softstarlite

[softstarlite]

Hello beautiful ☺️ can I request a Joel miller x reader where like the reader is on her period and gets all snappy with Joel and he just kinda takes it and then she gets all emotional about it later after he gets home from work and is just a big mess but he only cares about her wellbeing?? 😭

Love u btw <3

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing joel miller x female reader summary when it comes to grace, Joel’s got a well that never runs dry [fluff, 1.8k] a/n love u too anon ♡

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

A slender band of gold sunlight graces Joel’s cheek as he stands across the counter. Even more slivers paint the kitchen in similar sleepy streaks. It’s a beautiful day, all things considered. The morning is still young with the promise of what could lie ahead. Yet all you can focus on are the words that have disturbed this beautiful little bubble in time. 

Appointment, oil change, fluid check. 

“I’ve already handled everything on the back end,” he says as he sets his coffee mug down. “All you gotta do is drop the truck off, and you’re good to—”

“Okay,” you say with more force than intended.

Joel remains quiet, and you take it as permission to voice your frustration further, “We could’ve gotten it serviced this past weekend when both of us were free. That would've made more sense.” 

His shoulders square as you direct a piercing, matter-of-fact glance his way. “They were completely booked,” he explains. 

“Of course they were,” you say. “And now it’s my problem.” 

Joel’s gaze flicks into his coffee, black with a dash of creamer. Only a couple of sips left. You’d already finished yours. 

“Made the appointment ‘cause you said you didn’t have anything to do this morning, honey.” His dark eyes are sincere as they meet yours, but you don’t offer any softness in return. 

You mutter something under your breath about your schedule not being the problem. 

Even with all the time in the world, you wouldn’t opt to spend an hour sitting in a service shop—breathing stale air, sinking into peeling leather seats, watching a revolving door of strangers. Especially when staying tucked away at home was a more promising alternative for a day like this, when your body seems to be conspiring against you.

Your cycle had started on the least convenient morning and shortened everything from your fuse to your patience to your desire to interact with other people. 

You watch him finish the remainder of his coffee and lick his lips afterward. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

With a frustrated huff, you slip off the island barstool and walk his mug to the sink. It provides an excuse not to look at him, more than anything. A dull, crampy ache has settled low in your stomach, but you feel his watchful gaze tracking you even more than the pain. He watches you rinse the colorful ceramic and move to place it in the dishwasher, tapping his fingers as he pieces together a new line of action. 

“We can try to reschedule,” he offers. “I’ll take off early and handle it sometime before we leave on Friday.” 

Come the end of the week, you’ll be heading to Boulder, Colorado, to see the girls. So much has changed since Ellie and Sarah moved away for college, but visiting them made the family unit feel whole again. 

Neither of you expected to miss them as much as you did, never mind in all the small ways you did. Once upon a time, you affectionately joked that it’d be quieter and cheaper with them not around. But you missed their shoes at the door, hearing music flowing from their bedrooms, cackling and teaming up against Joel with them on game nights. You even missed the little disagreements fueled by the notion that they were growing up and you simply wanted the best for them. 

“Can’t make the drive ‘til everything’s in good shape,” he says. 

The reminder is more of an encouragement than something he’s trying to hang over your head. Unfortunately, it strikes just the right nerve and leaves you looking for a hole to prod. 

“Then why would we cancel today’s appointment if it’s already guaranteed?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. “No point in switching things around and making it worse.” 

Joel remains quiet as he gathers his words. “So you’ll—”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” you say as you sit back down. 

The need to take the truck in is no more his fault than an inevitable necessity, but a large part of your frustration feels good—justified. 

“You gonna let me finish any of my sentences?” He asks lightly, placing a hand on his hip. The fabric of his shirt stretches over his bicep. 

When you motion for him to finish, he walks to stand alongside you. The warmth of his proximity coaxes you to swivel the stool towards him even as you refuse to meet his gaze. You succeed until he places a thick hand on your thigh and delivers a gentle squeeze. It’s even worse for your resolve that his touch rests against your bare skin. Your sleep shorts rest too far up your leg to shield you from the calloused warmth of his palm. 

“You always have a choice.” He tilts his head to look into your eyes. “We can work something else out.” 

“I already said I’d handle it.” 

“Well, alright then,” he concedes as you stare down at his hand. 

A brief silence passes before he speaks up again, “Hey. Thanks for packing my lunch.”

You shake your head in dismissal. 

“Gonna think of you when I eat it today like always.” A small smile curls at his lips as he speaks. “Do I get my goodbye kiss, or has that privilege been revoked?” The tenderness of his thumb as it strokes your thigh yields a guilt that weaves through your ribcage like the bones constitute a sewing loom. 

When you don’t respond, Joel leans in to peck your forehead, his lips plush and warm.   

Two quick horn honks sound from outside. 

“I gotta run.” He withdraws his touch, letting his fingertips brush down your thigh until they fall away at the bend of your knee. “Thanks for getting the truck taken care of.”

He lingers for a moment before stepping back. “I’ll see you later this evening.” 

When Joel heads towards the front door, you don’t trail after him like you usually would. You watch his steady stride and broad shoulders as he crosses into the foyer. Before reaching for the knob, he pauses to look over his shoulder. 

“I love you.” 

He doesn’t leave until you murmur it back.

You watch the door for a few extra seconds after he’s gone.  

•••

When five o'clock rolls around, you find yourself curled on the couch with a book. Sunlight lights the pages. As beautiful and immersive as the prose is, all that lingers in your mind is this morning. How difficult you’d been with Joel, how he hadn��t taken your bait. Sometimes, you wondered if the well of his grace would ever run dry since all you seemed to do was draw from it. He should’ve stopped you one too many moons ago, but the thought never once crossed his mind. 

When you got to McBride’s Auto Shop earlier, your cramps had begun to subside. Waiting wasn’t nearly as bad as you’d built it up to be in your head, even with the grainy TV and the older woman chewing gum as she flipped through an outdated magazine. The fact you hadn’t kissed Joel goodbye was far worse. 

Soon, you hear Tommy pull up alongside the curb to drop Joel off. In seconds, you place the bookmark between the pages and toss the book onto the coffee table. 

When Joel saunters through the front door, you’re there to wrap your arms around his neck. Your earnestness is reminiscent of when the girls were little and ambushed him when he got home from work, no matter how tired he was or how many bags he happened to be holding. 

A surprised chuckle rumbles out of him as he clumsily kicks the door shut behind himself. You relish the sound of his laughter as if somebody tuned the sound just for you. Joel wraps his arms around your waist as best he can with his backpack still on his shoulders and lunchbox in his grip. 

You nuzzle your nose into his shirt gently, almost felinely. He smells like fresh air, underscored by a muskier, fragranced scent.

“Honey,” he coaxes, attempting to pull away. “Lemme put my stuff down.” 

You ease up long enough for him to pace further inside and set his bags on the floor. Then, your arms secure right back around him like they never left. The attention feels as lovely as it always does coming from you. Joel’s smile eventually settles into something small as he rubs your back in soothing passes. His large frame nearly swallows you, but he’s never come close to crushing you. 

“It’s good to see you too,” he finally says. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur into him, words almost too muffled to comprehend. “I was mean to you this morning and shouldn’t have been.” 

Joel has to laugh again. Not at you, but because he’d let himself believe this particularly warm welcome was completely uninspired. 

“I didn’t mean to make it such a big deal,” you say. “It’s that time of the month, and I took it out on you.” 

“Is that what it was?” he asks lightly, kissing your head. 

When he pulls away to get a better look at you, the warmth in his gaze strikes deeper than you expect. Either that or your hormones have begun to tug on your heart more insistently than they should. Before you can look away, tears well in your eyes, and Joel feels a slight pang of guilt as you try to blink them back. 

His thumb catches the one that slips down your cheek. “No harm done,” he assures.  

You nod as you lean into his touch. It still amazes you how one person can be so kind and attuned. 

“Gonna take a lot more than a bad mood to get rid of me,” he jokes, smiling when a low chuckle escapes you. 

“I’ll never wanna get rid of you.” 

“Give it a few more years,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

You swat his chest gently. 

A future without Joel sounds so far off that it comes across as no more than a joke. It’s so unforeseeable that you can’t imagine it teetering into reality. Maybe it was bold of you to feel that way—for both of you to feel that way, especially when there’s no road map detailing the days of your lives to come. 

All you know is that you’re cultivating your love for one another moment by moment, second by second. Surely, that was enough to endure whatever storms sprung up along the way. 

Joel squeezes you tighter as if he’s somehow thinking the same thing. 

You’re grateful for his grace, the trip to Boulder you’ll share, and everything to come with him. 

“How about carryout from Lorenzo’s?” he asks. 

That beats leftovers any day.

You finally capture his lips in a sweet kiss. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all. 

JOEL MASTERLIST  

ALL MASTERLISTS 

[softstarlite]

Love Tap

Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.

Word count: 2.4k

Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’

Joel Miller was a wonderful father.

Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.

He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.

Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.

It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.

But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.

On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.

“Joel, you are so—”

“Quick. I’ll be quick.”

His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.

“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.

“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.

Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.

By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.

“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.

“More’a what?”

Aw, hell.

Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.

You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:

“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”

“None of your beeswax, bubs.”

Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.

He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.

“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.

“Fuck your buns.”

“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”

Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”

Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.

Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’

That was just fine by your husband.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.

Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.

“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.

“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.

Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.

Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.

He bit that finger. You yelped.

“JOEL!”

It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.

When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’

Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.

Mama.

He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.

He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.

Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.

“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”

“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.

Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.

“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.

“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”

Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.

One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.

Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.

It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.

And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.

Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.

Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.

“All better, honey?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

“Still want a divorce?”

A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?

Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.

He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.

Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary

You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.

Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.

“He-llo?”

You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.

“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.

Yes, unfortunately, it was.

You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.

“This is she,” you squeaked.

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.

Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:

“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”

Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.

“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.

“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”

‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.

“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.

You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—

“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”

“Wait, what?”

You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.

“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”

You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.

“Honey—”

“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”

You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.

You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.

You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.

Was it—

Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,

“My buns!”

[softstarlite]

Joel Miller x Reader Something Ours

Summary: One Sunday morning, tangled in the sheets, you finally tell Joel what you've been wanting for a long time—a baby.

tags: MDNI 18+ mentions of age gap but not specified, smut, breeding kink, marking/claiming, possessiveness, pinv, dirty talk, but still sweet. oral (f!receiving), baby makin. fluffy ending a/n: I’m in love w him ok. lightly inspired by @littlcdarlin 's Into Temptation series (the way Joel marks her up and wants her pregnant has plagued my mind for days)

Weekend mornings have always been your favorite in Jackson. No early alarms, no long hours on patrol for either of you—just this. Warmth, the soft sounds of steady breathing, the press of skin on skin. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for.

Joel is wrapped around you, his thick arm draped over your waist, his bare chest flush against your back. The wiry hair on his forearm tickles against your skin, even through the oversized shirt of his you’re wearing. He’s so warm, so solid, his presence enveloping you, lulling you into the kind of peace you never thought you’d have. You blink lazily against the golden rays spilling through the curtains, the soft glow of morning casting everything in warmth. Life has been kind to you here—days slipping by with little to no trouble, patrols growing easier as the woods clear of strays. The animals seem happier in the fall, the crisp air cooling the town after the long summer heat. Mornings like these make it easy to stay in bed, no sweaty discomfort forcing you into a cold shower first thing.

Joel stirs behind you, still caught somewhere between sleep and waking, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you closer. His hand splays over your stomach, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of his shirt, his touch absentminded, instinctual. The movement brings you flush against him, your backside molding to his front, and that’s when you feel it.

Thick and heavy, it’s mouthwatering.

Your breath hitches. He’s pressed perfectly between your ass, the firm length of him undeniable even through the thin fabric of both of your underwear. Heat pools low in your belly, your pulse thrumming at the feeling of him, never quite used to the sheer size of him.

Joel exhales deeply, his body relaxing against yours, still lost in the depths of sleep. His breathing is steady, deep and even, unaware of what he’s doing to you—how easily he ignites that slow burn beneath your skin.

You swallow, thighs pressing together as warmth pulses through you, a quiet ache settling deep in your core. You should let him sleep. Shouldn’t be thinking about how easy it would be to shift back against him, to press into the hardness of him and see what kind of sleepy sound he’d make.

But with the way he’s holding you, his palm heavy over your stomach, his arm locking you against him, it’s hard to think about anything else. 

You shift, just a little, just testing, and the solid length of him presses more firmly against you. Heat licks up your spine, something needy coiling inside you. A low hum slips from your throat as you settle in closer, letting yourself indulge in the feel of him.

Joel stirs, fingers flexing at your stomach before they slide up, his palm spreading warm and broad over your chest. He pulls you in tighter, his hand trailing up, wrapping around your throat—gentle, soft, but claiming.

His lips brush against your hair as he exhales slowly, voice rough with sleep, his southern drawl even deeper as he murmurs against your neck,

“Somethin’ you need, baby?”

A slow smile curls at your lips as you bring your hand to rest on his forearm, his skin warm and solid against yours. His beard rasps gently along your neck as he presses a long, lingering kiss there, his lips moving over your skin, traveling to your shoulder. Each touch is deliberate, unhurried, like he’s savoring the feel of you.

You shift, twisting your neck just enough to meet his gaze. There’s a lazy grin on his face, his eyes still heavy with sleep, a sliver of hazel peeking through dark lashes as he looks at you. Soft and wanting, and all yours.

Your hand moves up, cupping the back of his head as you kiss him deeply, your body molding into his. Joel sighs into your mouth, the sound low and rough, something deep in his chest, as his hand begins to roam.

His palm slides beneath the soft fabric of his shirt on you, heat searing into your skin as he cups one of your breasts, his touch firm and knowing. He squeezes gently, his grip grounding, pulling you in closer—like he can’t stand to have even an inch of space between you.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, teasing, coaxing, as his fingers find your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, a slow, torturous motion that makes your breath stutter. A gasp slips past your lips, your back arching just a little, silently asking for more.

His hand drifts lower, warm and steady as it slides down your torso, fingertips grazing the waistband of your panties. The anticipation coils tight in your stomach, heat pooling low, but just as his fingers dip beneath the fabric, you break away from the kiss.

"Joel—"

He hums against your lips, lazy and deep, his hand stilling just beneath your panty line, fingertips rough against sensitive skin.

"I've… I've been thinkin'."

That gets his attention. His hand stills, his eyes opening more as sleep fades from them, sharp focus settling over his features. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t press—just watches, waiting.

You move, shifting your body so you face him in his arms, both hands pressing against his broad chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palms, the wiry tufts of hair brushing against your fingertips. His warmth seeps into you, his palm settling low on your back, holding you firm, steady.

"What is it?" His voice is quiet, but there's an edge to it, a tightness he tries to keep from creeping in.

You avert your eyes, heart thudding harder now that you’re on the verge of saying it. You know what this means. What it could stir in him. You know his past—know the ghosts he carries, the weight of loss that still lingers in the spaces between you.

The thought forms thick on your tongue, like glue, sticking, making your throat dry.

"I…" You swallow, shutting your eyes, breathing deep to steady yourself.

Joel's hand moves from your spine, fingertips brushing along your jaw before tucking your hair back from your face. His touch is soft, careful. "Baby, what’s goin’ on?" he whispers.

Your eyes open, meeting his, and for a second, you hesitate, the weight of what you’re about to say settling deep in your stomach. But this is Joel. If you can’t say this to him, then who else?

"I want a baby."

Your voice is barely even a whisper, soft and careful, but the impact is instant.

Joel stills, completely. His fingers pause where they rest against your cheek, and his expression shifts, something unreadable flickering across it before his brows draw together. His mouth parts like he wants to say something, but no words come. You can only imagine what’s going through his mind. He was just a kid himself when he had Sarah. Eighteen, barely knowing what it meant to be a man before he had to become a father. Then to lose her so tragically and suddenly…

The hesitation is expected, but it still tugs at something vulnerable inside you.

You press on, your voice steadier now, firmer. "I want… I want to be a family with you, Joel." You watch him carefully, searching his face for any sign of rejection. "And maybe if we had a baby, people would have something else to talk about for a change.” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

Joel exhales sharply at that, his jaw tightening. You know how people talk—the whispers behind your back, the ones that say he’s too old for you, that you don’t belong with him. That the both of you should find someone his own age.

He blinks, his hands on you shifting to rest along your back again, "That why you want this?" His voice is unreadable, careful, like he’s picking apart your words, searching for the real reason.

You shake your head. "No, Joel, I… I just want something that's ours. Something good. We’ve spent so much of our lives surviving. I want to live. I want a family—with you."

Silence lingers between you, thick and uncertain. His fingers flex against your skin, his gaze searching, guarded.

Then, slowly, something shifts.

His face softens, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as his hand slides down your spine. His palm spreads wide over your back, pulling you closer, pressing you into the warmth of him.

"Are you sure?" His voice is rough, low, but there’s something else underneath it now—something warmer.

You nod, eyes never leaving his. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

Joel exhales, slow and measured. His thumb brushes absently over your lower back, his other hand coming to cradle your cheek. There’s a long pause, a moment where you think he might say no, might pull away.

But then, he smiles, and you feel like you can breathe again.

"Wanna make one now?"

The words are quiet, but the effect is immediate. Heat spreads back through you, pooling low in your stomach, making your toes curl in anticipation. Your fingers tighten against his chest, breath coming a little quicker now as something electric passes between you.

His hand moves from your back, sliding down in a slow, deliberate stroke before cupping your ass, squeezing hard. A pleased sound rumbles low in his chest when he feels the way you press into him, the way your body molds so perfectly beneath his touch.

Then, his palm glides lower, over the curve of your thigh, strong fingers gripping as he hitches your leg higher, wrapping it around his hip. The movement pulls you into him, presses you against the thick, warm length of him beneath his briefs, and it makes you mewl for him.

He’s so hard, so perfectly situated between your legs, the friction unbearable, teasing, maddening. The way he breathes out against your skin tells you he feels it too, that same raw need settling deep, curling between you like something heavy and inevitable.

But it’s his mouth that makes your stomach flutter, that sends fire licking down your spine. The press of his lips at your collarbone. The rough scrape of his beard as he moves against your neck. His breath, warm and steady, fanning over sensitive skin.

You sigh, stretching beneath him, chasing the heat of his mouth as he sucks at the flesh of your throat, "Joooeel…" you croon, voice thick and sweet, caught somewhere between indulgence and a plea, "You're gonna leave marks."

But even as you say it, your back is already arching, your body offering itself to him before you can think better of it. Your neck stretches, baring more skin for him, inviting the scrape of his beard, the slow drag of his lips as they trail lower, sinking heat into every inch of you. You can feel the blood pooling just beneath your skin, heat blooming where his mouth lingers, marking you as his. A quiet thrill runs through you at the thought, at the way he takes his time, deliberate, the realization that he doesn’t care if others see his claim on you.

Joel hums against your throat, deep and thrumming low against your neck. The vibrations of it roll through you, making you shiver as his mouth savors the taste of your skin. His teeth graze against your pulse before he soothes the spot with his tongue, his breath warm where it fans over damp skin, all slow and unwavering. 

"Good." His voice is rough, low, barely more than a growl before he bites into you again, harder this time.

You yelp, a sharp sound swallowed quickly as his mouth crashes against yours, tongue sweeping into your mouth, taking, claiming. A deep rumble rises from his chest, reverberating through you as his grip tightens, holding you flush against him.

"Then they’ll know," he murmurs against your lips, voice thick with something dark, something primal. "Once and for all, who you belong to."

The words send a shiver down your spine, heat licking through you in a way you never would have expected. Once, a claim like that would have made you bristle, made you scoff at the idea of a man thinking he could own you. But Joel—Joel was different.

He was a different breed of man. With him, you wanted it. Wanted him to stake his claim, to mark you in whatever way he wanted, to make sure everyone knew you were his. There was something about the way he touched you, the way he held you, the way his eyes darkened whenever they roamed over you. It made you crave it, made you ache for something deeper, something permanent.

And you can see it now—clear as day.

Barefoot, belly rounding beneath one of his worn buttoned plaid shirts as you pad through the house. The scent of morning coffee, the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. Maybe you'd finally learn to sew, stitching tiny little clothes with steady fingers, something made just for them, just for the life growing inside you. The glow of your skin catching in the soft light from the kitchen window, the quiet hum of contentment settling in your chest as he put his hand over your swollen belly. 

A slow smile tugs at your lips, breath coming a little quicker as your fingers slide up into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath catch.

“Gonna knock me up, Joel Miller?” you tease, voice breathless, playful, but aching underneath it all.

His hands flex at your waist, grip tightening as something shifts in him.

His pupils darken, jaw tightening as his tongue swipes along the seam of his lips like he's already thinking about how he's going to ruin you.

“You want that, baby?” His voice is low, thick, almost hoarse with want. His fingers drag up your thigh, slow and deliberate, spreading warmth along your skin as he rocks his hips into you just enough for you to feel all of him.

"You want me fillin’ you up, makin’ you mine, lettin’ everyone see what I did to you?"

A whimper catches in your throat at the way he says it, like he’s staking his claim right then and there.

His mouth finds your jaw again, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. His beard scrapes deliciously against your skin, sending little shocks of heat curling in your stomach. He lingers, lips hovering over your pulse before his teeth catch on the sensitive skin, nipping just enough to make you gasp.

“Think I like that idea,” he murmurs, voice rough as he soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Joel—”

“You’d be so pretty,” he continues, dragging his teeth down the column of your throat, his tongue tracing every mark he leaves behind. “Walkin’ ‘round town with my baby in you. Belly all round and full. Everybody seein’ how well I take care of you. My girl. Mine.”

The words send a rush of heat straight between your legs, a soft moan slipping from your lips as he pulls your thigh higher up his hip.

And then he pulls away just enough to look at you.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, palms rough and warm as they skim over your sides, your ribs, moving slow, teasing. His eyes hold yours as he peels it up, tugging the fabric over your head before tossing it aside.

The air is cool against your skin, but the way Joel looks at you is scorching.

His hands find you again immediately, thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples, taking his time, watching you squirm beneath him.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, fingers smoothing over your breasts before he cups them in his big hand, squeezing gently, like he needs to feel all of you.

"You’re perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick, like he can barely get the words out. "So goddamn pretty, baby. Every part of you.”

Heat coils in your stomach, your hips shifting up into his instinctively, desperate for more, for the way he’s touching you, talking to you, claiming you.

And then his mouth is on you.

He drags his tongue over the soft swell of your breast, slow, savoring, before closing his lips around you, sucking just hard enough to make you gasp.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tight as his tongue flicks over your nipple, teeth grazing over the bud. Joel groans against your skin, hot and deep, before sucking harder, pulling more of you into his mouth, marking you up just like he did your neck.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his breath fanning over the wet heat of your skin as he leans back just enough to admire his work. A red and purple mark blooming right over your breast.

His fingers brush over it, thumb pressing lightly against the tender spot, and you whimper at the delicious sting.

“All mine, ain’t that right?” he whispers against your skin as he continues kissing down your body, pushing aside the blankets so that he can settle between your legs.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s on his stomach, his broad shoulders spreading your thighs wide over him, his hands smoothing over the soft flesh as he drags his lips along the inside of your thigh.

The kisses start soft, slow, warm. Then he bites again.

A sharp nip, just enough to make you gasp, before he soothes the sting with his tongue, lips sealing over the spot as he sucks, marking you up all over again.

“Wanna mark you everywhere,” he grumbles against your skin. “So when you look in the mirror—” he sucks harder, his eyes finding yours as you suck breath in through your teeth, your thighs tense around him “—no matter what you’re wearin’, you’ll remember who you belong to.”

“Always yours,” you sigh, your chest heaving as you prop yourself up on your elbows, needing to see him, needing to watch.

He hums at that, pleased, dragging his tongue over the fresh mark before moving higher.

His mouth finds the damp fabric covering you, his beard scratching at your tender, oversensitive flesh. He nuzzles against you, slow and teasing, the broad bridge of his nose pressing right against your clit.

And then he inhales.

A deep, low groan rumbles from his chest, thick and hungry, his fingers flexing against your thighs as his tongue teases at the wet fabric, dragging slow over the soaked cotton.

“Always smell so goddamn sweet,” he mutters, voice wrecked, like it’s physically affecting him, like he needs it.

His tongue darts out, tasting you through the fabric, and your whole body shudders, thighs clenching around his head.

“Joel, please,” you whimper, “Enough teasing.”

He chuckles, low and rough, the sound vibrating against you. “Okay, okay, sweet girl.”

One hand shifts, his fingers tracing along the thin fabric, feeling the slickness pooled there, spreading it just slightly, like he’s savoring the proof of what he’s done to you.

Then, with agonizing slowness, he hooks a finger around the damp edge of your panties, pulling them to the side. The cool air barely has a second to kiss your skin before Joel’s mouth is on you.

His tongue flattens, licking a long, slow stripe through your slick folds, and at the first contact, both of you groan—him, deep and wrecked, you, breathless and desperate.

The lewd, wet sounds of his mouth on you, the way he laps at you like a starved man, has you trembling beneath him. His tongue moves with purpose, savoring every drop of you, every reaction he pulls from your body.

Almost too soon, your muscles are clenching, your hips undulating, your skin prickling with heat as your climax builds, fast and overwhelming. It’s too soon—you want to wait, want to stretch this out, indulge in the pleasure of his mouth for as long as possible. But Joel is too enamored, too determined with the way you look beneath him, writhing and pliant, so desperate, so full of wanton need.

“C’mon, my pretty girl,” he murmurs against you, voice rough, coaxing, his lips brushing over your swollen clit with every word. "It's right there, I feel it already." and then his teeth graze your swollen clit, just barely, but it’s enough to have your thighs locking around his head as the pressure in your belly snaps like a chord, pleasure ripping through you in blinding waves. Your body shudders, stars bursting behind your vision.

But Joel isn’t done, he keeps up his rhythm, licking and sucking you through it, holding your thighs tight in his wide hands, keeping you exactly where he wants you. His groan vibrates against you, full of satisfaction, savoring the way you pulse in his mouth.

Your body melts, boneless in his arms, the pleasure still curling warm and slow through you. But even as you come down, he doesn’t let up. His tongue keeps moving, gentler now, slower, but still firm, still insatiable. Pressure builds again, too fast, too much.

“It’s-s-s too much,” you mewl, hands suddenly in his hair, but you don’t push him away. You could never push him away, even if it was mind-meltingly overwhelming.

Joel groans against you, deep and dark, nearly feral. His grip tightens, fingers flexing against your thighs, spreading you open even more.

"Another," he growls. The shift in him—from gentle and coaxing to relentless, determined, primal—has your body reacting on instinct, arching for him again, like you were made to obey him, made to give him everything. Your thighs tremble, muscles locking up, and within seconds, the white-hot pleasure crashes over you again, harder, deeper, more devastating than before.

You moan loudly, head thrown into the pillow, hands gripping at him, at anything you can reach, your body writhing as he groans against you, drinking in every sound, every pulse of pleasure he rips from you.

He slows his ministrations, his tongue easing into slow, deliberate licks, kissing at your oversensitive center—so soft, so tender, almost reverent. But the look in his eyes is anything but. Dark. Hungry. Still needing more.

His mouth travels up your body, kissing along your stomach, through the valley of your breasts, lingering for just a moment before moving higher. His hands plant on either side of your head, caging you in, looking down at you like he’s trying to burn this moment into his memory.

Your hand moves to his beard, wet with the mess he’s made of you, glistening with you. You can’t help yourself—you kiss his lips, then move to his jaw, to his beard, tasting yourself, cleaning up the evidence of what he’s done.

“You’re gonna smell like me all day,” you giggle between kisses, dragging your tongue along his stubble.

Joel groans at that, deep and rough, and when your lips meet his again, he leans in, pressing you deeper into the mattress, forearms bracketing your head.

“I sure hope so,” he chuckles, voice thick, wrecked.

Then his hand slides between you, pushing his briefs down just enough, freeing his aching cock. You gasp as he strokes himself against you, his length dragging slick through your folds, spreading your arousal, teasing you with what’s coming. You’re so wet, so messy, so desperate for him, that you can feel it dripping between your thighs, pooling in the sheets beneath you.

Joel lines himself up, but instead of his usual—tightening his eyes shut, brows furrowing with restraint—he looks at you. 

His pupils are blown, his desire nearly black in his gaze, but there’s something else, something deeper, something that makes your chest ache as you lie beneath him.

“Tell me again,” he whispers, giving you a long, lingering kiss.

“Tell you—what?” you breathe, caught off guard, trying to sift through desire-fogged memories, trying to piece together what he wants, what he needs–

Oh.

Your hands slide up his arms, fingertips pressing into the hard muscle, trailing over his shoulders until they rest against his neck. You lean up, kissing him slow, letting him feel it, letting him know.

Joel groans, the head of his cock dragging over you again, teasing, pressing, waiting.

“Want you to put a baby in me, Joel,” you whisper, voice sweet and breathy, but laced with something needy, aching, raw. “Want to be full of you—so full, everyone will know I’m yours.”

His breath catches, sharp and sudden, his whole body going rigid above you. His cock twitches against your soaked entrance, so close, just barely teasing, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

You press up into him, dragging your hands down his back, pulling him in, pulling him closer. “Wanna carry your baby, Joel. Wanna feel you inside me for days. Wanna be so stuffed full of you I never forget who I belong—ah!”

The words are barely past your lips when he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one deep, devastating thrust. No teasing. No easing you into it. Just all of him at once.

Your back arches as your body stretches around him, clenching tight, squeezing him so perfectly he nearly loses himself right then and there. Joel groans, forehead dropping against yours, voice rough and ragged.

“Yeah, baby?” he rasps, his fingers sliding up to your throat, tilting your chin just right. “That what you need? Daddy fuckin’ you full, keepin’ you stuffed with me, makin’ you round with my baby?”

You moan, nails biting into his shoulders, “Yes, Joel–yes,”

A deep, guttural sound rips from him at that, his grip tightening as his hips press flush against yours. He stays there for a moment, buried inside you, letting you feel it, letting you adjust to the sweet, heavenly stretch of him, the sheer size of him, the way your body molds to take him.

Then, he pulls back, slow, deliberate, letting every thick inch drag along your walls, leaving you shaking beneath him before he slams back in, pushing, pressing, filling. He fucks you into the mattress, his shoulders and arms flexing as he pulls you in, his hands gripping at you like he can’t get you close enough.

His mouth claims yours, all tongue and teeth and so much hunger, so much need, kissing you deep and filthy, swallowing the soft, desperate sounds you make with every roll of his hips. His pace is perfect—deep, steady, wrecking.

“S–so deep, Joel,” you breathe when his lips move to your jaw, nipping, suckling, marking. Your legs tighten around him, locking him in, keeping him buried inside you, "Feels so good," you whimper, hands gripping onto the broad expanse of his back, nails raking down muscle.

Joel groans into your flesh, the sound rough, wrecked, completely undone by you, “Pussy always so good for me, baby," he mutters, voice hoarse, full of reverence, of possession. His teeth graze your throat, his tongue soothing where he’s just marked you, "You’re such a good girl," he rasps, hips grinding against yours, letting you feel every inch, every deliberate, claiming thrust, "Always takin’ my cock so good."

You moan, clenching around him, and he feels it. He groans, pressing deeper, harder, slower, like he wants you to feel it forever.

"Fuck, baby," he grits out, jaw tight as he pulls back again, just to slam back in, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the room. "So tight, so perfect—this little pussy was made for me."

His words send a shudder through you, pleasure curling deep, twisting, coiling, ready to snap. His eyes search your face with a lopsided grin, like he knows. He always fucking knows. Knows your body like it’s something worth studying, worth memorizing, worth loving. Like every reaction you give him is something precious, something sacred.

"You feel that, baby?" he rasps, voice thick, dripping with satisfaction. "The way your body begs for me?"

His hips roll against yours, slow but deep, unrelenting, pressing in like he wants to brand himself into you. His fingers trail over your stomach, right over the place where he's buried inside you, filling you, stretching you, owning you.

"This is mine," he murmurs, thumb pressing down just enough to make you gasp. "Every inch of you, baby. Made for me."

His hand slides lower, fingers finding your clit, teasing, wrecking, dragging you right to the edge, where he wants you—where you need him to take you.

"You gonna cum for me again, baby girl?" he whispers, lips grazing your jaw, voice like sin. "Wanna feel you make a mess all over me. Wanna watch you lose yourself on my cock."

Your body tightens, pleasure pulsing, making you writhe beneath him as your eyes roll back for the third time, and he watches in rapture as you clench around him.

Joel groans, cursing, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels your walls grip him like a vice. The sound of your moans mix with the wet, obscene slap of skin, the way your body takes him, drenched, perfect, his.

His body tenses above you, muscles locking in his arms, his neck, his stomach as his rhythm stutters, sharpens, his breath coming harder, faster. He drives into you deeper, chasing the heat, chasing the way you pull him in, your body milking him, wrecking him.

And when you come back to yourself, blinking up at him, your hands are everywhere—gripping, holding, pulling him in closer, feeling the way he’s right there, teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart.

“I love you," you whisper, breathless, desperate, voice thick with want, with devotion, with everything, "Love you so much, Joel.”

His hips stutter at that, his jaw clenching tight, his entire body shaking from the way you say it, from the way you look at him.

Your hands slip into his hair, tugging gently, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper, "Fill me up, Joel. I want to feel you dripping out of me, wanna be so full of you I swell up with your baby."

Joel moans—loud, rough, broken—

His body locks, shudders, his hips slamming flush against yours as he lets go, as he fills you, claiming you, giving you everything.

His breath comes in heavy, uneven bursts, his body still trembling from the aftershocks as he keeps moving, keeps rolling his hips, like he can press himself even deeper, like he is making it take.

Then, with a slow, almost reluctant sigh, he finally pulls out, a small groan slipping from his lips at the loss of you. His hands stay on you, smoothing over your skin, tracing your waist, your thighs, like he can’t stop touching you as he lays beside you. 

You shudder, still sensitive, and he notices, “Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, wrecked, and so soft now. One of his big hands rests over your stomach, fingers grazing gently, like he’s thinking about something, picturing it.

You glance up at him, your heart clenching at the look on his face. He’s completely transfixed, almost awestruck,staring at where his hand lays over your belly.

“You really want this?” His voice is quieter now, more serious, but there’s something vulnerable in it, something hesitant.

“Little late to be askin’ that,” you chuckle breathlessly. But then, you look at him, your fingers trail up his arm, sliding over his shoulder, your other hand covering his on your stomach. “I do,” you whisper. “I want a family with you, Joel.”

His throat bobs as he swallows, like he’s trying to process the weight of your words.

You cup his face, guiding his gaze back to yours. “I want to give you something good. I want to make something with you—something that's ours."

Joel exhales sharply through his nose, his hand tightening over your stomach for just a second before he leans down, kissing you slow, deep, like he’s trying to breathe you in.

“God, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers stroking absentmindedly over your stomach. "You got no idea what you do to me."

You smile against his mouth, pulling him closer, feeling the warmth of him everywhere.

“Tell me,” you tease, brushing your nose against his.

He chuckles, shaking his head, completely in love, completely lost in you.

"I dunno how I got so lucky," he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. "You're everything to me, baby. Everythin’ I ever wanted, everythin’ I never thought I'd get to have."

Your chest tightens, and you press another soft kiss to his lips. “You’re everything to me too.”

Joel’s breath shudders as he exhales, his arms tightening around you, pulling you completely into his chest. He shifts onto his side, tucking you against him, wrapping himself around you.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispers against your hair, his lips pressing lazy, lingering kisses there. "Gonna take care of you both."

Your heart swells at that, at the weight of it, at how completely and entirely devoted he is to you.

You nuzzle closer, your legs tangling with his, your fingers brushing over the broad, solid expanse of his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, so soft, so certain.

Joel sighs, content, like he could stay right here, wrapped up in you, in this moment, forever.

“Love you too, baby,” he murmurs, voice heavy with sleep, with something deeper. "More than you’ll ever know."

[softstarlite]

I hope this makes sense but I’d love a cute and sexy little moment where Mama does the “mom chop” after having Sarah and Ellie bc the babies are always pulling on her long hair when she hold them and she doesn’t want to worry about all the time she spends to style it. Joel sees her and think she looks so sexy with her hair short (like a short bob cut) and he’s begging to get her pregnant again lol

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Making a Mom out of You

warnings: more detailed descriptions of hair, unprotected sex, breeding kink, doggy, feral Joel, not really a Mommy kink but really into Mommyfication kink? , descriptions of post-pregnant body

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It’s not her fault at all. She’s just a baby. Sarah was no different. Those chumba little fists were strong as hell.

But you were ready to cuff those hands behind their back if Ellie yanked on your ends one more fucking time.

As if on cue, she looks you dead in the eyes. Held hostage by one of her bitty hands curled up in a ball is your long hair. You balance her sippy cup in your other arm, unable to defend. 

You could see it in her eyes. The way she’s telling you that she saw how you ate Daddy’s last cookie, and blamed it on Sarah. And now she’s about to exact her vengeance upon you…

A tense moment passes between momma and baby. And then—

“OW!!” You screech.

From the stairwell echoes a booming thumpthumpthumpthum—BANG, and Joel, limping with impressive speed while rubbing his shin, appears with concern.

“What happened??”

You wrap your fingers gently but firmly around your 1 year old’s hand, trying your best to detangle her fat claws from your strands. “I’m done. IM DONE!”

Joel helps by offering his arms out to Ellie, which she immediately bounced right out of your embrace and into Joel’s.

“Done… with…?” He almost worriedly looks to his little innocent baby girl, surely not suggesting that you were disowning her now?

“I just—I need a hair cut. This isn’t working anymore—“

“Your hair is beautiful—“

“I know it is!” You huff. “But it’s just not easy with the girls.” Between Sarah now wanting to paint your hair with marker and Ellie determined to get you a freeway pass to early balding, having each to access long hair was no longer ideal. “Can I just—I’m gonna run for a walk-in appointment and I’ll be back in less than an hour—“

Joel soothes your worry with a warm kiss to your forehead. “You take as much time as you need. Get one of these head scalp rub things. And the—the conditioner—treatment—soft rubbing—you know the one.”

You smile as he holds and bounces with Ellie. Pecking him on the lips a few times, he sends you off your way in the car.

As you back away, Joel carries Ellie back inside. “Mama just gonna get a little refreshing’ cut. She’s be lookin’ just the same, just our same pretty lady.”

Except you didn’t come back lookin’ quite the same pretty lady.

Joel is mid changing Ellie’s diaper on the floor when you come in and drop your keys on the counter.

“How’d it go—“

He pauses when he finally looks up, and the content expression from his face vanishes:

Who let this hot fucking milf in his house??

“S’okay,” you mumble, still running your fingers through the voluminous and now much shorter strands. They practically bounce back with an effortless glow. 

Your once glowing, youthful hair was now cut back in, daresay, an even sexier, mature look? How is that possible?

You were still you… beautiful woman and all just as he’s always seen…but suddenly he was staring at a different version of you now. You were a hot sexy girlfriend turned wifey he would fuck in the backseat- of his car like a whore, turned into to the hot sexy wifey turned MOM who he’ll be fucking in the backseat of a mini van before pickup from soccer practice like the neighborhood affair.

Its just as good… but so new… he doesn’t know how to contain himself.

You shake your head, the hair bouncing with each little jolt and then quickly back into place. “I didn’t like the mousse they put in so I’m gonna rinse it out and take a shower. Be out in a few minutes, ok?”

Joel is still drooling into Ellie’s belly button. He barely registered you had spoken to him, let alone where you were suddenly disappearing off to.

He wipes his mouth hastily and scoops Ellie up like a football. Running to Sarah’s room, he grabs her as well, iPad still clutched in her hands without a care in the world of being held on her side.

Car.

Seats.

Buckled.

Door.

Ignition.

Vroom.

The door to Tommy’s newly moved in house gets kicked in, making the younger brother yelp like a bitch. Just As qucking, in comes Joel with two squirming kids in either arm, his biceps flexing like he was carrying logs from a hot day of chopping wood. He tosses the girls on the couch next to him, their squealing laughs ringing deaf on their dad’s ears.

“Joel-what the—“

But he doesn’t look at him as he’s already storming his way out with heavy thuds of his boots. “Watch ‘em — 1 hour—“

He slams the door shut.

Tommy blinks, then checks out the two kiddos next to him, smiling, like they were about to make this the most painful hour of his life…

Joel is speeding back down the street, barely coming to a stop at the intersections. His fists white knuckling the steering wheel, he’s never gritted his teeth so hard in his goddamn life.

When he gets home, you’re just stepped out of the shower: skin still warm and moist, barefoot with your smooth legs paddling around the carpet. You’re sporting one of his large T shirts while rubbing your now half damp hair with a towel, your head tilted to the side to get the water out.

“I was thinking for dinner, I could make us some pasta —“

You hadn’t noticed he had left, that the girls weren’t home, let alone the way he’s barreling to you like an avalanche about to consume your valley whole.

He quickly wraps himself around you, his arms under your butt and lifts you into the air like nothing. “J-Joel!”

With your legs now firmly wrapped around his middle, he carries you off to the bed, and falling forward with you caged underneath him. His strong, burly body suffocates you. Dominant hands gliding over your thighs and up your shirt, revealing your nakedness before him. His touch is insatiable, rolling his jean clad bulge into your core. Before you can protest, his tongue slips into your open mouth, and he kisses you with such fervor, you nearly pass out with the combined heat of the shower still radiating your senses.

“W-wh-w-mmf!” He seals your lips again with an even hungrier kiss. Between his fingers tweaking your nipples with his massive paw groping your tit, to his knee nudging your legs even further apart, elbow hooking underneath to get your ankle snugly latched over his back. He doesn’t relent, tongue chasing yours with he snarls through his nose just to breathe without separating from you. It’s suffocating in the best way possible. 

Finally you curl your fingers in his hair and tug, earning a low growl from the beast above you. 

“WHAT is going on Joel Mill—“

“You look so fuckin’ good, Momma,” he rumbles from deep within his core. You get a good look at him now above you: pupils dilated like a fuckin’ demon, his back and shoulders expanded with his breath, his tongue caught between his teeth as he licks his lips scanning over you. “I ever tell you that, Momma?”

“I—I mean—yeah—you—you usually say I’m pretty—“ you bat quietly, unsure where this extra level of attention is coming from—

He cuts you off as he rolls your shirt completely over your tits. Looking at you now, he falls even closer, both forearms laying flat on either side of your head. “No,” he breathes into your lips, nose grazing yours. his digits filter over your new hair, barely straightening before loosing the strands completely after a moment. “I ain’t tell ya just how good you look, like a momma.”

His gaze roams over your whole body, spread out on display for him: squeezing your plush hips, all widen beyond your youth, up to your soft belly, who’s miraculously carried not one but two babies already, and lookin’ like she could use a third; kneading your tits—your now twice-breast-fed tits, which are even softer and supplier in his thick palms. Jesus. He really did alter your body completely into a mom’s didn’t he?”

“You’re such a hot fuckin’ mom, baby.”

You’re not tracking it. “I—I’ve been a momma…for like…a few years now, Joel. Baby are you okay?”

“I’m so fuckin’ good,” he cackles, grinding his body deeper into you. “SO fuckin’ good.” He can’t stop looking at you like you’re his first and last meal, and like its the first time he’s having you like this all over again.

You can tell he means it.

“I—“

He buries his head into your neck and starts rolling his bulge into your heat.

You gasp.

“What if I made ya a momma again? You want that? FUck look at what ya do to me.” Another punctured rut of his throbbing cock desperate to break through his jeans and wedge itself inside you elicits a moan.

“Is it…is it my hair?” Ask you curiously.

He lets out an even more desperate growl, humping you like a dog while his fingers tangle in your strands.

It’s the hair, you nod with a self satisfied grin, wrapping your hands tightly around his broad shoulders. 

“Do ya see yourself, momma? Do you see how fuckin’ breedable ya are—how breedable I made you? You always been but… fuck…you’re like… like a fucking MOMMY now baby look at you. All of ya, my fuckin girl, a momma now, no hiding it no more…fuck…fuck…fuck” he hums into your temple.

“You did that to me yourself,” you whisper, clasping his face in your hands.

He groans louder, rutting his hips deeper into you. “I wanna do it again. Ain’t gonna let ya leave this bed till ya bloated with another one.” He pets over your stomach. “You remember that? All pregnant n’ full of me. Bet ya body remembers it. How bout we dump the birth control again huh?”

Your mad man is talking again.

“Joel…” you whine. He’s getting to you though, with the incessant hands roaming all over your body, his lips attached to your neck and hips thrusting against your mound, your body is begging to let the man have his way today.

“Where are the gi—“

“With Tommy.” He shushes your worry, almost drunkenly with heavy lids. “Gimme 40 minutes, momma, just you n’ me. How about it, Momma?”

-

You should have said no. But god damnit, Joel Miller know’s how to make good on those 40 minutes and show his wife a good time.

You’ll have to send Tommy a nice gift card for his trouble. Maybe a vacation package for him and Maria. Right now, you’re too focused on the way Joel’s cock is carving a whole new home inside your cunt as he rails you from behind.

And he’s fucking—hard.

“You like that, baby? You n’ me fuckin’ in the car—gettin that stupid mini van ya want— before those parent teacher conferences or behind the bleachers —oh fuck baby squeezing’ me just like that—like a whore mom who can’t keep that pussy at bay—and—”

He’s just been babbling, images flooding your mind of all the naughty things he wants to do to you, with more energy than you can even calculate he has stored right now.

And you? You’re teetering between insanity and falling unconscious from the heaping amounts of pleasure he’s forcing into you. Your one arm is extended to its furthest reach, fingers just barely grazing the headboard for stability. Joel’s steel grip digs into your waist  with each clash of his thighs against your ass. His other hand is scrunched into the roots of your hair, holding you in place with a gently yet arousing grasp. The satisfying slick slap of his balls kissing your clit make your nerves curl deliciously.

He hisses through his teeth with each forceful puncture.

You might actually pass out from sex.

“J-J—Joel-oel-oh-oh-oelll—“

He pulls you up until your back is flush against sweaty chest, nowhere for him to go but deeper. “Yeah Momma, you feel it yet?” He brushes over your stomach, down to your naval and below, pads of his thumb rubbing tight circles into your clit. His other fingers grave on other side of your folds, and he can feel just how much pressure changes each time his girth slots back into your tight heat. “Shit—shit—you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…” he squeezes his eyes shut, concentrating and just feeling you. All of you.

You nod helplessly, surrendered entirely to his control.

Your eyes fall to the side to meet his wild, desperate ones staring back at. “Amazin’,” he rasps before planting a hot hiss on your pulse.

The point of his nose grazes along your vein in your neck, his lips sucking sickies into your skin. His breaths are fast and harsh, tickling your ear. 

You close your eyes, letting yourself fall into him.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His eyes flutter open, the hand tangled in your hair now squeezing tighter as he forces your lips to his once again in a passionate clash. He won’t let you breathe, but won’t let you fall either. 

His stomach presses perfectly above your ass. Bodies strained in a thin layer of sweat, and muscles aching in all the right places, Joel holds you captive against him. He hasn’t stopped paying attention to your sensitive zones. Between flicking your clit and tweaking your nipples, he’s made excellent work of keeping you on a dizzying edge of pleasure without pushing you over.  

“Auughhh!” He yelps, falling forward onto you. Your hand can’t hand the surge, and you’re falling face first into the pillowy mess below. His forehead sticks to the nape of your neck, kissing it, while his thrusts increase in shallow, harsh punches, completely battering your walls.

You can’t even form coherent words. Just eyeballs rolled back, and hums of ecstasy as you bite into the pillowcase.

“You’re gonna cum for me, Momma, yeah? You’re gonna cum, and I’m gonna—fuck—fuck!—cum inside you, and we’ll make a little baby in there, an’ you’re just gonna be a momma forever okay? You n me, babies every year—“

If you had half a braincell left that hadn’t been Molded into Joel Miller shaped penises, you would remind him no, you two were done. 

But right now all you can do is nod for him. He’s so close, recklessly humping and slapping into your ass without thought. Your clit is smashed against the bunched up comforter, dragging deliciously, but oh no, Joel won’t let something else get you off this time.

He forces his hand beneath your body, palm splayed across your lower stomach and pushing inward. At the same time, his pointer and middle finger twiddle with your swollen clit, all sticky and warm under the mass of him.

Your voice is hoarse, cracking as you let out a cry. He can feel your cunt pulse before absolutely clamping down on him like a vice, and cumming harder than you had in years. 

And Joel Miller always makes you cum during sex. But this? 

You shouted. shook and cried, sang like a mantra of moans just never ending as the white hot pleasure courses through you, filling your every senses and exploding them until you’re nothing but an empty shell, incapable of processing anything else but ecstasy.

‘That’s it that it momma holy fuck—you cum s’goodformeyesyesyes—ahh fuck I can’t—I can’t—I’m gonNA—!”

He bares down with all his strength. A tense moment of his held breath passes before he’s erupting in a chorus of groans and growls. Your body jolts with each spurt of his seed finding its way deep inside your womb. He’s laid completely boneless atop you, heavy and breathing in your skin like it’s his lifeline.

When the final pulses from both of you have subsided, you lay still, sweaty and collapsed. 

His soft kisses find their way to your neck again, like he’s trying to rouse both of you to stay awake but stay still, exactly as you are.

It’s been on both your minds: you hadn’t fucked like that in years.

Sure, you and Joel had a very active, amazing sex life. Always had. But you realized a lot of the desperate, harsh, steamy, raw sex had been disbanded when the girls came along in favor of naps, lazy oral, slow grinding, and quickies. When was the last time you both acted like savage animals on one another and let it play out like this?

He thinks about how much he’s missed out on you. How much the two of you had let being parents dictate your schedules. How little he’s opened his eyes to seeing this new woman right before him, the woman who not just the mother of his kids but has actually become a mom, and how he’s cursing himself for not having taken ever advantage to show you just how hot you are every day by being like this , and —

“Joel,” you whisper beneath him.

He shakes his head and lets up. You roll over to your back, with Joel settling right above you again.

As if you could read his mind, you cradle him with a smile. “Joel, look at me.” 

He obliges, and your sink a little more in love with him when the soft, vulnerable, (slightly more sane) brown baby eyes find you again. 

“I feel so loved from you. Every day. I feel sexy because of you. Its never faltered. You make me feel like a woman, a mom, a wife, a partner. A hot sex kitten and a sexy forbidden affair. I could not have asked for a better man oogling me up every day like a slab of butter on popcorn--“

“Why, you craven’ popcorn?” His ears perk up. “Is that a baby—“

“There’s no baby, cowboy.”

He chuckles. Bringing your palm to his lips, he sucks a sweet kiss into your skin. “I know. I’m happy with us. Just love seein’ you a mom is all.”

“I’ve been a mom for like, 5 years now!”

his eyes wander off course slightly. He fiddles with your hair, a little grin tugging the corner of his lips. Irises practically heart shaped, like a toddler who got distracted by pretty lights as he fits his fingers in your new mom-cut.

“Joel.”

“Huh?”

You laugh, slapping his shoulder before bringing his face back down for a legnthy kiss.

Tommy won't mind watching the girls for the whole night…right?

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @jeewrites

[softstarlite]

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[softstarlite]

Acting Normal

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javi’s been thinking about that night every minute of every day, while you're acting like it never even happened, and if he doesn't do something about it, he's gonna lose his mind.

warnings: smut| fingering, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being a simp, sex in the workplace, (it's not public but there's a possibility of getting caught)

a/n: I already know what to write for part 3, this couple is my new obsession lol

This is a part 2 to this story, but it can be read alone

Javi

This was really important stuff

He was really supposed to be listening

He was paid to listen to it,

that's what he kept repeating himself,

and yet- yet if someone asked him to repeat whatever Carillo was saying, he couldn't have spit out one singular word.

But it wasn't his fault, not really.

You must have been doing it on purpose, there was no way you were doing all that just accidentally.

Your lips were wrapped around the lollipop in a way that left nothing to the imagination- he could feel those lips on him, he knew how soft and sweet they were from kissing them, but around him... oh they would feel even sweeter, he was sure-

"If you're not gonna listen to me then why am I even here?"

It took Javier much too long to realize what Carillo had said

"I'm listening" he stated with enough confidence to fool anyone- except he was talking to one of the few people that could see right through his bullshit.

"I'm surprised you haven't done it yet" the Colonel shook his head, blowing out a cloud of smoke "I thought she would have given in by now"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Carillo couldn't help but laugh.

"You've been obsessed with her since she first arrived"

Javier hadn't even noticed that his gaze was back on you... or that his colleague had spoken again.

"yeah," Carillo chuckled, patting Javi's back "I'll just talk to Murphy"

And that was that, Carillo was gone, and Peña was left at a desk at the corner of the room, staring at you with the intensity with which a lion watches a gazelle.

He didn't know what the fuck to do.

To be completely honest with himself, he'd made a fucking mess.

He'd always been attracted to you, I mean there's not much of you that any man could find not hot, and sure, he'd spent about a year flirting with you as you rolled your eyes at him... but that's just how he was- he never thought it'd ever actually happen- and now...

Now he was fucked

You seemed so incredibly normal around him, like that night a week ago had been just a perfect dream, while him- fuck he couldn't even look at you without picturing how perfect you looked from between your tighs.

He'd thought he could manage to just do it that one time, to get it out of his system... what a stupid fucking bastard- he'd only made everything ten times worse.

And the worst part was that you didn't seem affected by it, not even a little bit- like now, there you were, looking all concentrated and everything, your brows furrowed, your bare legs crossed, one of them swinging ever so often, and your lips... your lips wrapped around the candy were an image sent straight from heaven.

Fuck- he was half fucking hard just by looking at you.

He needed to do something- now- or he was gonna go fucking crazy.

__ __ __

"can I have a talk with you for a moment?"

He was leaning over your desk, not doing a great job of masking his desire.

You, on the other hand, hadn't even looked up from the paper before you.

"what's up?"

what's up?

He'd made you squirt on your boss' desk for fuck's sake, and you tell him what's up??

"Just something I think you could help me out with, in the evidence room"

"now?" you winced, finally looking at him

"Yeah now"

__ __ __

"so what is it? did they misplace a file again-"

"How are you acting so normal?"

A gasp fled your mouth as you turned around and found him but an inch from you

"Jesus" you breathed "what are you talking about?"

"and who even eats lollipops past the age of five?"

He took a step closer and you took a step back, only for your back to hit the wall.

He'd cornered you.

"what is going on with you?" you hissed, only for him to take another slow step, and place his hand on the wall, right next to your head

"you, that's what's going on with me" his breath was fanning over your mouth, images of last week's night flashing both your minds "I've had the best sex of my life with you, and you're acting like it was just another Tuesday night"

"I-"

"I can still taste you on my tongue, I can still feel you around me, and you look at me like I'm nothing more than a fucking colleague y/n"

"Javier-"

"And then" he chuckled darkly, interrupting you once again "and then you have the nerve to suck on a fucking lollipop right in front me-"

A soft laugh couldn't help but bubble up your throat at that.

"Did that seriously... turn you on?"

"So what if it did?" he purred, his left hand finding your waist and forcing you off the wall and flush against him, against the blatant proof of his arousal.

You gasped, your hands clutching the shirt covering his chest.

"you're worse than a hormonal teenager"

His eyes sparked with malice as he bent down, his mouth skimming your mouth and cheeks, leaving shivers in his passage, until he pressed his lips right below your ear.

"A hormonal teen that made you squirt for the first time in your life"

"Javier-" your voice had already reduced to a thread of a whimper.

Fuck him and his irresistible sex appeal.

He was right, no one had ever made you feel as good as he had, and as much as he thought you weren't affected by that knowledge, he'd be shocked to find out how difficult it proved not to squirm every time he merely looked at you.

Yes, of course you were constantly thinking about that night too.

"Tell me you don't think about it"

He was like a mind reader

You stayed silent, conscious that any response you could give would inevitably give you away.

"That's what I thought" A snicker rumbled from his chest, his hand moving from your waist to slide underneath the hem of your skirt.

You hummed, your brain only half functioning as he continued to trail hot wet kisses down your throat.

"W-what are you doing?" you tried to speak normally without success.

"what does it look like I'm doing?" he smirked, his hand now fully cupping your clothed core, making you whine "What I've been thinking of doing for a whole damn week- so I don't lose my mind"

Two of his fingers were circling the wet spot on your panties when a phone rang from the other room, making your eyes snap open.

What the fuck were you doing?

You were at work- anyone could come in at any moment.

"Javier wait," you said, finally getting your voice back to normal.

"what is it, sweetheart?" from the way his eyes were still a thousand shades darker and blatantly staring at your mouth you could have guessed the danger of being caught didn't trouble him one bit.

"We can't"

He groaned frustratedly then, his head falling between your neck and shoulder

"why not sweetheart?"

"are you serious?" a quick laugh bubbled up your throat "we're at work"

"so?"

"so?" you parroted, only your voice was heightening with exasperation "so anyone could catch us at any given moment"

A soft smirk pulled at his lips, the hand that was still on your wall going to your waist to get you flush against him

"Are you ashamed of me sweetheart?" he teased

"Well, to be completely honest having sex with the biggest slut in Columbia isn't exactly my highest moment"

He feigned a gasp, his hot breath fanning over your own parted mouth

"Me? A slut?"

"yeah, you" You couldn't fight the smile pulling at your lips.

There he was, doing it again- making all your common sense fly out the window with his godforsaken charm.

"c'mon baby, I'll be quick"

And although you didn't want to, you could see yourself starting to consider his proposal.

"that's supposed to convince me?" you arched a brow, an amused smile pulling at your lips

"What, you think I can't make you come quickly?" he purred, his hand going to your ass in a swift move to grab at it.

You bit down a whine "Well I don't know"

"tell me you don't want it" he teased, the fingers on your core starting a torturous path up and down your still-clothed, but unbelievably drenched, slit "That you don't want this"

His fingers had trespassed your panties and had now found your raw skin, making you gasp

"anyone could come in us, including Messina" you added breathlessly

"I locked the door" he promised, his forehead on yours as his ring and middle finger gently found their way inside of you.

"a-and what if someone needs to get in?" you tried your best not to moan, but the way he curled his fingers made it so very fucking difficult

"then we'll tell them to fuck off" he murmured, his mouth now touching yours, but still not kissing you.

"If we get caught I'm gonna kill you, we clear?"

"yes ma'am" he smirked, his breath mixing with yours

"now- may I kiss you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes before answering "Yes, you may"

And just like that, he was devouring you, his lips crashing with yours and his tongue sliding into your mouth to explore every inch of it, gaining dominance on your own in a matter of seconds.

"fuck I missed this" he groaned, his fingers suddenly speeding up and robbing you of all ability to tease him about his words "these fucking lips are gonna be the death of me"

Your mouth was open as you desperately tried to get oxygen to your lungs, but he didn't care, he took your bottom lip into his mouth and started sucking, his fingers fastening their pace as the filthy sound of your wetness bounced off the walls of the room.

"tell me you thought about it too" he growled, his palm making contact with your clit and forcing you to gasp as your hips started grinding onto it, onto his hand, sparks of pleasure staining your vision. "tell me I'm not the only crazy one baby"

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as you felt yourself grow closer to a release.

"shit- you look so fucking hot when you're about to come"

"I-" your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could feel the heat of his stare on you, the way his eyes never left you, not even as he kissed your neck, the soft stubble of his mustache tickling your skin "I've thought about it too javi"

The satisfied groan he let out told you just about everything you needed to know.

"When?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his fingers relentless

"A-always" you whimpered, "e-everytime I look at you"

shit- maybe you shouldn't have said that

"yeah?" a wolfish grin tugged at his lips "You think about me? about my cock? my fingers? my tongue?"

You mewled at his words, at the memory they brought with them, at how fucking good he was making you feel-

"J-Javi please"

"what?" he breathed, his mouth on yours again, your hips grinding shamelessly onto his hand "You're gonna come baby, 's that it?"

"y-yeah- fuck- I-"

he knew the signs by now, he knew those desperate breathless sounds you made just as you reached your peak- and god did he fucking love them

"come for me- come baby" he murmured, his lips crushing with yours to stifle your moans just as your walls spasmed around his digits- wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Oh how he loved seeing the strong fiery woman he saw every day come apart beneath him, all your walls crumbling down 'till there was just pure lust and pleasure beneath your eyes, 'till your body went limp and clung to him for support.

"fuck" you breathed your eyes finally opening again, only to find that his had never left yours. "I-" you gulped, but his lips were on yours again, his hands holding your face on each side, his fingers now out of you.

"w-we should get back," you said, mostly trying to remind yourself, of where you really were, of what you were really doing... but it was all so difficult when he was looking at you like that- when you could feel his hard cock straining against his jeans- the same one that had felt so fucking good inside of you.

"we should" he agreed, although a twisted grin played on his lips.

he was already kissing you again, exploring you again, and in no time you found yourself caged between him and a shelf filled with boxes of evidence, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Damn him

"People are gonna start wondering where we are"

"we're here... looking at evidence," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, his hips grinding onto you, his mouth on the corner of your lips.

"fuck- fine," you murmured, the need for him stronger than anything at this point, even than the fear of getting fired.

He didn't waste a second- his dick was out in a heartbeat, and your panties were pulled to the side before you had even time to breathe.

His tip, his red, glistening tip found your entrance, making you gasp.

"c-condom" you suddenly remembered, your voice so feeble it was almost inaudible "Please tell me you've got a condom"

"fuck- you're right" he muttered, frustration tracing his tone "I should have one in my wallet"

Of course he had one in his wallet

His left hand reached into his back pocket, finding his wallet and taking the condom out of it as quickly as he could, throwing the wallet somewhere to the side.

You were supporting yourself all on your own as he rolled the condom onto his dick, which might sound easy... but seeing the state of your leg it really was a miracle.

It was all so fast, he seemed desperate as he guided his tip to your entrance, as he gripped your waist and kissed your lips while entering you.

He was so fucking big, definitely the biggest one you'd ever encountered, and not only that... but he fucking knew how to use it too.

It was impossible not to moan, and for him, it was impossible not to groan- let's just say the possibility of getting caught wasn't first on the list of things in your mind at the moment.

"fuckfuckfuck" you whimpered, letting out a soft cry when he finally bottomed out

"Jesus Christ you feel fucking perfect" he growled, his eyes on yours, his hands gripping your waist as he tried his best to give you a moment to adjust and not start to fuck you like an animal right away.

"J-Javi"

And that, that little plead in your voice was all he needed to hear.

There was no way the sound of your skin slapping with his couldn't be heard from outside.

He felt so fucking good- criminally so.

"oh my g-" you had to bite down on something, and the little sliver of skin his shirt didn't cover right where his shoulder met his neck seemed much too perfect for your need.

He groaned, the bastard fucking groaned in pleasure as your teeth sank down into his skin, and you swore to god you could have come from that sound alone.

Your hands were laced between his neck, fingers taking hold of whatever hair you could grab, as he thrust up into you like a man starved, and you did all you could to meet his movements with the same urgency.

It had only been a week, and yet it felt like it'd been an eternity- a torturous, awful eternity of daying yourself of this.

"been thinking about this every fucking minute this week" his voice was breathy, hoarse, as he whispered to your ear "about this perfect fucking pussy of yours- about your mouth, about how- Fuck me-" his own growl interrupted him, your walls were squeezing him much too fucking tight "how good you taste, how hot you look when I'm eating you out- about this fucking perfect body of yours" he purred "Jesus christ you make me lose my mind"

You couldn't help but moan, moan at his words, at his pace, at the way his touch sent sparks flying in your belly- it was all too much.

"You've gotta be quiet baby" he murmured as you raised your head to look at him, to beg him for something- anything.

"I know sweetheart, I know" he breathed, his lips skimming yours "I know issa lot"

And to think you couldn't even stand him seven days ago... look at you now- looking into his eyes pleadingly as he fucked you in the evidence room.

"Javi" you could only breathe as his mouth crashed with yours once again, "I'm gonna-"

"I know"

Of course he knew

And just like that, you were over the edge, his tongue in your mouth muffling your cries as his thrust got more erratic, and somehow even more powerful.

Once again, he'd given you the best orgasm of your life.

He tried to hold off to let you ride it out, but fuck him it was proving to be real fucking difficult.

And then you opened your eyes- your beautiful, dreamy, eyes that he'd been dreaming of for days and there was no point in fighting it anymore-

"F-fuck y/n- fuck-"

There was a loud thud somewhere behind you, but neither of you cared enough to look, or god forbid stop- there was only you, you, and the spectacular groan Javier fed you into a kiss as he finally reached his climax.

There was only the sound of your breathing, both your heavy breathings as you looked at each other- and then you smiled, and he couldn't help but do the same.

And then all of the sudden the sounds from the office started flowing into the room again.

Oh right

"we really have to get back"

"yeah" he halfheartedly agreed, slowly setting you back on your feet, only in doing so, something caught your eye.

"fuck"

There were files on the floor- there were files on the floor because you'd knocked down some of the boxes of evidence- and you hadn't even noticed.

Javier followed your line of sight, but while panic was setting in your heart, he began to smile

"don't laugh!" you hissed, "what the fuck do we do? How do we explain this?"

"we don't" he simply shrugged, closing his zipper back up as you quickly tried to make yourself presentable.

"What?"

"we were never here- now, get back out there"

"I-"

"trust me" he said, retrieving his wallet from the floor.

And for some fucking reason, you did- you trusted him.

"I hate you so much" you muttered, finally exiting the room.

Tg:@fallout-girl219

[softstarlite]

and then they kiss

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 18+ | 14.6k words masterlist | ao3

summary: After 6 months, someone finally moves into the house next door – a very, very hot someone and his adorable little girl. (or, Frankie Morales and his daughter move in to the house next to door (and then into your heart))

a/n: it’s here! This is the fic you all voted on from my followers celebration. Thank you to @undercoverpena for the original prompt in the fic title ask game! And thank you to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always. I hope you all enjoy it. 

tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, Frankie has a daughter (Elena, age 6), neighbors to friends to lovers, food and drink mention, reader has a cat, reader is a middle school teacher, dancing, pet names (baby, hermosa, bebita, cariño, handsome), smut: kissing, cuddling, grinding, fondling, fingering, oral (f!receiving), p-in-v sex (protected by birth control, discussed), brief mention of reader’s chest area but no mention of breasts, reader has no description other than having a vagina and she/her pronouns, no ages mentioned but reader has a fully established teaching career so take that as you will, Frankie speaks Spanish, so does reader, reader can wink (author cannot), no use of y/n

...

It was a hot, sunny Sunday towards the end of summer when someone finally moved into the vacant house next door to yours.

It had been empty for about 6 months, ever since Mr. and Mrs. Park had packed up and moved to Florida to be closer to their grandkids. You knew they’d been having trouble selling it, somehow, even though it was an extremely cute and well-kept two-bedroom with a nice yard.

You were enjoying your slow morning with a cup of coffee and mindless TV when you saw the moving truck back into the driveway next door. Curiosity peaked, you stood and tiptoed closer to your window, peering through your light curtains at the commotion. The men you assumed were the movers hopped out of the cab and started to get ready to unload. At the same time, you noticed another car with out of state plates pull up and park on the road behind the truck. You sank onto your window seat to get a better look, still mostly hidden by your curtains.

At first the only thing you could see was the back of the driver’s head as he stood on the other side of the car, and you lost sight of him again when he ducked into the backseat. When he rounded the front of the car, you realized he had a little girl with him.

You also realized he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. He was tall, with a baseball cap that didn’t disguise the way his dark brown hair curled over his ears. He took off his sunglasses as you watched and hung them on the front of his shirt, drawing your eyes down his neck and along his collarbones. You swallowed roughly. Your eyes traced back up over his handsome face as he smiled down at the girl you assumed was his daughter. He had a scruffy beard and some of the widest shoulders you’d ever seen. 

He walked hand-in-hand with the little girl over the grass and laughed when she launched herself into happy spins, giggling as she fell onto her back. He pulled her up and tossed her in the air, catching her easily and spinning her around. You could hear her happy shrieks through the window, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his smile.

“Shit,” you muttered aloud. “He’s so hot.” Thankfully no one heard you but your cat, Ursula, who was curled up on the window seat below you. She flicked her ear in your direction dismissively and went back to sleep. 

You shook your head. You weren’t expecting such an adorable scene next door when you got up this morning. You weren’t expecting new neighbors at all, you had no idea they’d finally sold the house. You wondered if or when you should introduce yourself. Maybe some time this week? You didn’t want to interrupt what you knew would be a busy day of unloading and unpacking. 

You watched as your new neighbor picked up his daughter before starting to direct the movers, and then forced yourself to move away from the window. If you kept staring you were going to get caught. 

You put the handsome man out of your mind and decided you’d try to introduce yourself soon. If you peeked out of the window a few more times that morning, well… no one seemed to notice. (Not even Ursula.)

…

In the end, you didn’t have to wait long at all. You were scrambling out the door the next morning, keys and travel mug in hand, when your new neighbor’s front door opened, too.

“Vámonos mija,” you heard him call out as he stepped sideways through the door, looking back into the house. You shivered – his voice was deep and you could hear the smile in it.

You blinked and froze next to your car door. He was facing away from you and your eyes caught on his shoulders again – he was wearing a denim collared shirt and it was tight in all the right places. Your eyes traced over his curls at the back of his neck, over his shoulders and down the curve of his back to admire how tight his jeans were.

It was a nice view.

Before you could unfreeze, he turned and his eyes found yours. Because you were staring. You blinked and tried to look less obvious about it.

“Oh! Good morning, neighbor.” He smiled warmly at you and you felt yourself start to smile back. “Headed to work?”

You nodded. “Hi,” you replied, and you felt your cheeks heat. You mentally groaned at yourself. Come on. “Er, yes. Running a little bit late actually.”

He tilted his head at you curiously. “You must work early, it’s barely after 7.”

You nodded again. “I’m a teacher, we’re prepping before the students come back next week.”

His face lit up with a grin as his daughter came barrelling out of the house past his legs. “Oh, so maybe you’ll meet this one soon?” He gestured at her as she noticed you and came to a stop.

“Not quite yet,” you shook your head, still smiling. “I teach at the middle school.”

“Ah,” he nodded and squeezed his daughter’s shoulder reassuringly. “So you’re a saint, then.”

You laughed. It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to you. “Nah, they’re fun. Most of the time.”

You watched as he laughed and felt a warmth start to spread through you – you’d made him laugh.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself.” He started down the steps towards his driveway and his daughter followed along with a curious expression. “I’m Frankie, this is Elena. ‘Lena, this is our new neighbor.” He looked down at her as he gestured at you and you smiled at her as you introduced yourself. 

You heard Frankie repeat your name and you looked back up to find him looking at you again. For a moment neither of you said anything, until Elena tugged on his arm. You felt your heart rate pick up as you startled into motion.

“Well,” you started, gesturing towards your car. “I have to get to work. Do you want to, um.” You bit your lip. “Maybe I could make you two dinner this week? As a welcome to the neighborhood thing?”

Frankie grinned and Elena smiled shyly. “We’d love that.”

All three of you headed off to your cars. You looked over your shoulder right before you got into yours, and found Frankie watching you with one corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. 

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face the whole drive into work.

…

You, Frankie and Elena waved and said hello to each other a few more times during the week, whenever you ran into each other in your driveways. They seemed to be focused on unpacking – as far as you could tell Frankie hadn’t started work quite yet, and you knew school would start the following Monday.

You caught them coming home on Thursday afternoon from what looked like a trip to shop for furniture and succeeded in inviting them over for dinner on Saturday night.

“Elena needed a new, well. A new everything,” he explained when you asked what they’d been up to. He smiled ruefully. “She’d grown out of her bed and I promised she’d get to pick out new things when we got here.”

“What’d she pick?” You looked over at where she was sitting on top of the pile of long cardboard boxes in their driveway and kicking her feet against the cement.

“A matching bed and dresser set – pale wood with flowers painted on it.” He shook his head with a smile. “As soon as I saw it I knew she’d pick it. It’s exactly her style.”

You smiled. “Sounds lovely.”

He nodded. “Now I just have to find time to build it.”

You bit your lip to keep yourself from offering to help, either with the building or with Elena. You thought maybe it was too soon for that, but probably not for dinner.

“Did you two still want to come over for dinner? Maybe on Saturday?”

Frankie grinned at you. “Absolutely. And don’t worry, Elena isn’t too picky.”

You hummed. “What about tacos? So she can build her own?”

“Perfect.” Frankie stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “What time?”

“How about 5? I know she probably eats early.”

He smiled again. “She does. Thank you for thinking of it. 5 is great.”

“Great,” you repeated, smiling at him.

You both stood there, smiling at each other, until Elena appeared suddenly at Frankie’s side. 

“C’mon, dad! I want to build my new bed for tonight!”

He laughed. “Mija, the mattress isn’t here yet. What are you gonna do, sleep in the middle of the frame on the floor?”

She shrugged. “Daddy! Come ooooon,” she dragged out the last word as she pulled his arm, and you laughed.

“Better get to work, Frankie.” He turned back to catch your eye and you noticed he was blushing a little bit. 

“See you on Saturday, neighbor.”

…

On Saturday you spent most of the afternoon scrambling around your house as you cleaned and prepared to host guests. You kept walking through the living room and seeing something else you should tidy up or put away or organize until it was almost 3:30pm and you hadn’t started cooking.

By the time Frankie and Elena rang your doorbell, the food was ready, at least. You had everything set up in a little buffett on your counter and it did look pretty nice, in the end. 

You, on the other hand, looked exactly like you’d just been cooking for an hour and a half. 

“Shit.” You hovered in the hallway for a minute, looking down at your shirt and wishing you’d worn an apron. You heard Elena ask Frankie if she should ring the doorbell again and sighed.

You walked quickly over the door and opened it. “Hi! Come on in.” You stepped back to invite them in and hoped you didn’t actually look like you were utterly covered in food.

Elena smiled a little shyly up at you and said hi back. Frankie smiled and you watched as he took in the evidence that you’d been cooking. 

You winced a little bit. “I’m sorry, I was caught up in the kitchen – come on in and let me go change real quick. You can sit on the couch or explore a little, whatever you’d like.”

Frankie caught your eye. “Hey, no worries. And I think you look nice.”

You scoffed a little as you turned and waved them towards the couch. “I’m literally covered in tacos.” He huffed a laugh. “I’ll be right back.”

You ran upstairs and changed quickly, not wanting them to feel awkward waiting too long in your living room. When you came back down you found Elena looking at Ursula and you could tell she badly wanted to pet her.

“That’s Ursula. You can pet her, she’s very chill.” Elena grinned and brushed one hand lightly over her back. Ursula stretched out on the window seat and started purring so loudly you could hear her from the doorway to the kitchen. “See, she likes you already.” Elena giggled and kept petting her.

You looked over at Frankie, finally, and found him looking at you. “I told her she had to wait for you to come back first.” He smiled. “I thought she might give in, though, Ursula was putting on a pretty cute act over there.”

You grinned. “Yeah, she does that. The ‘no one has ever pet me before in my life’ routine.” He laughed, and you admired how nice it looked when he did.

“Well, you ready for some tacos?” You turned back to Elena and she turned and nodded. 

“We sure are.” Frankie looked at his daughter as he replied and held out his hand for her. “Let’s wash our hands, mija.”

You showed them the kitchen and they both headed for the sink to wash their hands. You were glad you’d taken the time to clear up some of the dishes, even if it had meant you yourself weren’t ready yet when they arrived.

“What would you like to drink? I have water, apple juice, orange juice, and iced tea.” You saw Elena perk up at the offer of juice, and smiled when she asked for apple juice (which Frankie had told you she liked). The three of you put your tacos together (Elena with some help from Frankie) and soon enough found yourselves sitting around your table, ready to eat.

You watched as they dug in and smiled when they both made appreciative noises over the food. Elena started kicking her heels against the legs of her chair, focusing hard on holding her taco just right.

“So how was your first week in town?” You glanced between them, but Frankie answered.

“Alright. I don’t have to start work until after Elena starts school next week, so we had a lot of time to explore and unpack. Find the grocery store, get library cards. School supplies.” He shrugged. “It’s still pretty chaotic inside the house but I think we’ll be ready.” 

You laughed and nodded. “Chaos is normal this time of year, I think. For parents and teachers alike.”

Frankie smiled back at you. “We went to the open house yesterday, at the elementary school. ‘Lena, what was your favorite part?” He nudged her with his elbow and she chewed and swallowed dramatically before answering. From the way Frankie laughed and nodded at her, you assumed chewing before talking was a point of contention between them. 

“I like the playground.” You nodded. The elementary school had just gotten a grant for a new playground a few years ago, and it was pretty impressive. “And my classroom is cool. We have a snake.”

“Oh! So you have Mrs. Li.” 

Elena perked up. “You know my teacher?”

You nodded. “I do. I know most of the teachers, really, but Mrs. Li and I went to college together. She’s great. And Wilbur is a very friendly snake.” You glanced at Frankie and could have sworn you saw him repress a shudder.

Elena looked more excited, then. “She said we’re going to learn all about how to take care of him and everything.” 

“Yep. And you’ll get to visit the other animals, too, in the other classrooms.” Elena looked like she was about to vibrate off the chair with excitement. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” You looked back up at Frankie and found him watching you with a soft smile. 

“It seems like a good school.” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you nodded.

“It is. They have a lot of cool programs. They just got a grant for a few new field trips this year, but I’m not sure what the final plan is.”

“They mentioned that. I might have already signed up to chaperone.”

You laughed. “They got you that quick, huh?”

He shrugged with an easy smile. “Hanging out with my daughter all day? I’m not hard to convince. I’d rather do that than work.”

Elena giggled and you smiled, too. “What do you do for work? I don’t think you told me.”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I did. I’ll be teaching at the flight school at the airfield.”

You blinked. The airfield as in the air force base? You didn’t think there was another one nearby. “Oh! Military?”

He looked like he was going to nod, and then didn’t. “Was. Haven’t been active duty for a while. The school is for military and civilians together. They have some college students taking classes, too.” 

You nodded. Sometimes seniors from the high school took the classes, as well. “What will you teach?”

“Daddy flies helicopters!” Elena interjected, and you grinned.

“Oh yeah? That sounds fancy.”

She nodded as her dad handed her a napkin to clean up her hands. “It’s cool. He gets to wear funny headphones. He took me flying before and I got to wear them, too.” 

You laughed. “Very cool.” You raised your eyebrows at Frankie and he smiled, a bit sheepish.

“Yeah, mostly helicopters and small planes, for these classes. I can fly other things, too, just won’t be teaching that right now.” He shrugged. “I’d rather fly them myself, but the rest of the job that goes along with that isn’t worth it.” He glanced over at Elena and you thought you understood. He wanted to be around more for her. 

“Definitely sounds cooler than my job.” 

Frankie shook his head. “Nah. I don’t think I could teach middle schoolers much of anything.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Well, I don’t think I could fly a helicopter.”

He huffed a laugh and nodded, ceding the point. 

“Can I go pet Ursula again?” Elena had one foot on the ground, half out of her chair already. Frankie nodded.

“Wash your hands first, please?” You asked, and she headed for the sink. “Cats can’t eat everything that was in these tacos, so just in case.” Elena nodded, looking serious. You smiled and watched her bound into the living room to find the cat again.

You turned back to Frankie and found him looking back at you. Again. “She’s pretty adorable.”

He grinned and blushed a little bit. It was extremely cute. “Doesn’t get it from me.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Pretty sure you have the exact same smile, Frankie.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Ok, I have heard that before. But she’s a lot like her mom.”

You nodded and hesitated, wondering how to ask. He must have noticed because he continued, “it’s ok. We do have shared custody, but I’ve got primary. Her mom got a great job offer that includes a lot of travel, and we agreed she should take it. Whenever she’s home she’ll get a place here in town and see Elena as much as she can, before she has to leave again.” He shrugged. “It was the offer of a lifetime, basically, and they talk pretty much every day. It’s working ok. We figured it won’t be like this forever, but her mom and I get along pretty well, these days. We’ll be able to figure it out again once she’s less mobile.”

This was such a refreshing outlook to hear from a parent that at first all you could do was blink. “That sounds like a really good co-parenting setup.” You realized you’d put on your teacher hat, just a little bit, and smiled ruefully. “I meet a lot of parents.” 

He nodded. “I figured. You must hear some interesting things.”

You leaned forward and rested your chin on your hand as you considered how to respond. “I mean, sure. We all do, really, but the schools here have a lot of support for families built into the programming. I like working here and I like the people in town.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, too, and you realized you were suddenly much closer to him. You tried to look cool even as you felt a shiver run across your shoulders. 

“That’s really good to hear, actually. I knew the schools had a good reputation, but she’ll be in first grade. It’s all new to both of us.”

You smiled and reached out to squeeze his forearm without thinking. “Her school is great, and so is Mrs. Li. She’ll be in great hands.” 

Frankie covered your hand with his free one and squeezed your hand in response. You sucked in a breath and hoped it wasn’t noticeable. “Thank you.”

You weren’t sure what to do next – he was basically holding your hand – but thankfully, you didn’t have to figure it out. Elena came skipping back into the kitchen and you sat back in your chair, missing his hand even as it slid away from yours.

“Daddy, can we get a cat? Ursula is so nice.”

Frankie shot you a look and you grinned at him. “Mija, we talked about that. We have to settle in and figure out our schedule before we can get any kind of pet.”

She slumped, looking extremely put out, and you tried not to let it show how cute it was. “Ok.” She sounded utterly dejected.

You glanced between her and Frankie, hoping you weren’t overstepping. “You know, you can come over here and hang out with Ursula any time I’m home. As long as your dad says it’s ok.”

Elena perked up, eyes sparkling with excitement. She looked at her dad and clasped her hands together. “Daddy, please?”

Frankie was looking at you again. “You don’t have to–”

“It’s ok, really.” You cut him off. “I’m usually home by 4:30. So if she wants to come say hi to Ursula, that’s fine with both of us.” You gestured to the cat who had just trotted into the kitchen and was winding herself in little figure-8s around Elena’s legs. 

Frankie sighed. “Ok, mija. You can come visit Ursula, but only when we both say it’s ok.” She cheered and sat on the kitchen floor to let Ursula climb into her lap.

You laughed. “It really is ok. My car will be here if I’m home, so you’ll know.” You looked down at Elena. “Sometimes I might be going out to dinner or something, but I’ll just tell you. You can still say hi to Ursula.”

You looked back up at Frankie and saw he looked a little thoughtful. “Are you, um.” He cut himself off and hesitated. “Going to dinner with anyone?” He immediately looked like he regretted asking. You smiled and tried not to get your hopes up about the reason he did.

You shrugged. “Just with friends, sometimes. My best friend is a lawyer and we try to see each other a couple of times a month, at least. And I have a book club.” You watched as Frankie started to smile again. “That’s about it, really.”

“No other hobbies?” He tilted his head.

“I go to the farmer’s market on Saturdays,” you offered. “Oh! Do you two want to come next week?”

Elena looked up but Frankie was shaking his head. “I have work next Saturday, but maybe the one after?” 

You nodded. “Sure.”

“I won’t usually be working on Saturdays, it’s just part of the whole first week thing.”

Ursula got up and trotted back towards the living room and Elena followed. When she was out of earshot, Frankie murmured, “you don’t have to let her come over whenever, you know.”

You smiled at him. “I meant it, Frankie, it’s fine. I’ll just tell her if she can’t for some reason.” You paused, and realized maybe he was the one who wasn’t comfortable with it. “That is, if it’s ok with you. I know we just met–”

He shook his head and interrupted you. “No, it’s ok. I’ll be home by then most of the time anyway. I just didn’t want her to intrude. And maybe it’ll help me put off getting a pet a bit longer.” He grinned.

“Well, don’t worry about it. She’s welcome. You both are.” You felt your cheeks heat and you suddenly felt flustered. You stood and started to gather dishes, but Frankie waved you back down and took them from you. 

“Let me do that.” He started to pile dishes in the sink. “You cooked, so it’s only fair.”

“Thank you.” You admired the way his shoulders moved in his flannel shirt as he moved around the kitchen. 

He shrugged. “Thank you for dinner. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we had fun.”

“I’m glad.” You smiled. “Hopefully it was a good welcome to the neighborhood.”

Frankie nodded and turned to look back at you. “It was. Thank you.” He turned back to the sink and started washing your dishes, so you got up and moved to stand next to him so you could dry. “Not sure we could have asked for a better neighbor.” 

You ducked your head when you felt your cheeks heat again and picked up a hand towel. You decided to change the subject. “So, what kind of pet does Elena want?”

He groaned, and you laughed. “After meeting Wilbur she started saying she wants a snake but that is not going to happen.” He shuddered. “Not a chance.”

“Frankie,” you started, turning towards him and leaning your hip against your counter. “Are you afraid of snakes?”

He glanced at you. “No.” You raised your eyebrows. “Ok, maybe. Look, they’re fine if they’re outside. I don’t want one in my house.” 

You laughed again. “Fair.”

He shook his head. “I think we’ll go with a cat. But I want to wait a little while, first.”

“Makes sense.”

You fell into an easy silence as you finished up the dishes. You weren’t sure what to say next – you realized, then, how much you liked Frankie and Elena. You would never have expected something like this to happen when you got new neighbors. You could feel the beginnings of a crush stirring inside of you but you tamped it down. 

You needed to get to know him first. You needed to let it happen and not get ahead of yourself.

Frankie cleared his throat, suddenly, and you turned to meet his eyes again. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted as Elena came barrelling back into the kitchen.

“Dad, Ursula is so cute. I think I want a cat just like her.” She wrapped her arms around his leg and he grinned so wide his eyes crinkled. Cute.

“Just like her, huh?” He dried his hands quickly and reached down to tousle her hair. She squealed in protest. Frankie glanced up at you and then past you, eyes widening.

“Oh! It’s getting late.” You turned back to check and saw that it was already 7. “Almost someone’s bed time.” Elena moaned and started hanging off his arm. You grinned, enjoying that she’d relaxed enough in your presence to act so normally around you. “Come on, mija. Say thank you for dinner.”

Elena turned towards you, suddenly shy again. “Thank you for dinner. It was really good. And I loved meeting Ursula.”

You smiled. “You’re welcome, Elena. Thank you for coming over.”

Frankie sent her towards the door to say goodbye to the cat and turned towards you again. “Really, thank you. Can we repay the favor? Have you over for dinner, maybe next week? Give us a little more time to get everything organized over there. It’s a mess right now.”

You were nodding before he finished talking. “I’d love that, Frankie. Just let me know when.”

He smiled and reached out to squeeze your arm. “Perfect. Wait, let me give you my number.”

After exchanging numbers you held the door for the two of them and watched them cross your yard towards theirs. You could hear Elena telling Frankie all about how cute and cuddly Ursula was, and all the funny things she did with the toys she’d found. You smiled.

Just before they went inside, Frankie turned back to you and waved. When he smiled you felt something warm start to burn inside you. Maybe this is actually going somewhere good.

…

Over the next week, you ran into Frankie and Elena almost every day, if only for a few minutes at a time. You rarely saw them in the mornings – you left for school much earlier than they did – but often in the afternoons. Elena came by to say hello to Ursula on Wednesday, and you were surprised she’d managed to wait so long. (That is, until Frankie told you he’d said no on Monday and Tuesday to give you a break after the first two days of school, which was so thoughtful you were momentarily speechless.)

On Friday you had plans to meet up with your best friend, and you were in the middle of getting ready when there was a knock on your door. You weren’t surprised to find Frankie and Elena on the other side. 

“Hi,” Elena grinned up at you. “Can I play with Ursula?” She jumped up and down on her toes with her hands clasped together, and you couldn’t help but grin back. 

“Of course,” you said, as you stepped out of the way so she could dart past you into the living room. You looked up to meet Frankie’s eyes and found him looking at your outfit, which was fancier than anything he’d seen you in so far.

“You look nice,” he said, voice sounding a bit rough. When he met your eyes again you noticed there was a bit of color in his cheeks.

You smiled. “Thank you. I’m meeting my best friend for dinner soon.”

Frankie hesitated as he stepped inside. “We can get out of your hair–”

You waved him off. “No, it’s fine. I’m not leaving for another half an hour. She can hang out with Ursula until then. I mean, if that works for you.”

He nodded, and hesitated again. “Would you–” He cleared his throat. “Would it be ok if I came back in about 15 minutes? I was in the middle of cooking dinner when she just ‘had to see Ursula, please daddy, it’s Friday’.” You laughed at his imitation of his daughter. “Everything’s fine over there but I can finish up and come back and get her.” 

You were already nodding. “Of course. I’ll finish getting ready but it’s just down the hall, I’ll keep the door open and let her know.”

Frankie stepped in past you to let Elena know he’d be back, and you turned to find her sitting cross-legged on the floor with Ursula flopped upside down over her lap. You laughed. “I think we’ll be fine. I’ll be just down the hall, ok?” Elena nodded without looking up from Ursula, who was purring so loudly you could hear her from where you were standing. “Come get me if you need anything, or honestly I’ll hear you fine if you just talk to me from here.”

After Frankie left you returned to the bathroom with the door open so you could finish getting ready while listening to Elena and Ursula. You smiled at the cute noises she was making as you messed with your hair. 

As you were finishing up you felt Ursula rub against your legs and noticed a little face peer around the edge of the door in the mirror.

“Hey, what’s up?’ you asked, meeting Elena’s eyes in the mirror. She stepped inside and looked around your bathroom.

“Are you going on a date?” She swung her arms a little when she asked and then bent down to pet Ursula again.

You shook your head when she looked back up at you. “No, just going to meet my best friend for dinner. She and I usually go to dinner after the first week of school so we can catch up.”

Elena nodded. “What’s your best friend’s name?”

You smiled. “Leticia, but I call her Leti.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s my cousin’s name! Does she know Spanish, too?”

“She does,” you nodded and grinned. “I know some, too.”

Elena grinned. “We speak Spanish a lot! Me and daddy. But my mommy only knows English.”

“Cool. Leti helps me practice so I don’t forget.” 

Elena nodded and smiled when Ursula rubbed against her leg again. “She sounds cool. I don’t have a best friend here yet.”

You were finished getting ready, so you gestured towards the living room and Elena got up to lead the way out. “Well, you just met everyone this week. I bet you’ll get to be friends soon.”

She shrugged and did a little spin before flopping onto your couch next to Ursula. “One of the boys in class tried to get Wilbur out of his cage without Mrs. Li seeing.” 

You snorted. “How did that go?”

Elena rolled her eyes. It was extremely cute. “She turned around when he had his hand inside the cage and he got in trouble.”

You nodded. “Sounds about right. Did you have a favorite thing this week? Like a class or something you did?”

She screwed up her face in a thoughtful expression that made you smile. “I like our classroom. Mrs. Li said she made all of the stuff on the walls. It’s really pretty.” She thought for a moment and you waited. “I like music class. And the library.”

“Going to the library was always my favorite, too.”

You were interrupted from finding out anything else about her first week at school by a knock on your door. 

“Sounds like your dad is back.” You stood and glanced through the window. Frankie was indeed standing outside your front door.

You opened it and smiled. “Welcome back.” You stepped aside to let him in but he didn’t immediately move. 

“You look–” he cleared his throat and tugged off his hat with one hand, running his fingers through his hair with the other before putting it back on. “You look nice.” 

You bit your lip and couldn’t help but tease him a bit. “You said that before.”

His cheeks turned pink and you smiled. “Well,” he said, smiling ruefully, “it’s still true.”

For a moment the two of you smiled at each other until Frankie cleared his throat again. “So I was going to see if you wanted to come over to have dinner with us, but I know you’re busy. What about tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully as he stepped past you into your house.

“Tomorrow sounds great, Frankie.” 

Before he could answer Elena came running around the corner and threw herself at his legs. He made a dramatic oomph noise on impact before lifting her and throwing her over his shoulder. Elena squealed, delighted, and you smiled as he turned to face you again. 

“How about 5:30?” You nodded, and he winked at you as he started to carry his daughter out the door. “Anyone seen Elena? All I could find was this gremlin.” He tickled her behind her knees with one hand (while keeping a firm hold with the other) and she giggled. As he passed you she turned her head sideways and waved at you, upside down.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the picture they made crossing your lawn. “See you tomorrow!” you called, already looking forward to it.

…

You and Frankie traded dinners a few times over the next month. You went to theirs for dinner that Saturday, and then Frankie and Elena joined you at yours a few days later. And then again the next week. Elena appeared to be thriving at school, if her stories were any clue, and you were enjoying watching her settle in. Frankie seemed to be enjoying his new job as well, or so he told you when you asked about it. 

On a Thursday evening about six weeks after they moved in, a knock at the door told you Frankie and Elena had probably arrived. You’d been working on dinner and expecting the two of them to arrive soon. 

The knock was a bit sharper than usual, though, and you answered the door with a furrowed brow. When you saw Frankie’s face you grew more concerned. He looked worried, face drawn, hands twisting together.

“Frankie, what is it? Is everything ok?” You skipped over a greeting and stepped closer, reaching up to squeeze his bicep gently, hoping to offer some reassurance.

He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. “I’m sorry to do this, I just got a call. I have to head back in to work. Some kind of emergency with one of the planes coming in.”

You shook your head and squeezed his arm again. “That’s ok, Frankie, it’s fine. We can reschedule.”

A little bit of the tension went out of his shoulders, but not all of it. 

“Well–” he cleared his throat and glanced down before meeting your eyes again. “I was wondering if Elena could come over here, until I get back?” You started nodding, but he kept talking. “I thought the two of you could still eat, at least, and you know she’ll love seeing her best buddy.” He gestured with his chin towards Ursula and you smiled. 

“Of course she can. And I’ll save you some food.”

This time his relief was almost palpable.

“Thank you, you have no idea–” he shook his head. “Thank you. I’ll be back in a few minutes with her and her things.”

Before you could say anything else, he jogged back towards his house. You tidied up around the kitchen and the living room in preparation for hosting Elena, and soon enough they were back.

“Hi!’ She chirped, crossing your threshold and walking straight up to Ursula. You smiled and looked back to find Frankie already looking at you.

“I should be back in a couple of hours. I’ll text you if anything changes.” 

You nodded. “That’s fine, Frankie. Don’t rush.”

You felt more than saw him step forward and press a soft, quick kiss to your cheek. “See you soon.”

He was gone before you could react. As you watched him walk away you felt the heat flood your cheeks and you turned quickly to close the door. You leaned back against it and pressed the backs of your hands to your cheeks, taking a deep breath. 

Elena popped her head around the corner and frowned at you. “What are you doing?”

You smiled and dropped your hands. “Nothing. Are you hungry?”

She nodded. “Why were you holding your face?”

You tripped in surprise but caught yourself on the door to the kitchen. “What?”

“You were holding your face like this.” She put her hands on her cheeks like you had and you smiled. “And you’re sweaty. Like daddy after he lifts something heavy.” Her tone was very matter of fact and you couldn’t help but grin.

You snorted. “Oh yeah?”

She nodded as she slid into a chair at your table. “Yep. But you didn’t pick anything up.”

You shook your head as you started to put together plates of food for both of you. “No, it just got pretty warm in here when I was cooking.”

Elena regarded you skeptically and didn’t seem convinced, but she thankfully let the subject drop.

After dinner you agreed to watch a movie – Moana, one of her favorites – and you got her to giggle and laugh so hard she got the hiccups at your impression of Hei Hei. By the time Frankie returned (just a little bit later than he’d hoped), she was asleep on the couch next to you.

His knock was so soft you almost missed it, but you managed to get over to the door and open it without waking her up.

“Hi Frankie,” you greeted him with a smile, “she’s asleep.”

He looked tired but very happy to be home. “I figured.” He sighed. “Thanks again, he–, um, thank you.” 

You shrugged. “Anytime. We had fun. Got to watch Moana again.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “I think I see that movie playing on the back of my eyelids when I’m sleeping.” 

You laughed, and then glanced back at Elena to make sure you hadn’t woken her up. “She liked my impressions.”

He raised one eyebrow at you. “Oh? Watch out, she’ll demand them every time, now that she knows.”

You smiled. “I’m used to it. Little cousins.” 

Frankie nodded and stepped past you when you moved out of the way to let him in. He walked over to Elena and you remembered the food you’d set aside for him. You ran to get it and met him back at the front door, Elena in his arms. 

“I saved you some dinner.” You held out the bag with tupperware and smiled. “Just have to heat it up again.”

Frankie blinked, and then smiled softly. “You didn’t have to–”

You shook your head. “It was supposed to be for you, anyway. Take it.”

He nodded and you looped the bag over the hand supporting Elena’s knees. “We’ll see you soon?” He murmured the question so as not to wake her.

You nodded and leaned against your door as he started to walk away. “You know where to find me.”

He turned to look at you over his shoulder and your breath caught at the look in his eyes. “Sure do. Good night.”

…

Over the next few weeks you watched Elena two more times but didn’t have another dinner together until Frankie, in his words, managed to pin you down for a Sunday evening. It was true that you’d been busier, but there’d been a lot of events at school that you had to be at as fall settled in.

You headed over to their house with a plate of cookies and a smile on your face. You knew you’d started to like Frankie, maybe too much, but you couldn’t help it – he was so charming, and sweet with his daughter, and capable. He’d fixed a broken faucet in your bathroom last week and you’d tried not to let it show on your face how impressed you were by the whole thing (and not a little bit turned on).

But whatever you were feeling, you were trying not to rush into it. You liked having them as neighbors, and you knew he’d want Elena to be comfortable more than anything else. And you thought he might like you, too, but neither of you had made anything resembling a move.

You knocked and the door flew open almost before you moved your hand away. Elena opened it with such force she swung with it.

“Hi!” her eyes zeroed in on the cookies in your hand and then grew. “Cookies?!” She sounded delighted and you laughed.

“Cookies!” you confirmed, and she cheered. “But dinner first, right?”

She sighed and nodded. She led the way back to the kitchen where you found Frankie at the stove wearing a bright yellow apron with daisies printed on it. You blinked.

“Is that new?” you asked, starting to grin.

Frankie rolled his eyes at you. “It was a gift, thank you.”

Elena smiled up at you and you figured you knew who the gift was from. “It looks very nice,” you told her, and she preened.

“Yellow is daddy’s favorite color.” She scooted onto one of the kitchen chairs and you joined her. “That’s why I picked that one.”

“Well it looks great on you, Frankie.” You winked at him when he turned to give you a long suffering look. 

He laughed and turned back to the stove. “Sure, he– sure. You ready to eat?”

You and Elena both said “yes!” with such enthusiasm that all three of you laughed.

After dinner, Frankie prevented you from washing dishes (not yet, let’s hang out with Elena before she goes to sleep) so you found yourself on the couch with her while Frankie sat in the chair nearby. She was telling you about her new favorite movie, one you hadn’t seen yet.

“--and my favorite part is the end when they dance, her dress is sparkly and the sky is purple and they look so pretty. Daddy and I danced along but it wasn’t the same because I’m so short.” She looked put out for a moment and then perked up suddenly. “Hey you and daddy are tall! You should do it!”

You glanced at Frankie, not sure what she was asking, and blinked at how you found him, startled. He was frozen in his seat and bright red.

“What do you mean?” you asked her, tearing your eyes away from her dad. 

“Look! I’ll play it and then you can do the dance right there behind the couch.” She gestured at the open area behind the couch that led into the entryway. She squinted at the TV as she fast forwarded through the movie. You could tell she’d done this many times before.

“Ok, here, look.” You watched the scene with her and had to agree that it was cute. You couldn’t help but notice that Frankie hadn’t said anything yet – he seemed to have relaxed a bit, at least. “See? I’ll play the song and you two dance and I’ll tell you what to do.”

“Frankie?” you asked, looking at him again. 

He finally met your eye and smiled. “Come on, then. You know she won’t rest until we act it out.” You laughed in response and took his hand when he offered it.

Like a tiny drill sergeant, Elena arranged the two of you into the same stance as the couple on screen. You were so close you could smell him – something warm and woodsy that made you want to lean in and rest your forehead on his shoulder. You felt Frankie’s hand, large and warm against your hip, and bit your lip. “Ok remember – you have to spin! Daddy, just like we practiced.”

“Am I going to be able to do this?” you asked him under your breath. 

He smiled and nodded. “When we’ve been practicing,” he said the word like it was in quotes, “we’ve just been spinning in place with a little bit of flair.” 

You laughed. Ok, that didn’t sound so bad.

And Frankie was right – when the music started he led you in a small, easy circle, turning you and adding in some side-to-side movement that looked more like the movie. Elena cheered, so you figured you must be doing something right. 

“Now spin, daddy!” 

Frankie grinned and released you into a slow spin. He tugged you back in and you found yourself closer in his arms than before. You could feel the heat of his body along your front and your breath caught as your eyes met again. You felt something warm starting to build inside of you and when Elena whooped behind you, you both smiled.

The music swelled, and you figured the song was coming to an end. But you couldn’t look away from Frankie, and the look in his eyes turned into something warm, something more intent. Something that made the moment around you feel slow and syrupy. You felt a shiver move up your spine and wondered if he could feel it, with you wrapped in his arms like this. 

The music hit the crescendo and you felt breathless as Frankie spun the both of you around one more time. You stumbled as you came to a stop and he tugged you closer to keep you upright. You found yourself with your chest almost brushing his and your faces only inches away from each other. You could lean in, if you wanted, and brush your lips right–

You jumped a little as Elena’s voice came suddenly from your left, excited with her final stage direction.

“And then they kiss!” she shouted.

Before you could react in any way, before you could do anything other than process her words, you felt Frankie’s lips press gently against the corner of your mouth. 

Both of you froze as Elena cheered louder than you’d ever heard her. As she started proclaiming how well you did, and how it was just like the movie, Frankie leaned slowly back to meet your gaze. He looked worried, studying your reaction, eyes sweeping over your face. 

But his worry didn’t last long. You had no idea what expression you were wearing but whatever it was seemed to reassure him. A slow smile spread across his face at the same time as an answering one took over yours.

Grinning, Frankie tensed the hand he had around your waist and leaned just a tiny bit closer. You sucked in a quick breath and he smirked when he felt it. He opened his mouth to say something and your eyes dropped, not wanting to miss it.

“That was amazing!” Elena cried, suddenly wrapping her arms around both of you. “Can we do it again?”

Frankie laughed and released you. You stepped back, a little bit dazed. “No, mija, you know what time it is.”

“Awww, daddy!” She pouted a little and you tried not to smile. 

“‘Lena, we can dance another time. Come on, say goodnight.” He rubbed her back a bit in consolation and she sighed. 

“Next time,” you promised. She smiled a little and nodded. 

“Good night!” Elena waved and headed upstairs. 

Frankie turned to you and you felt his fingers catch against your own. “I’ll be right back, hermosa.” His voice was deeper than usual and you shivered again. This time you knew he saw it when his eyes darkened. “Don’t go anywhere.”

You shook your head. “I’ll be right here, Frankie.”

He hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged when he heard Elena calling for him. “10 minutes, max.” 

As he reached the top of the stairs, you thought you heard Elean say, “Daddy, it work–” but he cut her off with a shushing sound. You shook your head and headed into the kitchen to do the dishes while you waited.

You let yourself sink into the memory of Frankie’s arms around you and couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you cleaned up the kitchen. It seemed like the two of you were on the same page, after all. As you washed the dishes, you replayed the feeling of his hand on your waist, his hand in yours, his guidance through the dance. His arm slipping around you to catch you, and the brief press of his lips against the edge of yours.

You were so caught up in the moment you didn’t hear him come back.

You startled and almost flung the sponge in the air when two large, now familiar hands came to rest on your hips. You felt Frankie lean into you and the brush of his mustache as he murmured in your ear, “you didn’t have to clean up, hermosa.” He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you sighed, letting your head fall to the side to give him more room.

“You knew I would.” You felt his smile against your neck and you shivered again. His smile grew wider.

“Dance with me again, hermosa.” He squeezed your hips and you sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Frankie–”

“Please?” He pressed a soft kiss to the skin behind your ear. “Dance with me. Without the peanut gallery, this time.” 

You laughed and nodded, quickly rinsing your hands so you could turn in his arms. When you did he was close, so close, close enough to kiss again.

“Hi,” you whispered, breathless. 

“Hi,” he murmured, smiling.

“I’d love to dance with you, Frankie.” You lifted your hands and rested them gently on his chest.

He swayed forward but stepped back, taking your hands in his. “C’mere, then.”

Frankie walked backward and led you into the open space behind the couch again. He quickly queued up a song on his phone and set it on the low table next to the couch. Soft, slow music started to play as he pulled you back into his arms. Much, much closer this time.

You found yourself with your arms around his neck and his around your waist. His eyes were dark and intent and you could almost read the desire in them.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he admitted, smoothing a hand up your back.

“Dance?” you teased, smiling.

“Well,” he said, smirking, “I do like dancing with you.” He spun the two of you a bit and you gasped. “But I meant, well. I’ve been wanting to tell you. To ask you out.”

You bit your lip and started playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah?”

He nodded and his eyes dropped to your mouth. “What do you think? Can I take you out, hermosa?”

You smiled, wide. “Yes, Frankie.” You hesitated, and you watched his brow furrow in response. “Is, um, what about Elena? Is this ok?”

Frankie smiled softly at you. “Hermosa, this?” He moved one of his hands to squeeze your hip and tugged you closer. “This was all her master plan.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? What do you mean?”

He looked a bit sheepish and his cheeks turned pink. “Well, she knew I liked you. She’s been teasing me about it – apparently I look at you like one of the characters in her movies. And I talk about you a lot.” You laughed, charmed. “So she said I had to do something romantic. The dance was her idea, we’ve been practicing. I didn’t mean to kiss you, though. I mean, I wanted to kiss you. I–” he cleared his throat, suddenly much pinker. You smiled at him encouragingly. “We’ve been practicing with a kiss on the cheek. I just, it was habit, but then I wasn’t sure what you’d think, or if that was ok–”

“It was more than ok, Frankie.” you interrupted, and he smiled, relieved. You ran your thumb up and down the back of his neck and grinned when he shivered. “I can’t believe Elena was the mastermind of this whole thing.”

“She likes you,” he said with another soft smile. You were starting to get attached to the way he smiled at you. “So yeah. To answer your question, it’s ok with Elena.”

You bit your lip on a smirk and said, aiming for an innocent tone, “you know, maybe we should practice again. Make sure we get it right for next time.”

He tilted his head. “What, the dance?”

You shook your head and let yourself grin at him again. “No, not the whole thing. I was thinking we could just practice the ending again.”

Frankie grinned at you and pulled you closer in his arms until you were pressed against him. The warmth of his body made your breath catch in your throat. “Hermosa, I would love to practice with you.”

You tangled your hands in his hair and leaned in, but Frankie met you halfway. This time when his lips met yours you were right there with him.

As he moved his mouth gently against yours, you felt yourself sinking into the steady warmth of Frankie, sinking deep into his embrace. He hummed against your mouth and you opened for him, deepening the kiss. The gentle touch of his tongue against your own drew a soft whine from the back of your throat. Frankie’s grasp on your hips tightened and you were suddenly aware of the press of his hips against your own.

You didn’t know when or how he moved but you felt the back of the couch suddenly against your thighs and propped yourself up on it so that he could step between your legs.

Frankie groaned when his hips came to rest against yours. You felt his cock, warm and huge in his jeans, and let out a moan of your own.

“Shit,” he murmured, pulling away and dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “We can’t, hermosa, not with Elena upstairs.”

You nodded. He was right. “Ok, let me–” you took a deep breath, “why don’t we sit on the couch? Less kissing, more talking?”

He laughed and agreed. Once you were on the couch, though, he tugged you close so that you sat with your legs across his lap and his arm around your waist.

“When can I take you out, hermosa?” he ran his fingers up and down your calves over your clothes and you sank into his embrace again. 

“How’s Friday?” 

He nodded. “Perfect. Elena’s mom will be here, she’ll have her the whole weekend.”

“Oh!” You sat a little straighter. “Is this the first time she’ll be in town?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. “Elena’s over the moon with excitement.”

You laughed. “I bet. That’s great.”

He smiled at you. “So, 7 on Friday, hermosa?”

You nodded, but decided to finally ask about the pet name. “You’ve been calling me that since you kissed me.”

Frankie looked a bit sheepish again. It was charming. “Well, I’ve been wanting to call you that for a while. Almost did a few times, not just recently. Feels like I’m finally allowed. You are beautiful, you know. So fucking beautiful.” He leaned forward to kiss you, gently. “Almost said it that night you were going out with Leti. Way too soon.”

It was your turn to look sheepish. “When I saw you through the window when you were moving in I said ‘shit, he’s so hot’ out loud. To myself. And Ursula, I guess.”

Frankie laughed, a bit incredulous. “You think I’m hot?”

You furrowed your brow at him. “Frankie. You are hot. So fucking hot.”

He turned pink again, and you smiled and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek. As you pulled back he turned and caught you in another kiss. You felt yourself getting carried away again and leaned back.

“I should go home. Have to get up early tomorrow.” 

He sighed and nodded with a wistful smile. “I know. Let me walk you out.”

At the door, Frankie leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips one more time and then pressed his forehead against yours. “Can’t wait for our date, hermosa.” 

“Me neither.” You slipped your arms around him in a tight hug. “Tell Elena she did a good job with the plan.” He laughed and you grinned. You said good night, and when you reached your front door and looked back, you found Frankie leaning against his own front door watching you. He smiled and waved and you stepped inside with the grin still on your face.

…

You ran into Frankie and Elena a few times during the week, but you were all busy and there wasn’t a lot of time to talk (or visit Ursula). You were thankful for your upcoming date and the guaranteed time you’d have with Frankie all to yourself.

He knocked on your door at 7pm sharp on Friday evening. You were scrambling on the other side of it to put on your shoes and grab your bag. When you found yourself hopping in place you paused, took a deep breath, and put your shoes on as calmly as you could. 

By the time you opened the front door he’d been waiting for a few minutes and had his hand raised to knock again. 

“Hi, sorry, I was just putting my shoes on.” You released the whole sentence in one breath and then smiled, sheepishly.

Frankie was frozen with his hand raised. He blinked and dropped it and smiled back at you. You swore you felt his eyes as he swept them over your outfit. “Hi there. You look gorgeous.”

You felt your cheeks heat and bit your lip. His outfit finally registered and you noticed he was wearing dark jeans, a dark red button up, and no hat. His curls were tousled and your fingers twitched with the desire to touch. “I like your outfit, Frankie.”

“Yeah?” He tugged at one of his cuffs. “Elena helped me pick it out.”

You grinned. “She has good taste, then. You look handsome.” You stepped outside and turned to lock the door. When you turned back towards Frankie, he hadn’t moved far and was only a few inches away. You leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. 

He smiled and you felt his hand slide over your lower back. “Ready to go, hermosa?”

“Lead the way.”

Frankie guided you to his car and opened the door for you. Soon enough you were on your way, turned slightly in the passenger seat to watch him drive. It was a nice view.

“So, where to?”

He glanced over at you and when he found you looking, he turned a little bit pink. “One of my coworkers told me about this little Indonesian place across town, next to the river. Have you been?”

You sat up straighter, excited. “No! It’s new. I’ve been meaning to go.”

He grinned. “No? Good. Well, then we can try it together.”

You leaned back into your seat and smiled as Frankie started to tell you about his week at work. It sounded like his classes were going well. He’d told you back when you met that he was worried about teaching, and had even asked for some tips. But it sounded like he was doing a pretty good job. (And you knew he’d been reading about teaching when he could.)

The conversation carried you through the ride and into the restaurant, which was small with cozy tables and warm lighting. When Frankie gave his name the host led you to a small table in the back corner that had a “reserved” sign on it.

“This place is cute,” you observed. Frankie nodded, smiling. 

After you both took a minute to look at the menu and order, Frankie reached across the table to tangle your fingers together lightly. “I’m glad you said yes to this date, hermosa.”

“Me too, Frankie.” You squeezed his fingers and he smiled.

“I wanted to ask for a while. Almost from the beginning. That first night you had us for dinner I almost blurted it out, but Elena interrupted.”

You smiled, slow, and he watched. “I would have said yes.”

He blinked. “Even then? I figured I’d have to show you I wasn’t a total mess, first.”

You tilted your head and frowned a bit. “Frankie, I’ve never thought you were a mess. You’re… well. I think you’re great.” You bit your lip and watched as his expression turned soft.

“Yeah?” 

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think you’re amazing. You’re so smart, and funny, and you’re amazing with Elena. She’s been saying she wants to be a teacher when she grows up, you know.”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. “Really?” He nodded. “Didn’t she say she wants to be a pilot, like, last week?”

Frankie laughed, and you grinned. “She did. But that’s just her backup career. It’s the one she says when she isn’t sure, I think.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe she really does want to.”

He shrugged. “Could be. She can do whatever she wants. I’m not pushing anything.”

You smiled at him again. The arrival of your food interrupted and for a moment you sat in comfortable silence, other than commenting on how delicious it was.

“How’s Elena doing with operation BFF?” You and Frankie had started calling it that when you told him about your conversation about best friends, and after seeing Elena’s clear focus on finding one. It was very cute.

Frankie laughed. “Well, she’s been hanging out more with Anil and Min. Apparently the three of them have the same favorite movie, so that’s been important somehow.” You smiled. “But my money is still on Mateo. They are both way too into having a ‘secret language.’ Even if they’re not the only ones in the room who speak Spanish. I watched them on the field trip the other week, just constantly whispering to each other.”

You nodded. “I can see that. It’s probably also comforting to be able to switch if she wants to.”

He smiled and shook his head. “But she also told me they’ve been teaching some of the others during recess. So maybe a not-so-secret language.” 

You smiled at the mental image of Elena teaching some of the other kids in her class on the playground. “That’s pretty adorable. She would think of something like that, I can totally see it.”

Frankie grinned down at his plate. “She surprises me every day. I have no idea where she gets it from.”

You rested your chin in your hand as you gazed at him across the table. “Frankie, she gets it from you.” You tried not to let your tone say “duh” but it was difficult.

His head lifted quickly and he met your eyes, clearly surprised. “Gets what?”

You smiled and reached across the table with your free hand to tangle your fingers together again. “That kindness, that makes her want to teach her friends her secret language. The initiative and drive to do something like that herself. Her curiosity and joy in new experiences that make operation BFF something exciting instead of something stressful. She gets all of those things from you. I can see all of them in the way you are with her and your students and everything else.” You squeezed his fingers and watched as his blush bloomed from his cheeks down his neck. 

Frankie ducked his head, but after a moment he peeked up again to meet your gaze. “You really think so?” His tone was tentative, and you felt something clench around your heart at this man who was so wonderful but seemed to have no idea. 

“I do, Frankie. I really do.”

He lifted his free hand to trail his fingers down the side of your face and then your arm, which was still propping up your chin. “I’ll try to believe you.” You smiled, and his answering smile made something warm start to burn inside you. “I don’t know what I did to get so lucky as to move next door to you, hermosa.”

You felt your own cheeks heat and bit your lip. Whatever response you might have made was interrupted by the server returning to clear your table. You leaned back from each other and let Frankie grab the check (while extracting a promise that you could pay next time).

You stepped out of the restaurant into a lovely, warm evening. The fireflies were starting to come out and for a moment you simply admired the atmosphere. When you looked at Frankie you found him already looking at you.

“Do you want to walk around a bit? I know there’s a park on the next block.” You nodded, smiling at the suggestion and the idea that neither of you were ready for this to end quite yet. Frankie slid his arm around your waist as he turned to start walking. Your attention narrowed to the warm feeling of his hand on your hip and his thumb as it moved gently back and forth over your clothes. 

When he said something, it took a moment for you to respond. “Sorry, what?” Your cheeks burned. 

He grinned. “I asked, are you going to be at the PTA fundraising thing next weekend?”

“Oh!” You nodded. “Yes, all the teachers are, pretty much. Did you buy a ticket?” He nodded. “Great. Maybe I can get us seated together.”

Frankie winked at you and you felt something flutter in your chest. “You wanna sit with me?”

You nudged him with your elbow. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” he replied, tucking you closer into his side as you turned into the small park. “Because I definitely want to sit with you.”

You laughed. “It’ll probably be more fun that way. It’s not a bad event, but it can be sort of boring. Lots of speeches about all the good things the district is doing so people will volunteer or donate more. And then the auction of the different projects from the classrooms at the elementary school.”

He nodded. “Elena told me about theirs. Apparently it’s snake themed.” He shuddered dramatically and you grinned.

“Well, you’re obviously going to bid on that one,” you teased, and let out a tiny squeak when he stopped and tugged you to stand in front of him. His hands came to rest on your hips and you realized he’d navigated the two of you under a large tree, just off the path.

He smiled. “I promised Elena I would, but I’m going to bid low on purpose. Don’t tell her.”

You nodded and tried to look serious instead of laughing. “I promise I won’t tell your daughter that you intentionally did not win her class project.” 

Frankie squinted at you. “Hmm ok. Let’s say I believe you.”

You laughed, and his answering grin drew your eyes like a magnet.

“You know, Elena told me I should pick you up in a limo for this date.” 

“You’re kidding,” you said, laughing again. “Why?”

He shrugged and squeezed your hips. “Apparently that’s the most romantic thing I could do. She was mad when I didn’t.”

You smiled. “Well, you can tell her I didn’t need a limo. I think you’re pretty romantic without it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, one side of his mouth lifting in a smile.

You nodded, swaying a bit closer to him. 

“Hey, hermosa,” he started, voice teasing, and you tilted your head at him curiously. “Can I kiss you?”

You grinned. “Frankie, you don’t have to ask.”

He leaned in with a little smirk playing around his mouth. “Good to know,” he murmured just before his lips met yours.

It was just as good as the night at his house, when you’d danced and cuddled on his couch. No, it was better. 

His lips pressed softly against yours and you lost yourself in the gentle sensation. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around you. You slid your palms up his chest and around his neck, tangling your fingers in his loose curls. He moaned when you tugged lightly and you felt a shiver run up your spine.

You opened to him and suddenly the kiss went from soft (and safe for public consumption) to heady (and edging towards too much for a public park). Frankie slid his hand down to cup your ass and you broke the kiss on a gasp.

“Frankie–” you sighed his name as he pressed a soft line of kisses down your neck. “I think we should get out of here before we get in trouble for public indecency. Or we run into any of my students.”

He snorted against your shoulder and you grinned. 

“Sorry, hermosa,” he murmured, lips still touching your skin. “Couldn’t help myself.”

He lifted his head to meet your eyes again, and you smiled as you took in his reddened lips and heavy lidded eyes. “Take me home, Frankie.”

He raised his eyebrows in question, and you nodded. He still asked, “home? To your home?”

You smiled and slid your hand down to tangle with his. “Yours, mine. Whichever one you’d like.”

Frankie grinned and started to lead the way back to his car. “Let’s go to yours, baby. I’ve got my phone if they need me.”

The two of you almost jogged back down the sidewalk, giggling when you ran into each other as Frankie maneuvered around a light pole. When you got to his car you were both grinning widely. He crowded you against the passenger door and pressed his smile of yours.

“Come on, Frankie,” you whispered against his mouth. “Take me home.”

He hummed and pressed his forehead against yours. “Whatever you want, hermosa.”

The tension only built higher in the car. Frankie drove with his left hand while his right stayed firmly clasped with yours on your thigh. Every few seconds he would glance at you and you watched with great interest as his eyes darkened.

When you pulled into his driveway, you were out of the car and moving towards your front door before he managed to get out. You looked back at him and smiled and he laughed. He jogged to catch up with you in front of your door, slipping his arms around you from behind and kissing your neck.

“In a hurry, hermosa?”

You smiled again as you unlocked the door. “Maybe just in a hurry to get inside where I can kiss you as much as I want.”

He hummed in agreement as the two of you stepped through your door. As soon as it shut behind you he turned you around and pressed you back into it. “Hi there,” he murmured against your mouth. 

You smiled into the kiss. “Hi Frankie.” He deepened the kiss and you welcomed it, falling into the feeling of Frankie and nothing else.

His hands came to rest on your hips again as he stepped closer. You could feel the heat of him all down your front and sighed as you let your head fall back against the door. He worked his way down your neck with firm kisses and a bit of teeth.

“Can I make you feel good, hermosa?” He squeezed your hips as he worried a small mark inside of your neckline.

“Yes, Frankie,” you breathed, tangling your hands in his hair.

He pressed forward with his hips and you felt again how hard and big his cock was in his pants. “Can I use my mouth on you? Please, baby. I’ll make it so good for you.” 

You gasped at the sudden mental image of Frankie on his knees in front of you, that smirk winding you up as he leaned forward. “Yes, Frankie,” your voice was thin and breathy and you felt him smile into your neck. “Please, yes.”

He slid his hands from your hips and tugged yours from his hair so he could tangle your fingers together. He started to walk backwards and you followed easily, kicking off your shoes by the door. “Come sit on the couch for me, bebita.” His eyes were locked on yours as he guided you to sit. When he knelt in front of you, you whimpered.

“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes sweeping over you as you sucked in a sharp breath. “So fucking beautiful.” He slid his hands up your legs and over your hips with a smirk. “You know that, right? You’re beautiful.”

You bit your lip and smiled. “I– I like it when you tell me,” you said, feeling a bit shy.

He deftly unfastened your pants and began to slide them down your hips with your underwear, guiding you to lift up your hips and ease the way. “You’re so beautiful.” He began pressing kisses along your thighs as they were revealed. “Can’t wait to see every part of you.” He nipped lightly at your thigh and you gasped. “Been dreaming about this.”

“Dreaming?” You repeated, head swimming from the feeling of his lips and his words.

“Dreaming,” he repeated as he tossed your pants behind him, “of the way your pussy tastes, bebita. Of making you fall apart on my tongue.”

Your hands clenched in the fabric of your couch at his words and your mouth fell open. “Fuck,” you whispered, and he grinned.

“C’mere, hermosa. Legs open.” He tapped your left thigh and you let your legs fall open to either side of him. His eyes locked on your pussy and darkened. “I knew it. So fucking pretty.”

Without hesitating, Frankie leaned forward and licked a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moaned.

“That’s right. Let me hear you, bebita.” You felt his lips move and the vibration of his deep voice against your pussy and moaned again. He hummed and dove back in with enthusiasm.

Frankie pressed an open mouth kiss to your entrance, teasing around it with his tongue. When your hips twitched forward he took the invitation and slipped his tongue inside. He slowly thrust it forward once, and then twice, lips closed over your pussy. Your head fell back against the couch at the feeling of his tongue slipping inside of you, at the obvious pleasure he took in the act when he moaned. You could feel the vibration inside and gasped. 

He slipped his tongue from inside you and licked upwards towards your clit. You felt his fingers start to tease around your entrance at the same moment his tongue started to circle your clit, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. 

“Frankie,” you sighed, overwhelmed. “Yes, shit, Frankie–” you cut yourself off with another moan as he slipped two fingers inside of you and curled them upwards just right.

You began to lose yourself in the feeling of his fingers thrusting inside of you and his tongue working your clit expertly, devastatingly well. You felt a tingling at the base of your spine that climbed up your back. Your hands twisted in his hair as you felt yourself hurtling towards the cliff you knew awaited you, so close and coming closer.  

He twisted his fingers and pressed his tongue firmly to your clit and your back arched off the couch. “Frankie, I’m–” You tried to warn him, but it was already there, you were already teetering over the edge of the cliff when he closed his lips around your clit and gently sucked. 

Your eyes flew open as you fell over the edge and you keened his name, gripping his hair and almost pressing his face into your pussy as your orgasm swept over you. As it rushed from you your arms fell limp at your sides and you stared at the ceiling as you started to come back to yourself. 

You felt something come to rest against your hip and, with great effort, looked down to find Frankie grinning smugly at you, lips and chin wet and glistening.

“You are so fucking beautiful when you come, cariño.” His voice was deeper than usual and you shivered.

“H–” you tried to talk but had to clear your throat. You took a deep breath and tried again. “Holy shit, Frankie. You are really fucking good at that.”

You watched, charmed, as his nose crinkled with the size of his grin. 

“Yeah?” He asked, but you could tell he knew he was good at it. You poked him in the shoulder. 

“Yes, Frankie.” You bit your lip. “C’mere, handsome.” You tugged on his shirt until he moved, pulling him up and over you on the couch. You both turned until you were lying down with him above you and you tugged him into a deep kiss.

He thrust down against you and you realized you were both still clothed, other than your pants. You smiled and broke the kiss. “Take your pants off, Frankie.”

He smiled down at you. “Only if you take your shirt off, hermosa.”

You laughed. “Ok, new deal – no more clothes allowed. And maybe we move this to the bed.”

Frankie grinned and nodded. He stood and tugged you up alongside him, catching you with a firm arm around your waist. You could feel his cock still hard in his pants and smiled into a quick kiss. 

The two of you stayed tangled together as you walked towards your bedroom, giggling occasionally when you tripped over something or bumped into a wall. Each time he was there to catch you, strong arms holding you up.

By the time you reached your bed you were naked, and Frankie let his shirt drop to the floor just before he crawled over you. Your eyes roamed over his naked torso, and you opened your mouth to compliment him when you caught sight of his cock and froze, mouth wide.

He followed your gaze and preened, just a bit.

“Jesus, Frankie,” you breathed. “You’re fucking big.”

You met his eyes again and saw that he was grinning. “It’s ok, bebita.” He leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I promise it’ll fit.” A shiver ran up your spine and you swore you felt yourself somehow get even wetter than before.

“I was going to say,” you started as he leaned closer, hovering over you on his elbow, “you are so hot, Frankie.” You ran your hands from his broad shoulders down his sides and reached around to grip his ass with one. 

He blushed again and you smiled at the juxtaposition of his easy confidence about his skills in the bedroom and his shy response to any compliments about his looks.

“It’s true,” you insisted. “You’re hot. Deal with it.”

He laughed, and hid his face in your neck. His cock brushed against your pussy when he moved and you sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Well,” he pressed a kiss to the spot where your shoulder met your neck, and you tilted your head to the side to give him more room. He continued, lips brushing against your skin, “you’re so beautiful it takes my breath away. Clothes or no clothes.” He brought his free hand up to run his fingers lightly over your chest as he spoke and you sighed. His fingers slipped lower until they brushed over your slit. “Let me in, bebita.” You opened your legs for him again and he smiled against your neck. “Just like that.”

His fingers teased at your clit before sliding down to tease at your entrance, and you sighed when he slipped two inside of you. “Gotta make sure you’re ready,” he murmured, moving back up to capture your lips in a kiss. You met him eagerly, opening your mouth to tangle your tongues together. His hips thrust forward and his cock nudged against your thigh.

Frankie broke the kiss and took a deep breath. “You’re so wet, bebita.” He twisted his fingers inside of you and your eyes fluttered shut. “Just for me?”

You nodded, and he let out a soft moan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He kissed you again, hard and quick. “Wanted this for so long, and now you’re here, fuck–” He ducked his head to rest against your shoulder and you tangled your fingers in his hair again. He hummed.

“Wanted this too, Frankie,” you tilted your hips and felt his cock slide against your thigh again. “Want you inside me.”

He shivered and you felt his cock twitch where it was trapped between you. You grinned. 

“Condom?” He rasped, lifting his head up to catch your gaze.

You bit your lip and his eyes dropped down to watch. His fingers thrust into you again and you sighed. 

“I’m on birth control,” you started, and he groaned.

“You sure? I haven’t had sex in, well. A while. And I had to get a full work up and physical for this job.” His slid his fingers from inside you slowly and your hips chased them. He smiled.

“I’m sure, Frankie.” You smiled at each other until Frankie shook his head and began to move. He centered himself between your open legs and his cock slid over your pussy, making you gasp. 

“Ay, cariño,” he moaned, eyes falling shut. “You feel so fucking good.”

You tilted your hips and on his next thrust the head of his cock caught on your entrance. Frankie’s moan mixed with your own. 

“Ready?” He leaned down to kiss you and you nodded into the kiss.

“Yes, Frankie.” 

He captured your mouth again as the head of his cock slipped inside of you. Your hands flew up and around him again, one tangling in his hair and the other grasping at his back. His cock slid forward slowly but steadily and you lost yourself in the stretch, in all of the ways he was touching you, with his body and his cock and his mouth.

When he bottomed out, you were already floating upwards towards another peak.

He broke the kiss, breath heaving as he stopped moving with his cock fully inside of you. “You feel so good, bebita. Fuck.” You could hear the strain of staying so still in his voice and your pussy clenched around him. He shivered. 

“You’re so big, Frankie,” you murmured into his ear. “Feels like you’re everywhere.” 

He pressed a smile to your cheek and then your neck behind your ear. “That’s where I want you, bebita,” he broke off to nip at your neck, “everywhere.”

Frankie started to move, slowly, pulling backwards until just the head of his cock was inside of you. When he thrust forward again you moaned. You opened your eyes (when had you shut them?) to find him watching your face as he found a slow but devastating rhythm. He smiled, slow. “You’re so fucking amazing,” he said, tone full of wonder. “You’re beautiful on my cock, bebita. And you’re taking me so well.” He thrust forward again and you gasped.

“You feel so good, Frankie.” You had to tell him, too, you wanted him to know how good he felt inside of you, how good he was making you feel. “I’ve never–” He thrust forward again, eyes dancing over your face, and your breath hitched. “It’s never felt so good.”

He fell forward to kiss you again, and you began to move in unison, both chasing the feeling you knew was waiting just out of reach. It started to climb up your spine again, started to tingle through your body and you broke the kiss. “I’m close, Frankie–” he kissed you again, cutting you off. 

“I know. I can feel it.” He pressed his forehead to yours as you both worked towards your climaxes. “Just like that, shit.” Frankie reached down to tug your leg up around his hip. It changed the angle just enough that his next thrust sent sparks dancing over your skin. “Come on, baby. Give it to me. Please.”

Your breath caught and on his next thrust, you came. You reached the peak and toppled over the other side, arms tightening around him, pussy clenching around his cock. You felt the muscles in your torso tense and the strength of your orgasm as it swept through your body. You were breathing hard when you came back to yourself, to the sound of Frankie’s voice in your ear coaxing you through it.

“Just like that, hermosa. Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful. The way you come, fuck, never seen anything better, never felt so good.” His hips sped up and you clutched at him, urging him on.

“Frankie,” you breathed his name, and felt him shudder. “Come for me, handsome. I want to feel you.”

Your words tipped him over the edge and on his next thrust you felt it, watched his face as he tipped over the edge. Your eyes danced over his expression, not wanting to miss a single moment.

You both breathed hard for a moment, quiet, until Frankie’s eyes opened and found yours.

“Cariño,” he breathed, starting to smile. “That was amazing.”

You smiled, feeling some warm emotion start to fill your chest at the wonder in his voice. “It was so good, Frankie.”

He grinned so wide his nose crinkled, and you decided that was your favorite of his smiles. The one so big he couldn’t hold in the joy.

He leaned down to kiss you gently and slid his cock from inside of you as carefully as he could. You still gasped, lightly, when he slipped from you completely. He pressed a soothing kiss to your lips. “Let me get you cleaned up.” He was up and in your bathroom before you could blink, returning just as quickly with a warm washcloth and a soft smile.

Soon you were tucked into your sheets, legs tangled with Frankie’s, head resting on his chest. His hand rested lightly on your head and your arm looped securely around his waist.

“Frankie,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest. He hummed in response. “This was the best first date of my life.”

You knew he was smiling without looking up to check. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Mine too, hermosa.” He kissed you again. “Not to get ahead of myself, but–” he cut himself off abruptly and didn’t continue. Curious, you lifted your head to catch his eye. He looked happy but a little wary. 

“What is it?” you leaned forward to kiss him encouragingly and he smiled. 

“Well,” he kissed you again. “I was just thinking. Elena is going to be so smug when she realizes her plan got us together.” He swallowed, looking a little hesitant. “I mean–”

“Together?” You interrupted, and he nodded, expression a little shy. You smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

Frankie grinned, wide, your favorite smile spreading across his face again. “Good.” He tugged you closer again. “Me too.”

...

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[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.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"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

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