moment, catching your breaths and basking in bliss before Javi was pulling out of you with a hiss, one hand wrapped around his softening cock, the other scooping up the mix of your spend pooling between your legs before it dripped to the floor, carefully pushing it back inside you. 

“Fuck,” Javi laughed to himself quietly, sitting back on his haunches, admiring the slick, shiny mess your pussy had become, “Jesus, I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.” 

“Looks like Christmas came early this year… and so did you.” You giggled, making Javi roll his eyes, playfully shaking one of the legs still pressed to your chest. 

“Shut up.” He sighed, shaking his head at you before laying back down beside you, shifting so that his chest was pressed to your back, spooning you in his grasp. “Gotta make sure Santa’s not the only thing coming down the chimney this year.” 

“Jesus Christ, Javi.” You can’t help but snort, ashamed of how easily amused you are by his stupid puns. 

“What? You let me get my gift early, least I can do is stuff your stocking for you.” 

“Oh my god, you are the worst.” 

The two of you giggled, basking in your laughter as you laid together on the floor, only spurred on by the fact you realized how ridiculous it was that the two of you were completely naked in the middle of your living room, surrounded by a sea of wrapping paper and presents. 

“Speaking of stocking stuffers, we should finish wrapping the rest of these gifts we have out before we go to bed. At least some of these presents should be wrapped, because the one you just gave me was most definitely not.” You teased, craning your neck to pepper ticklish kisses across Javi’s jaw. 

“It’s the gift that keeps on giving. I’ll give it to you tomorrow too, if you let me.” Javi grinned, giving you a playful wink before pressing a kiss into your messy hair and patting your hip, reaching over you to grab the pile of clothes the two of you had left next to you. “Seriously though, thank you. You and our girls are the best gift I could ever have, but adding one more would make me so fucking happy. I love you, Osita.” 

“I love you too, Javi. You guys are the best gift I could ask for, too. Although, I will say, your gift also selfishly works in my favor, too. Some presents are just better unwrapped.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[softstarlite]

Battlefront | At Your Service

Fandom: Gladiator II Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x Empress!Reader Rating: M Word count: 5.3k words Summary: General Acacius returns energized by battle when an unexpected guest makes themselves at home in his tent. Warnings: Historical inaccuracies, some historical accuracies, poor description of battle strategy. A/N: Listen, I know Rome never had a single reigning Empress. But seeing loyal husband Marcus Acacius has made me eschew historical accuracy. If Ridley Scott can have characters reading newspapers before their invention, I can have Marcus Acacius being devoted to his powerful Empress wife. I'm thinking of making it a lose series with snippets of these characters' lives together. Like my Married Javi series. So lmk if there's anything you want to read about them.

“What are you doing here?” 

The sounds of battle still rang in his ears. The strategies he’d laid out playing out in his vision as he sought to identify problems he could have failed to spot. His heart was restless, every beat reminding him how high the stakes were, reminding him that every young man there was his responsibility. And then you appeared. 

Like the brain cooled the body, the sight of you cooled him. 

“You dare ask what I do at my own battlefront?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. He stood in place as you took small steps towards him. He rushed ahead, calling attention to his broad shoulders that narrowed down to his waist. Your pace was wholly inadequate for his liking.

“This is not the battlefront, Caesarea,” he said, stopping in front of you and taking your hand in his. “These are my private quarters.” He bowed and placed a kiss on the back of your hand, looking up at you from behind soft brown eyes you did not believe capable of inspiring fear until you witnessed him in battle. 

“You forget your place, General. You have no authority to deny me entrance to my husband’s quarters,” you teased. His eyes darkened at your words and the implications they bore. Your relationship had been a delicate one since the two of you left childhood behind. But it was only more so with you on the throne and him the General at your command. 

“If you wish to assert your marital rights at this moment, know I will have to as well,” he warned, his hands itching to be upon you. Unlike his soldiers, Acacius had gone many months without the touch of a woman. Some high ranking officers brought their wives and some indulged in whores. Not Acacius.

“What man asks to claim his marital rights? I believed I belonged to a man who knew what was his and conquered it.” 

It was all he needed to close the distance between you. In an instant, your fearsome general, covered in the blood of enemies and grime of their land he claimed, pulled you to his chest. His large hands engulfed your face. His lips came crashing against yours, desperate and sloppy. You instinctively reached up to one, caressing his rough hand with your soft one. Teeth clashed against each other. Saliva dribbled down his lips, transferring the dried blood on his face to yours. Smearing you with evidence of his devotion. To you and to Rome. 

His hard iron armor covered in leather and embossed with gold dug into your chest in his desperation to feel you. One hand slipped to your neck, holding you in place with the force of a soldier and authority of a husband. His other hand slipped to your hip, rough as he guided you towards the thin mattress on the floor.

“I must have you…” he growled into your ear as his hands groped around through your clothes. He grabbed every part of you he could think of, squeezing as though planting flags on a territory he’d already claimed.

You nodded, the gold and gems that dangled from your ears glinting under the light of the torches that illuminated his quarters. 

“Good,” he muttered, pushing your coat off your shoulders, catching it before it fell to the ground and discarding it on a chair. The clips and fasteners that kept your linen, silk, and wool too intricate for his impatience, he tore through anything that did not yield. Delicate fabrics met their end at the hands of the ravenous beast he became at the battlefront, revealing delicious skin underneath. He needed this. Needed to plunge into your tight, wet hole and spend the aggressive energy that coursed through his veins.

He took whores, but that was before he wed you. Married men took other women both back home and especially when at war. As long as they were whores or any other women lower than his wife’s status. It was expected, encouraged. But he was married to the Empress. Anyone he took would be a disrespect to her. Sure, many mocked him behind his back as the Empress’ wife. It did not bother him. Not anymore. 

When men depended on one’s instructions to survive each day, they ceased to question his manhood. Further, it was hard to question a man’s ability when he lead the mightiest army the world had seen to victory. 

You were beautifully exposed in front of him, your veil, stola, and palla lying in defeat on the ground. Only your tunica, exposing your legs and the shape of your breasts. His lips claimed your neck, biting and sucking on everywhere he knew you favored the way he expertly mapped and attacked the vulnerabilities of enemy territory.

Every bit of skin he touched lit a fire in your belly, replacing the weeks of agonizing solitude with only your inadequate fingers for release. 

Buried in your neck, he inhaled your scent, of your sweat combined with the roses and attar from Arabia. He licked, grunting when your gold necklace tainted the taste of your skin. Reaching behind you, he tugged at the fastener, growling when it proved too delicate to be undone by his large fingers. You let out a laugh before slapping his hand away and undoing the offending jewelry in one swift moment. He liked you bare. Needed to rid you of any object that interfered with his preference be it fabric or lustrous gold and gems.

You were an oasis in the desert. For a man surrounded by young men with nothing but rage and fear coursing through their veins. No bath fully cleansed him of enemy blood, mud and grime. Grace to the gods, you were not a woman repulsed by his gory state of being. 

You whimpered as he forced you to the ground, laying you out on his small mattress before climbing atop. The pteruges of his armor tickled your thighs as he hovered above you.

“Marcus…I have longed for you every night,” you whispered, your words clenching his heart. You did not have the luxuries that other royal women enjoyed. The wealth and adoration came with a sword at your neck and the weight of all of Rome and her people. Rare was the opportunity to only be a woman in the arms of your husband.

“I think of you day and night. My duty to my Empress by day, my duties to my wife at night,” he said, peppering kisses along your jaw. You sighed, curving away from him to expose more of yourself for his kisses.

“Do your duty then. And allow me to do mine,” you said, reaching below to caress his thigh. 

He searched under his pillow and retrieved his dagger. He tucked the tip of the cold blade under your strophium. You gasped as he cut through the layers, your breasts spilling from their restraints. Hands that for months only knew the reins of his horse and the handle of his sword relished in the softness of your breasts. He was no barbarian. He knew to treat a woman with gentle touch and loving words. 

His appetite, however, was quick to defeat the gentle Acacius who was allowed his Empress’ hand in marriage. Your breasts filled his hands perfectly, like the gods had shaped them for his sake. For his touch. For his children to feed from. The image formed in the back of his mind, his child drinking from your full breasts as your belly grew with another. His cock twitched at the thought and he acted, forcing your legs apart with his knees.

Fear joined a familiar ache in the pit of your stomach as he slid the blade down your chest, resting it near your core. Your nails dug into his arm and your core throbbed with need. You yelped as he cut through your subligar. The night air caressed your cunt forcing you to feel how wet his bestial acts made you. Your hips bucked up in search of him, desperate to fill the void he’d left in his absence. 

He traced the dagger further below and rested it on your thigh. His eyes exuded a hunger you’d seen only in the exotic beasts that devoured gladiators. “Stay still,” he said and placed a soothing hand on your trembling thigh as the other reigned terror on its counterpart. With your nod of understanding, he moved the blade closer and closer until–

You shrieked as the cold blade sat at the edge of your opening. Before you could comprehend, he brought it up before your eyes and licked the blunt edge. His eyes closed and a moan rumbled from his chest as he tasted your arousal. 

“You drip for me, melilla.” 

“I have been aching for you,” you said through trembling breaths, thinking of every night you touched yourself in his memory. He had made your body his, rending separation tartarus on land. The closest your cunt had felt of him was the ring from his pinky he placed on your middle finger before his departure. 

He tossed the dagger aside and it landed with a clang. Your cunt clenched at the sound, thrilled by his animalistic want for you. He cupped your core in his hand, parted your lips and plunged two fingers inside you. It was already much more than you had in his absence, his thick fingers filling you better than your own. 

“Please,” you whimpered as he worked you open, your cunt dripping around his fingers with each stroke. He was always gentle with you, but not this time. You didn’t want him gentle. In peacetime, he bowed to you as your loyal subject. In war, when he overflowed with masculine power, you wanted him forceful. Wanted him atop you, taking you with the same ruthless power he did enemy land. You wanted to be unburdened of the weight of your empire if only for a moment. Be husband and wife, not General and Empress.

His hand slipped under your head, grabbing your hair between his fingers. You hissed at the sting of his grip on your hair and reached for his arm instinctively. He withdrew his fingers, pushing them between your lips when you whined to be filled. As you tasted yourself, he aligned his cock up with your weeping entrance. You choked out a sob as he split you open with his cock, your walls burning at the stretch. Tears clouded your vision, but you blinked them away to see your dearest, handsome even in war. Your bejeweled fingers weaved through his dark curls, needing to touch the familiar parts of the man you’d so long yearned to reunite with. 

His own hand and a few whores was satisfactory when he was a lone general who did not know the taste of a woman he called his own. He doubted he could find someone else to satisfy his desires now that he had you. His men found this sentiment strange as they chose to relieve their stress with whores and slaves. 

None of those fools had the fucking Empress waiting for them at home. 

“Look at you…” he rasped, luxuriating at the vision. You were divine. All goddess-like in your beauty even lying on his thin mattress, hair strewn across his pillow and your hairpins coming undone under his grip. No dingy military camp was worthy of a visit from such an ethereal creature. But you were no simple Lady content to stay in the palace surrounded by your riches. He doubted he could stop you from visiting him even if you weren’t the Empress but only his dear wife.

“You like me this way,” he said instead of asking. He did not need to ask. He had seen how you looked at him when he wore his armor. No stranger to combat, the blood and gore did not seem to rattle you. His other campaigns found you in the camps for celebrations. Too many times, he had to keep you at arm’s length out of respect for your station. Now that you belonged to him…

“Always… Always liked my General so. Always wanted to pounce upon you and fight those girls you chose over me.”

He snorted at the jealousy that returned to your visage though he was now all yours. “My severed head would have joined the barbarians had I defiled the Princess, my dear.”

“You should have abstained,” you said, the smile that played at your lips all he needed to know it was but a jest. 

“And deprive you of the fruits of my experience with the female form?” He taunted, angling himself to stroke the particularly sensitive place inside you. Your lips opened in a small circle, whatever witty remark you’d concocted now dissolved into a pathetic moan.

He pawed at your breasts, his large hands and the loss of etiquette making you feel mauled by a beast. You pushed up from the ground and into his hands, sobbing as he tugged your nipples, adding to the pain of penetration. He took you in long, hard thrusts, your needy cunt pulling him back in each time he withdrew. Each stroke soothed the pain he bestowed, eased by how he had you leaking around him.

“I need, I need… please,” you begged, too occupied by your lust to find better words.

“Anything you want, Carissima,” he whimpered, bending down and claiming your lips. He smelled of war. Of mud and blood and something vile that should repulse you. He did not kiss like he usually did. Did not explore you and drink your sweet sounds. He took you, forced your lips apart and invaded with his tongue. He bit and drew blood, the taste of iron adding to the familiar taste of your beloved.

“Anything,” he growled, filling you deeper. “I will make you feel me between your legs for days. Make you wince in pain when you ride your horse,” he said, his hot breath and the threat making you shudder. “Would you like that? Like the people who bow to you smell me on you? Make you strategize with my seed dripping down your legs under your dress?”

“Macrus, want…please” you blubbered, your intelligence leaving from his vicious ravaging. Your thighs burned from how wide he spread you to fit himself between your legs. It was an agonizing stretch without the aid of any oils, without his lips easing you open for his thickness. But none of it mattered for you ached more with longing. 

Fully immersed in you, he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as though he were meditating. He was heavy, his large frame that mowed through enemy men and swung weighty swords through necks now being used to contain you. He took your breath away not only with his stature but with his beauty. You liked to believe him sculpted by the gods to put you in his thrall. To tame the wild princess into the tempered Empress Rome needed.

You needed him to move, to fuck you so thoroughly you would feel him with every move you made until you could reunite once again. But you did not have heart to push him. Not when he looked like a devotee at the shrine of his goddess. 

All men thought of in the midst of war was the people they left behind. It did not change when one rose to command the entire Roman army. He opened his eyes, sighing with relief when he found you still there beneath him. He had dreamt so many times lying all alone that he was home with you. He dreamt that the war had ended and he was sat by your side as you read scrolls from senators and discussed fucking sanitation of all things. He dreamt of you returning to his arms, of your kisses and your tight cunt holding him inside you. You were never there when he woke up. 

He pinned your wrists above your head, desperate to contain you so he wouldn’t be separated from you again. 

This was no dream. Even dreams of you didn’t feel as elysian as your true form. He fucked you in short thrusts, grinding against your clit as he did. You dug your heels into his lower back, your hips rising up to meet his thrusts. He cupped your cheek in one hand and you melted into his touch, confounded by his contradictions. He brought your hand between your bodies and you took his direction, rubbing your clit as he returned to a brutal pace. 

He grabbed your hip for purchase, his other hand mauling your breast. His balls slapped against your skin, the lewd sounds of skin against skin sounding through the camp. 

You cried his name as he rammed into you over and over until you could no longer find an ounce of regard for propriety in you. Word would’ve spread that you were here. Everyone knew the General to be fiercely loyal. Now they would know it was their Empress in the tent moaning like a whore taking their General’s cock. You clenched tight around him at the scandalous thought, wrapping your arms around him to anchor yourself to reality. 

He pulled you up off the ground and onto his lap, bouncing you up and down his cock as you kept yourself wrapped around him. You grabbed his hair and pressed yourself against his chest. His dark brown eyes bored into yours, soft even as he fucked you with animalistic vigor. You kissed him, his growl devolving into a mewl like a lion tamed. Your heart beat against your ribs, longing to escape its confines to find the man it belonged to. 

You trailed kisses across every bit of exposed skin. The patch above his jaw where his beard never grew called out to your lips and you rewarded it with kisses. He returned them, his strong aquiline nose pressing against your cheekbone. 

Full of him, the world disappeared from your thoughts. Your hips moved of its own accord, taking him deeper as he bounced you up and down his cock. 

“What d’you think they would say?” he taunted, breathless from the exertion. “Their unshakable Empress being used by her husband in the camps. Your perfect hair tangled, your jewels on the ground,” he growled and you simply mewled, the shame coursing through you only aiding him as he hammered into you. 

“Answer me,” he commanded, punctuating the words with harsh thrust. You opened and closed your mouth, eyes trained on his fiery ones as he demanded what he made you incapable of doing. A sob emerged deep from your chest, the only sign you were present in your body. 

He let out a mocking laugh. “All of Rome bows to your rousing speeches yet you become mute with a cock stuffing you full.” 

You whimpered his name, or you thought you did. You couldn’t be sure of anything in this state. Your thighs shook from the force of his thrusts and your hip hurt where his fingers dug in. Sounds you did not know yourself capable of producing escaped your lips. The fire in your belly blazed wilder and your vision blackened. You felt the pressure wind tighter and tighter. You threw your head back in pleasure, whimpering when you felt his lips on your neck. He lapped at your skin, devouring your natural taste and your sweat. He nipped and bit, mumbling words of praise you couldn’t make out in your dazed state. 

His name mixed with curses flowed from your lips as pleasure hit you like lightning. You felt your back hit the floor, your legs folded up as he rammed into you. Your hole spasmed around him as he continued taking you for himself but you lay limp, spent. His warm sticky spend spurted inside you, dripping out onto your thighs and his thin mattress as he buried himself deep before collapsing on top.

He tucked his head in the nape of your neck, panting as you both came down to Earth from the heavens. His body weighed heavy on you, as did his armor. He took the breath out of your lungs but you did not want to be without him. It was the antidote for your aching heart.

“That was quite the welcome, General,” you said, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I did not receive such treatment the last time.” 

“You were the crown princess when you last visited me in the battlefront.” 

“Ah. You needed me on the throne before serving me this way?” You teased, knowing full well how it pained him to restrain himself from having you before he won approval for your hand in marriage.

“I needed the Emperor to not have my head for defiling his daughter so,” he said, rolling you over and pulling you down by your arms against his chest when you attempted to sit up. You giggled as he placed kisses all over, delighted by how playful he became once he took his aggressive energy out on you.

“He should not have given his General his daughter’s hand in marriage if he was worried about that.” 

“Mmm, I don’t know dear. The princess was quite insistent she would only wed the General. Threatened to be caught in the General’s bed if denied.”

“Yes. I hope you are grateful,” you said, giving him your hand adorned in rings, the one he gave you from his little finger gleaming brighter than the rest. He took your hand and kissed it, his eyes so soft with love and devotion for you that you could hardly reconcile them with the hunger they exuded just moments before. The words were merely a jest, but he was indeed grateful. 

He was celebrated for his prowess in battle. For the many victories he brought Rome. Many men deluded themselves into the belief that this entitled them a victory of the princess’ hand. Not Acacius. Though your hearts reached out for one other through the years, you were the only one with the courage to act upon it. The one to show the Emperor why only he would be the right companion to a woman on Rome’s throne. For that, he would forever be grateful.

“How goes the battle?” you asked, getting up and depriving him of your warmth. He grabbed a scrap of fabric that was once your tunica and tossed it at you. You caught it and whispered a thank you before cleaning yourself up.

“Who is asking? My Empress or my wife?” He asked, propping himself up with his hands.

“Would your answers vary?” 

“They would.” 

“Give me both answers, General. Husband.” You asked, wrapping your furs around you and sitting back on his chair. 

“Caesarea,” he said, finally rising up. Something shifted between you. Your voice had altered from its girlish relaxed state. Wool covered your body. You were perched on his seat while he stood in front of you in submission to your authority. “We anticipated many deaths from illness but have been spared such tragedy by the grace of the gods. The Eastern front has advanced into the barbarians' territory and they have retreated. However, I expect them to recuperate and retaliate. Our men are advancing faster to take advantage of their momentary retreat. The Northern front is not faring well. Not as we’d hoped. We have received intelligence that the barbarians have armed even women and children to attack.”

“What is your next course of action?” 

“We’ve sent troops up North and we need more men to replace them. I was hoping you would grant approval for a few more men from our reserves.” 

“How many?” 

“One century and a centurion to replace the ones I sent north, and twenty cavalrymen.” 

“And how soon do you need them?”

“We can not hold out longer than seven days. Or we stand to lose ground in the East.” 

“I’ll see what I can do. Seven days are… It is not enough time. I must send word with Decimus and the men would take time to arrive.” 

“I understand.” 

“I hope you have told the men you’ve sent North to limit casualties. We are to rule over these people once you have conquered their land. I imagine killing their wives and children wouldn’t endear them to us.” 

“I have, yes. They are under the leadership of a good man- Faunus. He trained under me. I know him to be determined and level headed. Has children of his own as well.” 

“Being a father doesn’t stop many men from killing children. They simply learn not to see those children as children at all.” 

“I have seen that too.” 

“I trust your judgment, Marcus. Let us hope you are right about Faunus and his men. What of the rations? Are they adequate?” 

“I hear more grains are coming our way from the last harvest. If true, we will not be in want of food.” 

“It is, indeed. Is there anything else my General needs?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“No. Nothing that needs your immediate attention.”

“Well, then tell me what answer you would give your wife. About how the war is going.” 

He smiled, his eyes softening and his shoulders relaxing at the permission to change role from General to husband. He stepped closer to you and caged you in with his hands on the armrests. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips and felt you relax. As he spoke, he peppered kisses across your face, enjoying his effect on you. “I would tell you that the end of the war is closer than it was the last time I wrote you. That I long for you every hour I spend in this wretched place. I would reassure you that I am unharmed and ask you to prepare our home for my arrival.” 

“Are you?” 

He tilted his head in question, making you clarify yourself, “Unharmed. I need to see.” 

“Is that why you have come so far? To ensure I am unharmed?” 

“Perhaps. I did not want my men to believe their Empress had forgotten them. I come bearing gifts. Letters from families who have not accompanied officers. Fresh fruits and nuts. Toys and books for the children. Some hearings to handle as you said in your letters. To boost morale.” 

“You have already succeeded with me there, my dear. My morale is higher than ever,” he said, nipping playfully at your ear and making you giggle. “Back to bed now,” he said and you obliged, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to carry you. 

“A happy General makes for happy soldiers.” 

“Perhaps I’m not happy enough,” he said, laying you out on his bed, gentle unlike the man he was a while ago. “You must do more, my dearest. For the sake of the poor soldiers.”

You giggled and pulled him down to your chest, sighing when his weight settled on you. You traced the gold plating on his armor with a finger idly, saying, “Oh, iff it is for the soldiers…” 

He laughed with you and the two of you lied together, quietly taking each other in. Other high ranking men in your army had the privilege of bringing their families to the barracks, but not your husband. You hadn’t the duty to keep your home but to keep your empire. Though opposition to having you on the throne had begun to dwindle, you did not feel secure in your position. You couldn’t afford peace of mind. There was disease and conflicts awaiting your attention. Plebeians to care for without angering the patricians. Marcus unburdened you of all worries about the war for you knew he would bring victory to Rome. But you worried as wives did about whether their husbands would return at all.

“I will be here for four days,” you spoke up, needing a distraction from your burgeoning fears. “I must see to a few disagreements. Inspect the troops. Maybe I will even polish your swords like a good wife ought to.” 

“Oh? What else will you do?” 

You squinted, thinking of what else the women in the barracks did for their men that you knew to do. You couldn’t cook. Didn’t know to wash clothes. Did not yet have children to raise. You could spar with him, but that was frowned upon and not at all wifely.

“Clean your quarters?” 

“My quarters are clean, Princess,” he laughed softly. You pushed at his chest playfully but he didn’t budge. It had been a long time since you could push him around physically.

“I am not a Princess anymore.” 

“I meant it as a term of endearment, not as your title.” 

“Surely there is something I can do. I will have time aside from my duties to our people.”

“When you do, mea vita…” he whispered, hot breath tickling your ear. “Lie back here and open your legs for me.” 

“Whatever for?” You teased, wearing an expression of confusion as you pretended to think of the answers. 

“To do your duty to your husband. To please me,” he said, parting your coat and cupping your sex in his hand. He swept his ejaculate that dripped down your thighs and pushed it back inside you. He wanted it to take. Wanted you full and round with his child when he arrived in Rome victorious. It was their duty, yes. But he wanted children for more than duty and legacy’s sake. He wanted to experience the joy he witnessed in his men when they shared stories of their fatherhood. He could recall a time when he fought only to sate his bloodlust. Since you became more than his friend, more than his Princess, he began fighting to return home to you. He wanted one day to fight with his children in mind. 

He pumped his fingers in and out of you with practiced ease. You trembled, sensitive from his rough use, but did not pull away. You needed this.

“Have I not pleased you enough?” You asked, only half teasing. You did not have much experience with carnal pleasure. There were a few men and several women in your past. But the men were not interested in teaching you to please them. It wasn’t entirely their fault, of course. You did not want to please anyone before Marcus. It was a source of insecurity. You’d seen how women swarmed him since he developed from a little boy who sparred with you to a broad shouldered man with a deep voice. What if you were inadequate?

“You are simply too delectable, my dear. Each time I believe myself satisfied, I only want more of you.”

“I have duties to Rome. I can’t always be in your bed.” That was another insecurity you had. That he would find you lacking in wifely duties as compared to other women, those who did not have Rome on their shoulders.

“We barely had each other a week before I was sent here.” 

“Mmm… She sounds cruel, your Empress. Separating you from your new wife so early.” He could see how you sought to bury your fears with humor. Duty to Rome and your love plagued you despite reassurances of his unconditional support. The elders often turned their nose up at you, found you lacking as a woman. Though you’d proven yourself both in battle and in administration, old men set in their ways refused to accept you as Empress. Many already whispered about you not having conceived a child. 

“She is not cruel. My Empress,” he said, smiling. He wouldn't have you doubting his trust in you, be it as Empress or wife. Everyone was you tartarus, but he would only be your peace. “She is just. She is brave and kind with intellect as sharp as the tip of my sword. The right person to lead Rome into prosperity.”

You melted into his arms and he held you close to his chest, heavy with the weight of doing right by the Roman Princess who lent little Acacius her sword when he couldn’t afford one.

⌘ ⌘ ⌘

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That's my Wife

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine based loosely on an Anon request. I hope you all like it.

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Summary: While Eddie is at work, (Y/n) takes Christopher to a birthday party. Things don't go as planned when she goes into early labour.

Enjoy.

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"Now you know I can't go on the slides and stuff with you like daddy does, right?" (Y/n) grabbed Christopher's backpack from the footwell and slung it on her shoulder as she leaned against the door and looked down at her boy.

"Yeah. You take picture for daddy?"

"I will baby, don't worry."

When Chris held his arms out, (Y/n) rolled her eyes but obliged and looped her arms around his waist so he could hold onto her neck. He was so used to Eddie lifting him in and out of the car that he didn't dare jump down on his own and it meant that (Y/n), although eight months pregnant, also had to lift him and carry him around.

Something Eddie wouldn't approve of if he knew (Y/n) was still carrying Chris while she was pregnant, but he didn't need to know that.

She set him down on his feet and handed him his crutches before they started their short walk.

Chris had made a lot of friends in his new school and it was Adam's birthday party today. He was having his party at a play centre in town and he had very sweetly asked (Y/n) if Chris would be able to join and go round the centre. He wanted to include Chris but he wasn't sure if he did this sort of thing. It was something Chris loved to do, especially when his parents climbed into the play area with him and helped him down the slides or flop into the ball pit. But he could do this fine on his own as long as he knew (Y/n) was nearby.

Eddie would have been off shift and here too if Hen hadn't of gone off sick this week so Eddie picked up her shifts to help out. He knew once the baby was born he wouldn't be picking up any more extras for a while so it was worth it doing them all now to get the extra income.

(Y/n) rubbed her hand up and down Chris's shoulders as they walked into the reception and looked around for Adam and his mum.

She felt bad for Eddie, he had done a night shift straight into a day and when he got home tonight he was going to be dead on his feet.

"He's there mummy," Chris waved his crutch over towards where at least five tables had been pushed together for the parents to sit around. The drill was for the kids to run off and have a play for an hour or so, then they would sit down for food and cake and then another play before they went home.

"Let's go then,"

When they reached the table, (Y/n) put her and Chris's bags down on a free chair before she used the table as leverage to bend down on her knees in front of Chris. She silently held onto the crutches and he took the hint, letting her move them and he curled his arms around her neck and let his head fall on her shoulder. A big smile plastered to his lips.

He hadn't been anywhere like this in a while, probably not since before (Y/n) was pregnant. It had disrupted his day yesterday when Eddie had to sit him down and tell him he wouldn't be able to go and join him but because Chris knew he still got to go to the party, he wasn't too unsettled.

"Now you have fun and please be careful, do not go on the slides alone. If you need me to walk around and watch you just shout me, okay?"

"You come in too?" Chris nuzzled his face into (Y/n)'s neck until his glasses bumped and rubbed against her skin.

"I can't come in, I'm too big I'll get stuck."

"Mummy, please?"

"Baby, you know daddy will tell me off if I try. I can follow you round the outside though, are you gonna try go in with Adam first?" She could feel him laughing into her neck which was a good sign.

Part of (Y/n) worried that he wouldn't go in without her but she was hoping he would because he would have at least three other kids from school that he got along well with and Adam was glued to Chris. They would stay together so it wasn't as if Chris was totally alone in there.

If she wasn't pregnant or was less than six months, (Y/n) would be right in there with him going up the levels and waiting at the bottom of the slides for him. But Eddie had given her strict instructions before he left last night and he made her promise not to overdo herself and not to go down the slides or go too far if Chris asked her to. Chris didn't quite grasp that (Y/n) couldn't do as much with him while she was pregnant and it worried Eddie because he knew (Y/n) would give in and push herself to do stuff with Chris, it was endearing but worrying for Eddie.

"Okay,"

"Good boy, go have fun." (Y/n) pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek and helped him take off his shoes before she gave him a nudge and watched Adam wait patiently for him.

From where (Y/n) sat down at the table, she could see most of the large enclosed play area in front of them.

There were a lot of slides, three levels to climb up, tunnels to get lost in. Foam stairways to climb, ropes to swing from and rollers like a car wash to squeeze through which she knew Chris loved. He could do almost all of it but (Y/n) didn't want him going down the slides alone just to be safe. Eddie always did everything with him ever since Chris was a toddler and they went to places like this.

She didn't want Chris thinking he could do something alone and then getting stuck high up on a level or burning himself on the slide or not being able to get back down from somewhere. As long as he had one of his friends with him he would be alright.

"He's a good little climber, isn't he?" Andrea, Adam's mother leaned over the table to smile at (Y/n) and nod her head in the direction of the boys.

They could see all the kids drifting off in groups of two or three and Chris was with Adam and a young girl called Sasha. They were climbing up a set of foam stairs and Chris was laying on his stomach, using his arms to pull up and scuffing his feet on the steps to give him an extra boost. He wasn't good on stairs, that was where Eddie would usually carry him if they couldn't find a lift.

But this was different, this was somewhere Chris could let loose and mess around. He could crawl and shuffle and climb and no one would say anything or stare or laugh because all the kids didn't care what he did. He was here to have fun and that was what he was doing.

"He is, he's very determined."

"Is Eddie not coming?" Andrea did a quick sweep around but she couldn't see him among the throng of kids and adults all bustling about.

"He had to work, so I have to take a lot of pictures for him." (Y/n) had her phone in her jacket pocket and she was waiting until Chris got close enough or went down one of the slides so she could capture the moments. That way Eddie wouldn't feel so bad or feel like he missed out.

"That's good, he was telling me you're close to your due date now… he even remembered the exact date. He was very excited."

Andrea's brows quirked and her smile showed she was impressed while (Y/n) pursed her lips to stop from smiling. Either Eddie hadn't explained it very well or Andrea hadn't been listening properly but there was a clear miscommunication somewhere along those lines.

"Uh, no, we're having a C-section, it's booked in for four weeks from now."

"Oh, that does make more sense considering he was very certain about the day."

(Y/n) couldn't help but laugh. It showed how endearing and sweet Eddie was at heart. He would do anything for his family and when they had been expecting Chris, Eddie had been just the same. Excited, anxious, walking on egg shells. If it hadn't been for the rather traumatic birth everything would have been a lot easier and it would have been a perfect pregnancy.

Chris's birth had been anything but plain sailing and because of how badly (Y/n) had haemorrhaged and the complications she had afterwards, the doctors thought it would be best to have a C-section this time. Save the panic and calm all their nerves and ensure nothing went wrong.

They had the date all booked and Eddie had it circled in red pen on the kitchen calander. His last shift was two days before the birth and his Abuela would have Chris for them while they went to hospital. Eddie had three full weeks off work for after the birth if everything went according to plan and he was counting down the days.

When Andrea got up to go and get a drink from the bar, (Y/n) dug around in her jacket which was really Eddie's denim jacket, and found her phone. She needed to start taking some photos, Eddie had promised to show Buck the pictures and let him know how it went since Chris was attached to his 'Uncle Buck'.

"Mummy!"

With one hand on her stomach, (Y/n) got up and slowly trudged over towards the entrance to the play area and looked up. Chris was leaning against the mesh, pressing his face so close his nose was pushing through and his smile was slightly obscured but it made for a perfect picture.

"We off down the slide," Chris pointed towards the dark blue curved slide at the front corner and (Y/n) nodded.

She pressed record and tilted her phone up, following the boys as they padded across the foam mats. Chris was in fits of giggles when he went down on his stomach and shimmied under one of the foam rollers and (Y/n)'s face beamed as she watched him. Part of her worried if he got stuck, there was no way she would get up there to get him out but he did it with a big grin on his face that she got on camera.

When they reached the slide, Chris sat down first and Adam sat behind him and (Y/n) moved to the end of the slide and waited for them to come down.

"Well done baby!" She put her phone back in her pocket and reached down to lift him up by his underarms. She set him back on his feet with a kiss on his head but did her best to hide her wince when her back twinged. Maybe Eddie was right, lifting Chris and carrying him as well as the baby was a bit too much after a while.

***

"Chris, are you coming?"

"No."

A frown pulled at Adam's lips and he held his hand out to see if it would make Christopher feel a bit better but he still shook his head.

Chris brought his hands up to cover his ears and started to shake his head before he moved and flopped down to the floor with a thump and sat down. There were too many kids and adults at that table. He wasn't sitting there with everyone shouting and screaming and throwing things. He wasn't eating his dinner in front of that many people.

He was very particular, being in the classroom at school was fine because they had less than twenty children per class, it was more concentrated and people were spread out. Eating dinner was different too because the teachers gave Chris his own little corner in the dining room where he could sit alone with hi back to everyone and eat his dinner in peace. And sometimes if he was very unsettled, they let him eat in the classroom which was always empty at lunchtime.

The only people Chris would eat around were his parents or the team at Eddie's station because they were more like family. He didn't like eating in front of strangers or other kids at school, he always felt like they were watching him.

"Oh, (Y/n)…"

Turning her head, (Y/n) looked around before her eyes landed on Chris and she quickly got up, ignoring the dull throb in her lower back as she tried to hurry over to Chris.

"Mummy… mummy, don't want to,"

"Baby, it's alright, come here." She rubbed her hands up and down his arms and pulled him closer until he could bury his face in her chest and wrap his arms around her waist instead of holding his ears. "We don't have to sit with everyone, we brought a pack up anyway, didn't we? Don't get upset, they can find us a table out the way. No one will mind."

She slowly rubbed her hand up and down Chris's back and kissed the top of his head. He had been doing so well and she wanted to finish the day on a high, not a low.

She had made a pack up this morning before they arrived and told Andrea Chris wouldn't eat any of the food they served here. He was specific, there were only a few places he liked to eat out at and he wouldn't eat party food, only food that his parents bought. Bobby was the only exception, Chris loved his food.

"No, not hungry yet."

"Five more minutes of play, then pack up, okay? We want to watch Adam get his birthday cake, don't we?"

Chris nodded his head and tilted his head back enough to press his chin into (Y/n)'s chest so he could look up at her. If either of his parents smiled at him it was an instant calming mechanism for Chris, he knew he wasn't in trouble and that it was okay for him to have a little panic.

"Come on then." A little longer playing would calm Chris down but (Y/n) didn't want him playing too long because he needed a rest and he needed to eat. They had to eat soon so they would be in time to see Adam get his cake and sing happy birthday to him.

He pulled back and let her lift him up to his feet before he grabbed her hand and held her arm to his chest when they started to walk.

The pair of them walked through the entrance and (Y/n) waited patiently for Chris to decide what he wanted to do. He knew he had to stay close enough for (Y/n) to walk beside him at the bottom, she couldn't climb up with him and she didn't want him wandering around on his own.

(Y/n) could see Chris had a frown on his face, he was still unsure about going back to eat with everyone. They were all being loud, throwing food and squabbling together, it was a sensory overload. At least in the play area all the kids bypassed him and didn't stay so close they were shouting in his ear.

Her eyes followed her boy closely as he shuffled up the steps and she took slow steps below him as he slowly shuffled along a rope before he looked down at her.

"Slide,"

"Okay, go along then baby."

"You meet me at the bottom," (Y/n) craned her head to see where the bottom of the red slide was but she frowned when she realised it was in the middle of the ball pit. She knew Chris wouldn't go down that slide unless she was waiting for him, he liked the ball pits but he couldn't get out of them properly.

"I'll wait at the side of the ball pit."

"No! Mummy you wait at the side."

"Baby-"

"Mummy!" Chris dropped to his knees and dig his fingers into the mesh rope protecting him from falling. He started to lean back and forth and swing on it as his frown deepened. He was getting unsettled, if Eddie were here it would be a lot easier.

"Do I have to call daddy and uncle Buck?" (Y/n) put her hands on her hips and straightened her back for a second before she leaned back down when her stomach cramped. She watched Chris start to whine her name over and over until she sighed and walked towards the ball pit.

It was going to be easier to go along with Chris than try and coax him to a different slide or go down it without her at the bottom. And ringing Eddie would only upset Chris further because it would mean he was in trouble.

If she got Eddie on the phone he would give Chris the stern talk, tell him he had to listen to his mum and if he couldn't then Eddie would have to come down there and sort him out.

(Y/n) walked over to the ball pit and peeked in before she sighed. At least Eddie wasn't here to see her doing this. The opening into the ball pit was a small oval gap in the mesh and (Y/n) had to sit down on the foam wall, carefully swing her legs over and then lower herself down. It didn't do her back any good to wade through the plastic balls that felt like a sea overtaking her and pulling her down.

"Chris, come down baby."

It was a relief to hear him giggling and banging the walls when he shuffled down the slide. She reached her arm out so that when he came out the slide, he could grab her hand and pull himself over to her.

He smacked his arms out and flung some of the plastic balls away from them and started to kick his legs like he was swimming and it was a relief to (Y/n) to see him finally settle and smile again. She knew getting him out of here was going to be the problem though. He had been playing for over an hour and now he was tired and needed food but he didn't want to be with everyone else. She might end up taking him home.

"A-are we going…" (Y/n) trailed off and turned her head to the side so Chris couldn't see her grimace when her stomach tightened. "Dinner time," She managed to grumble out before she turned and grabbed the foam edge to steady herself.

"Not yet mummy."

"Ooh no…"

Fuck. Not yet, not without Eddie!

Her water broke. In the ball pit. In the play centre. With Chris right next to her.

This was not part of the plan. The plan was all laid out and simple and agreeable, Chris was going to have a movie night with them the night before and then he would be up ready and early to go stay with Abeula. Eddie would be with (Y/n) right by her side and they would have this baby different to last time.

(Y/n) didn't want to go through labour again, she wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for the panic and the blood and the complications and screaming out to hold her baby while Eddie pinned her to the bed when she tried to snatch Chris from the midwife. She didn't want to watch Eddie blur before her eyes and fall into his arms when her heartrate started to drop and she started to bleed again.

Fumbling in her pocket, (Y/n) shakily grabbed her phone and scanned down for Eddie's contact. He said he would try and keep his phone on him in case she needed to call today, he would do his best like he always did.

No answer.

"Eddie, baby c-call me… my water broke, fuck, call me back please." Her voice barely raised above a trembling whisper son she didn't scare Chris.

"(Y/n), there you are, we're going to cut the cake soon, would Chris like to have some?" Andrea bent down on the other side of the mesh and smiled at the pair of them but her smile faded quickly when (Y/n) looked up and she saw the tears on her face.

"My water broke,"

"Oh god… let me tell someone and we'll get you out-"

"No. No I- I'm not moving until I c-can get hold of Eddie…" (Y/n) braced her elbows on the foam edge and clenched her hands together to try and think. She wasn't able to move very far now and she couldn't go anywhere without Eddie. That wasn't an option. "Can you tell t-them to keep kids away from here, until he comes, please?"

She couldn't move but she couldn't have any other kids coming down the slide and messing about in here when she was like this. It wasn't safe nor conventional and Chris was settled, (Y/n) couldn't risk him having a meltdown or getting upset right now when she couldn't get hold of Eddie.

"Of course, I'll go now and they can section this bit off I would think."

(Y/n) managed a feeble thank you before she felt Chris grabbing her arm and tugging gently so she would look at him.

"Okay?" He asked quietly, smiling despite knowing there was something amiss with her.

"Just a bad back baby, daddy will c-come soon and get us. We need to stay in here for now."

She felt her heart calm just a little when Chris started to giggle and clap, he wanted to see Eddie. He thought Eddie would play with him once he got here but (Y/n) would let him think that and deal with the consequences later, as long as it kept him calm and happy.

As soon as Chris shuffled a little bit away from her to dive back into the middle of the pit, (Y/n) picked her phone back up. When Eddie's phone went to voicemail for a second time, she changed to dial 911. They could get hold of him, they would have to because (Y/n) wouldn't let anyone else near her unless they were in the 118 team.

"I- I need help, I'm in the Cromwell play centre a-and my waters broke… I can't move I'm in the ball pit."

"Can you tell me your name and roughly how far along you are? Paramedics are being dispatched to your location."

"No, I need you t-to get…" (Y/n) bowed her head on her forearm and groaned through a contraction. This wasn't fair. "Get the one-eighteen fire station team dispatched here, now. My husband is one of the firemen, Eddie Diaz, I need him here."

***

"Okay everyone, we have a woman in pre-term labour stuck in the ball pit, dispatcher said she was very anxious."

Eddie's heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he climbed down out the truck and realised where they had parked. He could never make sense of the speakers when a call got announced and Bobby was the one who got the main details of their calls, the rest of them were told on the journey or when they got here like right now.

The play centre. Specifically the one where (Y/n) had brought Chris for a friend's party. Eddie could see her car parked up front and unless it was a very big coincidence that this was the same place his wife was at who wasn't at her due date yet, Eddie couldn't imagine it being anyone else. He knew (Y/n) would be panicking if it was her, she had been over the moon when they said she could have a C-section to reduce any risks.

The plans had changed if this was his wife.

"Mate, what's up?" Buck patted Eddie on the shoulder when he saw he wasn't moving and looked rather pale but Eddie stumbled over to Bobby in a frenzy.

"Cap, cap I think it's my wife. Fuck, if it's (Y/n) Christopher will be here!"

Eddie barely managed to tangle his fingers in his hair before he waved towards Buck and set off into a sprint. He had to calm himself down, he had to find out if this was his family or not and if it wasn't he could breathe deeply and be relieved that their plan could still go ahead.

He could hear Buck close behind him when he rampaged through the doors and towards the reception where one of the staff was waiting for them.

"She's this way,"

They took off in a sprint after the young girl but Eddie could feel his heart rocketing up into his throat, constricting his breathing when he saw Andrea bent down in the path beside the ball pit on the left. It had to be (Y/n) because he could see the utter relief in her eyes when she clocked eyes with him.

"Eddie! (Y/n), love, he's here now." She waved him over and got to her feet, patting his shoulder before she took a step back. Andrea knew (Y/n) had begrudged anyone walking down here to see what was going on, she didn't even want the staff coming to ask if she needed anything.

"Fuck, mi amor it's me I'm here I'm here."

He crouched down to look in and assess the situation but he didn't like what he saw. (Y/n)'s lower half was submerged in the plastic, her arms were folded over on the foam edge and her forehead had been pushed into her arms until she heard his voice. When she rose her head, her face was flushed, covered in sweat and tears and she was breathing in short huffs.

This brought back too many memories for Eddie. He thought they would get peace of mind with this pregnancy, no scares, no frantic worries about labour, no Eddie screaming at the doctor to help his wife and tell him what was wrong with his newborn son.

Before they were told they could have a C-section, Eddie had cradled (Y/n) in his arms one night when she started to cry, worrying what would happen if history repeated itself again.

"Daddy!" His head tilted up and a small creased smile pulled at his lips when he noticed Chris was sat on the foam edge next to (Y/n). He was patting her hair away from her face and kicking his legs out into the sea of plastic.

"Hey bud. We're coming in,"

He rounded the side and leaned forward to climb through the gap and drop down into the ball pit with Buck following behind. Bobby rounded to be in front of the mesh near (Y/n) for reassurance and Chimney waited near the exit to the ball pit for help when they tried to get her out.

"How we doing?" Eddie gritted his teeth as he waded through towards (Y/n), he had done this countless times with Chris but it never felt slower to get through than it did right now.

"You're here! I can't d-do this, we need the hospital," She felt his hands on her shoulders and the light kiss he pressed to her neck.

She knew calling 911 would get him here if he couldn't answer the phone and here he was, right when she needed him. (Y/n) didn't want to do this, she didn't want to be stuck here. She had thought about pre-term labour and she wished that if it happened she would be home with Eddie and still be able to get the C-section. There was no way that was happening now, it was far too late but she wanted to be at the hospital in the very least.

If she started bleeding out there wasn't much the team could do for her and Chris was here, (Y/n) didn't want her baby boy here to see her in pain.

She was just relieved he didn't understand what was happening.

"I'm here, you're fine, we've got this. Chris, bud are you gonna go and stay with Chimney so me and uncle Buck can get mummy out of here?"

"You here to play?" His head tilted to the side and he picked up one of the balls and started to pat it and tap it against his knees. He was assuming someone would get (Y/n) out and then he could play with his dad, he thought Eddie was here to play with him. And it was an added extra that Buck was here too.

"No buddy, no more play."

"Play!"

Chris dropped the ball and went to cross his arms over his chest, the smile slipping from his face when he saw his dad's stern expression. This wasn't the plan, something odd and strange wasn't supposed to happen and Eddie was always supposed to come here and play with him. He didn't want this to go a different way.

"You are not in charge, I am and daddy says you are going to wait with Chimney. Off you go."

There was no time for Chris to argue, Eddie picked him up and turned round to Buck who happily grabbed him and waded over towards the exit where Chimney was waiting with a smile for the little boy. Chris couldn't argue with Eddie and if he tried, Eddie would tell Chimney to put him in a time out. As long as Chris was out the way but cared for and safe, Eddie could keep his focus on (Y/n) and neither of them had to worry about him witnessing anything or hearing anything he shouldn't.

"Do you want to tell me why you're in the ball pit when I specifically told you to take it easy and not follow Chris into the play zone?"

(Y/n) reached her hand out and curled her fingers tightly around Eddie's hand when she felt him press up to her side. His lips smothered the top of her head and his free hand moved to her lower back and when she tilted her head back to look up at him, she tried to smile despite the guilt written across her face.

"He wouldn't come down unless I w-was in here," She could feel his hand tense on her lower back and he shook his head.

"These kids are gonna be the death of me." He muttered quietly while Buck came over to stand on (Y/n)'s other side. "Do you think you can shuffle out of here?"

She nodded, she would do anything to try and get to the hospital, she didn't care what she had to do. (Y/n) would crawl or swim through this stupid ball pit if it got her to a hospital.

"Good girl, Buck you go in front and I'll stay behind,"

"Come on (Y/n), you got this. I'm so pumped to meet my nephew." Buck held his arms out steady and let (Y/n) dig her nails into his lower arms when she turned round. He didn't think he would be around when she had the baby, Buck thought he would be either working and keeping his phone on him ready or he thought he might be looking after Chris. He had offered to take Chris on the evening after the C-section so Eddie could stay with (Y/n).

This turned out more in Buck's favour so he could actually be here when his Godchild was born. And he was so sure it was going to be another boy. The team had placed a few bets on the gender.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie kept his hands on (Y/n)'s hips and stayed close behind her. She leaned forward and pressed her head into Buck's chest and arched her back out. The three of them made a slow shuffle through the ball pit towards Bobby who moved so he was waiting near the exit for them in case they needed another set of hands.

"You ready?" Eddie whispered in her ear when Buck let go of her hands for a moment so he could climb out and stand next to Bobby.

"This won't be graceful,"

Eddie smiled despite himself and shook his head, at least she could make some light of the situation.

"Lean back into me, I'll lift you up."

(Y/n) nodded but kept her eyes tightly closed, she didn't like this one bit. She didn't like anyone but Eddie seeing her in a situation like this when there wasn't a lot of dignity left. As if her friends, Eddie's close friends and coworkers had to see her like this.

She felt Buck and Bobby take one of her hands each and grip her elbows and she let her legs go floppy so her weight was pushed back onto Eddie's chest. He had carried her around hundreds of times even while she was pregnant so she knew she wasn't putting any strain on him but it didn't feel right to do this in public.

She could feel his hands squeeze her hips before they travelled down her bum to grip the back of her thighs and it was comforting when she felt his face tuck into the crook of her neck. He kissed the junction of her shoulder and neck before he slowly lifted up her legs and pushed forward so she was sitting on the ledge. All she had to do was let them ease her forward and she would be out.

"Here we go, steady we got you," Bobby and Buck took her weight and helped her slide down onto her feet but as soon as her feet hit the floor, her knees caved.

(Y/n) coiled her arms to her stomach and dropped down to her knees, leaning forward to push her head into the floor as a horrid groaning scream left her lips morphed with Eddie's name.

"Hospital… w-we need to go- fuck, Eddie!"

"We have to see how far you are before we think about moving you (Y/n), let's get you sat down."

"No, I-" She stopped when she felt Eddie's hands on her waist and he slowly reeled her back up.

"Mi amor, I'm not risking moving you anywhere until we know what this baby is doing. You're safe, we're all here and Cap knows what he's doing." Eddie moved back a little and sank down on his knees before he carefully pulled (Y/n) with him and leaned her backwards. She relaxed in his hold and let herself sink into his firm chest while his arms coiled around her waist so she could grip his arms.

"Buck, grab the medic bag, I'm just gonna have a quick look, okay?" Bobby took off his overcoat and placed it over (Y/n)'s knees that were hunched up. There was no one around but he wanted her to have some sort of dignity.

He knew what everyone was praying for, they all wanted (Y/n) to be one or two centimetres dilated so they could get her in the ambulance and ship her to the maternity ward and have this baby in a hospital. But when Bobby looked up and saw (Y/n) crying out with her hand reached back and clawing at Eddie's shoulder, he wasn't so sure that was the outcome they were going to receive.

(Y/n) didn't have the will to care that Bobby was about to see a more intimate side to her. She didn't care that her leggings and underwear were now around her ankles, she just wanted to go.

"(Y/n)… I'm afraid you're already crowning, this will be the first kid born in a play centre so we need to get you set up." Bobby hid his frown when (Y/n) screamed and Edie tightened his arms around her when she started to sob and her chest heaved. This wasn't fair, but at least the team had gotten here at the right time. She had everyone surrounding her, they would look after her and make sure she and the baby were okay.

"Wow, really?" Buck knelt back down and put the medic bag next to Bobby but when he leaned to look, he found Eddie's hand in his chest shoving him back and (Y/n)'s leg move out towards him.

He was their closest friend, but (Y/n) didn't want him looking until the baby was born. It wasn't exactly an intimate thing the couple wanted to share.

"What-"

"That's my wife!"

"Buck keep a check on (Y/n)'s vitals. Miss, we need towels over here please. (Y/n) I'm sure you know what to do, push on the next contraction."

Buck moved to (Y/n)'s other side and made quick work of checking her blood pressure and he didn't make a face when she clenched his hand in hers and gave a sharp squeeze.

As if she was having her second baby here of all places.

"Fuck! A-am I bleeding?" All of them could hear the panic in (Y/n)'s voice and she tipped her head back on Eddie's shoulder to look up at him with terror in her eyes. She barely managed to crown with Chris before she was bleeding and as soon as he was born after getting stuck, that's when the blood flowed.

Whimpers and sobs bubbled past her lips and she pushed back into Eddie as if she wanted to disappear but he held her tighter and moved his legs so he was sat down instead of kneeling which was making his legs ache. He pulled his knees up and pressed his thighs tightly into (Y/n)'s sides, just like they had been sat when she had Chris.

"You're perfectly fine (Y/n), I promise. Just keep going you're doing great."

"Almost there mi amor, I've got you and cap's got the baby, we're all good. Come on you got this." Eddie whispered in the shell of her ear and tilted his head down a little more when (Y/n) reached her free hand up to cup the back of his neck. A shiver rocketed down his spine when her nails scratched against his skin and the hairs at the back of his neck and he kissed her head when she turned to bury her face in his chest.

His shirt smothered her scream and they both prayed Chris was far away enough not to hear what was going on.

"Head's out, one more push (Y/n)," Bobby grabbed one of the towels from the pile the lady shakily dropped down next to him. He spread it out over his lap and grabbed another one to hold beneath the baby, she was almost done.

"I love you so much," Eddie leaned over (Y/n)'s shoulder and he felt his heart jump into his mouth as he held his breath when she screamed into his chest.

"It's a girl!"

"You've done it mi amor, you've done it."

The brightest smile (Y/n) had ever seen lit up Eddie's face and she could feel his tears falling down onto her skin. Her head felt fuzzy and her body was trembling in his arms which he was soaking up and he held her so tightly she felt comforted and protected.

"Fuck (Y/n), well done! You've lost me the bet though," Buck rubbed his hand up and down her arm, smiling brightly as he looked across at Bobby. He gently let go of (Y/n)'s hand, seeing her grab Eddie's arm for reassurance before Buck grabbed the clamps and cutters from the bag to hand across to Bobby.

"Here's your daughter," Bobby carefully placed the small bundle into (Y/n)'s shaking arms and laid her on her chest.

She trembled so much Eddie had to move his arms and coil them around hers with his hands resting on top of (Y/n)'s to keep their daughter stable on her chest. Eddie brushed a finger across the newborn's cheek and despite the chuckle he let out, he moved to kiss (Y/n)'s cheek repeatedly. This wasn't how they were expecting to have their daughter, but it had gone much better than Chris's untimely birth.

"S-she's here," (Y/n) brushed her nose against Eddie's cheek and kissed him shakily.

"She couldn't wait to meet us."

[softstarlite]

A little blurb I wrote during my lunch break based on these pictures and also thanks to @translatemunson for getting me hooked onto 911

“BUCKLEY!”

“What?” He asked staring up at you in the small bathroom mirror.

“Are you washing your face with soap?!” You cry incredulously, soap bubbles dripping from his top lip onto the bathroom counter.

“It cleans things so I just thought..”

And that was how you found yourself straddling Buck’s lap. You’d been applying toner and he had been squirming so much and complaining that it stung so you did the only thing you could think of in the moment to get him to stop moving, you sat on him. “Oh my god, would you stop squirming!”

“It’s making my eyes water! You’re burning off my skin! How do you use this stuff every day?” Buck winced, blinking and rubbing his eyes dramatically.

“It makes your skin glow” you laughed as you dab the cotton ball across his face “and it’s not burning off your skin, it’s toning it”

“Why do I need to glow? I’m not a disco ball” he asked, trying to pull his face away from the cotton ball you were trying to rub against his face.

He continued to try and squirm away from you as you took hold of his cheeks, holding him in place as you applied the thick green mud mask. You stared down at him for a moment “You should let me do your eyebrows” you pondered.

“Wait, what’s wrong with my eyebrows?” Buck asked, pulling his face from your grasp as he stared into the small mirror, twisting his face so that he could check from every angle.

“This stuff stinks” he complained.

“it’s good for you. Now stop squirming”

Buck huffed but sat still. You reached over the counter and found your favorite hair mask. You must have leaned a little too far as you started to slip off Buck’s lap.

Buck’s hand grabbed hold of you by your thigh, anchoring you in place on his lap “careful” he smirks up at you.

“Lean back a little” you said quietly, trying to compose yourself as his thumb starts rubbing circles against your thigh.

“Why?”

“I’m going to do a hair mask for you” he leaned his head back against the bathroom sink as you wet his hair, placing a towel over his shoulders you scooped a handful of the sweet smelling cream into your hand and gently rubbed it through his hair.

You could feel Buck start to relax at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair “you’re staring” he said as he closed his eyes, a happy blissful smile crossing his face.

“I’m not…I’m making sure I do the steps right”

Buck’s eyes opened and fixed onto yours as a grin spread across his face “I didn’t say I didn’t like it”

You both jumped as the bathroom door flew open and Eddie barged in, he stared at the scene in front of him for a moment; you seated on Buck’s lap and Buck grinning up at you like you hung the moon; before turning his head and shouting “you owe me $50 Chim!”

[softstarlite]

HARD TIMES / EVAN BUCKLEY

PAIRING: Evan Buckley x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Whilst waiting for his appointment, Evan abstains from sexual encounters. Which is a bit hard whilst simultaneously having a crush on the girl from the coffee shop.

WARNINGS: Fluff, sex mentions, teasing, makeouts & sexual depictions

WORDCOUNT: 2.5K Words

A/N: I’m actually in love with this idea 😂 May or may not have made Buck a whiner 👀 As per usual, @megalony for giving me the inspo to finish this off - check out her Buck fic!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

He was cursed, indefinitely.

Getting rescheduled, running out of gas, random remodels galore. It seems as if someone was against him finally making his donation. But the waiting wasn’t the worst part, the no sex rule was major. Why on Earth had he stuck with it? Evan assumed it wouldn’t be too difficult, which it wasn’t.

Until he met you.

It was the fourth day of waiting and he’d changed his usual coffee place ever since they randomly only served skim milk. And he was happy to make the change, since his new place was actually three minutes closer as well as better. Ever since he saw you, he’d found himself ordering more than needed, adding a muffin or two, or ordering for the crew.

Anything that let him stare at you for a little while longer. You were always on time, every morning you showed up, ordered the same thing with the occasional additional treat. A smile on your face and always equipped with a kind compliment.

But Buck surprisingly couldn’t find it in himself to approach you. Whether he was too scared of embarrassing himself or he just liked staring. He found himself second guessing his actions at every turn. It wasn’t until you came in minus a smile that he worked up the courage to interact with you.

You were currently sitting outside, gazing at the oncoming traffic and people going about their day. The cup in your hands taking the brunt end of your restlessness as you tapped your fingers. The hand waving in your face brought you back, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you need something?” The man in front of you grinned, “Uh no, not really. I just- well you were…” He pointed out to the traffic before pointing at you again.

“Would you like to sit? Maybe it’d help you get your words together.” You joked as he laughed before pulling his respective chair, “Thanks, I’m Evan. But people call me Buck, whatever works for you.” You reached your hand out, “Y/n, nice to meet you Evan.”

Evan smiled before revealing the brown bag, “I uhm, well you looked like you were a bit down, so I ordered you a pastry. Thought it’d cheer you up.” Your regular pastry sat inside the bag, waiting for you to eat it, “Oh! You really didn’t have to, that’s so nice of you.” He waved his hand, brushing off your words, “It’s nothing really, just enjoy it.” You wanted to ask how he knew, but figured there was no point in it.

And the two of you talked for almost an hour afterwards, slowly getting to know each other better. The pair of you were quick friends to your surprise. And your relationship only grew afterwards, regularly catching up in the mornings over coffee. Which then turned to lunch together during his off day, and then dinner.

You knew it was quick, but you couldn’t help yourself, you really did like Evan. It was unbelievably easy to talk to him, he was such a warm person. And Evan sure as hell liked you. Every day he found it easier to get out of bed, overly eager to get to see your face and hear your voice. God, he could listen to you for hours.

He’d never really clicked so easily with someone, and he was grateful for it. It’d been a while since Taylor, it was refreshing to talk to someone and not just for a night. He found himself checking his phone every few minutes, hoping for a reply from you.

And everyone else noticed.

“What’s got you so happy Buckley?” Chimney asked from the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee. Hen glanced over to find Buck smiling down at his phone, “Nothing, just looking at photos.” Hen circled back to him, sitting down across from him as she surveyed his body language. You and Evan had been out last night at a movie, and you’d both posed in the cardboard cutouts.

The photo he was looking at had you as a bodybuilder and him in a dress he looked “absolutely stunning in”, according to you.

“It’s like your face is permanently smiling. Please tell me it’s not frozen.” She poked his cheek before he swatted it away, “Can I not just be happy?” Chimney shrugged before settling down next to Hen, “You can be happy, as long as you tell us what, or who, has you feeling this way.” Bobby came towards the trio, Eddie in tow, “Who’s feeling what?” Hen chuckled, “Seems we’ve got a smitten Buckley in the house. We’re trying to figure out who’s making him happy.”

Buck rolled his eyes before getting up, “It’s really not that big of a deal guys, cmon.” Bobby shook his head, “Yes it is, someone’s in love.” The group laughed as Evan shook his head, “Not you too, I thought you were sensible.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I am extremely sensible, and curious. What’s their name?”

“Her names Y/n, and that’s all you get to know for now. Damn vultures.”

“Don’t make me circle back for you Buckley!” Hen shouted out as Evan made his way down, what he didn’t expect was for you to be waiting for him. “Y/n?” You turned swiftly to meet his eye, “Hey Buck, you called me?” His eyebrows furrowed, “It must’ve been an accident, I’m sorry. But you didn’t have to come here.”

He was thoroughly impressed, did a phone call from him warrant a visit? Not that he was complaining. You looked even more gorgeous than usual, and you smelled—

“Yeah but we were supposed to meet for lunch, and you didn’t reply, I only got a call.” His eyes widened in realisation, he’d forgotten your date. Was it a date? Did you think it was a date? Is that why you were wearing a dress? You said you usually only wear them for special occasions or people. Was he a special person?

“I’m so so sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind. We just came back from a run. We can go now for sure.” Your smile spread as he spoke, “Is something funny? Please tell me I don’t have sauce on my face.” Your laughter filled the air, did you know that your eyes creased when you giggled? Your nose also scrunched, god you were cute.

His eyes trailed up to the balcony, where his entire team stood staring before straightening up, “Mhm, the top of the trucks are so pretty. Probably shiny too.” The random topics of conversation were more than enough to alert Evan to the eavesdropping taking place. “Guess you might as well meet those idiots.” You smiled, “Lead the way Firefighter Buckley.”

“Oh! You are brilliant!” Chimney exclaimed as the rest of the group laughed uncontrollably. Buck sat with his arms crossed, “It’s not even that funny!” You couldn’t help but pat his bicep, “Of course you don’t think it is!” You leaned into him as you giggled, practically pushing your chest into his arm.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Evan’s eyes were staring right into Eddies soul, as Eddies laughter died down, “You okay?” He mouthed as the man across him from blinked rapidly before nodding. Eddies eyes trailed to you, and your low cut dress before returning to Buck. Oh, oh! Eddie smiled, “That’s a really lovely dress Y/n/n.” Evan’s eyes narrowed, wishing a few horrible accidents upon Eddie.

Murmurs of agreement broke out from everyone else, “It really is, what do you think Buck?” Evan’s lips drew into a tight line, “Oh, yeah. Definitely, they look good in it. I mean— you look amazing. Really good today. Not that you don’t usually, you always look so good. And smell! Not that I smell you, you smell. Good! You smell good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he stumbled his way through his monologue, “Good to know Buck, good to know.” You promptly turned to Bobby, “Yknow Evan never shuts up about your cooking, would I ever be so lucky to experience it for myself?”

Buck zoned out of the current conversation, replaying his epic fail in his head.The tightening of his pants had him shifting around uncomfortably, and Eddies grin aimed his way was getting to him.

He was going to kill Eddie.

Dinner that night was probably amongst one of the best dates he’d ever had. And he had asked you before you went out whether or not it was a date, repeatedly. But it was also a test of strength. You’d decided to wear a gorgeous dress, designed to test his patience.

And as if that wasn’t enough, he’d made the stupid mistake of inviting you back to his apartment.

Which, A) Gave the impression that something was going to happen.

B) Maybe made you think that he thought you were the type of girl to put out easily.

And Evan never wanted you to think that.

With a few glasses of wine, sweet music and amazing company you were bound to end up on his bed. Evan’s hands were soft yet controlling, lifting you up onto his lap to straddle him. “God you’re gorgeous.” He murmured into your neck as you giggled, “Is that so?” He smiled up at you as your arms locked around his neck, “Definitely.”

“Then we should settle in for the night, no?”

Evan wanted to curse his own mind for reminding him, maybe he could make the deposit another time, right? He knew it was wrong to think this way, but how could he stop himself from going all the way with you on top of him? “Dammit, I am so sorry. But I can’t.” Your swiftly lifted yourself off his lap, settling down next to him.

“Hey that’s fine, you’re not being forced into anything Buck.” Evan groaned as he leaned in to capture your lips again, “You are so annoyingly understanding. And I love that about you, it’s one of the many things I love. Including this gorgeous lace.” He joked as he traced the strap of your bra. “Oh hush, what’s going on?”

“Promise you won’t freak out?”

“Promise.” You smiled before grabbing his hands, with wide eyes filled with curiosity staring up at him, he couldn’t help but feel the pressure. “An old friend asked me to be a sperm donor, and before making my donation, I thought it best to uh…” You raised an eyebrow as Evan struggled to find the right words, “To keep my swimmers in the tank, if you catch my drift.”

“I catch your drift, or is it a flow?” Evan rolled his eyes as you raised yourself to kiss his cheek, “I fully understand, you don’t have to be sorry. I think what you’re doing is absolutely amazing Evan, helping to start a family? That’s really sweet of you, but it must’ve been a hard decision.”

And that’s what the loved about you. Your willingness to listen, to wait and understand what you were being told. Most girls Buck had been with had never really seen everything about him, nor understood him. With you felt truly seen, and heard. Never judged. And you were breathtakingly beautiful, which was a nice bonus.

“It was.” He watched as you grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, “If i’m half naked, so are you. Now let’s sit and talk, when did you decide to help them out?”

For the rest of the night, the two of you simply laid in bed and cuddled, looking up at each other. Whilst you talked, Evan found his eyes trailing down your body. The two of you were in your underwear, and you your bra. With you practically ontop of him he found an intruder settling in.

“What is that?” You whined from underneath the covers, “Uh, maybe it’s my phone?” Evan rationalised as you stared at him, “Unless I stole someone’s phone and put it on charge, I don’t think it’s a phone.” Evan tried to stop you before you raised the covers, “Oh.”

“Well hello there.” The pillow was swept from underneath you as Evan buried his face in it, “Don’t,” Your laughter made his heart beat faster, and your hand which circled his crotch made him buck his hips upwards. “Oh god, please don’t.”

“Don’t… what?” Evan buried his head into your shoulder as you continued to tease him, it was the funniest thing you’d seen all day. And a helpless Buck was a fun one. “I like hearing you beg.” He slammed the pillow down onto his lap, “Y—you can’t say things like that!” His cheeks were turning red, whether it was embarrassment from his stutter or your hands, you liked it.

“Sure I can, just did. And you want to know something Evan?”

“Not really.”

“Indulge me,”

“Okay.” Evan gave in as you leaned into his ear, “I don’t sleep well with anything on.” You quickly kissed him before unclasping your bra, throwing your undergarments onto the floor and settling back in.

“Goodnight baby.” You smiled before turning off the lamp.

It was going to be a long night. Evan sat in the dark for about an hour before his situation calmed down, if he was sure of one thing? You were going to be the death of Evan Buckley.

It was donation day, finally.

Evan was practically bouncing off the walls after his shift, zooming down to the clinic before another mishap ruined his donation day. And luckily for him, he was given a cylinder and a few magazines before being sent on his way. His fingers drummed against the wheel of his jeep, he was having a good day.

The only thing better? His date with you tonight. What he hadn’t expected was to come home to candles, rose petals and his favourite girl happily sleeping in bed.

“Uhh, Y/n?” You sat up straight away in bed, “Evan! You’re back!” He walked up the stairs before setting his phone and keys down, “Whoa, you look…” You were wearing one of your favourite sets, and a new favourite of Evan’s, it didn’t exactly leave a lot to the imagination.

And he’d seen more than enough of you.

“Oh god, you look so good.”

“Well you’re extremely lucky, this is all for you. Almost five weeks, you did so well Evan.”

“I did well?”

“Yes you did, and you know what?” Evan shook his head rapidly, he was itching to touch you, “I cleared the day tomorrow for you and me, we can stay here as long as you’d like.” Evan felt weak in the knees, “Oh I love you. Now can I please throw you into bed?” You giggled before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You can do whatever you’d like, Firefighter Buckley.”

“Oh, Firefighter Buckley?” Evan pushed you down to the bed before climbing over you, “Mhm.” His hands lifted your gown slowly, stroking the soft skin, “Now I really want to see you in my coat.”

“Oh? What, with your name on the back? All yours aren’t I?”

“That you are. You’re not gonna be walking for a few days.” Evan teased as he planted kisses along your neck, you raked your hands through his soft hair, “I’m definitely not complaining.”

Hard times have good outcomes, or something like that.

[softstarlite]

- the calendar ✰ e. buckley

summary: an unexpected person stars for the 118 in the firefighter calendar 

genre: angst 

warnings: hints at smut & swearing & jealousy 

pairing: evan buckley x fem!reader

word count: 1088

note: i am kind of tempted to write another version that ends in smut but I’ve never written proper smut so I am scared. pls let me know if that is something you guys want <3 

also, this is my first post in a couple of years but this has been going around in my head for a couple days

Seguir leyendo

[softstarlite]

Santa’s a home wrecker

Pairing-Triple Frontier boys x f!reader

Summary- A little kiss leads to a Christmas morning misunderstanding.

CW-18+, Fluff, so much fluff, Kissing Santa, Pregnancy hormones, tf boys being great parents, polyamorous relationship, navigating a mixed family.

WK-1.6K

A/N- Set in the story of us universe but obviously in the future. We jumped way ahead here folks but I hope you love this fluffy snippet into their future lives.

Not beta read

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

It’s a little easier now since they let you sleep on the end, but it’s still a chore to roll out of bed with your heavily pregnant belly in tow. You sit on the edge for a moment trying to soothe yourself as the kicks come in quick succession. 

  You try as quietly as you can to make your way out of the bedroom, stealing a glance at Ben’s large form sprawled across Frankie in the most uncomfortable way. 

  You're wrapped up in your fluffy red robe, an early Christmas gift from the boys that you’ve been living in for the last month or so while you grow out of everything else you own. 

  The house is quiet and warm as you shuffle down the hallway and smells like cinnamon apples from the pies you made for Christmas Day. 

  A peek into the spare bedroom shows you a glimpse into most of your nights when it's Santiago’s turn to put the kids down for bed. 

  He’s snoring in the chair that sits between Camila and little Santiago’s beds. Both children slumbering away as they dream about the most exciting day of the year. 

  Some rustling is coming from the living room and you round the corner to a site that will never cease to make you smile. The boys take turns being Santa every year and they never do anything halfway. Your arms are crossed as you lean against the wall staring at the rich, dark red velvet material bent over in front of the tree. Deliberately placing gifts from the giant red bag in various spots. 

  You let out a low whistle as you make your way towards the bearded man. “Santa has a nice ass.” 

  He chuckles and stands gesturing with his arms for you to come to him. It’s a bit of a struggle now to be held but he still makes you feel all warm and fuzzy as you sway in the living room in front of the lowlights of the tree. You humm as he rubs your belly, somehow the kicking stops as if the baby taking up home inside knows whose hands are caressing you. 

  “How’s mama doing?” He asks as he kisses your neck, the fluff from his beard tickling you slightly. 

  “I’m tired…someone keeps kicking me.” You sigh into his touch as he drops to his knees, his fingers kneading that spot in your back that he knows pains you throughout the day. 

  “Hey little guy.” He speaks so softly in some adorable voice he’s made up. 

  “He’s a big guy, Will…a very big guy.” You know well enough having been told ad nauseum Miller babies are big.

  “Hey big guy…I need you to give your momma a rest so she can enjoy tomorrow okay?” He holds his ear to your belly and nods. When he looks up at you all you can make out is those piercing blue eyes nestled between the red hat and white beard. “He said okay.” 

  A small tear escapes as he kisses your belly and stands again. You can’t even blame it on the hormones. 

  “Go lay down, I’ll bring you some tea when I finish here.” One last kiss to your lips and he’s shooing you away so he can complete his Santa duties and enjoy his peanut butter cookies special request. 

  ****

  Frankie stacks the pancakes high on the plate next to the stove, as he moves on to the eggs and bacon. 

  Ben hasn’t said a word just eyeing the food as you enjoy your morning tea, surprised the kids haven’t graced you with their presence yet. 

  Santi’s creaking bones enter the kitchen before he’s seen as he cracks his back in the hallway. Frankie laughs from the stove as he flips the bacon perfectly somehow never burning it. 

  “Laugh it up hermano.” He leans down and kisses your forehead before heading over to the fresh coffee pot. 

  “I’m not the one that keeps falling asleep in the chair.” 

  You hear the sound of hurried footsteps down the hallway as Camila quickly emerges into the kitchen beaming from ear to ear. She barrels into Frankie hugging him from behind as he reaches around and ruffles her long black curls. “Buenos Días papá.” 

  “Buenos Días mi amor.” 

  Frankie kisses her forehead and she makes her way over to you and Santi to say her good mornings and receive hugs and kisses. 

  She climbs into Ben’s lap forgoing an open seat as she waits for breakfast to finish. The way the two of them could eat you were worried about welcoming another Miller into the household for lack of food resources. 

  “Good Morning daddy.” She wraps her little arms around him and it’s a feeling he’ll never get used to. 

  “Good morning honey.” She stole your nickname early on when she could look so sweet at them and instantly get her way. 

  There was a rule from the beginning that there would be no distinction unless medically necessary between the fathers. They were all fathers and that’s all that mattered. 

  “Sweetie, where's Santiago?” She looks slightly uncomfortable as she leans in and whispers something in Ben’s ear. 

  “He’s not coming?” Ben looks over to you as Santi looks to Frankie now done cooking breakfast. 

  She leans in again whispering something as Ben’s eyes widen. He has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the situation that he knows will need to be handled swiftly. 

  “He doesn’t want to open presents from a home wrecker.” 

  You’re grateful you hadn’t taken a sip of your tea or it would’ve been all over your new robe. 

  Frankie flicks off the stove and heads over to the table. “How do you even know that word, young lady?”  

  Ben leans in whispering something in her ear and she relaxes slightly. 

  “Well…ugh.” She’s in the hot seat by way of Santi much like her father often does to other people. You lay your hand on hers and wince slightly cursing this baby for picking the most opportune moments to make himself known. 

  “Camila it’s okay, you can tell me…you’re not in trouble.” 

  “Tia Marí said Tio John kissed a homewrecker and that’s why they’re not together anymore.” It comes out all rushed and flustered and you're trying not to giggle at her panicked confession. 

  Frankie points at Santi while he still looks on confused. “Your sister is off babysitting duty for a while.”

  Santi scrubs his hand down his face. “I'm still not following.” 

  Ben places his hands over her ears so she can’t hear. “Will was Santa last night.” He grits out as she giggles.

Santiago must have woken up and seen you kissing “Santa”.

  “Daddy I can’t hear anything.” He starts tickling her as she squeals in delight. 

  “Good because if you did, you wouldn’t get any presents.” They continue their giggles as you let out a long sigh. 

  “We’re gonna eat breakfast while you two go handle that.” Frankie starts serving up plates as Ben and Camila clap in excitement. 

  ****

  Santiago is face down in the blankets when you enter his room. He was a deep sleeper so it was pretty obvious when he was pretending. His little breaths are coming in shallow like he just ran here and plopped himself down. 

  You have a seat on the edge as Santi sits in the chair beside him. 

  Santi rubs his back hoping to calm him a little before he speaks. “Hey bud, you want to tell me what’s wrong?” 

  Inaudible mumbles come from the pillow and you bite down on your tongue at the mirror image. Payback for all the time Santi made someone chase him for a simple misunderstanding coming back ten fold. 

  “I didn’t hear you mijo, que pasó.” He slowly rolls him over as Santiago rubs his red eyes. 

  “I…don’t want…I don’t want.” He’s sniffling and Santi tries to calm him so he can catch his breath. 

  “Deep breaths bud.” 

  He shakily inhales and wipes his little hands on the blanket. “I don’t want Santa to break up our home.” 

  You could kill Maria for almost ruining Christmas morning, but you know one day you’ll get to tell this hilarious story to your children when they’re all grown up. You let Santiago take the reins even though you did kiss Santa. This was not your mess to clean up. 

  “Santiago, no one is breaking up our home. I love your mama very much.” Santiago crawls over to you as you wrap him up in your arms, kissing his unruly brown locks. 

  “You promise?” Your heart breaks a little as those little puppy dog eyes look up at you. 

  “Yes we promise.” He exhales as he relaxes in your arms and you look up at Santi incredulously. 

  “Santa is my friend…he’s allowed to kiss your mama.” Santiago looks up at his dad with pure shock written all over his face. 

  “WHAT!” He balks at him as you burst into a fit of laughter. 

  “HO, HO,HO…” The boisterous sound echoes down the hallway from the living room. 

  Santiago scrambles off your lap as you fall back with an oomph. Your belly won’t allow anymore movements like that so you succumb to the comfort of his tiny car bed, as his father chases after him. 

  ****

  Camila is standing in front of the tree as Santa hands her the first gift. 

  “Well hello little boy, would you like a gift from Santa?” 

  He runs up to him with his hands on his hips as he pokes him in the surprisingly hard belly. “Next time just drop off the gifts and go.” 

  Will looks up confused by his son's words as Frankie and Benny are losing it in the kitchen. 

  Santi stands there in the same stance. 

  “Don’t worry I’ll explain later.” 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

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[softstarlite]

Thank you Anon for this request!

A Deeper Purpose

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: Living in Jackson during the apocalypse doesn't do anything to curb your desire to have a child. The problem is, most of the men in town are unavailable... except for one.

Warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, breeding kink (given the request, obv), language, friends to lovers, mentions of anxiety, infertility, pregnancy, angst, pining, alcohol

WC: 3.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

When you first asked him, he thought you were crazy.

He stared at you in complete disbelief, his gaze flickering down to the drink in your hand, trying to recall how many you had to propose something so insane. But it was only one.

"Are you fuckin' serious?"

"Mhmm," you said confidently. "I've thought about it for a long time. I want a baby and the men in this town are either taken or have the mental fortitude of a child," you joked nervously. "You're neither of those things. Besides... I trust you."

His eyes softened for a moment and he dropped his gaze to the table. You had known Joel for the better part of five years, and while at first he was brash and gruff, throughout countless patrols and fights against infected where you had to have each other's backs, you had grown rather close. Neither of you ever crossed the line past friendship, and you had never even thought about it until recently when your anxiety was keeping you up late at night, wondering if you would ever find a man and settle down to start a family.

It was a luxury in this life, to be sure. The population of Jackson wasn't very large, but in five years you had come to get a good read on most of its citizens. And you kept coming back to the same conclusion: the man for you was not there.

So after much thought and self-reflection, you worked up enough courage to get a drink with Joel after your route and ask him if he would be willing to give you a baby.

You followed up by telling him you would be solely responsible, that you would do all the work and he could be as involved in the child's life as much as he wanted to be, if at all, while he sat there dumbstruck.

Now he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck nervously as he weighed your proposal.

"Can I think 'bout it?" he finally asked.

"Oh, god, of course!" you exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise that he was considering it at all. "However much time you need."

But that was almost a month ago. Each day that passed you became more anxious, more impatient, and it was beginning to sour your mood.

On that particular day you were checking out the park rangers outpost hidden deep within the Wyoming forest. The building was up within the trees, providing the park rangers in the past a bird's eye view of the forest, and now it gives Jackson the same.

Joel was scribbling something in the log book while you strolled aimlessly around the cabin, opening and shutting drawers loudly, already knowing what was in them but just looking for something to do.

"Somethin' on your mind?" he mumbled over his shoulder, his focus still on the book.

"No," you said defensively, but when you angrily began to struggle with a window that refused to open, it became clear you were lying.

"Here, lemme help," he offered, dropping the pencil and walking to your side of the room.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help," you snapped, though you obviously did.

His hands gripped your shoulders and forcibly moved you out of the way before he took hold of the window and gave it a quick jerk, loosening the window in it's frame and finally allowing fresh air in.

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes before breezing past him.

"This attitude 'bout the window or 'bout what you asked me?" he challenged, stopping you dead in your tracks. Slowly, you spun around, unsure what to say.

"The window," you finally answered, then shifted your weight and shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little of both."

"Mhmm," he said, advancing toward you. "Thought so."

"Well... have you thought about it or are you just trying to come up with a nice way to say no?"

He frowned and propped his hands on his hips. "Now why d'you think it's a no?"

"Because you haven't said a single word about it in a month," you told him like the answer was obvious.

"Well maybe the answer's yes but I don't know how to casually bring up into polite conversation that I'm ready to knock up my goddamn friend!" he argued.

You stared at him, jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"Wait, really?" you whispered.

He nodded and scrubbed his palms over his face. "Yeah, I mean... if you still wanna or... whatever," he grumbled.

The first time was bad, to put it mildly. Your kisses were all teeth, chins and noses bumped together awkwardly. You had hoped once you got down to it that it would have gotten better, but you were wrong. Your rhythms were all off, you hit your head on the end table, and Joel nearly fell off the couch at one point. Needless to say, you didn't come. It was a miracle he did by the end of it.

Afterwards, you both sat there, catching your breaths and wondering if you made a huge mistake.

No, it wasn't a mistake. It was always a means to an end. Ultimately, it didn't really matter if the sex was good or not, the end result would be the same.

Still...

"I'm not usually that bad," you finally said, breaking the thick silence. He groaned and tipped his head back to rest on the couch.

"Me either. I swear, I ain't lyin'. I never usually..." he trailed off, rubbing his chin, deep in thought. "We'll try again. Back home. In a bed. That's the problem. It's gotta be, right?"

"Yeah," you nodded, not fully believing him but at that point, what could it hurt?

The next time was the following day at your home. It was a little better than the first time, but not by much.

"It doesn't matter, Joel," you assured him, tugging your blanket over your chest.

"Matters to me," he said defensively. "I'm too in my head or somethin'. It's still weird, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it's weird," you agreed.

"It's too planned out. Maybe it's gotta be more natural. More... spontaneous."

"Yeah," you agreed.

A couple evenings later one of the other men on patrol was having a bonfire at his home and invited a handful of others, you and Joel included.

Ten or so people sat around a roaring fire, tossing back whiskey and playing cards or swapping war stories. The alcohol made you feel warm and relaxed, your limbs as loose as your tongue when you joked around with the others, joining in on the teasing when a seasoned patrolman admitted to shooting off a crossbow at a leaf that fell just a little too loudly in the woods.

Then you felt a hand on the small of your back and you turned, your eyes glassy and face warm from the booze and the laughs. Joel stood beside you looking just as at ease as you and he gave you a knowing look.

For once, you were on the same page. Neither of you said a word.

You made your excuses, said your goodbyes, and slipped into the night. It was quiet, the rest of the town asleep, so it was easy to hear Joel's voice carry over the wind a few minutes later when he announced his departure, your heart skipping an excited beat in your chest.

He didn't hurry to catch up with you and you were glad. It helped. The anticipation built up on the walk home, and for the first time you felt a warmth bloom between your legs. Your fingers shakily worked your front door when you heard his steps growing closer, the crunching of gravel growing louder and louder until your door swung open and the squeak of old wood under his boots as he walked up your stairs echoed in your ears.

You didn't bother to turn the lights on. His hands were on your waist instantly, kicking the door closed behind him as his mouth crashed against yours with a groan. All you could hear was your shared breath and the rustling of fabric, each of you working to strip the other of their clothes as quickly as possible.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the spontaneity of it. Whatever it was, it was better. Oh, so much better.

Somehow you had made it to your bed and you had never been more grateful to have a small ranch home in your life. When he first pushed inside, you moaned and arched your back off the mattress and his teeth gently grazed your collarbone, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. Instantly, you found a rhythm. Your hips rolled to meet his at the perfect time, his hands squeezed and pinched your breasts while his tongue invaded your mouth, only sliding down to cup your ass when he sensed it was becoming too much.

"More," you moaned into his mouth, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. He alternated between snapping and grinding his hips, the mix of sensations quickly bringing you over the edge.

You could feel the excitement in his body when he finally made you come. Like he was reenergized and focused, like he had finally accomplished what he set out to do.

"Come for me, Joel," you whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. You could tell he was close by the way his muscles tensed and the deep groans emanating from his chest.

"Yeah? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?" he growled, the dirty talk sending a jolt of surprise through you. Before, he had been so quiet. This was new.

"Yeah," you whispered back, "want you to fuck a baby in me. I want everyone to see what you did to me."

He groaned so loudly you wondered if it could be heard from outside. His teeth sunk down into your shoulder when he came, muffled words being spoken into your skin as he shot thick ropes of his seed deep into your womb, only slowing when his legs began to shake and he collapsed on top of you with a huff.

"Fuck," he gasped, still trying to catch his breath on top of you. "That was..." he trailed off with a chuckle and you felt him swallow tightly. "That was much better."

"Yeah," you whispered, your eyes sliding shut as your fingers gently raked through his hair. You didn't even realize you were doing it or how intimate it seemed considering your arrangement, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he leaned into it a bit as he waited for his heartrate to slow.

Once he collected himself, he propped himself up on his hands and slowly eased out of you with a hiss.

"Can you hand me-"

"Yeah," he said, already knowing you were asking for the small, firm pillow you used last time to prop your hips up, and gave it to you. With a groan, he got to his feet and went to your bathroom while you tucked your knees against your chest, hoping you were getting the angle right.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he handed you a wet washcloth to use when you were done, then began to dress.

He glanced at your face, then your hips propped up in the air.

"You need anythin' else?"

"No, I think this'll do," you joked, and he chuckled before he stood.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," you said with a smile, then watched him as he left your bedroom and listened while he slid his boots back on and quietly shut the door behind him, leaving you all alone.

"Fuck, it better work this time," you muttered as you bounced up and down on Joel's lap, your hands digging into his shoulders for support as you slid up and down on his cock. His hands held your waist, guiding you while you rode him on his couch, his eyes transfixed on where you were connected.

"Gotta relax. I told you, it ain't gonna work if you stress yourself out," he replied, eyes still glued to the way his cock emerged from your clutch even wetter than before.

"It's been six months, Joel," you whined, but he shushed you by slanting his mouth over yours. He didn't want to admit it, but he didn't mind when you came to him each month with a look of dejection when your efforts inevitably failed. He felt bad for you, don't get him wrong, but he had grown very fond of the one week every month you found yourself wrapped around his cock.

His thumb found your clit and he felt you tense and your mind went blank. Perfect.

"'S'right," he murmured, watching your face go slack, "just turn off that pretty little head of yours for a minute and lemme take care of you."

You nodded, eyes sliding shut as your hips began to work faster, rolling and grinding down on him until your nails dug into his skin and you cried out his name. Fuck, he loved hearing that. It didn't take much more for him to come, his hands gripping your sides so tight, he was afraid he might leave bruises as he thrusted up into you, giving you every last drop of his release.

"Goddamn," he whispered, head falling back onto the couch as he panted for air.

"Shit," you gasped, voice a little cracked. "Shoulda finished with me laying down. It's gonna leak out when -"

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you and, still plugging you with his cock, twisted around so you were laying flat on the couch and he was hovering above you.

"Better?"

"Much," you giggled, playing with a stray curl over his ear. You gazed warmly at one another, neither of you saying a word as your pulse slowed and his cock softened.

"Thank you for doing this for me, Joel," you whispered, your eyes drifting all over his face, taking in every little detail.

He nodded and swallowed then forced himself to look away. If he didn't, he was worried you would see too much.

He slid out of you and grabbed a pillow, handing it to you blindly before standing and strolling to his bathroom. After he cleaned up, he leaned over his sink, hands curled around the cracked vanity, and stared at his reflection in the mirror with a pit in his stomach.

How did he let this happen?

He should have known. The morning before you came over, he had a bad feeling. Like something had shifted in the air, something had changed without his permission and it left an empty feeling in his chest.

The overly excited knock on his door as he sipped his coffee almost made him want to pretend he wasn't home, that you weren't about to bounce into his kitchen holding two white sticks with a huge grin plastered across your face. But he didn't, and you did.

Either he really sold his reaction to your news well or you were too elated to notice his heart being ripped from his chest.

It was over. You were pregnant, and you no longer needed him. You would no longer come by every month and keep his bed warm. You would no longer share breakfast with him or talk to him about the books you were reading. He would go back to being utterly and completely alone.

It took a good month or two, but he adjusted back to his normal life. You still did patrol runs with him, which he protested, but when you finally began to show around five months, you agreed to stop and found a different job in town, instead.

That made his chest crack back open. Now he hardly ever saw you. It was bad enough he didn't get to be with you, taste you, fuck you anymore, but now he didn't even get to hear your voice. Occasionally he would see you in the dining hall or in the street and you would always talk to him, but it wasn't the same. Meanwhile, you walked around Jackson with his child growing in your belly, your shirts straining against the swell of your womb, the life he put inside you blooming before everyone's eyes. And all he wanted to do was claim you, right there in the center of town for everyone to see. For everyone to look in awe at what the two of you had created together.

One evening he was sitting alone in front of his fire, sipping whiskey and staring blankly into the flames. He had a decent life, considering the circumstances. So why couldn't he just be happy?

Then a rap came at his door. Urgent and loud. He placed his tumbler down and quickly went to open it, surprised to find you waiting on the other side.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, one hand over your round stomach. His eyes dropped down to take you in before he met your gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," you replied with a look on your face that told him you didn't realize he would obviously panic about your wellbeing at this point in your pregnancy. "Sorry, I just - can I come in?"

"Yeah, 'course," he said, stepping aside to open the door wider. You toed off your boots and shrugged off your jacket, allowing him to take it from you and hang it up before you wandered into his living room. Your eyes fell on his abandoned glass and you smiled.

"I miss drinking," you said longingly. He grinned and, leaving the whiskey where it was so as not to tempt you, sat on the couch.

"What're you doin' here so late? Is the baby okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, tearing your eyes away from the glass and sitting down near him on the sofa. "Baby's good. I just was thinking about you and I wanted to see you."

He perked up at that, he couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah?"

You grinned and bit your lip shyly before looking away. "I miss you, I guess."

A smile spread wide across his face. "Aw, how sweet."

You swatted an arm out to smack him on the shoulder and he laughed, his heart finally feeling like it was mending a bit.

"Jerk," you muttered, and he laughed again.

"I missed you, too," he finally admitted, his cheeks rosy from the fire and the whiskey as he gazed at you, the reflection from the flames making your skin glow. Maybe it was that pregnancy glow that everyone used to talk about. Or maybe you always glowed and he just never allowed himself to notice until it was too late.

He watched your throat work, swallowing dryly while your fingers fidgeted in your lap and he realized you were nervous.

"What if I told you I missed you as more than just friends?" you whispered, your eyes pinned to the floor, unwilling or unable to meet his gaze.

His breath caught in his throat. Surely, he must have misheard you. But then you finally turned to look at him, tears welling in your eyes, and his heart lurched in his chest.

"What if I told you I'm in love with you?" he bravely whispered back.

Your eyebrows pinched together and your face crumpled before you reached forward, curling your arms around his neck and pulling him close, your lips pressing together earnestly before opening your mouth and letting his tongue lick behind your teeth.

He wasn't sure how you both made it upstairs and into his bed. He couldn't remember peeling your clothes off, one by one, revealing more and more of your changing body to him for the first time. But he did remember seeing your bare, swollen belly underneath him while his hand slowly slid across your skin in wonder. And then he felt it. A little flutter. A little jolt. And he looked up at you in surprise.

"She's kicking," you explained, and his eyes fell back to your stomach.

"She?"

You nodded, placing your hand over his lovingly. "I think it's a girl."

He smiled as tears began to cloud his vision, then bent forward to press a kiss against your stomach, letting his lips linger so hopefully his unborn daughter could feel him there and feel the love he had for her.

You had to pull him away by his shoulders, the both of you laughing softly, unable to believe how much things had changed in just a year.

Because not only were you a couple months away from finally being a mother, but you also realized you were very, very wrong all those months ago.

The man for you was, in fact, right there all along.

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[softstarlite]

Roommates | 9. hold onto each other

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You build up enough courage to finally talk things out with Joel and tell him how you feel before the wedding is over.

Chapter Warnings: language, food and alcohol consumption, lots of smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), pussy pronouns, fluff, discussions of mental health, shower sex, mirror sex, having sex while on the phone (don't know what else to call it, also don't know if that requires a warning), thigh fucking?, dirty talk, idiots in love

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I will not apologize for what you're about to read. (It's filth. Pure, unadulterated filthy smut).

Series Masterlist

"That is the man you were roommates with?" your mother asked enviously as she gazed at Joel across the dance floor, who was standing with another groomsman while he held up his mom's pink sparkly phone to record her dancing with Tommy.

"Yep," you said longingly, tearing your eyes away from him to look back at your mom. She tilted her head to the side and her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"He looks familiar."

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to scream into the palms of your hands as images of your own mother stumbling across Joel's porn filled your head.

She snapped her fingers with a smile. "Mitch and I saw him at the bar the other night! He must have been helping Tommy, he was carrying boxes of alcohol."

You shook your head. "No, Mom, that couldn't have been him."

"No, I'm certain it was. I remember even telling Mitch at the time they looked alike. And I would never forget those arms. The way they practically burst out of his T-shirt-"

"Mom!" you whined, begging her to stop.

She chuckled and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, please, let me have my fun."

You groaned and drank the rest of your champagne. Well, at least she didn't recognize him from porn.

The song changed to another ballad and you watched as Mrs. Miller kissed Tommy on the cheek before breaking away and motioning towards Joel. A small smile tugged at your lips as he pocketed her phone and took her hand before leading her around the dance floor. His face was filled with such love and adoration that it made your heart melt.

As you continued to watch Joel and his mother move around the dance floor, you felt yourself growing nervous again. Now that the cake was cut and the first dances were done, most of the significant parts of the wedding were over. Which meant soon you would need to muster the courage to talk to Joel.

Fuck, maybe you should have one more drink.

No, you didn't want to be drunk when you told him. He needed to know you meant what you said. You've done enough to him in the past year, jerking him around and unintentionally hurting his feelings. If you had any shot in hell, you had to make sure you were somewhat clearheaded.

Your mother was just finishing up her cake when she looked over your shoulder. Her eyes lit up excitedly and she straightened up in her seat, smoothing down her dress. With a frown, you turned to see what she was looking at then felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Joel approaching.

"Evenin'," he said to your mother, his voice deep and syrupy. "I'm Joel, brother of the groom." He stuck out his hand and your mother giddily handed hers over while giving her name. He brought her knuckles to his lips and she giggled, making you roll your eyes.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she gushed, her cheeks tinting pink already.

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am," he answered, dropping her hand with a smirk. She gave you a look and raised her eyebrows.

"Ma'am, did you hear that?" she loudly whispered to you.

"Yes, I am sitting right here," you said flatly.

Joel cleared his throat and you looked back up at him.

"Was wonderin' if I could have this dance," he said to you, then glanced at your mother. "If you could spare her, that is."

Your mother giggled again and waved him off. "Of course! You two have fun, I was getting ready to go home soon anyway."

You quickly said your goodbyes to your mom before allowing Joel to lead you out onto the dance floor. He took one of your hands and held it out to your side, the other sliding around your waist while you rested your hand on his shoulder with a smile.

"I'm so honored," you told him with a teasing lilt to your voice as he slowly lead you around the dance floor.

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"I haven't seen you dancing with anyone else except your mom."

He smirked and tilted his chin up to look somewhere over the top of your head. "You been watchin' me?"

Your cheeks warmed from embarrassment but you didn't really care. "Maybe."

He hummed, smirk still stretched across his lips as he looked around the banquet room, but he wasn't really looking at anyone or anything in particular.

"You look handsome."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked down at you once again. "Thank you?"

You giggled and felt his fingers grip your waist a little tighter. "Is that a question?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Tryin' to flatter me, what're you up to?"

The butterflies began to stir in your belly once again so you dropped your gaze. "Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

The smile slowly slid from his face when he heard the serious tone to your voice. "Everythin' okay?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine," you quickly assured him. Just then, Michael Bublé's voice faded out and the DJ picked a Black Eyed Peas song that instantly caused the dance floor to break out into cheers, completely ruining the atmosphere from a moment ago. "Nevermind," you said as you attempted to step away, but he tightened his grip. "I'll tell you some other time."

"Tell me now."

You winced when a handful of girls nearby began to drunkenly scream along to the lyrics. Joel looked frustrated when he finally dropped his hand from your waist but kept his other hand firmly wrapped around yours. "Follow me."

He lead you through the crowd and as you passed by your abandoned table, you grabbed your clutch. Shit. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to pour your heart out to him in the middle of his brother's wedding? What if he shot you down? What if he got mad at you for trying to drag him into your messy life once again? What if you were about to ruin the fragile relationship you just rebuilt?

He pulled you into the lobby, which was relatively empty given the time of night, and found a small area with a few couches and chairs and a television airing the local news on mute with the closed captioning on.

"Alright," he urged when you sat down next to him on one of the couches. You could hear the bass thumping from the closed banquet room and people's laughter echoing over the music, but otherwise it was quiet. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, trying to give your nerves a chance to settle, but it was no use.

"So, I told you I've been in therapy," you began, staring down at your lap, pretending to find a loose thread in your dress.

"Mhm."

"Lately, I've been working on my insecurities and self destructive tendencies. Specifically, related to you."

His fingers that were once casually tapping on the back of the sofa suddenly stopped.

"Okay..." he said slowly.

You cleared your throat and kept your eyes pinned to your lap.

"... and your job," you added, biting the inside of your cheek. "I've been working on... learning to be okay with it. Focusing on the source of my insecurities and why I feel the way I feel about it and I think I've made some progress."

"That's... good," he told you, clearly confused. "But why are you tellin' me this?"

You sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. He was staring at you softly with his perfect lips pouting so enticingly, giving you the final bit of courage you needed to say what you wanted to say.

"I'm telling you this because... because I want to be with you, Joel. If you'll give me another chance, I want to do this right." His expression remained unchanged so you barreled ahead. "I don't care about your job. Not anymore. I just want to be with you. You make me happy, you make me laugh, I think about you all the time." You were growing more nervous with every passing second where he didn't say anything, so you continued to fill the silence with your own rambling thoughts. "Any time something good happens, I want to call you. Any time something bad happens, I want to call you. It's always you. It's always been you. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to fix myself, but I couldn't -"

"Stop."

Your words died in your throat at his harsh tone. Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and tried not to cry as you waited for the sting of his rejection, but to your surprise, it never came. Instead, you felt his fingers gently pinch your chin. You opened your eyes to find him leaning forward, his gaze seeming angry despite his soft touch.

"You don't need to fix yourself," he said bitterly. "You're fuckin' perfect."

You exhaled loudly, a dry chuckle slipping past your lips as you wiped away a tear or two. "I'm not."

"You are," he told you firmly before finally closing the distance between you and brushing his lips softly against yours. "You are," he whispered again and again, each sweet kiss becoming more urgent than the last. You grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and held him close, pressing your mouth against his tightly before leaning back and pushing your foreheads together with a smile.

"Is that a yes?" you laughed.

"'Course it is, you kiddin' me?" he said quietly before sliding his hand up to grip the back of your neck, his nose gently nudging yours, the both of you taking a few tender moments to soak everything in with matching smiles. "I should probably tell you somethin', though."

One hand dropped from his collar and you tipped your head back a fraction so you could look him in the eye. "What?"

He grinned and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I quit my job."

Your eyes widened and you leaned all the way back in surprise. "What?!"

"Months ago, actually," he said with a laugh. You smacked him on the shoulder but you weren't mad. In fact, you were smiling so much it almost hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't wanna pressure you. You said you were workin' on yourself and all that."

Your lower lip trembled and you smacked his shoulder again, but with less force. "I can't believe you," you whispered before tugging him forward and sliding your tongue past his lips with a moan. There was something so beautiful to be had in that moment. Each of you had done something monumental to try to make it work between you and it was so moving, so powerful that you found yourself getting carried away, completely forgetting where you were as you climbed into his lap, his hands immediately dropping to squeeze your ass. But who could blame you, when you've waited so long for that moment?

Joel pulled his head back with a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss when he heard a door across the lobby open and close. "Do you... we oughta... they're probably wonderin' where we are." He lifted one arm so he could check the time on his watch, then glanced back up at you. You were staring down at him, breathless and needy, your eyes already drifting back down to his mouth.

You didn't need to say anything.

"Fuck it, c'mon," he said, quickly lifting you off his lap so you could both stand. In your eagerness to race to the elevator, you almost forgot your purse. Doubling back as fast as your heels would carry you, you grabbed it from the couch and hurried back just as the elevator doors opened.

He jabbed the L4 button numerous times until the damn doors slid shut.

"Christ, wanted this for so long," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut when you pushed him up against the side of the elevator. "Wanted you for so long," he corrected himself after a moment. Your mouth found the exposed patch of chest at the top of his shirt and your tongue slipped out between your lips, flicking against his skin as you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere you could find. You made it to the hollow of his throat when the elevator dinged and you tore yourself away to drag him down the hall.

"Which room?"

"Don't care."

You picked yours. Your fingers were shaking as you raked through your small clutch, then tapped the hard plastic against the sensor, getting frustrated when you were going too quick and the door wouldn't open. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his hips against your ass so you could feel his arousal through your clothes.

"Not helping," you muttered before forcing yourself to slow down and finally the door gave way and you stumbled inside.

His mouth was on you in an instant. Eager lips pressed against your own, champagne soaked tongues reunited, tangling together while you recklessly shoved his tuxedo coat over his shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor near the bathroom as you made your way to the bed.

Joel's hands slid up and down the back of your dress, fingers plucking at the fabric, trying to locate the zipper without having to pull away. You tugged one of his hands to your side without looking, blindly leading him to his target. He smiled against your lips and yanked the zipper down so fast, he nearly tore the fabric.

Leaving your dress in a pile at the foot of your bed, you pulled away from the kiss so you could fall back onto the mattress. Your chests were heaving in unison as you both fought for air, staring at one another, anticipation growing thick.

His eyes drifted down your almost naked body while his fingers worked the buttons on his dress shirt, lips parted to suck in more air as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Is this real?" he asked, eyes catching yours once again after he shrugged off his shirt.

"I think so," you replied quietly, sounding just as incredulous. "I hope so."

He loudly unbuckled his belt, then the fly of his pants as you laid before him, sprawled out over the plush comforter like an offering.

"Ain't ever lettin' you go after this," he warned as he stepped out of his pants. "Never again, hear me?"

You nodded. "Please don't."

He cupped his palms around the backs of your knees and tugged, pulling you to the edge of the bed with one rough motion.

"As pretty as these are, they gotta go," he murmured, hooking his fingers around the lace edge of your panties and sliding them down your legs. A little pained sound rumbled in the back of his throat when he spread your knees and saw the evidence of your arousal between your legs. He fell to his knees and rested the side of his face against your thigh as he gazed down at your aching center.

"Missed you," he whispered lovingly into your folds before dragging his tongue, slow and broad, through the entire length of your slit.

"Oh, my god," you whined when his lips puckered around your clit and gently sucked. "Were you talking to me or her?"

You felt his lips twitch against your sensitive skin and released your bundle of nerves with a little moan. "Was talkin' to her but I missed you, too."

Some sharp, sarcastic comment was on the verge of slipping past your lips but quickly got swallowed down and forgotten when he began to lick, his tongue probing into your cunt while his upper lip pressed against your clit. The friction from his beard on the most sensitive part of your body made you see stars. Your back arched and you cried out his name, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued to lick and suck with a deep groan.

"Joel," you whimpered, legs weakly stretching and kicking under his ministrations. He quickly put a stop to that by grabbing both and tossing them over his shoulders then using his hands to grip your thighs, but still you writhed in his hold.

"Y'got know idea what you do to me," he whispered under his breath before diving back in.

"Fuck... I-I can't..." you panted, fists grabbing the comforter, pulling and tugging, desperate to grab onto anything. His fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, holding your hips against his face, fucking you relentlessly with his tongue as if he were afraid he would never get a chance to do it again.

He slid one hand flat over your mound and pressed down on your clit with his thumb. You bucked off the bed, everything feeling too sensitive, too sharp. But still, he pinned you down, his tongue that was once lapping at your pussy suddenly more focused and calculated when his lips puckered together in favor of loudly kissing your sex with a deep groan.

With two quick and firm circles over your clit, you fell apart. He was saying something, you could feel the vibrations of his voice, but you had no idea what he said. Your throat had grown hoarse, fingers grabbing for his hair while your heart pounded in your ears.

"It ain't ever been like this," he said, and finally you were able to understand him. You slowly opened your eyes to find him hovering over you, his beard and mouth shiny with your slick and his eyes so wide and soft it made your chest ache.

"I know," you whispered, running a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed when you pulled him close and pressed your mouth against his. He pushed you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows, never once breaking the deep kiss. It was slower, now. There was no rush, no need to hurry to keep what you had a secret.

"Shit, my condoms are 'cross the hall," he mumbled against your lips. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave you. Not now. Not ever.

"Just make sure you pull out," you told him, apparently also unwilling to let him leave, and reached down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

"Y-yeah, okay... okay," he breathed when he felt you line him up with your entrance.

His brain went numb and his features went slack as he slowly eased inside you. He couldn't take his eyes off your face; the way your eyebrows pinched together and the sound you made when you gasped softly, your body being forced to adjust to his size after months without him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes welling with tears as you gazed up at him.

"I know, I know," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over your nose.

"Joel, I love you," you whimpered in his ear when he finally buried himself fully inside you.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, certain he misunderstood.

"I love you," you repeated, your teeth nipping at his chin as you writhed underneath him, willing him to move. His eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your middle, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I love you, too," he choked out, voice thick with emotion that he tried to stifle with kisses to your throat and jaw. "Love you so fuckin' much. Always did, I think."

He clenched his jaw and flexed his hips, pulling a sweet moan from your lips as you tipped your head back and closed your eyes. He was so slow with it, making sure you felt every inch when he dragged his cock in and out, your arousal painting his inner thighs every time his hips made contact with your skin. You might have felt embarrassed if you both weren't so preoccupied with trading love bites and occasionally whispering you feel so good, I missed you, I love you, I love you, I love you, chests pressed together, desperate to get as close as possible.

You unhooked your ankles from his lower back and slid your legs up his sides so your knees were resting near his ribs. With his tongue still tangled with yours, he blindly reached down to grab one of your thighs and gently pressed forward, pushing your knee towards your chest. Your eyes flew open and you gasped at the intense angle, but still he kept up the same pace. Every thrust was slow and deep, every groan was low and soft, and every whisper sounded like a prayer.

"Just wanna feel you," he murmured against your neck, his beard scraping your skin, making it feel warmer than it already was. "Wanna fuck you like this always. Shit, baby," he moaned when he felt you clench around him. "Shit, that feels good. Such a soft pussy..." he trailed off and latched onto your lips for a fast and messy kiss. "Oh, fuck... best fuckin' pussy I've ever had."

And oh, did you love hearing that. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp with a deep sigh.

"Yeah? You love her, too?"

He grinned. "Y'know I do."

He hitched your other leg over his arm, practically bending you in half while grinding into you, watching as your breath quickened and your tongue shot out to wet your lips. "Joel," you whined, the pressure mounting low in your belly, "I'm close, I'm... fuck, I'm gonna come. Please," you begged, not really sure what you were begging for in the first place. Maybe for him to keep going. Maybe for him to kiss you again. Maybe for him to fill the hole in your heart that's been destroying you for months.

When you came, you squeezed around his cock, his name getting caught in your throat when his mouth crashed over yours.

"So pretty," he mumbled, voice a little strained as he tried to keep it together long enough for you to come down. "Love watchin' you come. Who makes you feel good, baby?"

"You do," you whimpered, weak fingers grabbing at his shoulders.

"'S'right," he said, his breath growing ragged. He could feel his stomach tensing and he knew he only had a few more moments. "Only me. Tell me you're mine," he pleaded, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"I'm yours, Joel," you told him, voice a little clearer but still shaky. "And you're mine," you added softly, corner of your mouth lifting when you heard him groan.

He pulled out and grabbed his cock, giving it only a few quick strokes before he painted your stomach with his release, the both of you watching in a daze until he stopped with a shudder and collapsed onto the bed next to you, chest heaving with an arm draped tiredly over his eyes.

"I'll get somethin'," he told you, gesturing vaguely towards your stomach with his eyes still hidden. "Just... gimme a second."

"Mhmm," you mumbled, catching your breath with your arms stretched above your head. "I need a shower, anyway," you told him, all the hair products and makeup from the past twelve hours beginning to feel like paint.

"Oh?" he questioned, sounding disappointed when he turned his face to you. "Okay, sure."

"Will you stay?" you asked, hating how pathetic you sounded. But he smiled warmly and pinched your chin before planting a soft kiss against your lips.

"'Course I'll stay," he whispered, kissing you slowly once more before releasing you.

Joel watched with a lazy smirk as you stood with a quiet ow under your breath, your body no doubt already sore.

"Gonna have to get that pretty pussy used to me again," he teased, laughing and dodging the pillow you grabbed from the other bed that you chucked in his direction before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

He laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the water turn on and the shower door close. He kept waiting to wake up, kept thinking the past hour was some crazy dream or fantasy, but it was real.

You loved him.

For years, he tried to find someone like you. Someone who would love him for him and not just use him. Sure, in the beginning he didn't mind being used. But the past few years he found to be painfully lonely. Especially once Tommy met Maria, that ache in his chest grew every time he saw them together, or every time he heard Tommy on the phone or talk about her with such fondness in his eyes. Selfishly, he always wondered why not me?

Now he had his answer. He was just waiting for you.

He heard you humming in the shower, your voice echoing off the glass walls and he smiled. He imagined you in there cleaning yourself up, your perfect body all soapy and wet and he felt his cock twitch.

"Shit," he muttered, lifting the thin sheet to see himself begin to swell once again. Would it always be like this? Would he always have an insatiable appetite for you?

A minute later and he was almost fully hard once more. He palmed it over the sheet and he looked longingly at the closed bathroom door. What was taking so long?

Then a smirk spread across his face and he jumped up from the bed, cock bobbing at attention between his legs as he walked to the bathroom and quietly opened the door.

The mirror was fogged up and so were the glass shower walls. He could hardly see you through all the steam, but he heard you. He heard the water cascading off your body and your fingers running through your wet hair.

Carefully, he opened the door and was pleased to find your back was to him as you rinsed out the last of your conditioner. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped and screamed a little before collapsing into a fit of laughter and turning around in his arms. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. All the makeup was down the drain but you looked more radiant than ever.

He leaned forward for a wet kiss, his hands sliding down to cup and squeeze your ass before pulling on your hips, tugging you closer so you could feel how hard he was for you.

"Need you," he murmured, but he meant more than just the obvious. He didn't want to be without you now that he had you, not even for a second.

"Already?" you breathed, but he just nodded, his lips dragging down your neck, your skin smelling like roses and vanilla.

"Too much?" he asked, mouth trailing slowly over your shoulder. Your nipples were pressed against his chest and his cock nearly hurt from how hard he was.

"No," you whispered, letting your eyes slide shut as you curled your arms around his neck. "Never too much."

Without hesitation, he crouched and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you off the ground so he could press your back against the glass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when the tip of his cock nudged at your opening, the width surprising you, even still.

You let out a loud moan when he pressed forward, sinking himself back into your sore, aching heat, right where he belonged. One of his hands supported your ass and the other was flat against the glass next to your head, his fingers leaving wet smudges as he rocked his hips into you, swallowing down every whine and moan that tumbled from your mouth. That perfect fucking mouth he dreamed about for the past year. And now it was all his.

"God, Joel, yes... right there," you cried out, cunt already pulsing and gripping him so tight that he had half a mind not to pull out that time.

"Yeah?" he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he nipped at your chin, watching as your head rolled listlessly against the foggy glass while he drove into you over and over. "There?"

"Yeah," you practically whined, hand shooting up to grab his hair, fingers slipping through his wet curls. "No one's ever... I can't... you're so-" you rambled half formed thoughts as your heart hammered in your chest, your orgasm steadily climbing, unable to tell him what you wanted to tell him.

"No one's what, baby?" he growled, thrusting himself impossibly deeper inside your cunt. "No one's ever fucked you this good? Huh?"

"No," you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip.

"What else? No one's ever made you come this much? Tell me, I wanna hear it," he groaned in your ear, his hot breath melting with the steam from the shower.

You shook your head then nodded, as if you didn't know how to answer. And you couldn't. Not when he was fucking you like it would be the last time.

"No one's ever - oh, fuck," you gasped, swallowing a mouthful of air, "no one's ever m-made me feel so good. I've never w-wanted anyone the way I want you." You squeezed your eyes shut but he quickly bit your jaw, forcing them back open.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You nodded, jaw half open as you did as you were told. His brows were furrowed deep, eyes wild and skin flushed as he pounded into you, forcing you over the edge for the third time in less than two hours.

"I got you," he murmured when your body sagged from the effort. He wrapped both arms around you now and fucked up into you recklessly, chasing his own high as quickly as possible so he could take you back to bed and rest.

Even though the voice inside his head was screaming at him to come inside you, he miraculously pulled out, spilling himself all over the shower wall between your legs.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly, setting you down but still holding onto your shoulders. You nodded and slumped against his chest, legs visibly shaking. He chuckled and reached for the shower knob, turning the water off before walking you towards the door. Swinging it open, he reached out blindly for a towel. Finding one, he wrapped it around your shoulders, swaddling you and keeping you warm while he reached for another.

He messily knotted it around his waist and led you to bed. You didn't even bother to put any pajamas on or remove the towel, you just buried yourself under the covers with a contented sigh.

Joel was about to turn back to the bathroom and clean up a bit before you spoke.

"Come to bed."

His heart clenched in his chest and he smiled as he rounded the bed and slid under the sheets to join you, unable to resist.

Quickly, you scooted over to him, tossing a leg over his stomach and an arm over his chest and buried your face against his neck. He held you close, breathing in deep before you whispered, "I love you, Joel."

"I love you, too," he spoke into your hair, his chest ready to burst with happiness as you both fell into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, you smiled before you even opened your eyes. Joel's natural scent combined with the floral shampoo you used that the hotel had left out filled your nostrils. You breathed in deep and buried your face further into his warm, bare chest. He stretched underneath you, muscles pulling under his tanned skin, his fingers digging into your shoulders as he flexed.

"Morning," you whispered groggily, eyes still closed. You felt his arms wrap around you as he rolled onto his side, tugging you against him.

"Mornin'."

It can always be like this now, you thought. Waking up next to each other whenever you wanted. No sneaking around, no more hiding how you felt. It was perfect.

Until Joel's phone rang shrilly on his nightstand. He groaned and, keeping one arm securely around you, reached behind him to grab it.

"Hello?" he answered, voice thick and rough with sleep. Your body responded instantly, your core softening at his voice like it was a command, but what came with it was also a tight hint of soreness from the night before.

You could hear Tommy's voice through the phone, but you couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Nah, I'm hungover as shit, gonna order somethin'," Joel said.

You thought he had been joking the night before about getting your body used to him again, but you began to realize he was probably being serious the more you squirmed around and felt the stiffness in your muscles and hips.

"Yeah, alright. If I don't see ya later, I'll catch ya at the bar tomorrow."

He tapped his screen and tossed his phone haphazardly behind him with a smirk. "C'mere," he murmured, pressing his swollen lips against yours, his hand drifting to cup your face.

Christ, you were sore but you still wanted him so badly.

You flicked your tongue against the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss the second he dropped his jaw. Right when you were about to curl your leg around his hip and roll over to straddle him, your own phone began to vibrate loudly against your nightstand.

You both froze, lips still seared together, then slowly opened your eyes.

"Hold on," you grumbled, rolling over so your back was to Joel, then picked up your phone.

"It's Maria."

"Answer it," he said, inching closer. He pulled you back against his chest, cock hard and pressing between your bodies as you begrudgingly answered the phone.

"Hey! Have a fun night?" you asked cheerily. Your eyes snapped up to see movement in the full length mirror across from the bed. It was narrow, but you could see from your stomach down. Joel was pushing the sheets off himself and you watched as his hand drifted in front of you, tugging the sheet away from your chest, exposing yourself to the cool air. When he palmed one of your breasts from behind, you had to bite back a moan so Maria wouldn't hear.

"So much fun! I hardly got any sleep," she was saying, but you could barely hear her when his fingers slid down to pinch your nipple. You turned your face upwards to gasp softly, hoping it didn't get picked up by the receiver.

"Yeah?" you asked, hoping that would be enough to encourage her, and it was.

Maria kept babbling about things that happened the night before, things you missed after you and Joel snuck away. She was telling you something about a groomsman who attempted to do a split in the middle of the dance floor and ended up ripping his pants when you saw Joel lift your leg in the mirror, hooking it around his inner elbow and spreading your hips wide. Embarrassment flushed your face when you saw your pussy in the mirror, already glistening with arousal.

Then his cock slipped between your legs, nudging at your folds, his smooth tip coating itself in your slick before he pushed forward, parting your swollen cunt. The pain was brief, yet intense, but you were entirely distracted with the way it looked in the mirror. How fucking big he was and how you opened up and stretched so beautifully for him.

"Did the phone cut out?"

"Huh?" you squeaked, eyes transfixed on your reflection, hips rocking steadily in rhythm with his. You felt him chuckle behind you, his arm pulling your leg up even more so you could see everything.

"I asked if you wanted to join us for breakfast? The rest of the bridal party is meeting at the restaurant downstairs in twenty minutes."

Fuck, he felt so good. Combined with the visual, it was almost too much.

"Uh, I'm gonna pass. I already ate, I'm pretty full," you told her, eyes briefly fluttering shut when he began to move faster, his skin lightly slapping against your ass. You thought you heard him mumble yeah, you are, and you had to bite down hard on your lower lip.

"Well, okay. If you change your mind, we'll be down there at ten."

"Okay, thanks! I better go, my mom's beeping in. I'll call you later," you said hurriedly, hoping you weren't being too rude but if you stayed on the phone with her for one more minute, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide what you were really doing.

Mercifully, she hung up and you tossed your phone onto the floor, uncaring where it ended up, and reached behind you to curl your fingers around the back of Joel's head. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was messy and heated, and the way you had to twist your neck was awkward, but it didn't matter.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Look how good you take me," he groaned in your ear when he spotted you glancing towards the mirror again. "So pretty, ain't it?"

"Mhmm," you whined, still entranced by the way his thick cock split you open and you knew for sure in that moment no one else would ever come close to Joel. You were stupid to try to fight it.

Your hand dropped to clutch your pillow, your stomach drawing tighter the faster he snapped his hips, every devastating thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you whimpered, and he readjusted his grip on your leg, prying you open as wide as you would go.

You felt his teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and quick as his exhale puffed against your skin.

"That's right. Come all over my cock, baby. Give it t'me," he growled, hips slamming into you from behind so forcefully it almost pushed you off the bed, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper inside you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out when you came, your walls pulsing around his length, your body trying to suck him in and keep him there and fuck if he didn't want that, too.

At the last second he pulled out, watching in a daze as he dropped your leg, his cock now sandwiched between your thighs. With a deep groan, he watched in the mirror as he shot thick, white ropes of his seed all over your legs and the hotel sheets.

"I love you," he gasped, his sweaty forehead pressed against your upper back as he dragged in mouthfuls of air, waiting for his pulse to settle. "'M sorry, can't stop sayin' it."

You reached behind you and found his hand. Lacing your fingers together, you wrapped his arm around your middle, mumbling I love you, too, never tiring of it.

You waited a respectable amount of time for the bridal party to eat and leave the restaurant before venturing downstairs together, hand in hand. You contemplated just ordering room service but you weren't entirely certain you could keep your hands off each other long enough to eat, so forcing yourselves to leave the room felt like the best option.

The hostess led you to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, the room still buzzing with activity even though it was late in the morning. Your fingers linked together across the table as you sipped your coffees, exchanging little smirks whenever your eyes met.

"Can I ask you a question?" Joel asked, and you almost found yourself laughing at how serious he suddenly looked.

"Of course."

He glanced around the dining room quickly before leaning across the table. "You ain't on birth control anymore?"

You knocked the heel of your hand against your forehead. "I'm sorry, I should've told - no, I'm not. I took myself off the pill because I wasn't... y'know," you trailed off, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Joel couldn't stop his smirk when he put it together so he pursed his lips and tilted his face toward the table, trying to hide it before saying, "so you're tellin' me you didn't have sex with anyone else since me?"

"Don't act so proud," you teased with a grin.

"I ain't," he said defensively, then thought about it for a moment before laughing. "Okay, maybe I am."

You giggled as you watched him take a sip of coffee, daydreaming about your future together and all the endless breakfasts you'll share. You imagined getting up early for work and showering, then coming into the kitchen to find Joel in just his pajama bottoms pouring you both coffees with unkept hair, asking if you saved him enough hot water because he still had to get ready for work.

Work. Suddenly, your smile fell when you remembered something. "Wait, you said you quit your job?" you asked, and he nodded, his thumb rubbing against the inside of your wrist. "So what do you do now?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "You ain't gonna believe it."

"Try me," you teased, knees bumping together under the table. You were close but still felt so far apart.

"I bought the bar," he said, sounding almost sheepish. Your eyes widened in surprise.

"Our bar? Tommy's bar?" you questioned, and he nodded. "H-how?"

He chuckled again and raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand. "What'dya mean how? With money."

"Yeah, I figured that," you said with a roll of your eyes, "but you just bought a house, too. How can you afford all that?"

He opened his mouth to reply when the server came to drop off your food. You finally unlinked your hands so you could pick up your silverware, and only once your waitress left did he respond to your question.

"Porn paid good," he said with a shrug. "I did it for a long time and I lived with my brother payin' next to nothin' in rent and utilities."

"Wow," you breathed in awe before shoveling some eggs in your mouth.

He watched you eat quietly for a few minutes before clearing his throat, drawing your attention from your breakfast.

"Why didn't you just ask me to quit? I woulda done it."

You paused your chewing and set your fork down on your plate.

"Because," you began, swallowing your food. "I couldn't ask you to do that for me. It wouldn't feel right and I was afraid if I did, you would grow to resent me."

His brows furrowed and he reached a hand across the table for you. "I woulda never resented you."

"You don't know that," you told him.

"I wasn't happy doin' it. Not like I used to be, anyway," he said. "Kept me from havin' certain things in my life. Could never make a relationship work and as I got older, it was somethin' I really wanted. I just didn't know how to get out. I mean, who can put somethin' like that on a resume?" he laughed softly. "Then Tommy mentioned his boss was lookin' to retire and I thought, hell... won't have to put shit on a resume if I'm my own boss."

You nodded and squeezed his hand, feeling guilty for never realizing he had his own internal struggles going on. Then you swallowed nervously before asking your next question, your curiosity unable to be ignored.

"Well, what about Sadie?" you asked, "she seemed really into you and she obviously wouldn't have had a problem with your career."

He gave you a small smile, eyes flashing with guilt when he thought back to his brief date with Sadie. The night he invited her over for board games and he ended up going down on you in the bathroom while she was left to talk to strangers in the living room.

"She was nice but there wasn't anythin' there. Not really. I was jealous of Sam and knew she liked me... I shouldn't've asked her over that night. It was wrong," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "She never stood a chance. She wasn't you, baby," he said softly.

You felt your chest clench from the tortured look in his eye, and for the millionth time you mentally berated yourself for spending so much time avoiding your feelings for him. Choosing not to deny yourself any longer, you stood up from your chair and closed the short distance between you. Cupping his face with both your hands, you leaned down and kissed him, trying your very best to put every ounce of love you had into it. It must have worked because you could feel his lips curving into a smile, then yours did the same.

It didn't matter how long it took, what mattered was what you had now.

Unfortunately, your bliss was short lived when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek excitedly behind you. You tore yourself away to swivel around in surprise, only to find Tommy and Maria standing a few tables away with their jaws hung open in shock, very clearly having witnessed your kiss.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, tugging on Tommy's arm to drag him over to your table. "I knew something was up when neither of you wanted to join us for food!"

Cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment, you were about to return to your chair but Joel's arm wrapped around you, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. "No more hidin', yeah?" he murmured in your ear. You grinned and gave him one more quick peck.

"Yeah," you agreed right before they approached. "No more hiding."

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[softstarlite]

Roommates | 8. forever

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy and Maria get married.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, idiots in love, alcohol and food consumption, sexual tension, flirting, a wedding!

WC: 7.6K

Series Masterlist

"Oh, goddamnit," you muttered under your breath, pausing in your rush across the hot parking lot to tug your dress out from underneath your heel. You crouched down for a moment to examine the dress to make sure it wasn't damaged before you stood back up, this time bunching all the extra material in your fist before trotting as quickly as you could to the entrance of the restaurant.

"Slow down, you ain't missin' anythin', they haven't even sat down yet," Joel said, startling you from his post on a bench next to an ashtray.

"Oh, hey," you said breathlessly, then looked him up and down. "Were you smoking?"

He shook his head and stood up, dusting off his grey dress pants in the process. "Just gettin' some air. Tryin' to cut back."

"Good for you," you said, then nodded towards the door. "Ready? I need to get out of this heat."

"After you."

You thought for sure you would be in for Maria's wrath when you hit traffic and ended up being almost fifteen minutes late for the rehearsal dinner, but mercifully, Joel was right. The group was in the reserved banquet room but hardly anyone had sat down yet. Instead, people were mingling and laughing in small groups as the waitstaff filled up waters and placed open bottles of wine across the tables.

As you scanned around and looked for a seat, your eyes landed on someone familiar and a wide smile stretched across your face.

"Mrs. Miller!"

Joel and Tommy's mother beamed when she heard your voice and quickly abandoned the people she was talking to in favor of pulling you into a hug.

"Oh, honey, how are you?"

"Good! Late, but good," you laughed when she released you from her death grip. She kept her hands firmly planted on your shoulders and gave you a once over.

"Love that dress, my goodness. Doesn't she look beautiful in this dress, Joel?" she asked mischievously. You felt your cheeks warm and you looked down at the floor while Joel just rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Mama," he replied flatly.

"You'll sit with us, right, dear?" she asked.

"Of course," you said with a nod.

"Good, I want you to meet the man I've been seeing," she replied before wrapping her thin fingers around your arm to lead you to her table, which, of course, was shared with Tommy and Maria.

James seemed nice and he got along well with both Joel and Tommy, from what you could tell. Before he retired, he worked in construction, just like their own father before he passed away, and he seemed absolutely smitten with their mom. His arm was around the back of her chair or holding her hand the entire dinner and you could tell Mrs. Miller was adoring every second of it.

"Are you still seeing that lawyer, dear?" she asked right when dessert was placed in front of you. You felt your chest tighten as you stared down at your tiramisu and you focused on the skills you learned in therapy whenever you felt this type of feeling crop up. Take a few deep breaths, collect the data, put things in perspective. Just as you were about to answer, you felt Joel's hand on your knee and he cleared his throat.

"No, Mama. Didn't work out."

He must have given her a look when your gaze was still fixed on your plate because there was an awkward silence before she spoke again.

"No matter. Plenty of fish in the sea. Maybe you'll meet someone tomorrow at the wedding."

You forced yourself to meet her eye and smiled. "Yeah, maybe," you replied weakly. Joel's fingers tensed around your knee for half a second before he slowly pulled his hand away to pick up his fork. When she began to talk softly to James, you took the opportunity to shoot Joel a grateful smile, which he returned with a wink.

"Thank you," you whispered. "I could have handled it but... thank you."

"Welcome," he replied just as quietly. "And I know you coulda, but you don't gotta do everythin' by yourself."

Joel began to eat his dessert while you sat there, immobilized. For some reason, hearing him say those words knocked you on your ass for a moment. You were always the type to take on too much and rarely ask for help, another trait that contributed to your anxiety. The only thing that pulled you out of it was Tommy's voice aimed in your general direction. He was giving instructions to the wedding venue from the restaurant so you all knew where to go after dinner to do one quick walkthrough before the big day, so you nodded along and finally picked up your own fork.

"You wanna follow my truck?" Joel asked once dinner disbanded and everyone slowly filtered into the parking lot. You shook your head and pulled your keys out of your purse.

"No, I think I know where it is. It's not far from the hotel."

He nodded and glanced over his shoulder, checking on his mother. "You get settled in okay?"

You gave him a curious look. "In the hotel? Yeah."

The wedding wasn't too far away from home but most of the wedding party elected to stay in the hotel where the reception was being held so they wouldn't have to worry about getting a ride after drinking.

He nodded again and swiped his palm over his mouth. "Which room?"

You laughed and playfully shoved his shoulder, making him grin and stumble a bit over the asphalt. "What?" he asked innocently, but he didn't sell it. You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop smiling as you unlocked your car and opened your door, tossing your purse onto the passenger seat. As you were about to bunch up your dress and get into the car, Joel cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow, indicating he was still waiting for an answer.

"409," you said with a sigh. His tongue clicked against his teeth and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"418. Right across the hall."

"What a coincidence." Propping one arm on your hip and the other on the roof of your car, you tapped your fingers on the hard plastic, waiting for him to say something else. His eyes drifted up and down your body before meeting your gaze once again, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. People streamed past you to their cars, heels clicking on the blacktop and soft chuckles floating in the air, but you kept your eyes pinned on each other, silently daring the other to say something more.

Against all odds, or maybe it was always inevitable, your relationship managed to mostly repair itself over the past few weeks. It was nice to have Joel back in your life again in any capacity he was willing to offer, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore your feelings for him. The morning you woke up on Tommy and Maria's couch with Joel's arms wrapped around you, holding you against his broad chest with his face buried in your hair felt like a literal wake up call. As you laid there listening to his deep, steady breaths, you tried to think back to a time when you fell asleep in his arms without sex preceding it, but you came up empty.

It felt really fucking nice, so you had closed your eyes and tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. You felt like yourself again. You spent months in therapy wondering where that feeling went when all along the answer was right there.

"See you at the country club," he finally said before tearing himself away and forcing his feet to move in the direction of his truck.

"Yep," you said softly, watching him longingly as he made his way through the cars until he disappeared from view. You took a deep breath and looked around the parking lot when your gaze unexpectedly met the deep brown eyes of Mrs. Miller, watching you from the passenger seat of James's SUV.

You felt something happen in that moment. Something unspoken passed between you through the glass and you had never felt more seen. Woman to woman, she held your gaze and you swallowed the lump in your throat, knowing your expression was betraying you by that point, but what could you do?

James pulled out of the parking spot and you blinked, snapping yourself out of your stupor. When the car passed, you could see the knowing look in her eye, one that told you you weren't fooling anyone, and then they were gone.

The event coordinator, Michelle, was a tiny little thing who also happened to be very bossy. She probably did at least one wedding a weekend the entire summer for god knows how many years, so she knew her shit, but considering the entire wedding party had just come from dinner with copious amounts of alcohol, her patience was wearing thin. She was barking orders at the first bridesmaid and groomsman at the front of the line while the four of you stood in the back snickering to yourselves.

"Goddamn, she ain't messin' around," Tommy said quietly with a grin.

"A woman after Maria's heart," you replied over your shoulder.

"I've never felt more calm in my life," Maria chuckled softly. "There's no way this isn't going off without a hitch."

On the actual day, it would just be you and Joel at the end of the line, but Tommy and Maria wanted to observe during the rehearsal.

Michelle was making her way down the rows of bridesmaids and groomsmen, instructing each set how to stand, where their hands should be, and what their cue was to start walking.

"Slow!" she barked after a pair began walking. You saw the bridesmaid's shoulders flinch and you had to hide your grin by biting your lip and looking down at your feet.

When she got to you and Joel, you straightened up. Suddenly it felt like you were back in high school and the vice principal was about to chew you out for skipping class.

"Closer together, please," she told you, waving her perfectly manicured, blood red fingertips at the two of you. Immediately, you stepped to the side and apparently so did Joel because you bumped into each other.

"Okay, not that close," she scolded. You had to hold yourself back from kicking a foot at Maria when you heard her snickering.

Michelle took you by the shoulders and placed you exactly where she wanted, then did the same to Joel, leaving just a few inches between you. You could feel his fingers impatiently twitching at his side and you got the feeling Michelle made him nervous, too.

"Okay, crook your elbow, like this," she told him, yanking his arm up and bending it before she flattened his palm against his stomach. "Great. Don't move. Maid of honor, loop your arm through, place your fingers here, hold your bouquet at your bellybutton. Both of you, straighten your spines and begin a slow walk once they make it to the first set of chairs. Any questions?"

You both quickly shook your heads and you looped your arm through Joel's, just as she instructed, and pretended to hold a bouquet at your waist with your other hand.

When you saw your cue, you both began to walk, praying you were going slowly enough. You heard her voice begin talking to Tommy and Maria, asking if they had any questions or if anything was missed, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuck, she's scary."

You giggled and glanced up at him. He was staring straight ahead but he had a little amused smirk tugging across his face and you could see that damn dimple creasing his cheek. You tried not to think about how close you were to him, how long it had been since that night on the couch, or how comfortable it felt to touch him again, and instead focused on where you were supposed to stand once you got to the altar.

Joel dropped his arm and you went your separate ways, taking your places at the front of the bridal party, and waited for the next instructions. Tommy and Maria came down the aisle talking with Michelle and motioning towards the chairs while you all waited. You let your gaze drift over to the men and you caught Joel already looking your way. You gave him a little smile and you watched him swallow before taking a deep breath, dragging his eyes away from you.

Michelle's commanding voice cut through the air and you snapped your head back in her direction. She was explaining the bullet points of the ceremony to everybody while she pushed Tommy and Maria up on the altar between you and Joel.

"Next, the officiant will say you may kiss the bride, you two will kiss-"

Tommy took that moment to wrap his arm around Maria's waist and bend her backwards before planting a wet, sloppy kiss on her lips, causing the entire wedding party to break into fits of whooping and laughter. Michelle clapped her hands sharply and the noise instantly ceased. Tommy picked Maria back up, who was pressing her palms against her cheeks with a huge smile, and he shrugged.

"Sorry, thought we were rehearsin'."

She cleared her throat and raised a thin eyebrow at him before she continued, explaining the music would start and Tommy was to lead Maria down the aisle, which he did without goofing around.

"You two," she said, motioning towards you and Joel. You both stepped forward and stood where Tommy and Maria were just standing. "Same as before, hold onto his arm, keep your bouquet at your bellybutton, and don't begin walking until the bride and groom walk down the entire aisle, got it?"

You both nodded stiffly and, once Tommy and Maria reached the end, you started to walk. Michelle began to instruct the next couple and Joel picked up the pace a little once he knew she wasn't looking.

"You're gonna get us in trouble," you teased.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You gasped and gave him a little hip check and then you heard Michelle calling after you to stop fooling around.

Joel chuckled as you felt your face flush with an embarrassing smile. A few months prior, a comment like that might have sent you spiraling into a pit of self despair just for simply being reminded of the camping trip, but that day you managed to let it roll off your shoulders.

You joined Tommy and Maria and watched as the rest of the bridal party practiced leaving the altar. Joel casually stretched his arm behind you, leaning on a railing so he could say something to Tommy behind you and Maria, but when they finished up and Tommy began talking with his groomsmen, Joel kept his arm on the railing. The fabric from his button down was brushing ever so slightly against the skin of your back, exposed by your dress. Your jaw was tight from the effort it took to not react when his thumb skimmed over your spine, sending tingles across your skin.

"Did I tell you this dress looks nice on you?"

His voice was warm and deep against your ear and it took everything you had not to lean back into his shoulder, it was so hypnotizing.

"Your mom kind of did that for you," you reminded him quietly, keeping your eyes on the rest of the wedding party as they began to cluster around Tommy and Maria, laughing at some story Tommy was telling them about his tux fitting.

"Well, it does. This's your color," he said lowly and you could practically feel his eyes dragging over your soft curves being hugged by the delicate material.

"Thank you," you replied a little breathier than you would have liked. You tilted your chin to risk a glance at him, finding yourself immediately getting lost in his eyes. You searched his face, trying to read him, trying to figure out what he was thinking but you kept getting hung up on all the little details about him that you loved. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the patchiness in his beard, the little scar across the bridge of his nose.

Fuck, he was perfect. How did you ever let yourself take it for granted?

"What're you thinkin' 'bout?" he asked softly. Apparently he had been doing the same thing to you: trying to read your expression, see inside your head.

You swallowed and gave your head a little shake.

"How fucking stupid I was."

His eyebrows twitched up in surprise, his lips parted and you were certain he was about to say or ask something else when Tommy stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled so loud, the whole wedding party groaned and covered their ears.

"C'mon, let's all have one more drink back in our room, place is fuckin' huge," he announced, causing a ripple of laughter amongst the small group.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Maria and another bridesmaid hooked their arms through yours, pulling you away from Joel and through the venue towards the parking lot, laughing and babbling suggestions for their hair the following day. You glanced once over your shoulder and caught his eye, clocking the tortured look he gave you. Even from a distance you could see the longing, the curiosity to learn what you meant, and the absolute frustration at having the opportunity ripped away.

Joel tapped lightly on your door the next morning but figured out pretty quickly he was too late. You had already left with the other bridesmaids and Maria to get ready at the country club, leaving Tommy and the groomsmen to get ready in the honeymoon suite at the hotel.

He tried to get you alone for just five fucking minutes the night before but the group was too small and it was impossible to tear you away without being obvious. He could tell you wanted to talk, too. He saw it in the way he caught your eye more than once in that measly little hour spent in Tommy's hotel room. Then he got caught in a painful conversation with another groomsman about golf and suddenly, you were nowhere to be found.

He excused himself and hurried back to his room, hoping to catch up with you, but it was no use. He hovered around your door, fingers carding anxiously through his hair, wondering if he should knock, debating over and over in his mind whether or not invading your space would scare you off until he heard an elevator chime and the doors slide open and he slipped into his room in a panic.

He should have just fucking knocked.

The next time he would see you would be at the ceremony. He wouldn't be able to talk to you til the reception, well after pictures and dinner and speeches were done.

It was going to be a very long day.

You up? We got breakfast here, get your ass going

Joel rolled his eyes as he continued to gather his things after his shower, wishing more than anything that you had just texted him instead of Tommy.

Be there in 10

He draped his tux over his shoulder, two fingers hooked through the hanger, and carried a small bag of toiletries in his other hand as he shuffled out the door, stealing one last glance at your room as he went.

He rode the elevator up to the top floor and stepped out, already hearing the men laughing and glasses clinking with the steady thumping of a deep bass line through the walls. Knowing he would have to be loud for them to hear, he made a fist and pounded on the wood, rattling the door in its frame. It swung open and Nick, the groomsman who monopolized his time last night talking about fucking golf, stood on the other side.

"Joel, mornin'. Come on in, got some catchin' up to do. We're already two drinks deep." Nick stepped aside with a friendly smile and allowed Joel to enter.

"Two drinks? Shit, might wanna slow down, gonna be a long fuckin' day at that rate."

Nick laughed and let the heavy door close, then patted him on the shoulder as he headed over to the little kitchen area. "We all put our shit in the spare room. Go ahead and I'll get you somethin' to drink. Got some food here, too."

"Alright," Joel replied, his eyes drifting around the living room as he walked towards the bedrooms. Tommy caught his eye and raised both arms in the air.

"I'm gettin' married!" he shouted excitedly. Joel grinned and kept walking.

He would have to be patient. As much as he couldn't get you off his mind, he had to be present for his brother. This was going to be one of the happiest days of his life and Joel would be damned if he messed that up for him.

Nick slid a glass of champagne in Joel's hand after he emerged from the spare room and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Pacin' ourselves," Nick explained with a shrug.

Joel nodded and took a sip, the flute looking comically small in his grip, before setting it down and forcing himself to join in the festivities. And he was doing a pretty good job at pushing you from his mind for once until a few hours later. All the men had gotten dressed and a hairdresser Maria hired was going around fixing loose pieces of hair on everyone when Tommy's phone pinged. He picked it up and a huge smile spread across his face.

"It's Maria."

He turned the screen around to show a picture she took. It was of the room where the girls were getting ready, a candid shot of bridesmaids in the background getting their makeup done or sipping on champagne. The main focus of the picture was Maria's left hand extended in front of her, her engagement ring sparkling in the light, but Joel hardly noticed the diamond when you were in the corner of the shot talking to another bridesmaid with a dazzling smile that always made him weak in the knees. You looked so fucking beautiful and you didn't even have your makeup done yet.

He wasn't the only one who noticed you, unfortunately.

"Hey, what's the deal with Maria's maid of honor?" Nick asked Tommy. "She's pretty and seems like fun."

If Joel had even a moment to think, he might have caught the way Tommy immediately looked in his direction, conflicted and unsure what to say. But it didn't matter because Joel set Nick straight instead.

"She's unavailable."

Nick swiveled to look at Joel. "Oh, damn. Figured as much."

Joel nodded and cleared his throat, trying to avoid the very obvious look his brother was giving him, and took a long sip of whiskey.

Once Nick wandered away, Tommy instantly sidled up to Joel and he knew he was in for it.

"Unavailable?" he repeated under his breath. "Got somethin' you wanna share?"

Joel shrugged, trying to look casual but he knew Tommy saw right through him. "It's the truth. She ain't interested in seein' anyone."

"Hm," Tommy said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, loving the way his brother was squirming under his questioning. "How'd you find that out?"

"She told me."

"Told you."

"Yep."

"And under what circumstances did she... tell you?"

Joel frowned and finally dragged his gaze to meet Tommy's. "We're just friends now."

"Didn't exactly answer my question."

Joel scoffed. "Don't you got shit to worry 'bout, like vows or somethin'?"

Tommy shook his head. "Nah, got that all locked down. Would much rather hear 'bout your friend."

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. "Ain't nothin' to tell, I promise. Nothin's goin' on."

"Well, weddings are romantic. Drinkin'... dancin'... beautiful venue... dim lights. Might stir up some old feelin's."

Joel nodded and looked at his watch with a sigh. "Limo'll be here soon."

Tommy bit his cheek, wishing Joel would open up a bit more, but decided not to push it.

"Oughta wrangle everyone up. Almost show time."

"They're here!" a bridesmaid squealed when she saw the limo pull up to the front doors and the men slowly piling out, one by one.

"Well, guess he didn't get cold feet," Maria joked next to you as she fumbled with her earrings, but judging by the way her fingers shook, she was nervous.

You stood up to fuss with her hair, making sure the flowers that were carefully weaved in were still firmly in place.

"You look absolutely stunning," you told her warmly with a smile through the mirror. She took a deep breath and finally dropped her hands in her lap.

"Thank you. For everything. I know you got your own shit going on -"

"Nuh-uh, none of that. Today's not about me. It's about you and Tommy and I'm delighted you chose me to stand next to you today."

She smiled and reached behind her to squeeze your hand, which was curled around her shoulder. Tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded. Just one quick, definitive nod signaling the topic was closed, then stood up and brushed her hands over her dress.

"Well, let's go do this," she said, her voice wavering just a bit. The rest of the girls heard and cheered excitedly before scurrying around to check final touches on their makeup before filing out the door, where Michelle stood waiting.

"Ladies, the groomsmen just got in position and the groom is heading to the altar now. Maria, your father is waiting for you in the office. We'll hide you in there in case there's any late arrivals that might sneak a peek."

Once you all filed down to the foyer, you hung back to give Maria one last hug before she was whisked away into a small office where her father stood waiting with misty eyes.

When the door closed behind her, you gripped your pink and purple bouquet in one hand and gathered up the skirt of your peachy dress in the other and lightly jogged to catch up with the rest of the bridal party. When you turned the corner, everyone was finding their partner and whispering excitedly amongst themselves while Michelle walked around, making small adjustments to posture and checking everyone's teeth.

Joel turned around when he heard your heels clicking on the tile floor and couldn't stop his smile from spreading when he laid eyes on you.

"Sorry, just wanted to give her a quick hug," you said to him quietly as you took your place by his side. You were busy fixing your dress and batting pieces of hair out of your face so you didn't notice the way he was gazing down at you, temporarily spellbound.

"No problem," he finally managed to say, then caught Michelle making her way towards him so he quickly jut out his elbow for you to loop your hand through. After Michelle adjusted the placement of your bouquet and moved on, you finally glanced over, taking him in for the first time. He looked so fucking good, it was criminal. All the groomsmen were wearing the same tux, and all of them hand white button downs open at the collar with no tie, but Joel looked the best, by far.

Your mouth opened to tell him so, but at the last second you chickened out.

"Did you guys have a good morning?" you asked instead.

His eyes roamed leisurely over your face and the longer he took to answer, the faster your heart raced under his scrutiny.

"Yeah, it was alright," he finally said. Somewhere in the back of your mind you heard music begin to play and the first pair of the bridal party began to walk. "Wanted to catch you before you left this mornin' but you must've got an early start."

"Oh?"

He nodded slowly, eyes still trailing over you, admiring how beautiful you looked. He knew he was being obvious but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Did you need something?" you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat. You knew you should have been paying attention, that you would miss your cue if you didn't, but you couldn't look away from his heated gaze.

"No, just..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, eyes momentarily fluttering closed before he reopened them. "You look really pretty."

Blood rushed to your cheeks and you smiled.

"T-thank you, you-"

"Best man, maid of honor, let's go!" Michelle whispered angrily, snapping you both out of your daze. Forcing a smile on your faces, you waited for your cue and began to walk up the aisle.

Aside from Maria, you two were the last to enter. The altar looked stunning. Not a single flower was out of place. The white rose petals the flower girl had scattered were evenly distributed along the deep red carpet that was laid over the grass to mark your way. You passed by rows and rows of friends and family, their faces lit up with excitement while the photographers bounced around in your peripheral vision, snapping pictures as you went.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Joel dropped your arm and you stepped apart, each taking your rightful place, just as you practiced.

The music changed and the doors opened, finally revealing Maria and her father. You glanced over at Tommy so you could see his reaction but your gaze locked with Joel, instead. His face softened and he shot you a secretive wink before dragging his attention to the bride.

The ceremony was beautiful. The sun was shining but it wasn't too hot. Both of them remembered the vows they wrote, bringing out the occasional laugh or tear from the guests. It made your heart swell to see your best friend so unbelievably happy. And when Tommy dipped Maria backwards for a dramatic first kiss, even Michelle cracked a smile from her place in the back.

After the ceremony, the wedding party was whisked away to take pictures while the guests enjoyed a cocktail hour back at the hotel ballroom. If you weren't in the pictures, you spent most of your time with the rest of the bridesmaids and occasionally stealing glances in Joel's direction when he wasn't looking. Shit, you hadn't even drank anything since you had a mimosa earlier that morning and you still couldn't keep your mind off him.

It didn't help matters when, at one point, the photographer asked for a picture of just you and Joel. Under the warmth from the sun, he had began to sweat a little. You could see it from the way the exposed patch of chest glistened and when you got closer to pose for the picture, his natural scent mixed with the hotel soap he must have used that morning filled your nostrils, making it difficult to focus.

"You got your speech all ready?" he asked once the photographer moved on.

"I think so. You?"

He nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

"We should probably do a couple shots first, loosen up," you joked, nervously twisting your hands together in front of you.

His face lit up and he unbuttoned his jacket. "Here," he said, handing you a small flask with his name engraved on it. "Gift from Tommy."

"Nice. All I got was this necklace," you said sarcastically with a laugh and a point to your neck before unscrewing the flask and taking a sip. The whiskey burned on the way down and you felt the warmth bloom in your stomach, your muscles instantly relaxing.

"Thank you," you told him, handing him the flask. His fingers brushed against yours briefly, sending sparks down your spine, and you quickly tugged your hand back, averting your gaze. "Oh, looks like your mom's up next. Might wanna head over."

He sighed and readjusted his jacket after pocketing the flask. "Duty calls, I reckon."

You nodded and pursed your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. Why were you acting so weird? It was just Joel. But as you watched him stroll across the perfectly manicured lawn, you knew why.

After dinner and all the festivities were over, you were going to find the courage to finally tell him how you felt.

And you couldn't be more nervous.

It felt like dinner took forever. Michelle drilled into your head that your speeches would come after dinner and before the cake cutting, so naturally the entire time you were eating, you were a nervous wreck. Fortunately you were too nervous to even drink anything else past the small sip you had from Joel's flask, your stomach twisting in knots the longer it took for each table to get served. Tommy and Maria disappeared after they ate to greet each table and be back in their seats by the time dinner was finished, so you sat picking at your food with your heart hammering in your chest, scrolling the notes app on your phone, reviewing your speech.

"Nervous?"

You jumped at the sound of Joel's voice, who had somehow slid over to take Maria's chair without you noticing.

"That obvious?"

He shrugged and leaned back, surveying the ballroom.

"Your foot's tappin' so fast it's shakin' the damn table."

You giggled and dropped your face into your hands with a groan. He chuckled and took a sip from his glass of champagne, then paused when his eyes landed on an older woman at a nearby table looking in your direction.

"Who's that sittin' next to Maria's folks?"

You popped your head up and looked, then your face broke out with a wide grin. "That's my mom," you told him without taking your eyes off her, giving her a little wave. Joel looked back and forth between the two of you.

"You look alike, shoulda guessed."

"You think?" you asked, then your smile slipped when your mom pointed in Joel's direction and gave you a face before fanning herself with her open hand. You clenched your teeth and slashed your fingers in front of your throat, trying to tell her to knock it off, but she just laughed.

"Pretend you didn't see that."

"See what?" he replied innocently before giving your mom a charming smile and wave.

"Joel!" you exclaimed, smacking him in the leg. "Stop flirting with my mother!"

He threw his head back and laughed at that, his shoulders bobbing up and down and his hand clutching his stomach and just seeing him so happy and carefree made you smile and laugh, as well. Once he regained his composure he straightened up in his chair, his cheeks tinted pink and his eyes bright as he looked at you.

"Don't worry, baby, don't wanna make you jealous."

Your jaw dropped in shock and your brow furrowed but your heart fluttered excitedly in your chest at the term baby coming from his lips again. Before you even had a chance to formulate a response, he cleared his throat. "I'm just kiddin'. Tryin' to take your mind off the speech. Did it work?"

Did it work? This man had you spinning around in circles and he didn't even see it.

"Yes," you mumbled, mind still reeling. Baby, baby, baby.

"Good, 'cause we're up," he said, his eyes drifting over your shoulder, spotting the newlyweds heading your way. He stood and vacated the chair so Maria could sit back down.

You took a deep, shaky breath when the DJ cut the music and made the announcement that the speeches were to begin, and the whole ballroom fell silent, turning in their chairs to get a better look at the long table where you sat up front.

Joel went first, which initially you were relieved, but then about thirty seconds into his speech you realized you wish you could have just gone and gotten it over with because you could hardly focus on anything he was even saying. You faintly remembered him talking about growing up with Tommy and telling some embarrassing story that made everybody laugh but then ended up getting the guests teary eyed when he turned it around at the end, using the story as a sweet example of how Joel always looked out for him and he was now passing that torch onto Maria.

After a polite round of applause, Joel sat down and all eyes turned to you. The DJ told everybody your name, announcing you were the maid of honor, before walking over to hand you the microphone. You cleared your throat before standing on shaky legs and forcing a nervous smile for the room.

"Good evening," you began, then repeated your name. "I have not only the pleasure of being Maria's maid of honor, but also her best friend."

You stole a glance in her direction and you felt your nerves begin to subside when you saw the look in her eye and the warm smile stretched across her face.

With a deep breath, you confidently launched into your speech. You began by telling the guests how you met, how you bonded over one particularly painful meeting at work and afterwards got sushi together for lunch. Ordering the same dish by happenstance cemented your relationship and from then on you saw each other through countless breakups, illnesses, birthdays and even some vacations. After telling the room a silly story about a road trip the two of you took one year with no destination or goal in mind other than to have fun and live in the moment with the promise to stay close forever, you paused and looked down at Maria next to you.

"And then she met Tommy," you said, eyes drifting in his direction. "I knew from the day she came home and told me about him that he was different."

Tommy smiled and wrapped an arm around Maria's shoulders.

"I don't think I've ever seen two people more perfect for one another," you continued, turning your attention back to the room. "At the center of everything, they're best friends. They accept each other, faults and all." Tears began to well up in your eyes, trying not to draw comparisons to your own life as you pushed through. "And that's how I knew early on we would end up here today."

You looked back over at the newlyweds, Maria leaning into Tommy's shoulder, pure happiness radiating from them both as they gazed at one another.

Then you locked eyes with Joel and your throat went dry.

He was looking at you, hanging on your every word, and the expression on his face told you he must have been thinking the same thing as you. Unable to tear yourself away from the emotion behind his eyes, you continued your speech for the room, but it felt like you were talking directly to him.

"When two people love each other fiercely, when they're willing to do whatever it takes to make things work, when they learn to open their hearts and make sacrifices for the sake of that other person, their partner, their love... I believe that is what makes a relationship last." You dragged your eyes away from Joel and looked at Tommy and Maria once again. "And you've both proven time and time again you're more than capable of doing that for one another."

Maria swiped a tear from the corner of her eye and you picked up your glass, watching as the rest of the room did the same.

"I'd like to wrap up with this quote I found online, so I can't take credit," you said with a ripple of soft laughter echoing through the ballroom. "'Love is a friendship that has caught fire. So may your love burn bright for years to come'. Here's to my best friend and her new best friend."

After the room collectively toasted to the new couple and rewarded you with a round of applause, you slumped down in your seat with a sigh of relief. Maria tugged your shoulders, pulling you in for a hug that squeezed all the air from your lungs, whispering her thanks in your ear, then Tommy followed up with the same and a kiss on your cheek.

You tossed back the rest of your champagne and immediately looked around for a server to ask for more. Now that your nerves were finally at ease, you wanted to enjoy the rest of the party and relax, temporarily pushing the conversation you planned to have with Joel from your mind.

Tommy and Maria stood to go cut the cake, diverting the guests's attention so you could slip away to the bar with your empty glass. As you were leaning up against the bar, waiting for the bartender to refill your glass, you felt a familiar presence sidle up next to you. When Joel brushed his palm against your lower back, you had to suppress the shiver that tried to make it's way down your spine.

"Can I get one of those?" he asked the bartender when she returned with your drink. She nodded and placed a cocktail napkin on the bar before disappearing.

Joel's shoulder nudged against yours and he tilted his face towards you. "Nice speech."

You smiled and continued to stare down at the tiny bubbles rising and popping in your drink. "Thanks. Yours was good, too."

"Here you go," the bartender said, placing an identical glass next to yours. Joel nodded his thanks and lifted it up, raising it between your bodies for a toast. You obliged, gently clinking your flutes together before taking a small sip and turning around to look out over the ballroom. Across the way, Tommy and Maria were posing with their cake while photographers and guests took pictures.

"I liked that quote. 'Bout friendship that turns to love," he said nonchalantly. You bit your lower lip and tried to tamp down the rise of emotion in your chest, your nerves in desperate need of some rest.

"Yeah, I thought it was fitting."

Your eyes flickered to his, those deep brown eyes you'd had the pleasure of seeing in every shade, then to his mouth, his soft looking lips so inviting, you wondered what they tasted like in that very moment. Probably champagne, but you were willing to bet you would get a hint of chocolate from the wedding favors that were placed at every seat because you knew him well enough to know he couldn't resist sweets.

"You ever have that?" he asked, and you thought you could hear a little tremor to his voice. "Friendship that turns into love?"

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you took a shaky sip from your champagne, eyes now pinned on the newlyweds but you were hardly absorbing a thing that was happening. Your mind was racing with the implication behind his loaded question and you could hardly remember your own name.

Taking a deep breath, you answered him.

"Once," you said softly, then slowly turned your head, gazing up at his side profile while he appeared to be taking in the party, but you could see his pulse thrumming fast in his neck, his tanned skin twitching with every nervous beat of his heart. "You?"

He hummed and finally tilted his head in your direction, eyes drifting up and down your face, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Yeah. Once."

You felt yourself practically melt under his gaze, your muscles going lax, your body being pulled like a magnet towards him. Was it too late? Did you miss your chance? Or was it possible something was still there, something that could be salvaged? Joel murmured your name, his hand rising from his side, and you had a feeling you were about to get your answer when a familiar voice shattered the moment.

"Joel! C'mon, take pictures with my phone while I dance with your brother. James can't see in this lighting, he won't get it right."

As Mrs. Miller got closer, she noticed you next to him for the first time and it was impossible to miss the look of regret on her face when she realized she interrupted your conversation.

"Oh, nevermind, I'll find someone else," she said, clutching her phone to her chest, eyes sliding back and forth between you both. You cleared your throat and stepped away with a smile.

"No, you go on. I have to find my mom and say hi."

Before he had a chance to stop you, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd until you disappeared from view.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to intrude."

Joel shrugged and tossed back the rest of his champagne. "It's alright, Ma. Go dance with Tommy, I got it," he said, holding a hand out for her phone. Hesitantly, she placed it in his palm, then reassuringly rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

"Will you save me a dance for later?"

Joel gave her a pained smile and nodded. "'Course, Mama."

She pressed her lips into a thin line, easily picking up on her eldest son's dismay once you left. Right when they were about to reach the dance floor, she stopped and cupped Joel's face with both hands, looking up at him with an adoring smile.

"It's all gonna work out, honey. I promise."

Joel almost feigned confusion, almost put up his walls so to protect his feelings. But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he sighed and nodded.

"I hope so."

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[softstarlite]

Home

Pairing: (Hallmark) Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You finally move in with Joel and Sarah.

Warnings: language, fluff (the cheesy hallmark kind), established relationship, reader has a previously explained nickname, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex

WC: 4.8K

Series Masterlist

Dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

Joel was nervous. He never really got nervous, but that particular day, he was nervous.

Sure, it was a big step in your relationship. Or maybe it was because months ago when he asked your father's permission to marry you, he promised he would wait until you moved in together.

And now, that day had arrived.

Where did the time go? He swore it just flew right on by, time that was filled with memories of dinners, parties, dates and holidays together. He hadn't planned what he would say and he felt woefully unprepared. He hadn't even talked to Sarah about it yet.

Just because today is the day you're moving in doesn't mean today is the day I need to ask, he thought to himself. Still, it was a big step. A big, symbolic gesture on both your ends. One that screamed, I'm in this for the long haul.

"Mornin', babygirl," Joel said sleepily as he entered the kitchen, Sarah already sitting at the table in front of an empty bowl and scrolling quietly on her phone.

"Hey," she responded distractedly. He poured himself a cup of coffee and looked around the room. It would be the last morning in his kitchen that didn't include you, and the thought made warmth bloom in his chest and excitement flicker under his skin.

"Big day," he said, but Sarah only nodded. "Y'know, been meanin' to talk to you 'bout somethin'."

She pulled her gaze up from her phone and cocked her head to the side. "Yeah?"

He nodded and took a deep breath before sitting across the table from her. He told her it was about you and she sat back in her chair.

"Bucky?"

He nodded, the silly nickname coming from his daughter's lips that only previously came from your immediate family making him smile.

"You know I'm cool with her moving in, we talked about it months ago. I think it's great. She's amazing and we have so much fun-"

"It's not that," he said, cutting her off before he lost his nerve. "One day - and I ain't sayin' today - but one day, I wanna ask her to marry me."

Sarah just continued to stare blankly at him, so he continued.

"I love her so much, babygirl. She means so much to me, 'n so does her family. I can't imagine my life, our life, without her."

"Yeah, duh," she replied, giving him an incredulous look. "Obviously if she's moving in I figured that would be the next step."

He frowned. "You did?"

"Dad," she whined, rolling her eyes. "I'm seventeen now. Soon, I'll be in college. I want you to be happy. I don't want to worry about you being sad and alone when I'm gone."

"Gee, thanks," he scoffed over his mug, and she giggled.

"What I'm saying is, I think it's great. Go for it. She'll totally say yes."

He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah?"

Sarah gave him a deadpan look. "Yes, Dad. She's moving in with you. She's not expecting friendship bracelets."

He smirked and looked down at his coffee. One thing was checked off the list, now he had to think about when and how he would ask you.

It was a long day.

You hadn't even lived in Texas for a full year yet but you managed to accumulate a lot more shit than you thought. Fortunately, between Joel, Tommy, your dad and Josh, your brother in law, all the furniture was quickly unloaded. The time consuming part was working out the angles in hallways and stairs. Since Joel and Sarah already had more than enough furniture, the two of you decided to put your old couch and television in the basement, an idea which Sarah excitedly jumped on board with.

You could hear the men grunting and talking through different ideas on how to get your couch into the basement all the way from Joel's - your - bedroom upstairs with Sarah.

"I am obsessed with this purse," Sarah sighed, tossing a red leather Michael Kors tote over her shoulder. Prior to living in Texas, you lived in New York City and had created quite the collection of designer clothes and accessories thanks mostly to your ex-fiancé. Since moving, you found very little use for most of it and your style evolved to one that was much more relaxed and comfortable. More you.

"Keep it," you told her as you opened up a box of your bathroom things. She gawked at you while you began to drag the box towards the bathroom, already smiling to yourself as you thought about Joel seeing all the girly face masks and perfumes cluttering his once rather masculine space.

"Are you serious?"

You glanced up at her and shrugged. "Sure. I haven't used it in a year and I have plenty more. It's all yours."

"Oh, my god," she murmured, holding the bag close to her chest. "Thank you!"

You grinned and pulled out bottles of shampoo and conditioner. "Don't mention it."

There was a loud thud that came from the basement and you both froze, waiting to hear panicked calls for help, but after a moment laughter erupted amongst the men and you both exchanged looks of relief.

"I bet Dad that Uncle Tommy would be the one to hurt himself," she told you, crouching to help unpack more of your toiletries.

You laughed and shook your head. "You're probably right."

Glancing at the time, you stood up and weaved your way through the boxes littering the floor to grab your wallet laying on the bed.

"Would you mind calling in a couple pizzas for delivery?" you asked Sarah, handing her your credit card. She nodded and patted down her pants.

"Shoot. I think I left my phone in my room," she said as she headed towards the door. "Ronny's Pizza, right?"

"Yeah, that's good," you called after her before stubbing your toe on a half empty cardboard box. "Shit," you muttered angrily, then squat down to scoop up what was left in the box and get it out of your way.

Wrestling with an armful of socks and bras, you carefully made your way to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. You mistakenly had opened Joel's underwear drawer instead of the one he had emptied for you, but right as you were about to close it, something caught your eye. Was that...? Slowly, you reached forward and nudged a pair of boxers out of the way so you could get a better look.

Your eyes went wide and your heart jumped into your throat when you saw the small, black velvet box nestled between his things. The fingers holding up the pair of underwear began to shake and you nervously swallowed the lump in your throat.

Maybe it was a class ring.

Maybe it was a piece of his mom's jewelry he saved for Sarah.

Or maybe it was a fucking engagement ring.

You heard creaking on the stairs and you quickly dropped the boxers back over the box and slammed the drawer shut. By the time Joel entered the room, you had successfully found your drawer and were halfway done putting your clothes away.

"Hey, darlin'," he murmured, sidling up behind you. He buried his nose in your shoulder and slowly circled his arms around your waist.

"Hey, yourself," you replied, hoping your voice sounded normal and he couldn't feel your heart slamming in your chest. Already got the ring he had said to you drunkenly the night before your sister gave birth. "How are things going down there?" you asked, trying to refocus and get your mind off what you just saw.

Joel breathed in deep and began to sway you both back and forth. "Good. Everythin's all set. Got a nice man cave set up now."

You giggled and closed your drawer before turning around in his arms. "Man cave, huh?"

"That's right," he said softly with a grin. "Gonna be great in 'nother month when football season starts."

"I don't know, I think Sarah was already making plans to have her girlfriends over down there. Might cramp your man cave style," you told him, arms draping loosely around his neck.

"'S'alright, I just give her a hundred bucks and let her borrow the car and then it's all mine," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against your throat. "Be nice to have some privacy down there, too," he added, tilting his head in the other direction so he could give the other side of your neck the same attention.

"Yeah? Privacy for what?" you teased, chin lifting up to give him better access. You felt him chuckle against your skin.

"For anythin' we want," he replied, tearing his mouth away from your shoulder so he could brush his lips gently over yours.

"Mmm, like board games?" you asked, giggling when his lips froze and his face pulled away, giving you a look of disbelief.

"Is that what we're callin' it?"

You nodded and stretched onto your tiptoes so you could kiss him again.

"Okay, the pizza'll be here - oh. Gross," Sarah said when she appeared in the doorway. You pulled away and grinned while Joel looked over his shoulder with a frown.

"Gross?" he repeated, voice laced with disgust. "Seein' me happy is gross?"

Sarah rolled her eyes as she navigated the minefield of boxes in the room to hand you back your credit card. "Is this what it's gonna be like now? You guys sucking face in every room?"

"Hate to tell you, kiddo, but it's always been that way," you told her as you dropped your arms from around Joel's neck to take your card back.

"Pizza?" he questioned excitedly as if he just processed what Sarah said, and you nodded.

"Figured you guys would be hungry."

Joel groaned in delight and wrapped his arms around you once again, making you laugh.

"Alright, gimme a second to leave at least," Sarah said, turning towards the door as quickly as possible, but not before you caught the smile on her face.

"Hey, can I give you a hand?" Tommy asked as he entered your kitchen. You could hear Josh, your father, Sarah and Joel laughing in the living room with the television on in the background.

"Oh, Tommy, that's so sweet but I got it. You've done so much already today, thank you for your help," you said with a smile as you continued to clean up the pizza. Tommy leaned against the counter and watched you move around his brother's kitchen like you had been there your whole life, and he couldn't help but smile.

"You look right at home already," he told you, making your cheeks warm. You pulled out some foil and shrugged.

"I've stayed over a couple times, what can I say?"

He chuckled and continued to watch you work quietly for a moment.

"Say, what'dya think 'bout you and Joel goin' on a double date with me and Maria?"

"Oh, I would love that!" you exclaimed, meeting his gaze briefly as you moved towards the fridge. "Must be getting serious if you're ready to introduce her to family, huh?"

"Yeah, I think so," Tommy said, shyly looking down at the tile floor. "She's so pretty. Smart, too. And funny. We have such a great time together. I'll tell you, I ain't ever remember feelin' this way 'bout a girl before."

Your jaw hung open in shock after you turned away from the closed fridge. "Tommy! This is... amazing!"

He scratched the back of his neck and grinned. "Yeah, it is," he agreed warmly.

"He botherin' you, baby?" Joel asked as he strolled into the kitchen with a beer in his hand. He shot you a wink right after Tommy gave him the finger.

"I was just telling Tommy we should go on a double date with him and Maria," you said, leaning into the hug he gave you. Tommy gave you a thumbs up behind Joel's back and you smiled over his shoulder, knowing intuitively that his brother would tease him mercilessly if he knew Tommy was the one with the idea instead of you.

"Oh, yeah?" Joel asked, pulling back to look at Tommy. He nodded.

"Yeah, sounds like fun. Maybe grab some drinks down at Mike's. Play some pool."

"Alright. Set it up, can't wait to meet her," Joel told him before squeezing past you to get another beer from the refrigerator.

The men spent another hour or so relaxing in the living room while you and Sarah did the best you could to clear up the remaining boxes in your bedroom. You did rather well, too. By the time everyone was ready to say good night, you only had two boxes left, both of which you stacked and shoved into a corner to deal with the next day.

You were looking forward to collapsing into bed after a long, eventful day when Sarah asked if she could go to the movies with a few of her friends.

"Please, Dad? School starts up in a couple weeks," she begged, and Joel didn't have the heart to tell her she didn't need to bother to beg. He handed her some money from his wallet and she rushed up to her bedroom to get ready, announcing her friend Katy would pick her up in twenty minutes.

"Strange how Katy knew to pick her up before I said it was alright," Joel told you with a fake look of confusion. You laughed and plopped next to him on the couch, resting your head on his shoulder while he flipped through the channels on the television.

You wrapped your hand around his bicep and snuggled in closer as he wavered back and forth between two different action movies. When you really thought about it, it was funny. Your life was so different just a year ago. You were engaged to someone else, living in New York City, wearing expensive clothes and dining at restaurants you didn't really care for but your fiancé did, so you pretended to like them, too. Now you were living a completely different life. One of comfort and love and joy and you had never felt happier.

As if he could read your mind, Joel lifted his arm and tugged you closer by the shoulders, then planted a kiss on the top of your head, further emphasizing how perfect your life seemed now.

"I'm coming downstairs now! Stop making out!" Sarah warned as she stomped down the steps. You stifled your laughter and Joel shot her a scowl.

"We're just watchin' TV."

"And I'm just covering my bases," she said with a grin, holding her hands up in surrender. A faint beep came from the road and she grabbed the purse you had given her earlier that day and said, "don't wait up!" over her shoulder before the door clicked shut.

"Don't wait up?" Joel repeated with a snort. "She's seventeen goin' on thirty."

You giggled and gazed up at him from your place against his side. "You wanna play some board games?"

He looked confused for a moment before the realization dawned on him.

"Hell, yes."

The basement looked nicer than you expected. It wasn't completely finished but there was an area Joel had built a wall around and painted years ago. He had installed a drop ceiling and some laminate flooring but he never got around to actually doing much else with it until you moved in and had extra furniture. An area rug from your old apartment was in the center of the room, your old couch resting on top and your television was placed on your entertainment center across from the sofa. You had some floor lamps and end tables you could arrange in the space later on but for now, it was nice.

But all that didn't really matter that particular day. Not when your shorts dangled around one ankle, which was slung over the back of the couch, your legs spread wide as Joel kneeled on the area rug, his fingers gripping your hips as his tongue feverishly lapped at your pussy.

"Fuck, Joel... I'm close," you whined, hand clawing at his hair, your hips grinding shamelessly against his face. He just groaned, eyes fluttering closed as he drank you in, your scent engulfing him, absolutely loving the way you fell apart under his tongue.

"Joel," you gasped, mouth hung open as your gaze fixed on the top of his head. "Joel, d-do t-that thing-" you moaned loudly, cutting yourself off when he repeatedly grazed his teeth over your clit while working two fingers into your cunt, curling them so they pressed against that one spot he knew drove you crazy each time he dragged them in and out.

A moment later, your body went rigid and tears sprung to your eyes as you came, ragged groans melting into quiet little whimpers until he finally pulled away from the center of your thighs. His eyes were dark and wild as he panted for air, watching you with a cocky smirk as you struggled to come to your senses.

"Gonna let me fuck you now, baby?" he murmured, his pants already pushed halfway down his legs. You nodded in a daze, thighs trembling still when he stepped out of his jeans and kneeled onto the couch. He hovered over you, pressing his thick length against your pussy while he bent forward to bite and suck at your throat.

You gasped sharply and grabbed his shoulders when he first entered you. The initial stretch always took your breath away, regardless if he made you come first or not. You came to crave that feeling, those first few seconds of intrusion that made your mind go blank and your heart stutter before your body made room for him and relaxed. And because you knew he loved to hear it, your mouth found his ear and you whimpered, "so big," and you smiled when you heard his responding growl.

A few days before you moved in with Joel, you laid awake at night in your apartment, thinking back to your relationship before him. When you moved in with Will, it seemed like something shifted almost immediately, and not in a good way. The spark fizzled out as you adjusted to living with one another, putting up with each other's quirks and bad habits. Logically, you knew that spark was dying before you moved in together but at the time, you didn't want to admit it. But anxiety still crept up and you wondered if the same thing would happen with Joel.

What a stupid thing to worry about.

What you had with Joel was so different, it was hard to describe. But it was a feeling, something deep inside that couldn't be denied. This was special. This was unlike anything you ever experienced before and it was foolish to try to compare it to anything else.

As if you needed further proof, Joel sensed your mind had drifted elsewhere and he nipped at your lower lip to draw your attention back to him.

"What's wrong?" he whispered when you met his gaze. His hips had slowed down, worried you were uncomfortable and didn't want to say it. You slowly smiled and draped your arms around his neck, looking up at him with such love and adoration that he couldn't stop himself from smiling in return.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything's perfect," you told him. You tugged him down so you could give him a kiss, then mumbled, "you're perfect," against his mouth.

Joel flushed and shook his head gently, resuming his steady pace. Sometimes he had a hard time believing you were real. He spent a good chunk of his adult life thinking he would never find true love and after a few years of loneliness, he grew to accept that. He threw himself into his work and focused on raising Sarah but when he met you, it was like everything changed. He couldn't stop thinking about you to the point where he would have been content with just getting to know you better, but the moment he first felt your lips against his, he knew he didn't stand a chance. But when he first made love to you, it was all over. He knew within seconds he could never let you go, and he never did.

"You're the one who's perfect. God, so fuckin' tight," he groaned, flexing his hips with a little more force. You rewarded him with a sweet little moan and tipped your head back into the couch. "That feel good, baby?" he breathed, watching with pride as you writhed underneath him.

"Yeah," you whispered before sinking your teeth into your lower lip, skin already red and sensitive from where his own teeth had laid claim. "Again. Harder, Joel," you pleaded, and his eyelids fluttered as he tried to slow down his own orgasm that was already growing all too quickly.

He gave you what you wanted, hips snapping into yours roughly. Your whole body rocked beneath him, breasts bouncing free under your thin T-shirt, jaw slack and back arched so beautifully he had to look away before he came too soon.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you whined, face pinching as he forced another orgasm to the surface with each powerful thrust.

"You like that?" he murmured, his dark eyes raking over your body greedily. "Tell me, baby. C'mon, wanna hear it."

"Yes," you whimpered, eyes still screwed shut, "feel so fucking good, Joel, fuck... so... so deep, I want more." You took in a deep breath, your release so close you could taste it. "More... don't stop, please... I-I need..." you were rambling now, unable to form a full sentence, barely aware you were saying anything at all and fuck, did he love being the one to make you do that. Make you lose control and give in, putting all your faith and trust in him to give you what you want. To make you feel good.

"I know what you need," he said through gritted teeth, then grabbed ahold of your hip and ground himself roughly against your cunt. Your eyes flew open and he smiled when you cried out, clenching around him after only two or three passes over your clit.

You were whispering his name mixed with something else incoherent as you came down and he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He slammed into you over and over, eyes fixed on the way your pussy strained around his girth, his cock all shiny and slick with your arousal and he came with a loud groan, thrusting into you deep and slow until he was spent.

His arms began to tremble so he slowly lowered himself down to rest the side of his head against your chest and instantly, your hands came up to card through his hair. He sighed and closed his eyes, soaking in your gentle touch as his heart began to slow.

"Do you think it will always be like this?" you asked softly, fingers still threading through his curls.

"Yeah, I do," Joel replied, eyes still shut as he nuzzled into your chest.

"Good. Me, too."

Maria was fun.

You knew immediately you would get along. Her sense of humor and her carefree attitude completely contradicted her profession as a newly appointed Assistant District Attorney, and you absolutely loved how full of surprises she was, especially how good she was at pool.

"Y'know, we just let you girls win," Joel teased when he put his pool cue down.

"Oh, yeah? Is that why I heard you and Tommy talking strategy on my way back from the bathroom?" you shot back. He grinned and tugged you into his chest, kissing the crown of your head before releasing you.

"C'mon, Tommy. Losers buy the next round," he said, giving his younger brother a playful shove. Tommy squeezed Maria's hand and gave her a warm smile before following Joel to the bar, leaving just you two to find an empty table. Maria spotted one right when a group of four were standing up to leave and she grabbed your arm, practically dragging you across the crowded floor to snag it before someone else did.

"Good eye!" you told her when you slid into the booth, the green, plastic cushion underneath you essentially useless after years of being flattened and never replaced. The table was sticky from spilled beer and droplets of hot sauce, so you each got to work yanking handfuls of napkins out of the dispenser at the end of the table and squirting hand sanitizer over the tabletop to clean the area as best you could.

"I don't think Tommy told me how long you two've been together," Maria said, her eyes lifting to search the bar for your dates.

"Uh, eight months or so," you told her, "we met right before Christmas."

She raised her eyebrows and smiled. "I would have guessed much longer. It feels like you know each other so well."

You could feel your cheeks warm from the compliment. It was clear to you what you had with Joel was special but it was always nice to hear others could see it, too.

"What about you and Tommy? He's been keeping you a secret but I want to guess... two months?"

"Three, actually," she corrected you. "We both agreed to take things slow. I had just gotten this job and I knew I would be putting in long hours, I wasn't really sure if I had the time to devote to a relationship but he stuck it out. I really thought he was going to bail when I kept having to call it early so many nights and cancel dates last minute but he's a trooper."

You leaned across the table and wiggled your eyebrows at her. "That's 'cause he really likes you."

She giggled and waved you off but you could see the delight in her eyes.

"I'm serious! I've only known him for as long as I've known Joel but from what I was told, Tommy didn't bring girls around often. Especially lately. You must be special," you teased, making her smile widen.

Unbeknownst to you, across the bar, Tommy and Joel were having a similar conversation.

Now that Tommy had a few beers in him, he was more open to telling his brother about Maria and how happy he was with her.

"I'm tellin' you, Joel, I think she's the one," he was saying, slamming down an empty shot glass next to Joel's on the messy bar top.

"I like her, she keeps you in line," Joel quipped, taking a sip from his beer to chase the shot of whiskey. "Girls are gettin' along real good, too."

Tommy nodded and looked across the bar. "And how's things goin' with you two? She wanna move out yet?"

Joel laughed and shook his head. "Nah, it's only been two weeks. It'll probably take at least a month 'fore she realizes she made a mistake," he joked.

Tommy chuckled but caught the fond look in Joel's eye when he thought about you.

"So, you think this is it for us?" he asked, and Joel glanced up from his beer. "We finally found the ones?"

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk and he nodded.

"Hope so." Then maybe he was feeling a little braver, or maybe it was the alcohol, but he added, "got the ring already, be a little tough tryin' to take it back."

Tommy's eyes bugged out of his head. "You - what?"

Joel sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "Yep. Had it for a while now. Asked Paul 'n everythin'."

Tommy's mouth opened and closed like a fish, completely stunned.

"And Sarah?"

He nodded and took a nervous sip from his bottle. "Talked to her, too. She's thrilled."

Tommy broke out into a huge grin and tugged Joel into a quick hug before pulling away and giving him a playful shoulder shove. "So when are you gonna do it?"

Joel sighed and looked around. "I don't know. When it feels right, I suppose."

"Shit," Tommy replied, rubbing his chin. "Gonna be a hell of a year."

Joel nodded and looked down at your drinks sitting on the bar. "We oughta go find the girls."

"Yeah," Tommy agreed, shaking his head like he was snapping out of a trance. He reached for Maria's drink while Joel grabbed yours but before they began to weave their way through the bar, Tommy stopped him.

"Congrats, brother. I'm happy for you."

"She didn't say yes yet," Joel reminded him with a raised eyebrow, but Tommy just shrugged.

"She will."

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[softstarlite]

Columba 

summary: It isn’t until you’re in his home that you learn it’s General Marcus Acacius who’s summoned you for your services—you’re not sure why he did, when the other courtesans standing beside you, hoping to be chosen by him, have bodies that look nothing like yours.

pairing: Marcus Acacius/Plus Size f!reader (Courtesan)

rating: E (18+!! This is smut. No y/n, explicit smut, plus size reader, courtesan reader, age gap (reader is of legal age in today’s standards), takes place pre-Gladiator 2, dommy Marcus Acacius (loves giving orders), he’s a tiny bit possessive, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, rough sex, backshots, woman on top, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal fingering, breast worship, hair pulling (m receiving), slight breeding kink, (1) pussy slap, dirty talk, spanking, spit mention, some biting, with hair like that he wants it pulled, some sweetness at the end) 

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: I took one look at Marcus’ hair and immediately thought, that guy likes his hair pulled. I also decided that since he spends weeks to months with a bunch of men at a time, when he comes home, he really appreciates a curvy woman. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d be able to write anything for him until I saw the movie, but the trailer got me. This is unbeta’d, all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy!

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

Masterlist

It was the marble bust atop a pedestal that revealed whose home you were in. The opulence of the domus’ atrium, with its four tall marble columns surrounding the impluvium's shallow, sunken pool in the middle of the room and the compluvium’s opening in the ceiling above it, allowing the moon’s light to filter in, told you whoever lived here had notoriety—then you saw the face carved out of stone, recognizing the curls and strong nose you'd only ever seen as he was paraded past you down the street in honor of his latest victory, and you knew.

General Marcus Acacius is a man feared by many for his ferocity and skills in battle. It's been said Mars, the God of War, blessed his birth, while others believe his bloodline is descended from the God himself. What you know to be true is he's a gifted General that the Emperors and Gods have smiled upon, and in his presence, an intimidating figure you didn't dare look at unless you were addressed.

There are four women standing to your right, all of you younger than him, naked, and courtesans of the highest standard—well-educated and well-versed in politics along with the pleasures of the body—and highly sought out by society's elite. 

Marcus is at the opposite end, silently making his way down the line with what you can only assume is a scrutinizing eye, and you fear there's been a mistake that you're here—the other courtesans are all built similarly with small breasts, flattened stomachs and thinner waists than yours, whereas you’re curvier, and have more meat on your bones, with your bigger chest, soft noticeable belly, and grabbable hips. Clearly, he requested a particular type of woman, and it doesn't appear you're it. Staring down at the tiled floor seems better than seeing the disappointment on his face when he gets to you. 

His sandaled feet come into view as he stands before you, and you can feel his eyes roaming over your bare body—golden snake bracelets coil around each of your upper arms, and at the unexpected gentle touch of his fingertips to one, you flinch. 

"Do I frighten you?" His voice is a low, deep rasp that shivers down your spine. 

"No, Sir," you answer.

His thumb strokes over the snake's head and along its body. "Why do you flinch?" 

Raising your head, you see he’s wearing a white tunic with a gold pattern lining around his neck, down his arms, and along the hem, a belt securing it at his waist; golden cuffs covered his wrists. You’re met with dark eyes, a furrow crinkling between his eyebrows—his brown hair with a kiss of gray, curls like waves on his head, his facial hair dotted with a few silvery strands. It takes you a second to answer his question because the glimpses of him you caught during victory parades and the marble bust didn't prepare you for his beauty. 

Mars and Venus have bestowed their blessings upon him. 

“My apologies, Sir,” you finally reply. “It was simply surprise at being graced by your touch.” His expression is difficult to read, so you continue speaking, “I’ve heard of your prowess in battle that inspires songs and how your enemies tremble before you, but I do not believe I have reason to fear you—unless that is something you wish. Do you wish for me to be frightened of you?” 

Some men liked it if you acted afraid of them to feel powerful. Some men, usually the big, tough ones, liked to bury their faces in your bosom while you held them. The slight show of relief on Marcus’ face when you said you had no reason to fear him made you suspect he’d be in the latter category. 

“No.” His eyes are locked onto yours. “I do not need another to fear me. I wish for you to want my touch.” 

“I wish for more than your touch,” you reply. “I wish to feel your lips on mine and your weight on top of me, I wish to feel your cock inside me and to hear the sounds you make when you peak, and I do wish for your touch; I wish to feel your hands claim my body as yours.” 

His gaze turns to one of desire, and it makes you smile. 

"You," he says. "Stay. The rest of you,” he announces, keeping his eyes on yours, “leave us.”

The invitation the messenger brought to your home the day prior did not state who requested your services; it simply said the person was a public figure, and the woman picked would be paid handsomely.

The servants, who stood as still as statues against a wall, scurried to assist each of the other women with redressing.

"Come," he orders, offering you a hand you accept. He leads you to a room you realize is his personal quarters when you spot his armor in a corner, Medusa's golden head on the cuirass shining in the candlelight—she wards off evil and offers protection. There's a bed against the wall opposite the door, and he lets go of your hand, slipping off his sandals by the doorway before walking over to a thin table laden with a jug, cups, and a bowl of berries and grapes. 

"Care for some wine?" he asks without looking at you while pouring himself a cup. 

His body is tense, and you’re assuming you’re here to help him relax—he arrived home only days ago from war, and you got a chance to see him rolling down the street on a chariot as he waved to the cheering masses. It would make sense that he could use somebody with your expertise to get him to unwind. 

“No, thank you, Sir,” you answer, and he faces you again, taking a drink. “It’s a great honor that you chose me, and I do not wish to forget a single moment.” 

His cup lowers, and you're surprised to find he’s wearing a little smile. He twists to set his wine down next to the jug, and removes the cuffs from his wrists, setting them onto the table then his eyes are on yours. 

"Marcus," he says, and it only takes a few strides to have him in front of you again. 

"I'm sorry?" you ask.

His attention moves to your body, and he’s not looking upon you like an object or something he’s just purchased as most men do; his gaze is appreciative, the same kind of look you could imagine was on his face when he stared at art that pleased him. Your figure isn’t the ideal for most Roman women—your hips are too wide, your breasts are too large, your ass is too big, your thighs are too thick, and your stomach is too noticeable—yet, there are many men who sought you out and paid well for your time, and it seems the General is one of them. 

"My name." He walks around you, his fingers sliding along your upper back from shoulder to shoulder. “Call me Marcus. I want you to be familiar with how my name tastes on your tongue.” 

The touch and his words cause your nipples to harden and goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Marcus,” you say. 

He’s in front of you again, his darkened eyes on yours. His big hands grip your waist, pulling you into him, and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, feeling him inhale deeply. “Gods, you’re the best thing I’ve smelled in months.” The words are said against your flesh. “Like a meadow of flowers in Spring, and I fail to remember the last time I felt such softness.” He squeezes the fleshy handles at your hips and goes lower to grab handfuls of your ass, then runs his hands up your back. “Upon hearing your description,” he says, “I knew you’d be perfect, but what I imagined has no comparison to seeing your beauty with my own eyes.” His admission catches you off guard as it sounds as though he always intended to pick you from the line of women. It’s curious that he even invited the others if his mind had been set beforehand. He straightens, meeting your gaze. “Take off my clothes.” 

There's no need to reply; you just do as he ordered, getting his belt undone, the leather falling to the floor, then pulling his tunic over his head, it meeting the same fate as his belt. 

He’s completely nude, standing at his full height before you. 

You expected the scars etched all over his body, the evidence that he'd lay down his life for Rome without hesitation. There's a long, jagged one across his right pec, silvered with age, that has you forgetting yourself and softly pressing your fingertips to it.

He snatches your smaller hand, pulling it away from his marred skin. 

"My apologies," you quickly say, bowing your head in submission. "I shouldn't have touched you without permission." 

"You may touch me." Once again, he surprises you by putting the flat of your palm against the scar, his other hand grabbing your chin to lift your face. 

From his reaction to your fingers on him, you think he hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time, and you hope you can make up for all the nights he spent alone. 

It seems he's done with the pleasantries when his lips crush into yours. It's all of the encouragement you need, kissing him back while rubbing your palms up his broad chest, feeling his warmth. You snake a hand down his stomach through the trail of hair low on his belly to take his half-hard cock into your hand—he groans and twitches in your hold.

He truly has the Gods' favor—a talented General, handsome and well-endowed. 

With his hands on your waist, he walks you backward to the bed, laying you on the mattress. He's on top of you, deepening the kiss with his tongue pressing into your mouth, his hand palming your tit, making you wet with arousal and your body heat. 

It's fascinating how he's defying all of your expectations. The men who seek you out after spending months fighting are often rough and brutish, using you however they want to release their tension. There's never kissing or offers of drink; it's orders to suck their cocks, or to get on the bed in their desired position—and here's Marcus kissing down your body, along the skin of your neck to your chest. Most of his weight is on his knees between your legs while bending forward over you, and the only word you can think of to describe it is he's worshipping your breasts. He has them in his hands, moving from one to the other, licking, sucking, and nibbling on your nipples and soft skin, the sensations making your pussy weep with need. 

“Gods, Marcus,” you moan. He has you squirming with how good it feels, your fingers pushing into his curls. He takes a pebbled bud between his teeth and gently tugs. “Oh,” you gasp, your hands tightening in the tousled waves on his head.

He releases your nipple. “Harder,” he rasps, then flicks his tongue against your stiff peak, and you do as requested, pulling his hair harder. A loud groan rumbles from his chest as he continues laving at your tits, skimming his hand down your stomach, your skin tingling under his fingertips, until he’s sliding two fingers through your wet slit. You tighten your hold on his head, your toes curling when he starts rubbing your clit, and the realization hits that he intends for you to have just as much enjoyment as him. 

"Marcus," you whine.

He’s one of those men who has you praying that he’ll wish for your company again, and you wouldn’t even make him pay if you got another chance to warm his bed. 

The push of his thick digit into your pussy makes your breath hitch at the slight stretch, his thumb pressing to your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving side to side—you know he’s going to make you come, and you silently thank the Gods.

His finger is pushing in and out of you, his thumb continuing its movements, and he lifts his face to look you in the eyes, his own are so black there’s hardly a sliver of brown remaining. "Come for me," he commands, slipping a second digit inside you—you’re so wet you can hear the slick slide of his fingers pumping into you. The muscles in your belly are tightening, and the fire in your core is building. "Come for me, sweet girl." His head dips to lightly bite your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. "Once you come, I'll do as you wish and sheath my cock into this perfect cunt." 

The hot heat of his mouth envelops your pebbled bud, and he sucks—it's your undoing; your eyes close as you fall over the edge, coming with a moan of his name. His digits and mouth continue to extend your ecstasy while your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart pounds. 

He lets go of your nipple with a wet pop, his hand sliding from your pussy, up your stomach, leaving a trail of your release on your skin. His voice deepens, “You’ve done well for me, and I keep my word—turn over.” 

He helps you to roll onto your front, and you get up onto your hands and knees—a familiar position. He takes a moment to admire you in front of him, his palms feeling the thickness of your thighs and hips. His fingers dig into your plump asscheeks as he spreads them and dips his head, hearing and feeling him spit between them, the hot saliva dripping from your asshole down to your opening. He shuffles up behind you, sliding his cock through the wetness of your come and his spit to lubricate himself, then notches it at your entrance—you both moan as he slowly starts feeding himself into you. 

Gods, he’s big. 

There’s a slight burn with how he’s stretching you, your inner walls having to accommodate his ample girth, and once he’s pressed all the way to the root inside you, a breath leaves you that you hadn't realized you'd been holding in. 

He has a tight grip on your waist and pulls out almost all the way, immediately pushing back into you hard enough there's a clap when his hips hit your ass. This was expected, Marcus setting up a rhythm that punches the air from your lungs each time he thrusts forward—he’s working out what he doesn’t wish to feel, and with how slippery it is between your legs, he's moving easily, and the brutal pace feels amazing. 

Many times, you’ve had to fake your enjoyment to make those employing you think they’re talented lovers—the majority are selfish in bed and care little about your comfort but want their egos stroked. Marcus, on the other hand, earned your favor when he took the time to ready you with his fingers and allowed you to climax. 

He's pounding into you, the collide of his body against yours making your asscheeks shake, and with how his cock is pressing into something truly divine, he’s also earned your screams of his name and whatever incoherent words are babbling from your mouth—he has you dizzy with pleasure, heat coiling in your belly, and there’s no doubting the Goddess of Beauty and Sex has given him her blessing. 

Sounds are spilling unbidden from your lips, Marcus loudly grunting with each stroke, the wet slap of skin hitting skin echoing in the room, and you look over your shoulder—the candlelight around the room shows the glisten of sweat on his golden skin. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed, and his jaw slack. Hair is sticking to his forehead, and a beautiful rosy flush has begun on his chest, rising up his neck to paint his cheeks. You can't think of another you've laid with who looked so breathtaking while taking their pleasure, and you could only imagine how glorious he’d look on the battlefield. You don't know what comes over you, reaching your hand back to touch his hip, and suddenly, he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed with lust. 

It’s as though he’s been in a trance, losing himself in your body, and now he’s come back to be in the moment with you. He falls forward, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you, blanketing your back and slowing his pace. His chin is on your shoulder, and he bites the shell of your ear; all of his weight goes onto one arm to free up the other that roughly grabs your breast and plucks at your nipple.

“You take me so well,” he says into your ear, his cock continuing to slide in and out of you. “Your sweet little cunt will milk me dry, and then I’ll have you again and again after that to keep you full of my seed.” 

His words steal a moan from your lips. 

“Does that please you, my sweet girl?” he asks. “You wish for more of me? Has another ever fucked you so good?” He gets his hand between your legs to circle the pearl of your pleasure, and your jaw drops, eyes closing—he’s going to make you come again. “Answer me,” he growls, lightly slapping your clit, and you clench around him. 

It’s challenging to think, but you say, “No,” and push your ass back against him as he thrusts forward, fucking yourself on him to get closer and closer to your end. “I’ve never had such fortune.” 

“You do now—by morning, I’ll have you ruined for any other man, and your cunt won’t soon forget the shape of my cock.” 

He means every word that slips from his tongue, and it sets the fire in your belly ablaze. You’re holding yourself up on shaky limbs, the muscles in your stomach knotting up—you’re close.

“Marcus,” you moan. 

His warm breath tickles your ear as he speaks into it: “I love how my name sounds from your lips. I know you’re close. Give in so I can feel you ascend to the heavens.” 

His words, the fullness of his thick shaft moving in and out of you, and his fingers swirling around your sensitive bundle at the apex of your thighs has you shattering—stars burst behind your eyelids as white-hot pleasure erupts in your center, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough he slows to a stop, and groans in your ear.

You exhale panted breaths, your heart beating rapidly, and the blissful euphoria ripples through your body, slowly ebbing away. 

Somehow, you find your voice, "Allow me to ride you." 

He kisses your shoulder, his beard scratching against your bare skin. "You want to mount me?" he asks. 

"Yes."

"Then you shall." 

He pulls out of you, an achy groan leaving him as he lies beside you on his back, and you get up onto your knees. He draws your attention with how he’s splayed out on the mattress, his long legs slightly spread and arms crossed over his head. His cock is still hard, it shiny with your juices, and resting against his lower belly, cushioned by the tantalizing path of hair that led directly to it—and he’s looking up at you, his eyes dark with want that keep lowering to your bosom, and back up to your eye line, the pink of his tongue wetting his bottom lip, that you suddenly wish to bite. 

There’s the common knowledge about Marcus all of Rome is aware of—the family he comes from and the military achievements that have led to him being the victorious General the Gods have blessed the city with, and now you’re versed in his more private attributes—he likes his women to be sturdy with sizeable breasts, he enjoys the pleasurable pain of his hair pulled, he’s a generous lover, he prefers to be in control unless you can tempt him enough to hand over the reins. It’s quite tempting for him to lie back and watch your tits bounce as you ride him. 

Shuffling in place to face him, taking his hard length in hand—he didn’t ask, and you didn’t offer, yet you want to take care of him like he took care of you, so you scoot back enough that you can bend down at the waist, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.

The sound of Marcus’ loud moan and the way his back arches as if it were the string of a bow shoots straight to your cunt—you can taste the mix of your essence and his arousal that’s steadily dribbling from the sensitive head that you lick and suckle; your hand easily stroking up and down the sheath of skin on his shaft. The muscles in his thighs and stomach have tensed like it’s taking everything in him to hold back and not fill your mouth with his come.

“Enough,” he grits the order through his teeth, and his palm lands on the side of your ass with a hard slap that echoes against the walls, the sharp sting getting a moan out of you—your head lifts off of him to see he’s scowling. “I’m not spilling down your throat,” he continues and smacks your ass again. “Ride me, or I’ll have you under me.” 

“Apologies, Marcus,” you reply demurely and sit up on your knees once more. Quickly, you move, throwing a leg over his waist to have your thick thighs hugging his hips. You rise, grabbing his cock, you press to your entrance, and you watch his face as you slowly start to impale yourself on him, relishing in how his mouth falls open and the tight grip he has on the meat of your thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough it bordered on painful. 

The fullness is incredible when you sit flush against him, and you love how he fills you. Your palms find purchase on his broad chest, and you rise until only the tip of him remains inside of you, and you drop back down—the rhythm you set has you moving in his lap, up and down in quick succession, Marcus groaning, his eyes locked on the jiggle of your breasts. 

Sweat forms on your skin, feeling it on your forehead and a single drop sliding down your spine, your eyes closed as you focus, your moans stuttering each time you sink onto him. 

His hands are resting on your backside, rising and falling with you, his voice rough with pleasure, “That’s it, ride me, bounce on my cock.”

This isn’t about you, and though it feels good riding him, your goal is helping him achieve his own high, and you’re determined to do so—your hands leave him to press your tits together, and you gasp in surprise when he sits up and shoves his face into them. Your pace doesn’t waver, and you look at him to see he’s keeping himself up with an arm braced on the bed behind him, the other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, and you know he’s not going to last much longer. 

Your fingers slide into the unruly curls at the back of his head, and you yank them hard to make him look at you, Marcus hissing while his cock twitches inside you. In this position, you’re taller, and he gazes up to meet your eyes. 

“I want you to come,” you pant, continuing to fuck yourself on him. “I want to feel you flood my cunt with your seed.” The noise he makes sounds like a whine. “Then I want you to do it again, and again after that—I want you to fill me to the point I’m brimming with you, and you’re in me for days.” 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he groans out a long, drawn-out Fuck

With his beautiful neck on display, you duck your head and lick up the taut skin of his throat, wishing you could suck a mark into it to remind him of you for a while after you part ways. His free hand roughly grabs your chin to pull you close enough for him to slot his lips against yours, and you have to slow to a grind as he messily kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

He breaks away to fall back onto the mattress, his fingers getting a tight grip on your ass, the muscles in his arms flexing as he lifts you enough to start thrusting up into your soaked pussy rapidly—he’s grunting while baring his teeth to chase his high, and all you can do is press your palms to his chest for balance while keeping yourself raised enough for him to pound into you. 

The slick push and pull of him, moving in and out of you, has you chanting his name, and it sounds wet between your legs, hearing the clap of skin on skin of him plowing into you. Perspiration makes his tan flesh glint under the candle's light, his hair is a mess atop his head, and his expression is wild; it’s no surprise when his strokes get uneven and his eyes close. Marcus tugs your ass down to bury himself as far as possible in you as he gives in, coming with a guttural groan—you feel his cock jerk and the wet pulse as he paints your insides with spurts and spurts of his spend, wringing himself out until his body goes completely lax.

He pulls you forward to lie on top of him, wrapping his arms around your middle, and turns you both onto your sides. There’s a hiss that slips from his lips when he removes his softening length from your cunt, and you smile at Marcus sliding down the bed far enough for his face to nuzzle in your bosom while hugging you tight. Your fingers stroke through his sweat-damp curls, his hums of appreciation sounding like the purr of a cat. 

Minutes pass in silence as your breaths even out and your hearts slow. After some time, he says something you can’t make out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” you reply. 

His head lifts, and he kisses under your chin. “Stay,” he says again. 

“I have no intention of leaving. I’m here until you send me away.” 

“And if I don’t wish to send you away?” 

His lips trail along your jaw. 

Your eyebrows pull together. “As I said, I’m here until you request my leave.” 

“And if I never request your leave?” 

He’s kissing your neck now, the question making your eyes round. “You intend for me to be your mistress?” 

It’s not uncommon for a courtesan to become one’s mistress. Some of you are from families of wealth and do this line of work for the powerful connections, while others are freedwomen who’ve worked their way up to earn their notoriety—either case, courtesans are respected and thought to make great mistresses. 

“That is all I can offer since I have no plans to marry,” he answers. “You can stay here with or without me when I’m ordered away, and whatever is left of my salary and spoils of war after the household debts are paid, you may keep.”

He makes you frown. 

“Why me?”

Marcus gets his arm out from under you and scoots up the mattress to look you in the eyes. 

“You’re everything I desire in a woman with your beauty and intellect, and you can sate my needs in bed—you’re perfect, and I want you all to myself. I do not wish to share you with anyone else.”

It’s in this moment you realize you’re the one in control here—you don’t need him, you’re self-sufficient, and there are many who’d eagerly take his place, but your looks are rare in your profession, and he needs his deal to be enticing enough for you to take it. 

“What if I decline your offer?” 

“Then I pray you’ll allow me to keep your company until I receive my next orders.” 

He seems to be a good, honorable man who wants to please you, and he had you tempted to accept on the merit of his skills in bed alone—there’s just something that won’t leave your mind. 

“Before I make my decision, answer this question: if you believe me to be so perfect, why were the others here?” 

He presses his large palm to your cheek. “It was in your power to deny me your company, and though the other women weren’t of my tastes, they were better than nothing.” 

You see no flaws in his answer. 

“I accept your offer on one condition.”

“And that is?”

You no longer find him intimidating, and you’re now comfortable brushing errant hairs off his forehead and sliding your fingers through the curls above his ears. 

Your eyes lock onto his. “You return home to me,” you tell him. “You fight with the might of Mars, and you always return home to me.” 

That earns you a small smile, and he takes your hand into his, kissing the center of your palm. 

“I will, my Dove.” 

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[softstarlite]

They’re gonna add Joel to the chalkboard, aren’t they? They’re gonna add Joel to the fucking chalkboard.