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beomcoups · 5 months ago

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Food Wars pt. 1

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You and Mingyu are rival but friendly chefs competing for a spot to be an executive chef at a new location in Madrid. This position would change your life; no matter how attractive he is, you WILL get that spot.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chef!Mingyu x chef!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, suggestive (next part will be spicier, I promise), coworkers to lovers au, 18+

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, kissing, mention of death (nothing graphic), suggestive grabs of the hips and ass 💀

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 7.2k

𝐀𝐍: Part 1 is heeeeeeere! This is apart of the world tour collab hosted by @svthub. Part 2 will be posted soon. There are alot of people here who helped me cultivate this fic and assure me that what I wrote didn't suck lol. Thank you @wooahaeproductions, @seokgyuu, @hobeemin and @hannieween for looking at bits of this for me. Also thank you to @highvern , @cheolism , @okiedokrie @bitchlessdino @gyupremacy for shooting ideas with me (ahem, cologne!) and finally @milfgyuu , I know you want to be tagged in anything related to your man :)

You knew it would come to this, and as good as you are at hiding your poker face, you are annoyed. A food competition, really? You almost burst out with laughter when Rich, the restaurant's owner of The Palm Cuisine, told you. The Palm Cuisine is one of the most popular restaurants in the U.S., with three locations in New York, Los Angeles, and Miami. He is opening a new restaurant in Madrid, Spain, and wants to take one of the sous chefs to make them the executive chef. You are the better chef, and everyone knows it, but in the spirit of “fairness,” you have to go against another person for the owner to make their decision. That other person is no other than Kim Mingyu, the golden boy of the restaurant who is almost as good as you in the kitchen. Almost.

It’s not like the position was directly promised to you, but deep down, you always assumed it would be yours. You have been there the longest, know the menu from top to bottom, and have even stayed extra nights you didn’t have to for the benefit of the restaurant and the team. You eat, breathe and shit this place. It feels like a slap to the face. “Put the knives down, girlie,” your coworker and good friend Shena nudges you.

You sigh, gently setting down the knives you used to cut your potatoes. “I’m fine,” you whisper, turning around and rolling your eyes. “I am totally fucking fine.” You close your eyes and take a small, deep breath, centering yourself before returning to reality. Disappointment would be an understatement if you had to describe how you feel. The Palm Cuisine is the first and only restaurant you have worked at as a chef, starting as a prep cook and working your way up to sous. You always imagined yourself making it to executive chef—overseeing the restaurant's menu, preparation, cooking, ordering, and operations. The place specializes in Spanish food, and you can confidently say you could plan a Spanish menu with your eyes closed. Tapas, gazpacho, paellas, you name it, you’ve done it. And yet, you must constantly prove to everyone (mainly the men) that you deserve to be here. It’s exhausting. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, wondering if you will snap and break a rolling pin or cry in the bathroom. Instead of giving them the satisfaction, you turn around with a beaming smile. “Well,” you quirk an eyebrow. “Let the food war begin!” “Oh, splendid!” Rich squeals. “I was worried you would be upset.” “Why would I be upset?” You cock your head. “I mean, it’s only fair, right?” He chuckles nervously, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Why don’t you and Mingyu come into my office, and we can discuss it further?” You nod as he beckons Mingyu over and follows him into his mid-size office. It smells of fresh linen, courtesy of a scented oil on his bookshelf. It looks like a typical place of work, complete with a desk, laptop, and hundreds of documents related to the restaurant. It’s cold in contrast to the warmth of the fires in the kitchen, and you long to be back in front of the heat, cooking from your heart.

You’ve been cooking since you were ten, watching your grandmother in the kitchen slave away for all the major holidays. You remember how it felt when you made your first apple pie - how you went to the local market and bought the freshest green apples you could find and cut them up like she did, adding the right amounts of nutmeg, brown sugar, and other needed ingredients. You made your own crust and watched everyone marvel at your dessert. You guess you could say that your grandmother stirred your love for cooking. God, you miss her.

You hear Mingyu shuffle behind you, the scent of chocolate and cream greeting you before he does. You nod, moving to the seat furthest away from the door to give yourself space. You don’t hate Mingyu; you two are friendly with each other and help each other out when needed. He’s always treated you with respect and never condescended you when you made a suggestion. Your eyes undoubtedly work, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit he is handsome. His model-like looks, toned body, great hair, and he just happens to be a good cook? It’s almost not fair. But fortunately for you, you haven’t fallen for his charms. He’s the golden retriever that everyone wants to be around. Well, except for you.

“So,” Rich starts as he shuts the door. I want you to know that I respect both of you, and it was tough to make this decision; hence, we are doing this. Plus, it’ll be fun, bring up the morale of the restaurant while we’re in Madrid—” “Wait,” you hold your hand up. “Are we going to do this in Madrid?” “Well, yes,” he says casually. “It’s only fitting we do it there. It’ll give you a chance to feel the vibe of the area and get some fresh ingredients. Lord knows you can’t get it here in the city.”

Mingyu chuckles, and you instinctively dig your thumb into your palm, your mind already thinking of the cost of a ticket, hotel space, etc. Rich can be a dramatic pain in the ass sometimes.

“We will cover everything, of course; all you need to do is be ready for international travel. You can bring one person from the restaurant as your assistant. Oh, and here is some paperwork you will need to fill out.” Several minutes later, with all the paperwork signed and details worked out, you shuffle out of the office one by one. Rich leaves first, rushing out like a bat out of hell, his wooden smell following him and the tension in your chest. You’re plagued with thoughts about coming up with a menu, packing to leave, and who’s going to watch your cat Grey while you’re gone. You feel undervalued, still bothered that you even have to do this. Does your many years of being here not mean anything to Rich? Is your cooking not good enough? Why keep hinting that you could have something bigger here just to string you along? All of this frustrates you with a passion.

You need a fucking drink.

Your nose wiggles at the smell of rich chocolate, your mouth salivates, and your stomach rumbles shortly after. You have a terrible habit of not eating when hungry as you focus on making food and serving others. While your mind is on food, you aren’t paying attention to Mingyu in front of you, bumping into his back. Your face grows hot with embarrassment, refusing to meet the gaze of your competitor for your dream job. “Hey.” His deep voice knocks you out of your mental fog.

“W-what’s up?” You stumble through your words. “I just want to say it’s an honor going toe-to-toe with you for this spot. There wouldn’t be any other person I would want to go against. You’re a great chef.”

For that tiny moment, you felt seen and appreciated. Aside from Shena, no one seemed to care about the hard work you put into The Palm Cuisine, and you thought about quitting so many times. But despite being unappreciated, you love the food, the culture, and the customers that come in. You can’t imagine yourself anywhere else.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat. “You’re good too.” Mingyu nods, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. Seeing him up close, you have to admit, he’s attractive. You get why everyone trips over their feet when he’s around. You have much more discipline than that despite the vibrations through your body. “Also, you need to eat,” he says matter-of-factly. “I heard your stomach before you bumped into me.”

Whatever spell you were temporarily under ceased immediately, knocking you back into reality.

“Ladies first,” he says, moving out of the way to let you through. His hand lightly touches your back as you walk by, making that part of you hot as if it were touched by something warm. You return to your stations, cleaning them off to be ready for the customers who are set to come in later. “What was that about?” Shena pops up beside you, eyeing you suspiciously. “Just some stuff about this unnecessary competition and getting an assistant to help me and whatnot,” you shrug.

“Wow, that’s kind of grand,” she looks perplexed as if you are telling a joke.

You nod, grab a granola nearby, and take a bite, curbing your hunger a bit.

“So…” you let your voice trail off in suspense. “How about you come with me to Spain?”

Your morning sucked. You barely slept, and when you finally did, you woke up to three missed alarms and was running an hour late. You had less than a week to plan to leave the country and spent most of your night packing for ten days and making sure your cat, Grey, would be comfortable while you were gone. He is a rescue; you adopted him from the animal shelter when you volunteered with Shena a year ago. He was your cuddle buddy; you haven’t been without him for more than a day. “I’m going to miss you, buddy,” you give him a good scratch. He purrs lazily, curling himself into a ball and going back to sleep. You are grateful that Shena’s girlfriend, Lumina, offered to come over and feed him while you were gone. You were considering dropping him off at one of those pet daycares for the week or hiring a cat sitter, but she came through in the nick of time. She works at the animal shelter you adopted her, and coincidentally, that’s where she and Shena met and fell in love.

It was nice seeing them fall for each other. It was like watching a silly, quirky rom-com play out in front of you. You see the magic in Shena’s eyes when she looks at Lumina, the warmth in her voice when she talks about her. Shena described Lumina as a warm hug on a rainy day, and you could believe that. They are made for each other.

You hear a notification on your phone telling you your Uber is outside. You send a quick text to Lumina, giving her the code to your door, and give one last look around before you go across the ocean. “Bye, Grey,” you whisper, ensuring the door is locked before leaving.

Silvery-white clouds rolled into the early morning sky as you walked to your Uber, the ground wet from the fresh rain a few hours before. The smell of rain has always soothed you; the clean, earthy petrichor wakes you up a bit more. You quickly greet the driver, putting on your AirPods and playing a playlist you made. You watch the remaining droplets of rain left on the window roll away as your driver cruises down the highway. Where you come from, it hardly rains as it's primarily hot year round. On the rare occasions when it did, you would open your bedroom window, sit in your bed, and watch the water hit the Oleander flowers in your backyard. It was one of your two favorite smells in the world, the other being apple pie.

Mixed in with your annoyance about having to have a competition to prove yourself as a chef, you are looking forward to leaving the country. You have never been to Spain before, let alone Europe. You have traveled and seen a few things, but Mexico is the farthest you have gone. You spent much time last night looking up main attractions, museums, and local areas to see if you have the time. You want to visit the local markets and taste the local food. Rich set up all of your travel and living arrangements, and all you have to do is show up and cook. You are going to make the most of your time there. Who knows when you will be able to travel again? At the very least, you plan on coming out of this thing, winning it all.

“We’re here.”

When you look up, the airport entrance pulls up to your right. The ride feels shorter than it is, but you are lost in thought about many things. You thank your driver, grab your suitcases, and walk to the airline’s front desk to turn your bags in. You arrived with thirty minutes left to spare, and there was a long line already; it wasn’t even 8 am. You can’t help but yawn as you hand over your bags to the agents, fatigue and the lack of sleep kicking your ass.

“You’re all set,” the agent hands over your printed ticket. “Have a safe trip.” You nod, heading towards security and breezing through the checkpoints before arriving in front of the underground train. Your purse feels heavy on your shoulder, and your eyelids threaten to close as you stand. You usually have good sleep management, but you stressed over this trip all night. What if you come all the way out to Spain for nothing? You don’t think you could continue to work for Rich anymore. It would hurt too much.

The train comes shortly after, and you shuffle inside, trying to find a seat in the back before it is taken. You see one and settle down, your shoulders dropping as you finally sit down. You lean your head on the cold pole, hopeful that closing your eyes for a minute will give you some of your energy back.

“Are you as tired as I am?” You recognize that voice, annoyance slowly creeping in as your longing for a bit of solitude is interrupted.

“Mingyu, what a surprise,” you mutter without cracking an eye open.

“How did you know it was me?”

“Your voice. It’s one of a kind,” you deadpan.

He chuckles as the train flicks forward, sitting next to you. You begrudgingly pull out your ticket, realizing you will not get to relax until you’re sitting on that plane. Noting the concourse you need to get off on, you look ahead, counting the stops you have until you have to get off. Mingyu hums softly, adjusting his backpack and pulling out his headphones.

“Have you ever flown first class before?”

Your head snaps his way, not registering what he’s saying. “What?” “First class? Have you ever been?” “I-uh, no,” you stumble through your words. “Why does it matter?”

“Uh, did you even look at where you’re sitting?”

“Well, yes?” you say incredulously, looking at your ticket again. “Of course, I know where I’m sitting—”

You don’t finish that sentence; instead, your mouth forms a small “o,” unaware that you would be sitting in first class. You have never flown in those seats before, the closest being business class a couple of rows behind the curtain. Those tickets were not cheap, and you only purchased them because you wanted to treat yourself to graduating culinary school, which you were able to do by saving all of your tips from your waitressing job.

You don’t like admitting that you were wrong, and you aren’t going to admit it now. Instead, you rake your fingers in your hair, nodding and shoving your ticket in your back pocket.

“You’re welcome,” Mingyu taunts you, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head.

You can barely suppress your smile, saved by the announcement that your concourse is approaching. You both rise out of your seats, moving towards the doors before the train jerks suddenly, making you fall forward into Mingyu. He grabs your hips, holding you steady until you’ve caught your balance. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, and your body is hypersensitive to his inadvertent touch. His grip is firm and protective, bringing an unexpected tingle to your core. You couldn’t feel more thankful that you were looking down; you couldn’t look him in the eye out of embarrassment. You don’t even have a crush on this guy, yet you feel hot and bothered.

“Be careful, princess,” he crouches low enough for your ears only. “We don’t need you flailing around this train.”

“Don’t do that,” you scoff. “Don’t call me princess.”

“Why?”

The train doors open, and you calmly remove his hands from you, gazing deep into his eyes.

“Because I’m far from that.”

You walk away before he has a chance to respond, looking for the gate you need to be at. Bitchiness aside, you stand on what you said. You aren’t some helpless person waiting in a tower for someone to come save you or give you a handout. You’ve worked hard for everyone to see you more than a woman, as it already has a stigma. The constant belittling of your intelligence, being told to “wait your turn,” you are done with it. You’ve taken control of your destiny your life, and you will not be treated like some delicate little girl waiting to be saved from a castle… no matter how hot the knight is.

You feel relieved when you find your gate and a familiar face sitting with her iPad in her hand. As if she felt you coming, Shena looks up and waves you over to where she is sitting. Dressed in mint green sweats and matching crocs, she stands out in front of the dull black seats.

“There you are,” she greets you with a hug. “It’s not like you to be late. I sent you a text wondering where you were.”

“You did?”

You pull out your phone, and sure enough, you have received one unread message from her. She must have sent it when you were on the train, distracted by Mingyu and his hands on your body. It’s not like you to get riled up, and it ticks you off that it happened with him, of all people. Your life is a joke.

You plop down next to her, cocking your head back in exhaustion. Before fully relaxing, you feel the seat beside you shift, followed by the smell of light cologne and chocolate. Looking over, you see Mingyu adjusting his bag before setting it on the ground. He is holding a small chocolate bar and taking a small bite, savoring the decadent treat as he licks his lips. You look away before being caught, chagrined that you were staring at him for that long. What is with you?

“Oh hey there, Gyu,” Shena waves at him. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Oh, I just got here,” he smiles. “I had to find my way to the gate since this one here is a speed walker.”

“Oh? You guys arrived together?”

“Not together, together,” you emphasize. “We just happened to be on the same train, that’s all.”

You purposely avoid Shena’s eye contact, clearing your throat and changing the subject.

“Did you notice we are flying first class?”

“Yeah!” Shena beams, pulling out her ticket. “I’ve never been out of the country, let alone first class. Lumina was bummed she couldn’t tag along. The shelter has her tied up, and it is kinda last minute.”

“Aww,” you rub her knee. “There will always be a next time, right?”

Shena nods, and the flight attendants announce they are about to start boarding, starting with first class. You pop out of your seat first, grab your things, and stand in line. Anticipation drills in your heart, wanting nothing more than to sit in some very comfortable seats and sleep throughout this 8-plus hour flight. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Mingyu behind you, his eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. He leans in closer, the hairs standing on the back of your neck as his lips barely touch your ear.

“I know you’re not a princess,” he whispers. “You’ve proven to be more than that. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need someone to care for you sometimes.”

You were next in line and couldn’t respond without the flight attendants giving you weird looks. Instead, as they check your ticket, you do what you know best: bite your tongue, smile, and push it aside.

Madrid is exquisite; it is everything you saw on your Pinterest board and more. You’ve been here a few days and are in love. You are surrounded by gorgeous cerulean waters, good weather, and historic sites you always wanted to see as a child. The Almudena Cathedral, one of the most prominent catholic churches in the world, took your breath away when you went to visit. The Francisco de Cubas architecture throughout made you appreciate art more, one of the most beauteous works you have ever seen in person.

You also took time to visit the local market, talking with the locals about their lives and picking up fresh food to try out different dishes for the competition. Shena was a big help, taking over in Spanish if you needed help and also giving fresh ideas on what to cook. You knew a bit of Spanish to get around the city and ask questions, but coming from a Spanish-speaking household, Shena could convey your ideas in ways you couldn’t understand. You will be forever grateful for that.

“It looks like we’re here.” Rich called you both to the restaurant this evening to show you around and tell you where your cooking stations would be. The restaurant stood atop a hill, with small walk-up steps made of stone mosaics. Surrounded by boutique shops and a couple of markets, this was the only restaurant on the block; you couldn’t miss it. You understood quickly why Rich took this location. He meets you at the entrance, greeting each other in dos besos.

“Welcome, let me show you around. Mingyu is already here.” You walk into the small waiting area before entering a gorgeous main dining area with walls made of Spanish moss brick. The bar is neatly placed in the middle, already loaded with the finest wines and other liquors. The dining tables and chairs are made of mahogany, giving you a vibe that you are back home in the country.

“Ah, there he is,” Rich looks to your right.

Mingyu walks up, wearing a white beater accentuating his well-toned arms and acid-blue jeans that hit him perfectly. You couldn’t stop ogling him if you wanted to; you would’ve thought he was a model off the street if you didn't know him. His eyes scan Rich and Shena before landing on you, a slight smirk on his lips that only you seem to notice. Ever since your encounter at the airport, he’s been on your mind, and you hate it. You still feel his hands on your hips on the train, as if he imprinted on you.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I had to find the bathroom.” “No worries,” Rich waves him off. “Let me show you around.”

He takes you to where your cooking stations would be, explaining how everything was set up and where to find your ingredients so you could prepare them. The competition is in three days, giving you enough time to finish your menu and prep before the big day. The kitchen is magnificent, a sight straight out of your daydreams: stainless steel appliances, expensive cast irons, and utensils you’ve always wanted that were way out of your budget. You may hate the idea of this competition, but working at this location would be a dream come true.

“Imagine if we got to work here,” Shena whispers. “I’ve only seen kitchens like these on Master Chef.” You nod in agreement, your fingers barely grasping the counter's surface. Rich finishes showing you around and asks everyone what their plans are leading up to the big day. “Nothing, just prepping and looking around the city a bit more,” you shrug. “Well, that sounds boring! ” He exclaims. “Madrid has such a fun nightlife. It would be a shame for you to miss out. As a matter of fact, why don’t you kids go to Kapital tomorrow? I can get you a table, and you can let loose.”

“Well, shit, okay!” Shena pipes up before you can respond.

You groan internally, not in the mood to be body-to-body against strangers, sweating your hair out during loud music. You don’t see yourself having fun until this whole thing is over. How does this guy expect you to relax? It’s not like his dreams are on the line. You look over at Mingyu, who matches your gaze, leaning against one of the refrigerators.

“Yeah,” his eyes finally tear away from you. “I’m down.”

You’re the only one left who hasn’t given an answer, and everyone is looking at you expecting one.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you mask your disdain with a smile.

“Great!” He claps his hands in excitement. “I will send you the details later and get you set up. Have fun.”

Rich walks you out, and you ask for the bathroom. You need a moment to pee and think in peace. He points you toward one, and you walk into the grand bathroom decorated with an old European interior that was undoubtedly above your salary. You walk to the furthest stall away from the door, rubbing your temples as you do what you need to do. For the most part, you handle stress well. You compartmentalize your feelings about what needs to be done, and you’ve been fine. Even now, with this competition vastly approaching and Mingyu somehow encompassing your thoughts when you’re around him, you’re fine. You haven’t cracked.

You aren’t sure why this is affecting you so much. You still think about when he touched you on the train and how your body felt alive. You haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Is your body so desperate for intimacy that you melt at the first person who gives you attention? No, that can’t be it. You’ve been fine all this time. Why is Mingyu getting under your skin? Shaking those thoughts away, you wash your hands and look at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. Swinging the door wide open, you are met by the man who has been plaguing your thoughts since you’ve been here. He was waiting for you, his back leaned against the wall, fiddling with a toothpick in his mouth.

“Rich and Shena are waiting for you… you can get kind of lost here,” Mingyu says.

“Mmhmm,” you nod slowly. “Well, let’s go.” The walk back to the front feels longer than it is. He hums a soft tune as he strides beside you, like he’s your equal, your partner. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but you feel comfortable.

“So, what have you been doing since you’ve landed?” Mingyu asks.

“I did some sightseeing,” you respond. “I visited the Almudena Cathedral and the local markets with Shena and got some ingredients for the competition. Oh, and worked on the menu.” “That’s it?” Mingyu looks surprised. “There is so much more of Madrid you have to see.” “Well, it’s not like I have a lot of time to go out there and explore,” you defend yourself. “Plus, I can’t really relax with this thing coming up.” You point at the kitchen. “How do you do it?” “How about I show you?”

You stop dead in your tracks a few feet away from the door.

“What do you mean show me?” You eye him suspiciously. “I’m going to pick you and Shena up tomorrow, and we will explore together. There’s so much the world has to offer besides cooking and work.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“You’ll see.”

You both walk outside, and Shena sits at one of the tables, talking candidly on the phone. Rich is nowhere to be found. The moon peeks over the horizon, the white orb’s light shining over the waters. Normally, you wouldn't agree to such a thing, but he has a point. Maybe you should live a little. “You are something. You know that?

Mingyu shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just believe in living life to the fullest. We don’t know how long we may have.”

You eye him more, studying his face in hopes that you can find a false truth and be more at ease. When you don’t, it does the opposite of relaxing you; it makes you nervous. You might be starting to like this guy.

Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll send you the address.”

“He’s here!” You check yourself out in the mirror, smoothing the middle of your blue floral white dress. You opted to wear your hair in a low bun, matching earrings, and a necklace you’ve had for years. Sliding on your white sandals, you grab your purse and leave your room. “Phew!” Shena whistles at you. “Qué guapa estás!”

You roll your eyes playfully as she pops out of her seat, sporting a white top and blue jeans, accessorized with a light cardigan and a simple gold necklace. You usually wouldn’t dress up this nice for an outing with friends (and Mingyu), but you wanted to be prepared for anything, and it would kill you if you were underdressed. Plus, you were going to be in Europe! Why wouldn’t you want to be prepared?

You walk out of your Airbnb and meet Mingyu as he comes in. He is dressed casually in a white collared shirt and black shorts, the slight breeze lifting his shirt and exposing his abs. It took a lot of brainpower to look away, instead diverting your attention to the inside of your purse. He looks tanned and relaxed, as if he is one with Madrid. If only you could relax like that.

“Hey, Gyu,” Shena waves. “Thank you for leading the way on this grand adventure.”

“No problem,” Mingyu smiled. “I want this to be a fun day, and I figured we have a driver, so why not?”

He looks at you, and your heart patters. The sun and slight breeze do not help your plight as you fight internally against acknowledging how sexy he looks. You hate your body for the way it’s betraying you right now, feeling inadvertently turned on.

“You look pretty,” he marveled at you.

“Thanks,” you nod sheepishly, walking to the black car behind him. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

There is a tiny bit of you that wants you to look good for him, to be seen that you put in the effort. When you get in the car, you greet the driver, sitting in the back row, hoping he will get the hint that you want to be left to yourself and your thoughts. But that didn’t work that way, as he climbs in and sits right next to you, with Shena seated in the row in front. His cologne is light, different from the usual sweet, chocolatey smell you’re accustomed to when he’s around. It’s enchanting, exciting, and further puts you in a mood. “So where are we going?” Shena probed, snapping on her seatbelt. “The Royal Palace,” Mingyu announced. “They have a tour, and I figured we could get lunch afterward.”

The driver pulls off, and you gaze outside the window, admiring the beautiful architecture of Madrid. Visiting the Royal Palace was on your bucket list, but you didn’t think you would have time. You’ve seen the pictures on Pinterest and talked to some locals at the restaurant who have been, but you’ve always been told that tickets are hard to get. You never thought it would be attainable for you.

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu’s deep voice infiltrates your thoughts.

“Nothing, really,” you say, smoothing out your dress. “I am just enjoying the foreign atmosphere.”

“Foreign atmosphere?” Mingyu chuckles. “That’s an interesting way of saying you enjoy the view.”

“Well, are we not in a foreign place?” You retort.

“Well, yes.”

“Alright then.” You look back out the window, biting your lip to hold back a grin. You are thankful for the soft tunes from the car radio, letting the reggaeton beats drown out your very loud thoughts. Mingyu gets you riled up in a way that no one can. He doesn’t frustrate you in ways like the other men do at the restaurant. Deep down, it’s not in an ill manner; he is just like the golden retriever: nudging your leg with a bone in his mouth, begging you to play with him.

“I brought you something,” he nudges your shoulder. “I know you didn’t eat.” You look down and see that he is holding a granola bar coated with vanilla and almonds, poking out of a sandwich bag. The sweet smell is heaven to your nose, and your mouth slightly salivates. He tapes Shena on the shoulder, handing her one of her own.

“You made this?” Shena probes, carefully taking it from him. “This is really sweet.”

You take a small bite of it, and your taste buds do a happy dance. The vanilla was freshly made, and you taste the granola, almond, and sweet spices used to make this perfect bar. You aren’t big on breakfast, as you’re used to getting up and moving on the go, but occasionally, you will grab a granola bar and eat it on your breaks at work, this one explicitly being your favorite. Maybe Mingyu knows you better than you thought.

“You’re right,” you confessed. “I hadn’t eaten anything. Thank you.” The car pulls to a stop, arriving at the grandiose building known as The Royal Palace. You wait until everyone leaves the vehicle, barely climbing out without tripping over your feet. Standing outside of the gates, you are in awe. You aren’t sure if it’s dopamine, but the air suddenly feels different and almost cleaner. You scrambled into your purse, pulling out your portable camera to photograph the palace. This place may not be one of the world's seven wonders, but in your heart, it is. “Oooo, let’s take pictures while we are here,” Shena squeals.

She pulls you and Mingyu close to her, takes over the camera, and snaps a few photos together and separately. Usually, you would be annoyed if it was someone else, but she is your best friend. You can let her get away with a few things. Mingyu goes to the booth to confirm they have arrived, returning with three tickets to take inside. “We can go in through a separate entrance since I got the tickets ahead of time,” he announces. You flip through the pictures through the camera, excited to take more. You feel his eyes bore into you, and you suddenly feel hot.

“What are you looking at?” You say, putting your camera away.

“Your smile,” he confesses with a cheeky grin. “I want to see it more often.”

You gaze at each other for a moment, your mouth parted with much to say and nothing at the same time. Mingyu keeps leaving you speechless, and you aren’t mad about it anymore.

“Are you two gonna keep staring at each other lovingly, or are we gonna do this thing?” Shena’s words snap you out of your reverie, and Mingyu chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. You walk over to her, linking your arm with yours.

“There is nothing loving going on.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” she rolls her eyes. “Let’s go look at some royalty.”

When you planned for this trip, you set a time to visit the Almudena Cathedral, visit the local markets, and plan your menu. You weren’t going to hold Shena to that standard even though she is your assistant. You thought you would be fine if you focused on nothing but food and didn��t get distracted. Mingyu, however, might be proving you wrong.

You sit at his Airbnb, watching him make lunch for you and Shena. He insisted on making something instead of eating out somewhere, and who are you to turn down a free meal? The Royal Palace was everything you imagined, learning about the history of Spain beyond what was in your textbooks in high school. You consider yourself a history buff, wanting to learn more about the world across the different seas. You’ve had that desire when you were a little girl, sitting on your grandmother’s lap and listening to her stories from when she traveled as a young adult. She never got to visit Spain, but she talked about it a lot, being that they were world conquerors (or, as you like to say, colonizers) back in the day. You really miss her.

Mingyu sets your plate in front of you, a fried calamari sandwich with a side of garlicky mayo and fries he made himself. He tops it off with a small squeeze of lemon juice, just as you like it. When you make this at the restaurant, you always add lemon juice on top to give it more depth, but instead of the mayo, you have paprika-spiced tomato sauce on the side. Either way, this shows that Mingyu has been paying attention when you felt incognito.

“Dig in,” he announces, sitting next to you at the island bar.

It’s a comfortable silence between you three, munching away at your well-seasoned meal. If you had to be honest with yourself, it’s the best sandwich you have ever had. He fried the calamari in olive oil, turning it every minute or so because it doesn’t take that long to cook. He apparently had the calamari sitting in milk in the refrigerator since this morning, allowing it to tenderize before mixing it with his own seasoning flour. You and Shena offered to help, but he turned you down, stating you were his guests and he wanted to treat you to something good before you went out later that night.

“This was really good,” Shena praises him as she wipes her mouth with a napkin. “You have to come over again and make these for Lumina and me.”

“Anything for you two,” he teases. “As long as you keep making those margaritas.” They howl in laughter, and you feel a bit awkward as if they have an inside joke that you aren’t a part of. You smile politely, finishing off the last bit of your food before getting off your stool and grabbing your plate to wash.

“Aht aht,” Shena blurts, scrambling out of her seat. “I will be handling the cleanup. You two sit out there and act like you like each other.”

Your eyes throw darts at her for that last sentence, and she blows you a kiss as you walk to the balcony for some fresh air. The warm sun is welcome on your skin, the warmth taking away the chill you have in your bones from inside. You stare out into the sea, watching the boats go back and forth from the ports, the busy life from the markets a site to behold. You feel completely at peace for the first time since you’ve been here.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Mingyu pokes his head out from the balcony door, holding a pink lemonade decorated with an umbrella.

“Sure, if you are bringing that,” you quip, pointing at the drink.

“Of course, princess,” he jests back.

As you take the drink, you raise an eyebrow, debating whether you should be annoyed at that nickname or amused that he’s teasing you. He stands comfortably next to you, admiring the cerulean blue waters in front of you.

“This place is beautiful, isn’t it?” He sighs heavily. “I don’t want to leave.”

You look at him, his happy-go-lucky nature replaced by a look of sadness and longing. It’s unnerving, as you have always seen him with a warm orange aura around him. His hands grip the gate as he takes a softer, deeper breath, turning to face you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod slowly, your anxiety ticking up about what he wants to ask.

“What got you into cooking?”

You look away, staring back into the calm sea. No one has bothered to ask you anything personally about yourself besides Shena and Lumina, and you are unsure how to respond. It would mean opening a part of you to someone new, and you haven’t done that in a long time. It means that you would have to relieve your past and start trusting him, and you are scared of that.

Stepping across the magical line of faith and hope, you take a sip of your lemonade. “My grandma used to cook a lot growing up, and I would sit in the kitchen and watch her. Whatever you wanted, she could make it. My parents weren’t around, and she was the one who raised me. I eventually started cooking with her, which spurned my love for cooking, but mainly because I was doing it with her.” You pause, your breath shaky as you relive one of the hardest moments of your life. “On Christmas, I found her unconscious beside her chair. Apparently, she had a stroke and didn’t have oxygen for fifteen minutes before I saw her. I did everything I could to save her by hooking her with her oxygen machine before the paramedics arrived, but it was too late. She was declared brain dead.”

Hot tears fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them away quickly, embarrassed that you let yourself reach this point in front of Mingyu. He pulls you into his arms, allowing you to cry a little in his arms. Unbeknownst to you, Shena walks out and notices your tears, but Mingyu shushes her quietly, allowing you to grieve just a little bit longer. You regain your composure, giving yourself some space and adjusting his shirt. “I ruined your shirt,” you pout. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled softly. “You need something to lean on, and I’m glad I got to be that for you.”

Gazing into his eyes, you see the familiar warm orange swirling in his little orbs. Inadvertently, you move closer to him, your heart and body overruling your mind for once. Mingyu responds kindly, pulling you closer to him with his hands dangerously on your hips.

“Is it okay if I—”

“Mingyu, do it before I change my mind.”

His lips press against yours, and your legs almost buckle. It is soft and tentative, as if he is playing it safe in case you want out. But you don’t; instead, you kiss him deeper. It is as if something takes over you, and you can’t stop. Call it desire, passion, or any other synonym, but it’s what you feel. You want him, and so does he. His hands travel lower, giving your butt a soft squeeze, and you accidentally moan in his mouth. You think he likes it, though, because his bulge is hardening against your center.

“If we don’t stop, there is no coming back from this,” he breathes.

Your mind regains consciousness at those words; you know he is right. With one last kiss, you begrudgingly pull away, walking back inside and squarely bumping into Shena.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” She joked while taking a good look at you.

“Nothing, let’s just go,” you insist. “We still have to get ready for tonight and all.”

Shena looks at you and the balcony suspiciously but doesn’t say anything; honestly, you appreciate that. You don’t know how you can answer any questions she may throw at you. All you know right now is Mingyu drives you fucking crazy.

Part 2 will be coming soon. Likes, reblogs, and feedback are much appreciated :)

tag: @nonuify

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt angst #svt suggestive #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 months ago

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We Found Love in a Tornado (Javi Rivera x F!Reader)

A/N: I did not think my first story for this fandom would be Javi but I sat down and this is what came out. I hope you enjoy! Send requests and ideas for Javi or Tyler.

Pairing: Javi Rivera x F! Reader (Kate's Sister) *No physical descriptions besides mentioning younger sister.

Warnings: Language, light angst, possible movie spoilers.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, leaning towards the window as you pass the caravan of Storm Par trucks. Boone leans across you, pressing his cheek to your own and you push him back with a huff, “Get off me.”

“What’s got you in such a tizzy?” he asks, cocking his head like a cocker spaniel.

“It’s my sister,” your head falls back against the seat as you groan, pressing your palm into the center of your eye.

“The New York one?” Tyler asks, waving and smiling as you pass the adoring mass of the crowd chanting his name.

“I only have one sister,” you remind him, “and that is definitely her. Shit, I figured Javi would bring her in eventually.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Boone sets up the streaming on his camera, turning on the lights attached and putting a hand on the door.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, frowning, “Kate is perfect.”

Boone frowns giving your hand a quick squeeze before opening the door with a flourish and starting the stream, leaving you alone to brood in the truck. You count to ten before opening the door and bypassing the crowd to make your way over to the figure standing in the distance before the looming clouds.

“I was wondering when Javi would finally manage to bring you home,” Kate whips around at the sound of your voice, “god only knows he’s the only one you’d make an effort for.”

“Y/N,” Kate reaches a hand out but you withdraw a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. She frowns, your heart twisting at the hurt expression, “I was going to call.” She looks back towards the clouds, “I was going to call you and Mama about getting together while I was home.”

“I’m sure you were,” the bitterness in your voice burns and she clenches her eyes shut before turning back to you, wiping at the moisture that’s gathered. “What are you doing here, Kate?”

“I’m helping Javi,” she takes a step closer, “has he told you about his research? His device can scan an entire tornado from every angle. If we get a full scan we can use the research to help people, save lives.”

You scoff, “Do you even know who you work for?”

“So this must be the infamous, New York Carter,” Tyler comes over and slings an arm around your shoulder, squeezing it, “Boone is looking for you.” He turns you and gives a little push, whispering close to your ear, “Calm down, go take a walk.”

You do as he says, Kate calling your name over your shoulder. Boone is busy streaming so you walk over to the convenience store for a drink. Inside you line up to get a fountain drink and contemplate the choices when someone steps up behind you.

“You know, you don’t have to be so hard on her,” Javi chastises stepping into your space. “It took a lot for her to come out here and chase again.”

“Oh bite me, Javi,” you turn around, glaring. “I have watched everyone coddle Kate our whole life. Kate has always been the perfect child, the perfect student, the perfect friend and girlfriend. And then she goes and almost dies and abandons everyone and you want me to what? Give her a hug and a pat on the head and tell her it’s all fine. It’s not fine, Javi.”

Forgoing the drink, you move to push past him when he grabs your arm, “she’s not the only one who left. Kate isn’t the only one who ran away.”

“I was 19 when she left, Javi,” you grab his hand and move it off your arm, staring him down, “I was 19 and a sophomore at the University of Arkansas studying Meteorology because I only ever wanted to be as great as my sister. And when I came home she was gone and you left for Miami and joined the military. I loved you Javi,” you hate the tears stinging your eyes and he goes deathly still at your words, “But I’ll always be the wrong Carter sister.”

Javi is frozen and you turn and run back towards the red truck, sliding into the backseat and watching as Tyler slides into the front turning the key. “Time to go,” he grabs the walkie and the truck sets off.

“Here we go again folks,” Boone looks around the truck, pointing the camera at you but quickly averting it when he sees the tears streaming down your face. Ben, reaches into his coat pocket, handing you a hankie and you nod, taking it and rubbing at your eyes.

“We got company,” Tyler shouts and Boone swings the camera around to the passenger side door. “What?!” Tyler rolls down the window putting a hand to his ear, “I can’t hear you!”

“Pull this damn truck over!” Javi shouts and you quickly sit up and slide between Tyler and Boone.

“Don’t you dare fucking pull this truck over,” you look between them before glancing at Javi, “Fuck you!”

“You heard the lady!” Tyler rolls up the window with a shout and drives off, kicking up dirt. The truck bumps and groves and you quickly move back into the seat and tug over the harnesses. The tornado gets closer and closer with every passing second and Tyler and Boone cheer as the wind picks up.

“What the fuck?” Tyler looks in his rearview mirror alarmed, “is he out of his goddamn mind?!”

A hand slams against the windshield and you scream, Boone reaching around to open the door and Javi crawling over you, the door slamming shut behind him. “You must be out of your fucking mind!” Boone hollars, zooming in on Javi, his hair windswept and his pristine white shirt soaked.

“Javi, what the hell?!” you hit him, “you scared me half to death.”

“I told you to pull over!” he shouts, the truck rocking back and forth as the tornado closes in.

“And I told you to FUCK OFF,” you sit up straighter, pushing him.

“You also told me you loved me,” he shouts, “and then fucking ran off into a tornado before I could even say anything!”

The truck is silent besides the two of you panting, “then talk,” you cross your arms over your chest, taking a deep breath. The wind outside grows louder until you both have to shout over the howl.

“I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH KATE, SHE’S LIKE A SISTER TO ME!”

“THEN WHY DID YOU LEAVE?! WHY NOT TALK TO ME!”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!” You snap your jaw shut, eyes going wide, “AND EVERYTIME I LOVE SOMETHING, I LOSE IT! MY MOM DIED OF CANCER, MY DAD ABANDONED ME, MY THREE BEST FRIENDS DIED, AND THEN KATE MOVED TO NEW YORK. I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. I THOUGHT I WAS PROTECTING YOU,” he sighs, “I THOUGHT I WAS PROTECTING MYSELF.”

The tornado engulfs the vehicle but everyone is silent, watching the two of you. “JAVI,” you shout over the shrieking winds, “I’VE NEVER BEEN KISSED IN A TORNADO BEFORE.”

He smiles, leaning forward quickly pressing his lips to yours and you moan leaning forward to run your hands through his curls. He unbuckles the harness with one hand, the other snaking around your waist to lift you into his lap. You gasp when you feel him hard beneath you and he takes the opportunity to slow down the kiss and tangle his tongue with your own.

The winds die down and the truck stops shaking, the moment interrupted when Ben quickly opens the door and loses the contents of his stomach in the field. Boone cheers and turns the camera pointing it at the two of you, “and that’s what we like to call finding love in a tornado, ladies and gentleman!”

#Twisters 2024 #Javi Rivera x Reader #Javi Rivera #Tyler Owens #Female Reader #Twisters #Autumn Writes

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kathlare · 5 days ago

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masterlist

I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for reading and engaging with the story. Your support means the world to me! To avoid any confusion, I’ve compiled a masterlist of all the chapters in chronological order. Keep in mind, some things might overlap as I occasionally get new inspiration and ideas that will flow into the storyline. I’m also open to any requests or suggestions you may have—don’t hesitate to reach out!

Thank you all again for being a part of this journey. Love you all! 💕

Series - 2024

golden hour - Met Gala

In the heart of New York City, Amelie readies for the Met Gala, her glam team buzzing around her. Lando watches quietly, his admiration outshining the room's golden glow as their bond deepens in fleeting, timeless moments.

bed chem

In New York City, Amelie and Lando share a creative moment that blends playful banter with heartfelt vulnerability. As music bridges unspoken emotions, their bond deepens, balancing teasing with sincere connection.

out off the bag - Emilia Romagna Grand Prix

During the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix, Lando Norris navigates media buzz and teasing from fellow drivers after his relationship with Amelie becomes public following their Miami kiss. Balancing humor and sincerity, he faces the spotlight with genuine affection for her.

stages of success - Saturday Night Live

As Lando watches Amelie’s Saturday Night Live debut from across the Atlantic, pride swells within him. Surrounded by friends, he’s captivated by her confidence and charm, a reminder of the bond they share despite the distance.

virtual connection

Amelie takes a rare break from filming in Indianapolis and enjoys a quiet virtual date night with Lando. Despite the distance, their playful conversation and heartfelt connection reveal how much they miss each other, deepening their bond as their relationship continues to grow from afar.

drunk words, sober hearts - Monaco Grand Prix

After a tough race, Lando drowns his frustrations on a night out and drunkenly confesses his love to Amelie over FaceTime. The next morning, a heartfelt conversation leads them to open up about their feelings, solidifying their relationship in a beautifully freeing way.

please please please

Amelie’s new music video radiates energy, but it’s her undeniable chemistry with Lando that takes center stage. Playful tension and flirtatious moments on set blur the line between professional and personal.

inked in love - Canadian Grand Prix

After a successful qualifying in Montreal, Lando Norris joins his boss, Zak Brown, at a tattoo shop for a commemorative design. Inspired by their playful banter, Lando decides to make a bold gesture, getting a tattoo as a tribute to Amelie.

surprise in the spotlight - Governor's Ball

Amelie takes the stage at Governor’s Ball, energized by the crowd and her love for performing. A surprise visit from someone special adds a heartwarming touch, making the night even more unforgettable and reminding her that success is sweeter when shared with love.

between the quite moments

A quiet day in Amelie’s apartment contrasts her hectic life, as she and Lando share laughter, simple moments, and a deep connection, proving love flourishes in the ordinary.

sweet distraction - Spanish Grand Prix

Lando, still frustrated by a race that didn’t go as planned, is distracted by a message from Amelie. As they exchange playful, flirtatious texts during a post-race meeting, Lando becomes consumed by his desire for her, struggling to stay focused as his thoughts keep drifting back to their enticing conversations.

shattered moments - Austrian Grand Prix

After a long flight and worrying messages from Lando's family, Amelie arrives in London to find Lando in emotional turmoil. The chapter delves into their quiet, intense connection as Amelie comforts him with reassurance and understanding.

balancing act

A glimpse into Amelie and Lando’s intertwined lives as they balance careers and personal moments in chaotic London. Through playful banter, hectic schedules, and quiet shared time, their bond shows the joy and stability they find in their fast-paced world.

it's so romantic in paris - British Grand Prix

Lando surprises Amelie with a spontaneous visit to Paris after his P3 finish at Silverstone. The two reunite with playful banter and intimate moments, enjoying each other’s company as they reconnect in the beautiful city.

stage lights & stolen glances - Summertime Ball

Amelie takes the stage at Wembley for her first Summertime Ball performance, nerves threatening to take over. With her family's support and a heartfelt pep talk from Lando, she finds her courage. As the crowd's energy builds, so does her confidence, bolstered by Lando's steady presence in the audience.

echoes of sacrifice - Hungarian Grand Prix

After Lando sacrificed his race for his teammate Oscar, he feels overlooked by his team. Seeking comfort, he turns to Amelie, who provides emotional support and helps him find clarity.

drunk calls

Lando Norris takes a break from the F1 season in Cannes, enjoying the French Riviera with friends. But despite the stunning views, his thoughts are on Amelie. After a day of relaxing, Lando, a bit tipsy, calls her and unexpectedly pours his heart out.

shifting focus - Belgian Grand Prix

After a tough race in Belgium, Lando feels weighed down by unmet expectations. Alone in the airport lounge, he shares a heartfelt conversation with Amelie, who offers him support and perspective. Her words help him refocus, reminding him that the journey matters more than any single setback.

homecoming haven

Amelie returns home after a week of filming to find Lando exhausted from a tough race and hurt by online criticism. She comforts him, reminding him of his worth. They spend a quiet evening together, with a movie marathon, playful banter, and heartfelt moments. As the night unfolds, their bond deepens, ending in a passionate and intimate moment that reaffirms their love.

sunsets & sparks

Amelie and Lando escape to Ibiza with friends, immersing themselves in the island's lively nightlife. As music, drinks, and dancing fill the air, their chemistry intensifies. When Amelie’s tipsy antics show her affection for Lando, he responds with tender care and love.

sun, fun and a whole lotta you

Amelie and Lando are on vacation in Mykonos, Greece, with friends, unwinding after the party chaos of Ibiza. The sun-soaked days are filled with playful teasing, flirty banter, and unforgettable moments on a yacht, creating lasting memories together.

mullet madness - Outside Lands Festival

Amelie is getting ready for her headlining performance at Outside Lands in San Francisco when Lando unexpectedly visits her dressing room. What starts as playful teasing quickly turns into a heated moment as Lando reveals his surprising new mullet, throwing Amelie completely off balance.

short n' sweet - Short n' Sweet Release Day

Amelie’s new album Short n’ Sweet drops, sparking excitement from a lively New York listening party to playful teasing from Lando and his F1 colleagues. As Amelie opens up about the songs’ inspirations, Lando relishes the attention (and teasing) about his love life.

even miles apart - Dutch Grand Prix

Lando Norris celebrates his second Formula 1 win at the Dutch Grand Prix, a triumph shared with his McLaren team. Although miles away in New York, Amelie joins the moment emotionally via FaceTime with Lando’s parents.

surprise, baby

Amelie surprises Lando in Monaco after his Dutch GP victory. Sneaking into his apartment during a gaming session, she catches him off guard. The chemistry between them sparks as they share a playful and intimate evening, surpassing the teasing banter they’ve shared over the phone.

fuck papaya rules - Italian Grand Prix

Lando grapples with the aftermath of a tough Italian Grand Prix, feeling betrayed and frustrated. As he vents to Amelie, she offers comfort and perspective, helping him process his emotions. Despite the distance, their connection is clear, both yearning for peace amidst their busy lives.

unspoken tension

After the stressful Monza Grand Prix, Lando’s past with Magui resurfaces, creating tension. Amelie, dealing with her own challenges while filming, is blindsided by a gossip post about Lando’s trip with Magui, leading to a confrontation. As trust is tested, emotions run high, and both struggle with feelings of betrayal and miscommunication.

shattered sparks - Video Music Awards (VMAs)

After winning Song of the Year at the VMAs, Amelie’s victory is overshadowed by lingering anger from a recent fight with Lando. Meanwhile, Lando, filled with regret, struggles to apologize, unable to reach her.

unspoken words - Azerbaijan Grand Prix

As the Baku Grand Prix ends with McLaren leading the Constructors' Championship, Lando and Amelie face the aftermath of a tough week. With lingering tension and unspoken fears, a late-night call becomes an unexpected turning point.

electric feel - Singapore Grand Prix

Lando Norris celebrates a key victory at the Singapore Grand Prix, bringing him closer to the championship lead. Despite the distance, he connects with Amelie, and their bond deepens.

showtime - Short n' Sweet Opening Night

Amelie battles overwhelming anxiety before opening night of her arena tour. With her family struggling to calm her, it’s Lando’s reassuring voice on FaceTime that helps her regain control and find the strength to step onto the stage. The chapter highlights the vulnerability and the power of support in overcoming fear.

call it what you want - Amelie's Birthday especial

Amelie’s 23rd birthday was a mix of emotions. After an exciting performance in Toronto, she celebrated with her team but felt the absence of her family and the person she truly wanted to be with. Just as she was settling in, Lando surprised her, bringing warmth and laughter. Their playful teasing and intimate moments made the night feel magical, bridging the distance between them and leaving Amelie feeling loved and cherished.

shit show - United States Grand Prix

After a frustrating race in Austin, Lando shuts Amelie out, leaving tension between them. With a friend’s help, Lando realizes his mistake and must apologize. The distance is heavy, but his honest apology paves the way for their reunion in Mexico, where emotions run high.

a night to remeber - Mexico City Grand Prix

Amelie watches Lando take a hard-earned second place at her home Grand Prix, where emotions run high and victory feels personal. Amid the excitement, their connection deepens, leading to a night of laughter, flirtation, and bittersweet goodbyes... until they meet again.

you are enough - Sao Paulo Grand Prix

Lando struggles with the weight of expectations and the pressures of his growing career. In a quiet moment of solitude, he turns to the one person who truly understands, finding comfort and support as he navigates through disappointment and self-doubt.

tears of triumph - Grammy nominations

Amelie is overwhelmed with emotion after receiving, for the first time, Grammy nominations, a dream come true. As she processes the news on her tour bus, Lando calls her on FaceTime, offering love and pride. They share a heartfelt moment, with Lando reassuring her of his unwavering support as they celebrate together, even from afar.

juno - Lando's Birthday especial

Lando attends Amelie’s Short n Sweet tour for the first time, eager to see her perform live. But when Amelie pulls him into the spotlight, the night takes a playful turn, leaving the crowd cheering and Lando blushing, completely charmed by her.

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jupiitersreturn · 11 months ago

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Astrocartography Observations Part One: Sun, Venus, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter.

(Disclaimer: A lot of Astrologers use different orbs of measurements for Astrocartography. My limit is 200 km because I have seen lines that have influences up to that point, and depending on the planet, sometimes more.)

Planets:

Sun: Fame, Happiness, Vitality, Children.

Moon: Home, Roots, Family, Nostalgia.

Venus: Love, Beauty, Luxury, Desires.

Mercury: Lower Education, Communication, Knowledge, Friendships.

Mars: Passions, Action, Pain, Anger.

Jupiter: Luck, Higher Education, Religion, Beliefs.

Saturn: Karma, Restrictions, Discipline, Commitments.

Uranus: Unpredictability, Innovation, Rebellion, Technology.

Neptune: Illusions, Dreams, Spirituality, Intuition.

Pluto: Destruction, Transformations, Deaths and Rebirths.

Where your Sun lines are running through are places that you could gain or increase your fame or societal standing. And depending on the Angle of the Sun(DC, AS, MC, IC) it can also tell you what exactly it is that gives you that happiness.

☆ Despite being the daughter of a US Navy Pilot, Priscilla Presley gained her fame from being married to famous musician Elvis Presley. They got married at the Aladdin Hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada. Priscilla has her Sun DC line running through Las Vegas. Sun rules fame, DC rules partnerships.

☆ Blake Lively has her Sun MC line running through London, where she has expressed her love for on numerous occasions, AND where she has made meaningful connections with other celebrities that has contributed to her social status and public persona. (MC)

☆ David Beckham has his Sun IC line running through Miami and although he retired from soccer in 2013, he maintained and even increased his societal standing when he became the co-owner of the Inter Miami CF.

☆ Interestingly enough, Blake Lively also has her Sun, Venus, AND Mars MC lines running directly through London, which is a place that she loves to go and feels happy at (Sun). A few months ago, she and her partner (Venus) bought a house in London to live in while he finishes up his filming of the Deadpool Franchise (Sun MC) which is an action movie (Mars).

☆ Perrie Edwards has her Sun DC line running through London and she gained fame (Sun) from her role as 1/4 of the girl group Little Mix (DC)

Where your Mars lines are running through are places that you could experience or be subject to hate, pain (physical, mental, and emotional), and anger.

☆ Victoria Beckham's Mars AS line runs through Madrid. When her husband David Beckham transferred from Manchester United to Real Madrid, they moved to Madrid. Victoria Beckham was singled out for hating Spain due to her remark of Spain smelling like Garlic and giving off a terrible scent. This one phrase basically ruined her life in Spain as the hate against her lasted for up to 4 years. She has said that it was the most unhappy she has ever been in her life.

☆ David Beckham has his Mars AS line running through Rio De Janeiro. In 2014 he was under a lot of fire from Brazilian locals after being accused of indirectly causing the prices of favelas to increase after buying a "slum-house" for $1M allowing gentrification to ensue.

☆ Charli D'Amelio's Mars MC is going straight through the center of the United States. We all know how disliked/hated she is amongst people in the United States. And with this being her MC line, it makes sense that the hate is largely due to and greatly affects her public persona and the way that she is portrayed by media.

☆ Monica Lewinsky has her Mars DS line running through California which we all know is Fame Headquarters (Hollywood). She was a hot topic in the entertainment industry and subject to a fuck ton of scrutiny and hate for a long time due to her intimate relationship with former president Bill Clinton (DS).

Where Your Venus lines are at, could be potential places that you may meet your life partner or long term relationships, and the lines that pass through it could tell you the circumstances.

☆ Blake Lively has her Sun AS, Mars AS, AND her Venus AS lines touching New Orleans. She met her Husband of 11 years in New Orleans (Venus rules Love) while shooting an Action Movie (Sun rules Movies and Fame, Mars rules Action)

☆ Victoria Beckham has her both her Venus MC and Jupiter MC lines going through London. She met her husband of over 20 years in London. Additionally, the Midheaven or Medium Coeli is the highest point of your chart and represents your Public Image and Success. The Beckham's are known to be one of Hollywood's longest standing marriages and have created a household name for themselves propelling both of them in their careers and future prospects. (Jupiter MC)

☆ (Also, I just thought this was interesting) Victoria Beckham had her start in the entertainment industry as a member of The Spice Girls. Her stage name was Posh Spice (Venus) which defined her Public Image (MC).

Where your IC lines are, could indicate your ancestry, or where and how you grew up or experienced your early life at.

☆ Selena Quintanilla's Saturn IC line runs through Mexico and she is Mexican. Although she became the biggest Mexican-American music artist in her 20's, when she was younger she had no connection to her Mexican ancestry (IC). She had to learn about her ancestry, AND learn Spanish before she was able to be labeled a Mexican American music artist. (Saturn represents restrictions and delays)

☆ Nicole Kidman's Mercury IC line runs through Ireland, and she has openly talked (Mercury) about her Irish ancestry (IC)

☆ Perrie Edwards has her Mercury DS line running through Scotland and she has Scottish ancestry.

☆ Hailey Bieber has her Mercury IC line running through Brazil. She has Brazilian ancestry as her mother is Brazilian.

☆ Charli D'Amelio has her Mercury IC line touching Italy. She is of Italian Descent on her fathers side.

Where your Jupiter lines are, could indicate where and how you experience luck.

☆ Charlize Theron has her Jupiter MC line running through California and it was there that she was discovered by a Hollywood agent while getting into an altercation with a bank teller.

☆ Anya Taylor Joy has her Jupiter DC line running through London which is where she was disocvered while walking her dog.

☆ Justin Bieber has his Jupiter AS line running through Canada which is where he was discovered by Scooter Braun completely by chance as he clicked on the wrong Youtube video and Justin's video came up.

#fxiryspeaks #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astroblr

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pastafossa · 7 months ago

Text

Haunted (Matt Murdock x TRT!Reader, Fic, SFW)🌧️

Right, so close to 3 years ago, I had an ask in my box: 'what would happen if TRT!Reader/Jane Hind lost her memory just before returning to Matt after her three months away', aka: just before point where they both confessed their love and got together in mainline TRT. So I wrote up a fairly angsty, no happy ending sort of fic about it, which you can find here. But there just felt like there was more to the story, and the idea of a sequel wouldn't leave me alone, so I've worked on it in little bits and pieces over the past few years and I'm finally ready to unleash that into the world now that it's been edited to my satisfaction.

This will have a happy ending and hurt/comfort, once we swim through a lot of Matt Suffering. <3 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it. He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow. There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting. Matt was alone. You’d left him alone. It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back. So… why did you feel so very sick?

Wordcount: 11, 805 words so, hilariously, about 3 times the length of Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: angst, alcohol, matt spiraling fairly badly, he throws some things, LOTS of TRT references and spoilers so I wouldn't do this one unless you've finished the Miami arc in TRT.

Sad Matt gif as a reminder that the angst is pretty heavy here because I'm really going to emotionally beat on this poor man for a bit.

At Ciro’s insistence, you gave yourself one month in Hell’s Kitchen.

A month wasn’t much time, granted, but it would hopefully be enough to see if there was a chance of bringing back the memories you’d lost: memories of friends, of your life here, and of… of whatever it was that you’d had with Matt Murdock. Based on his grief over the loss of Jane Hind—not you, but her surely, the role, the mask you’d worn while here—his attachment to her had been deep and fervent, and those feelings appeared to have been at least partly reciprocated. The dangerously intimate photo you’d found in your memory box was all the proof you needed of that.

Your past self had already been accustomed to his touch when the photo was taken, based on the way she’d allowed him to press his head tenderly to her temple, his dark eyes warm and fond as he'd smiled in her direction even if he couldn't see her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She should have been put off by the proximity, by such a blatant show of physical intimacy, but instead of looking distressed, she’d been relaxed and comfortable where she’d confidently tucked herself up against his side. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to find any hint of discomfort, any clue that signaled the obvious affection she’d felt was an act, her shoulder angled in a way that made you think she’d wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist, her grin bright and so very real.

This couldn’t be you.

When was the last time you'd looked that happy?

When was the last time you’d let someone hold you close?

And when was the last time someone had looked at you like… like they might…

“Did I… love him, Ciro?”

“I believe that… you might have, yes. Him, and this city. That is why I encourage you to stay, for a time at least. See if the memories return to you. Even should you leave, it would be wise to know of the life you led here.”

Ciro had sent a check to your office, booking you for the month and clearing your schedule. Just like that, you were free to focus on looking for something that might trigger the return of your memories. Though what that something might be, you weren’t really sure. A more thorough examination of the apartment had been your first step. Unfortunately, there’d been nothing there that seemed familiar beyond the same cheap decor and calculated set pieces you’d always used. You’d quickly ruled those out. They were meaningless distractions meant to reinforce the lie of whatever pre-planned identity you’d taken on. In this case, that identity was Jane Hind—practical, professional, detached, likes sailboat paintings and the color grey. Based on the fine layer of dust you'd found coating everything but the kitchen counter and a neat stack of mail, no one else had spent much time here during your months away. That, at least, fit your pattern. You weren’t in the habit of making friends or putting down roots. There was no point in doing so when you’d just wind up cutting them loose and running again.

What had unsettled you far more were the hints of connection you’d found quietly tucked away:

A fleecy stuffed bear holding a plush crystal ball, the threads connecting the two uneven as if hand-stitched. That kind of time and effort wouldn’t have been spent on anyone but a friend, and the bear’s prominent position on the counter lent it far more importance than any of the other decorations.

A tacky ‘Handsome Devil’ coffee mug, the curling red script and clichéd devil horns design bizarrely out of place amongst the rest of the plain white mugs in the cupboard. An identity like Jane Hind wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking from it, which meant someone else was here with enough regularity to have a mug of their own. Further digging revealed a second decorated mug, this one adorned with the name of the law firm co-run by Matt. You could have written off one mug, but two? Two was a pattern.

An entire drawer in the dresser devoted solely to a pile of dangerously soft shirts that clearly didn’t belong to Jane Hind, the fabric threadbare and worn. They looked about the right size to be Matt’s, though, the faint traces of scent a match for him. The fact that they took up an entire drawer indicated he’d visited often enough to need a space for his clothes.

You’d… made space for him in your false life. That wasn’t something you did.

Or had you been the one wearing them?

Maybe…?

You’d spent a long moment holding one of the shirts in your hand, rubbing at the fabric in hopes of stirring something. When that hadn’t worked, you’d even brought it up to your nose to inhale slowly, just in case the traces of scent brought some memory back.

Clean soap. Salt. Copper. Faint cinnamon.

All it had done was remind you of holding a grieving Matt in his kitchen after he’d realized your memories weren’t coming back. It was a gloomy enough memory, but ultimately unhelpful.

You'd tossed the old shirt on top of the dresser and moved on.

While you didn’t know who exactly you’d been here in New York, the longer you searched, the more it became clear what had happened. You’d started to slip, your years of isolation forming a crack in your layers of armor. That fracture had allowed an attachment to form, an insidious connection worming its way in through the open gap like poisonous roots through crumbling pavement. You’d grown weak, and careless. There was no other explanation for why you’d broken so many of your rules, dominoes tipping one by one until it cascaded into a waterfall of mistakes. You’d slipped before, of course—loneliness was natural and expected, which was why you had so many contingencies—but you’d never let yourself get in this deep. Not until now.

What you didn’t know was…

Why?

Why here?

Why these people?

And why the fuck hadn’t you followed your rules and run?

If there was an answer to be found in Jane Hind’s apartment, you couldn’t seem to find it, no matter how hard you look, no matter how many of her belongings you dug through. Even your memory box had failed you, the photo of you and Matt at the back of your stack of pictures an outlier you couldn’t explain, this fruit of an as-yet unidentified poisonous tree. You had no real leads, no faint ringing of memory to guide you beyond a vague sense that, somehow, this started with Matt. You didn’t even know where to begin.

At least, not until some shaggy-haired guy named Foggy—what the fuck kind of nickname was that?—showed up entirely and rudely unannounced at your front door, dressed in a cheap suit and wearing a bizarrely determined look. Despite your doubts, you reluctantly allowed him in. He made it pretty clear he knew you, and if you were lucky he could tell you more about your life here.

“So I know you usually skedaddle when things get uncomfortable, which I imagine they are at the moment. How long are you trying to stay?”

“One month.” You shrugged casually, a cover for just how warily you were watching him as he paced in your—in Jane Hind’s living area. He knew far more about you than you knew about him, a reversal you were uncomfortably aware of. That vulnerability was almost enough to trigger a retreat beneath that cold, brittle shell you’d used long ago, though you quickly caught hold of that instinct and buried it back down deep where it belonged. Still, you couldn’t quite hide the cool clip to your voice, your walls firmly in place. “Leaving after that. Don’t see the point in staying if the memories are gone. Truthfully I’m not sure why I stayed in the first place, especially once it was clear I was getting attached. No offense.”

“None taken, my hopefully-still-friend-when-your-memories-come-back.” He abruptly swiveled on his feet to face you, squinting at you thoughtfully. “How badly do you want your memories back?”

You thought of out-of-place mugs and hand-stitched psychic teddy bears; of faint cinnamon and a worn photo frame; of the way you’d held a broken Matt in his kitchen until he’d carefully pushed you away and asked you to leave, his face closed off and distant despite the tears on his cheeks and yours.

You’d… been someone here. Someone cared for. Someone whose loss was mourned.

Even if you left, you needed to know just who that someone had been, if only so you could make sure this never happened again. Not until you reached your island in the sun.

“Badly enough to stay for the month,” you said quietly.

“Then put some shoes on. We’re going on a memory hunt.”

Over the next few weeks, Foggy took you all over Hell’s Kitchen.

You visited Jane Hind’s office, abandoned warehouses, and empty rooftops covered in thick blankets of snow. He reintroduced you to Karen, to your upstairs neighbors, and to a bartender who didn’t seem all that inclined to be introduced to anyone. You drank crappy beer and slightly less crappy vodka, played pool, and went to the zoo to stare for far too long at penguins, which Foggy refused to explain no matter how much you pressed. He had you focus on sights, on smells, on sounds that might trigger a memory. He joked with you in between, and he was just funny enough, friendly and clever enough, that for the first week or so, you were consistently cracking a smile. Hell, you even laughed now and then, much to your surprise. He really did know you, enough so that you gradually began to relax around him, just a little. He was likely hoping the addition of a friend’s voice would bring back what you’d lost, especially when paired with all the other sensations.

But no matter how much you both tried, your memories remained lost.

God, you hadn’t thought this would… would hurt as much as it did. Yet with every day that you failed to find your way back to who you’d been, the more that fierce ache, that old longing inside you grew. Your smiles became brittle, your laughter fading, until both finally dried up like withered, crumbling leaves beneath a bitter frost. You couldn't help pulling away really, not when your soul curling up in the dark might protect you from the agony of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found what you'd always wanted. How fitting that it had been ripped away from your bloodied, desperate hands like so many times before, one more square for the filthy patchwork quilt of shredded lives and possibilities you’d been forced to leave behind. What was worse: even your memories of that seeming joy had been stolen, too, leaving you with nothing left to carry but the tattered scraps of a ghost and the photograph of a stranger wearing your skin.

It shouldn’t have been possible to miss what you couldn’t remember. Yet here you were missing it all the same.

It didn’t help that Matt was avoiding you in every way that mattered. You’d thought about calling him if only to ask him questions about your life here, but you could never quite work up the courage to do it. He must have felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to you, either. And why would he? He knew as well as you did that your memories likely weren’t coming back. It made sense to cut that connection, tear it away like a weed before the roots could do more damage—something you should have done sooner, for both your sakes. What you hadn’t expected was just how good he was at dodging you, somehow absent no matter how many places Foggy took you to, places he swore Matt frequented with you when you’d lived here, as if Matt’s mere presence might be enough to trigger some memory in you. Had he been that important? Either way, it didn’t matter. You hadn’t seen Matt once since you’d walked out, doing your best to ignore his hitched breath as you’d opened the door. You’d forced yourself to ignore, too, the broken, agonized sound of grief that he’d let out as you quietly shut the door behind you, leaving him alone.

He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow.

There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting.

Matt was alone.

You’d left him alone.

It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back.

So… why did you feel so very sick?

Sympathy.

That was all you were feeling. Matt was grieving a woman he’d cared about, one who’d died and left a cold stranger in her place. It was normal to feel for someone in that much pain, and no one should be alone while grieving. Maybe this was for the best. The sooner you were fully out of his life, the sooner all his friends and family could step in, and the sooner he could move on. He wouldn’t be alone, then. And even if he was, his loneliness wasn’t your goddamn problem. You had more than enough troubles of your own.

Protect yourself.

Protect what you might one day have.

All else was irrelevant.

You just… hoped he was doing alright.

He did his best to avoid you, but that only grew more difficult once your ghost began to haunt his every step.

Even Josie’s quickly became off-limits—something he discovered one night when he stepped through the front door where he was promptly met with the familiar, comforting scent of you floating like a haze beneath the smell of cheap beer and sour sweat. His body went rigid the moment he recognized it, your presence across the room a sharpened knife that only widened the wound carved into him by your death. And if the scent of you was a knife, then your bark of laughter was a cruel twist of the blade, one that left him gutted and shaking there in the doorway. He drank in his apartment after that, waiting for that blessed moment when he would feel nothing, waiting for the very second the glorious shroud of night fell. Only then could he finally escape to the streets and drown himself in a far better kind of pain, taking his rage and his grief out on whatever piece of shit had the misfortune of falling into the Devil’s path.

But Foggy seemed determined to shove the specter of you directly into his face.

“You need to talk to her!” Foggy snapped, his voice only just shy of a shout. Matt ignored him as he headed for his office, desperate to retreat from your scent lingering on Foggy’s clothes. Foggy had taken you to a coffee shop that morning, one you’d frequented when you’d lived here, and now each inhalation was a vicious torment. It felt like breathing in shards of glass, the sharp pain of it throbbing with every stuttered, choked breath he drew in. If Foggy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “Christ, Matt! You love her and we both know it. If you talk to her, it might trigger something—”

“Stop,” Matt grit out, reaching up to scrub his hand angrily over his face. He stalked his way over to his desk, still desperate to escape somehow, even if it was into his work. “Just stop, Foggy. I did talk to her, and you know what happened? Nothing. She didn’t remember anything at all. She’s gone, and you dragging this out is just making everything worse for all of us.”

“So what, you’re just gonna roll over?” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms as he planted his feet in Matt’s doorway. “Are you sure you actually loved her? Because I’m pretty sure she loved y—”

Matt slammed his fist down on his desk, the furious crack of it echoing through the office like a gunshot as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Tension hung thick in the air as Matt’s chest heaved, his teeth bared, blood and adrenaline running hot in his veins as if Foggy were some sort of-of threat. Everything in him shook with rage, or maybe unshed grief, the burden of them both impossibly twisted and tangled beneath the sea of his guilt and his self-loathing until he couldn’t tell which was which. He just couldn’t—how was he supposed to force it all down when Foggy had just come so close, so dangerously close to shattering what few pieces remained of Matt’s crumbling armor?

It was bad enough loving you the way he did only for you to slip through his bloodied, desperate grasp like whispering grains of sand. What was worse, this entire disaster was one of his own making, a series of mistakes whose snarled, winding paths led inevitably back to him just like they had so many times before in his life. This loss of someone who’d truly understood him, accepted him, cared for him had already broken something inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair. But that fracturing inside him would surely rise up to consume him if Foggy were right, if you’d truly cared for him that deeply before your memories were taken, so deeply that you might even have…

I miss you, sweetheart.

…loved him the way he loved you.

Abruptly Matt’s surge of rage drained away and his head fell, leaving him feeling all the more empty and broken. He braced his arms weakly against his desk, drawing in a shaky breath as he forced himself to confess, his voice gone hoarse and ragged with grief. “I loved her, Foggy.” He lifted one shaking hand to his face. “God, I loved her so, so much. I can’t… I don’t know what to do without her now that she’s gone.” “I know, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “I know.” “I loved how she always smelled a little like coffee, and the way she always managed to wind up climbing into the oddest places for a case. She had one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard, but I swear she could use it to talk her way out of almost anything or to bring someone up out of whatever dark hole they were trapped in. She was… far kinder than she’d ever admit.” His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it, the expression miserable and gutted. You’d have likely argued with him about how kind you were if you’d been here. But there was no chance of that now, no matter how much the scent of you on the air told him otherwise. “Some days it felt like she was the only thing holding me together, like the only time I could breathe was when she held me in her arms. She was always there when I fell apart, or when it all… when it all started to hurt too much. And I tried to give her whatever pieces of me the Kitchen hadn’t already taken, to be there for her like she was for me, to keep her safe. We were finally going to make our relationship official when she came back, her and me, even if there’d… already been something there for a while now if I’m honest.”

And it had, it had been there, this soft, tender thing that had developed slowly but surely between the two of you, a tangling that came by degrees rather than all at once. It had sprouted, grown, and blossomed so gradually that even now he struggled to point to any one moment where it had truly begun—the night he found you in the warehouse, maybe, or that first game of Devil Hunt, or when you’d both almost taken the leap before he’d realized you were drunk. But the question of where it began didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was there, something nameless yet still so good and warm and perfect, a connection nurtured in the low light and the blood-soaked soil of the Kitchen. You’d felt it just like he had, and you’d been willing to take that chance with him despite the baggage he carried behind him like an anchor destined to drag him down. You never would have agreed to kiss him when you came back otherwise. Now that chance was gone.

“How much did she know before she left?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

”She knew that I-that I wanted to be with her, but I never told her that I loved her.” Matt blew out a slow, heavy breath. “I was too scared of chasing her away, I guess. I thought maybe when she came back, if she still wanted me, I would… I decided that I would tell her. But I waited too long. Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to tell her. All because of me.”

He finally lifted his head, tipping it at Foggy. Neither of them dared mention the wetness on Matt’s cheeks. Even speaking about this—about how much he’d loved you only for him to ruin it—was almost more than he could bear, the edges of the wound still fresh and raw. Then again, maybe he deserved that pain after how miserably he’d failed you, just like everyone else in his life. “I miss her. And what’s worse is even when she’s right there in front of me, she’s not. She’s not, Foggy. Because I-I fucked up. I’m the reason the woman I knew, the woman I loved, died. I’m the reason she’ll never remember what we had, why I’ll never hold her again, and why she’ll leave New York at the end of the month like she does whenever she’s afraid of forming a connection.” He let out a bitter laugh, waving towards the windows, towards the place you’d once held dear. “I couldn’t even keep her here before. She almost ran last summer and the only thing that stopped her was being kidnapped. That was what slowed her down long enough for our thread to turn red, not me. She won’t let that happen a second time, not now that she’s seen what happens to people I care about. Do you understand?”

The door to Nelson and Murdock creaked open, Karen’s voice making its way in first. Her voice was followed only a moment later by another’s, one still so familiar.

“—I mean, winding up in a pool while chasing a kid sounds about right for me, so even if I don’t remember, I won’t argue—”

“I had to keep you here somehow.” Foggy’s voice remained quiet, but there was no disguising the ferocity in it now, the fervent belief. “Get out of your own head and talk to her, Matt. Fight for her. She would want you to.”

No.

No, no, no.

Your body may have been here, whole and real, but the woman who’d known him wasn’t. The song of your voice, your sweet scent, the flames of heat and stirred air currents around you flaring into a familiar shape: all of it was nothing but a lie, a snare for his senses, a ghost of his own making, and he wasn’t about to be caught by it again.

He darted back around his desk, shoving his way past Foggy on the way toward the front door, his heart racing. If he was quick, if he just put up enough of a front, he could get out before they trapped you here with him like they’d planned. He wouldn’t relive this grief again, he couldn’t, not without falling apart. The moment he’d had with you in his apartment had been enough agony for one lifetime.

“Hey, Matt.” You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on your feet where you’d stopped by the front door. Your stance was cautious and guarded, almost wary of him. It was just one more reminder of how uncomfortable he made you now. “Are you—”

“Heading out,” he said stiffly, only belatedly remembering to trace one hand along the wall as if his heightened senses hadn’t given him a clear map of the room the moment his adrenaline spiked. That spike was a curse all its own. It made the scent of you so much stronger, the lie of it fresh and present as it twined around him. His chest hitched just once before he forced himself to breathe his mouth. But that route of escape had been cut off, too. All it did was shift his focus to the taste of you on the air, and the taste of familiar fabric once so tenderly given.

You were wearing one of his shirts.

He fumbled for his cane, his hands starting to shake before he finally found it where he’d left it against the wall. He couldn’t let you see him like this. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t remember him, nor was it your fault that he’d lost you. He’d done enough damage without adding a layer of guilt to what you were dealing with, too. But despite his attempts to hide what he was feeling, his face a hard mask, your fingers still brushed gently against his arm a moment later. It was an offer of help, or maybe an attempt to reach out, to slow him down, to connect. It was a kindness, a sympathy he didn’t deserve. Even now, you read him far too well, this touch the same as it had been that first night he’d met you when you’d gently brushed your hand against his arm. “Hey, do you need… I could walk you home.”

He shied away from your touch, finally managing to roughly unsnap his cane before going for the door. “I’m fine. I just—I have things to take care of. Excuse me.”

He went straight home and showered, but no matter how many times he scrubbed, he couldn’t seem to wash the ghost of your scent away.

You slowly wandered around Matt’s office, taking it in. This was another place you’d supposedly frequented, a place that should have been familiar, and one you'd avoided until now.

Even though Foggy had assured you it was alright, it felt… almost wrong to explore a stranger’s space like this without them present. But you couldn’t help but brush your fingers across the battered desk and the small labels in braille you couldn’t read, run your hands along the chair for clients that you might have sat in once, and trace curiously the small seashell next to Matt’s laptop. The base scents of Matt were stronger here where he spent so much time, only partly erased by the smell of coffee and paper. The room was clean, cared for, and well-organized despite how rundown the office was. Important to him. You could tell that much, even if the scents and sights had failed to spark any memories.

Maybe… knowing his space wasn’t enough.

This was about more than just figuring out who you were, now. For some reason, you needed to know who Matt was, too: this man Jane Hind had cared so much about and who’d cared so much about her. You told yourself it was practical. Matt was your best bet when it came to remembering who you’d been. But some part of you deep down recognized the lie. No, there was something in you inescapably drawn to him, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that strange, unnatural gravity was what had started this whole mess in the first place. What was it about him that was so different, that had driven you to break every last rule you’d lived your life by for over a decade?

And why… did you spend so long wondering if he’d ever climbed out his office window?

It had been twenty-nine days, and not a single memory had returned.

Oh, there were beats now and then when you thought that maybe, just maybe something was coming back, but those moments were painfully few and far between. Even in those moments, you couldn’t say remembered anything, exactly. It was more a frustrating sense of deja vu, a fleeting little itch at the back of your mind like you’d forgotten something important, flashing road markers to warn you of the dark, empty gaps in your memory. That sense was probably driven at least in part by Foggy’s growing desperation as he frantically hunted for something that might trigger a return of your memories.

But the rest of that feeling… the rest was all you.

There was no denying a traitorous part of you wanted to remember no matter how ill-advised it might be. You wanted to remember this bizarre little family you’d stumbled into and then lost, just like in Los Angeles. You wanted to remember the love you’d had for this place, this city, this taste of mutual affection that had grown up around you after going so long without. After endless ages and ages of drought, of starvation, you hungered for even these bare crumbs of connection, something to tide you over until you found safe haven on the distant horizon. What a tempting thought it was to slither back into the life of this woman who’d been so cruelly murdered and replaced by a stranger wearing her skin.

Was this what a demon felt like when it took over a body? To walk around with someone else’s face, to speak with the unnatural voice of the dead, tormenting the loved ones that remained?

That, ultimately, was why it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your presence in this city only spread rot and suffering. It would be better for everyone involved if you left like you should have long before now. Then they could all grieve without you tainting the very soil around them.

Especially Matt.

You’d seen him once or twice in passing as your time in New York wound down. Even at a distance, you’d marked the growing circles under his eyes, dark enough to be visible despite the glasses he always wore. The rest of him wasn’t doing much better. It seemed like every time he crossed your path, there was another bruise, another cut across his face or knuckles, a shifting canvas of pain painted across skin grown pale and drawn. He didn’t just look tired—that wasn’t what this was. This was something far worse, a haggard exhaustion, a weariness that couldn’t be solved with sleep, if he slept at all. This was someone being haunted.

Probably because the ghost of Jane Hind kept crossing his path. But that would be solved soon enough.

You’d already packed up your things, not that you had much to take. Just your bag and your memory box. You’d be leaving the next day. Foggy was still convinced he had a few more days, but you had other plans. You couldn’t give Matt back the woman he’d lost, nor could you give him a body to bury, a grave to lay flowers across, but you could give him what Jane Hind had carried with her until her dying breath.

“I thought you might… want these before I left tomorrow,” you said quietly. “I… sorry, it’s… it’s a bag with my—with her things.”

Matt took it carefully from you, the motion mechanical and stiff. He hadn’t really invited you the rest of the way into his apartment, the two of you now stalled out in the hallway just beyond the closed front door. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, either. It made it harder to read him, his face closed off and impassive, a wall of red glass placed firmly between you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen his eyes even once since that day you’d first come back, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable, either, though that was just a guess when it came to what he might be feeling.

“It’s the shirts from her apartment, which I think are yours. And the stuffed bear.” You bit your lip and released it slowly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “And the… the mug, which Nelson said was yours, too. The one you used at her place. I also put the hoodie in there, the one she had with her while she was traveling. And…” You reached into your pocket, fumbling for a moment. God, you were bad at this, unsure of just how to do this without hurting him any more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t a concern you usually dealt with since your goal was almost always the exact opposite, a precaution meant to destroy any threads of connection they held with you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving you much to work with, though you didn’t miss his subtle flinch when you drew the key from your pocket. “I thought you might want this, too.”

You cautiously edged forward, daring to breach the ring of radiant heat that surrounded him, the closest you’d come to him in almost a month. He went stiff as you approached, his jaw growing tight as the gap between you both closed. Another step, and his head cocked as if he were listening to your footsteps, or maybe… maybe he was just waiting to find out what you had to give him. But he wasn’t telling you to fuck off or just set your gift aside, which was a good sign. So you hesitantly reached out and brushed your fingers lightly against his bicep, a signal so he knew you were about to pass him something.

A breath.

He remained absolutely still amidst the sudden, crackling tension in the air as your fingertips skated gently down and around his forearm, stirring all the little hairs, his skin shockingly warm. All you’d intended to do to take his arm and guide it up so you could place the key in his hand, but you quickly found yourself distracted by a ragged scar along the back of his forearm, one your fingers seemingly made their way to on instinct. It was a deep scar, the original cut likely made by some sort of blade, the edges of it rough and uneven from messy stitching. Your curiosity got the better of you, so much so that you missed the way Matt had begun to hold his breath.

“Who fucked up the sutures on that?” You furrowed your brow, your thumb smoothly marking out the jagged line of it. “They did a terrible job. No offense.”

Matt’s face fell and you only realized too late just who it was that must have patched him up.

Before you could blink, he’d yanked his arm out of your grip as if your touch had burned him. “Don’t,” he grit out, his chest heaving as he put a few steps distance between you both. “You can—just put your key on the bench.”

“How did you know—” “Because there’s only one thing left it could be.”

You nodded weakly, taking a few steps back towards the little bench beside the door. That unfamiliar ache, that sense of wrongness was back, the weight of it settling uneasily in your chest like a stone until you almost wanted to retch. It didn’t help that Matt was just barely holding himself together while you were here.

Best to say what you’d come to say and leave him be.

You gently set the key down, and the quiet click of the brass against the wood seemed to echo in the hallway, a graveyard bell tolling with a looming sense of finality. What you were about to tell him would hurt, you knew it would, but maybe one day he’d find comfort in it. This—a sign of what she’d felt—was the real gift you’d truly come to give, the only true token of her you could offer. Your words, when you spoke, were almost as hoarse as his. “I thought you should know I… she wore it. The key. I asked them. She wore your key and she never took it off. Not once. Whatever you both had, she treasured it, and all she wanted was to get back to you. She didn’t leave you by choice, Matt. I hope that… that helps.”

Of all the things you’d said and done, it was this that finally seemed to break him. His face twisted in a sudden wave of grief, and regret hit you all at once. You quickly took a step towards him, one hand out, though you weren’t sure what you’d do if he reached back—it wasn’t like you knew how to comfort him, and you sure as hell didn’t know if he’d tolerate you holding him again, nor whether he was someone that needed some sort of touch when he was hurting. But before you could take another step he’d flinched away from you, retreating quickly back into the darkness of his apartment, his voice ragged. “Just go. Get out.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, backing away towards the door. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

It shouldn’t have hurt as you closed that door one last time. But you cried all the same.

Somewhere within the apartment came the sound of splintering furniture and a hoarse scream wracked with grief.

“Look, Nelson.” You tiredly adjusted the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as if it would stem your growing headache. “I know it’s a day early. But another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a fucking difference.”

“I don’t need another day!” he pleaded, his arms spread wide where he’d blocked your front door, ensuring you couldn’t leave your apartment until you’d heard him out. You’d had no idea he even had a key until today and, not for the first time, you cursed Jane Hind’s apparent lack of common sense. You did not give out keys, or at least, you hadn’t before coming here to this ridiculous fucking city. “Just five minutes. That’s all. I’ve got one last thing to try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to try one more thing!” you snapped bitterly, dropping your hand. That anger was a good cover for the way something sharp and prickly had begun to catch in your throat, the incident with Matt still fresh in your mind. “I’ve tried for a month, and it’s gotten me nothing. Fucking-fucking bars and random rooftops and a shitty little duck, goddamn penguins and keys, and none of it did shit! Jane’s gone, ok? She’s dead. And I’m sorry, I know you all cared about her, but I’m done—”

“Have you climbed inside a thread?”

“...What?” you asked in sudden bewilderment, your rage abruptly faltering in the face of pure confusion. “What the fuck does that even me—”

He let out a whoop, practically dancing on his feet. “Yes! I knew it! I can’t believe no one told you!”

“Told me what?!” You chucked your bag back onto your couch in sudden exasperation. If this was thread-related, at the very least you could stay long enough to listen. “There’s nothing to climb!”

“Ok, so stick with me.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly, a bright light in his eyes. “Because I’m about to get really metaphysical.”

It took you what felt like hours to climb inside the shimmering honey-colored thread that lay between you and Matt—a thread that sang with his sorrow and your reluctant sympathy.

It wasn’t right having your soul constricted like this, all of who you were narrowing down into something so small as you squirmed through a barrier that tasted and felt like dirt and earth, chasing after the sound of trickling water. There wasn’t supposed to be anything on the other side. It was an emotional connection, nothing more.

And yet here you were, standing in a place that had no reason to exist.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in amazement, spinning on your heels to examine your surroundings. “Holy shit, he was right.”

Despite the late hour, the air was full of a muted light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, tinting the world a hazy, eerie green. High up above you roiled thick, sullen black storm clouds, silent flashes of red lightning carving their way between swirls of charred smoke. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see by.

And what you saw was heartbreaking.

You stood in a dry, stony riverbed. The ground beneath you was cracked and brittle where the water had receded, leaving behind nothing but dust and broken branches. The river itself remained though just barely, the thin trickle of flowing water down the center of the riverbed a far cry from whatever immense force had carved its way through the landscape until the banks were a good ten paces from one side to the other. The terrain beyond the river didn’t look much better, wilted, drooping cattails dotted up the bank before giving way to endless forest that stretched farther than your eye could see. Like the cattails and scrub, the pine and fir trees stood withered and brown, casting their empty branches up toward the sky.

If it had been beautiful here once, whatever had happened to you had destroyed that beauty.

“Jesus,” you whispered.

“Can you hear me?” Foggy’s voice sounded distant and far away, tinny like he was talking through a long tunnel.

“Yeah. Can you hear me?”

“...Ok, if you’re trying to respond, I can’t hear you. But according to Matt, whenever you were here, it felt like memories. So poke around, see what you can find.”

You sighed and started down the riverbed. “Not super helpful, but ok. Let’s give it a shot.”

The water was the most obvious place to start, and you made your way over to the thin stream that ran raggedly across the parched soil. Much to your fascination, you quickly discovered that what you’d thought was one current was actually two, one layered over the top of the other, each flowing in the opposite direction. The first of those currents hiding on the bottom was fairly calm, steady if a little restless, swirls of pale color that almost felt like curiosity, though how you understood that translation was a mystery. The second current seemed far rougher where it roiled atop the first, its section of the stream cloudy and thick with swirls of black and the red of an open wound. You hovered over the second current for a long moment, working up your courage, before you finally knelt and hesitantly brushed against it with one finger. It was just water. How bad could it be?

The moment your skin made contact, your chest seized on a sudden swell of agony. Your mouth filled with the taste of grief, with the sound of an empty home, the lack of some familiar scent that meant affection and warmth and softness and safety, the ache of an old wound reopened just when it had started to heal. Alone, always alone, I deserve it, so many gone, he was right, when will I learn? There was no hope for comfort from that pain, no escape from the darkness into tender arms that could hold you just right when it all hurt. All you had to look forward to was more—

You threw yourself backward, scrambling away from that terrible current as if what you’d felt might rise up and chase after you, snapping its teeth the whole way. You didn’t stop retreating until your back slammed against the dry soil of the riverbank. Only then did you stop, panting, your eyes wide in shock as you cradled your hand against your heaving chest.

Emotion. It’s emotion.

That was what the water was. Matt’s emotion. Which meant the other current—one now shifting back to yellow despite a momentary surge of twisting, roiling black—was… yours.

Right. So you could rule the water out. But if that was emotion, where was memory?

Examining the rest of the river was the most obvious next step now that you’d ruled out the water. Based on what you could see, the original riverbed had been a mix of silt and stones of varying sizes, a firm foundation beneath a once-powerful river. Now, though, the grey, dried-out silt was covered in a strange sea of divots and dips, as if something—a lot of somethings—had been plucked up and removed. You traced one of the indents in the soil curiously, lifting your hand back up to consider the grit as you rubbed it between your fingers. Another glance around revealed the answer.

The stones.

There were still plenty of stones remaining in the riverbed, but the divots in the dry silt told you there’d once been far more. If that was what you’d lost, then maybe…

You rocked up eagerly to your feet, pacing around breathlessly as you searched for a promising stone to start with. Eventually you made your pick, plucking up a stone just small enough to fit in your palm, flat and smooth save for a little groove in it as if someone had run their fingers over it endlessly. Strangely, it smelled like honey and herbs, the surface oddly warm against your hand like the brush of a thumb against your mouth. You waited for a long, impatient moment, and when nothing else happened, you tapped it a few times.

Still nothing.

And something inside you… cracked.

“Fuck!” you screamed, hurling the stone back down the river in a sudden rage. The pain and the loneliness you’d been suppressing for the last month, the last year, the horrible, endless eternity since leaving your family in Los Angeles began to claw its way up your throat, the clouds churning wildly above you in response. A wild rain came next, each droplet sharp and cold and edged like the blade of a knife, bitter and biting as it beat against your skin. You grabbed another stone, one that tasted like shitty beer—Josie’s beer. You threw that rock, too, then another and another, throwing stones that smelled and tasted and felt like your shriek of laughter as he grinned and caught you against his chest, like torn flesh and a needle held by tender hands, like your face nuzzling fearlessly against Matt’s throat as he whispered comfort into your hair and held you close, like synced breathing and hearts and dances between binary stars as you both fell into sleep, fell into safety, fell into one another, phantom sensations that only made the fierce ache in you grow stronger because with every stone you snatched up it became clear that…

You’d been loved.

Not your identity.

Not the image you showed to the world.

Not the walls you’d put up in front of him before he’d found some way past them.

You.

And he’d loved you with every part of him.

You weren’t sure when you started crying, a violent, vicious stream of tears that was just as much a product of rage as grief. Here was someone who’d loved you fully, loved you despite every asterisk and bit of baggage and sharpened edge that came with being a broken hound, with being a former experiment still on the run. But you barely noticed your tears, spitting up at the unforgiving clouds and the howling wind, because you could howl, too, just as violent, just as much a threat as any storm in this place. “I want my fucking life back! I want him back!”

You hadn’t wanted it before, or maybe you had and you’d just been too afraid to ask for it. But now? Oh, oh, now you were furious, furious and hurting and screaming, because you’d denied yourself connection all these years only to find it in the last place you’d expected. That was what this had been—home, family, love. That had to be why you’d stayed in New York, why you’d risked everything for these people, for Matt. You weren’t an idiot. You’d have run the numbers and the math, made your calculations.

You couldn’t bear to lose this. Not… not again.

You threw stone after stone, hunting frantically as your fingers bled dry, desperate fury into the air, reddened drops disappearing before they ever hit the ground. The trickle of water in the center of the riverbed had churned itself into a frenzy, but you ignored it. There had to be something here that would trigger a memory, something that would let you remember being loved again, something big enough, important enough, so you grabbed and you grabbed and grabbed and grabbed and grabbed until at last, you found a stone the size of your fist. You snatched it up with a ragged sob, cradling it greedily against your chest as if doing so might let you carry it out of here, because you wanted it, you wanted him, wanted to remember more than anything in the world.

“Let me have it!” you snarled, snapping your teeth at the howling winds of the storm as if you might catch this place between your jaws and tear it open until you at last found what belonged to you. “Give it back!”

And with a blink—

He tore one of his bloodied gloves off, his hand shaking as he reached out to you.

You stilled the moment his fingertips brushed tenderly against your cheek, so very gentle, affection layered over blood and earth and hurt. And god, your skin was so terribly dry and cold, the beat of your heart uneven as it struggled to pump blood through your body, but he could feel you react to him, the barest parting of your lips as you dragged in a startled breath. He didn’t want to startle you further or risk you fighting him, so he let his voice drop into a whisper, soft as the brush of a feather.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

‘I heard you,’ he tried to say. ‘I heard you. I’m here.’

And your weakened heart… skipped.

He wasn’t sure if he reached for you or if you reached for him. All he knew was it was the sign he’d been looking for. In a heartbeat, he scooped you up off the floor, stealing you back from that dry, filthy cement and crusted blood that had tried to take you from him. He cradled your cold body against his chest, then, held you there where it was warm and where you were safe. You made the softest little noise, the sound choked and dry, but there was no disguising the heartbreaking relief in it. He pulled you in further, pulled you up until you were curled up in his lap, not an ounce of air left between your bodies, your head laying against his shoulder.

He would never let you touch the floor of this place again.

“D…” you mumbled, not one hint of fear in you despite what he’d just done, the blood on his hands and the burning heat of violence that still lingered in his bones. You wearily slid your head over, inch by inch, until you’d buried your face against the sweat-slick line of his throat, nuzzling in against him with a hoarse sigh that only made him hold you tighter. You inhaled slowly then, heedless of the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his skin, your fingers coming up to hook weakly in the collar of his shirt. “You came.”

And you… smiled.

He buried his face against your hair and let out a shaky breath. As he did, he dug down past blood and dust and dirt, dug and dug until he found the sweet, familiar scent of you, a scent he never wanted to leave him again.

The stone fell from your limp hands, a ringing in your ears you could barely hear beneath the sound of the water nearby, frothing and wild.

The increased sensory feedback had been bizarre, and there was… there was no reason he should have been covered in so much blood, his body burning as if he’d been fighting before coming to you. But…

“Hey, you in there?” Foggy called.

“D.” The letter felt strange, and yet… natural, as you cradled it on your tongue. “D?”

And you knew what came after that letter, shaping the word again in your mind.

You knew.

You… remembered.

“Always,” he’d said.

“Always,” you whispered, casting your eyes up the riverbed towards another large stone. “Always, D.”

He didn’t know what you were doing or why you’d climbed inside the thread.

“Always, D.”

All he knew was that it hurt.

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately for you.”

He’d thought catching your scent, hearing your laugh, being forced to take back the key he’d given to you had been the worst of it. But no. It was far, far worse having to relive these memories of your time with him over and over and over without pause, his senses filled with you: with your touch, with your scent, with the taste of you on the air. He heard you whisper, laugh, and sigh; felt the brush of your fingers in his hair and your body shaking with laughter when he snatched you up during a game of Devil Hunt and the safety of you as you’d held him so tenderly after his fight with Foggy. All of it was a reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never get back.

“Don’t you give up on me, Matt. Ok?”

He was in agony. There was no blocking you out like this, no escaping your memory no matter how much he tried to push back or retreat, until he wound up trapped and spiraling in his kitchen.

“Kiss me when you come back.”

On and on it went, memories snapping at his heels until all he had left to hide behind was rage. He swept his arm across the counter, glass shattering as he screamed himself hoarse. Eventually he found himself backed up against the wall, sinking down as he hitched out something like an agonized groan, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, please—”

“Adoringly yours, because I do adore you, you ridiculous man...”

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

“...Remember that. if nothing else.”

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea to give back your key.

“Matt!” you shouted, pounding frantically on his front door. “Matt, let me in! It’s me, I swear, I can-I can—”

Silence.

And you weren’t willing to wait any longer. This wasn’t something you could explain through the door, out here in the hall where the neighbors could hear. You needed to get inside. You knew he was in there somewhere.

Red threads never lied.

You wiped the blood away from your nose and took off for the stairs. It was only one flight up to the roof, and sometimes he left the rooftop door unlocked. Even if it wasn’t unlocked, you’d use the key under the mat. You didn’t remember everything. But you remembered that. And if the key wasn’t there? You’d break that fucking door down.

He sat unmoving in his meditation pose on the floor, the sound of your attempts to get into the apartment distant and far away. Meditation had been the only thing left he could think of that would allow him to escape the pain and the memories of you that had flooded his thoughts. Like this, with his mind and his focus withdrawn until it lay deep within himself, he’d hoped he’d be far enough away from the world that the ghost of you couldn’t reach.

Yet even deep in meditation, his instincts were set off by the crack! of his rooftop door slamming open.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his heart racing as he bared his teeth, his body prepared to face whatever threat had just broken in. The sensations of you, at the very least, had quieted during his meditation, which should have left him enough space for some small margin of peace as he threw himself into a fight. But that peace was nowhere to be found, because you were here again.

He recoiled from that thought the second it crossed his mind. This wasn’t you, that much had become painfully clear. You’d passed away somewhere far beyond his reach, away from the home, the life you’d lived here. The woman that stood on his landing now was nothing but a ghost, a fading memory and a terrible reminder of what he’d had and lost, what he’d earned by daring to reach for something good. There was no undoing it, no washing away the blood on his hands. If anything, how he felt for you had doomed any hopes of you staying long enough for him to reform that connection with you. He knew how you operated—hell, you’d tried to run on that hot summer night so many months ago after seeing just how much he’d cared, even if you’d ultimately changed your mind. At the time, he’d thought it was Destiny, the hand of God ensuring you remained in the Kitchen where Matt could keep you safe from the Man in the White Coat, here in this place where you both might… might shape something good out of all the broken pieces you’d both been left with. He knew better, now. Even the hand of God couldn’t break the curse Matt placed on those he loved. You would leave, leave like all the others, and he deserved it.

The only question that remained was why you seemed so, so fucking determined to make him suffer.

“Matt.” Your voice cracked as you stumbled down the stairs. “Matt, I—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, sweetheart?” he grit out, reaching up to fist his hands tightly in his hair. He’d never known you to be unnecessarily cruel, but there was no other explanation. “God, I-I can’t—you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Matt, just let me—”

“Do you even care how much you’re hurting me?” He hitched out a broken laugh, something bitter and tormented, the sound absent all humor as you made it down the stairs. “All those months, all I wanted was for you to come back. I begged. I prayed to God, over and over again, that he would bring you back to me. And now that you’re gone, you just won’t leave. I can’t get away from you no matter what I do. Do you know what that’s like? To lose someone you love only for their ghost to haunt you every time you turn around?”

A soft intake of breath.

There it was. Now that he’d said it, you’d leave. There would be nothing more frightening to the You he’d first known than a word like love.

“I just…” His breath hitched again, something thick building in his throat. It was just another sign of his weakness, the same weakness that had gotten you killed.

‘I warned you, kid,’ came Stick’s voice, so smug that Matt bared his teeth. ‘I fuckin’ warned you the night I opened up her eye. But you didn’t listen.’

He started to pace wildly, ignoring your voice as he hunted for some opening through which he could escape, flee from Stick’s voice hiding in the corners of his thoughts, from your ghost. With every step his movements grew more frantic, more furious as his rage built like a rising wave: rage at himself, at God, at the monster who’d taken your memories and the possibility of a life for you here with Matt, and at you, too, because you just didn’t get it. “I just want to grieve, and God can’t even give me that much, can he? Is that what this is? Punishment? Revenge? Congratulations. Job well done. You can go.”

You tilted your head as you watched him pace, the same cock of your head you got when considering your potential routes forward. As far as he was concerned, the only route he’d give was a route out the door.

“I don’t know why you came back, and at this point, I don’t fucking care,” he told you hotly, nothing but burning smoke and thick venom in each word. “We don’t have a red thread anymore. There’s nothing to keep you here. Leave. Now. I’m not asking.”

Your soft response was a single letter, one that struck directly at the open wound inside his chest.

“...D.”

He snatched up an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter in a sudden rage, turned, and hurled it past you.

You didn’t so much as flinch as the bottle came within inches of your head. Nor did you react to the distant shattering of glass, the sound of it barely audible over his anguished roar.

“Leave me alone!”

And then he froze in sudden horror at what he’d done, his heartbeat almost drowning out the soft sound of your steps. All he’d wanted to do was scare you away, frighten you away so he could break where you couldn’t see, because it had hurt, it had hurt to hear you call him—

Wait.

You’d… you’d called him…

“My Devil Man, my Saint Matthew,” you whispered, the touch of your hands cool and endlessly gentle as you cupped his face. His skin was wet, damp beneath your thumbs as you swiped them across his cheeks, when had he started crying? You brought his head down until you could lay your forehead against his, the taste of salt hanging in the air. Your voice grew achingly tender, so longed for that he swayed helplessly on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be held like you’d held him so often before when he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, D. I’m so sorry I left you alone, sweetheart.”

He closed his eyes tight, his breath growing shaky. You couldn’t know that he was two steps away from crumbling in your arms, fractures widening with every breath. He had no energy left to fight your touch, your misplaced mercy, but giving into the lie was another thing entirely. He couldn’t bear to hope again, not when it would crush him if he were wrong. “Foggy told you to… he told you to call me that, didn’t he? To see if you’d remember. But I can’t—you’re going to leave me, you’ll—” “Do you remember what I said before I left? Because I do.” You swiped your thumb gently against his cheek, your uneven breathing skipping and falling into rhythm with his as his hands shakily rose. They hovered hesitantly a few inches away from your face, terrified that you might vanish beneath his hands like a ghost. “I don’t leave my box behind, and I won’t leave you behind, either. I told you that you were stuck with me after Nobu. I meant it. It’s really me. I know you’re tired and hurting, sweetheart, but listen to my heart. What does it say? Truth or lie?”

…Steady.

Truth.

Could it really be you?

He held his breath as he dared at last to touch your cheek, stirring the fine hairs as he stroked his way along the familiar shape of your face, one he’d traced so often in his dreams. Your skin was damp with tears just like his, another sliding down to bump against his thumb as your lips quirked up into a brilliant smile. And the moment his trembling fingers passed your lips, you kissed the tip of each with a warm fondness, a mirror of that night you’d held his broken, torn body and he’d kissed your fingers and palm.

“How much do you… do you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears as the world beneath him seemed to roll beneath him. “Everything?” “Not everything. Some pieces are still missing, with Foggy and Karen and my job, but I-I remember enough. I remember you, and what I had with you.” Your voice grew fierce and fervent then as you drew in a sharp breath, preparing yourself. “I remember you, D. And I remember that I love you. I love you, Matt Murdock, all of you, so, so much. And I will never leave you alone again.” You loved him.

You loved him.

The weight of it—being forced to let you leave the city, the ensuing months alone, the agony of the past few weeks thinking he’d lost you entirely, and now this, this, knowing you loved him like he loved you—hit him all at once, and with a sudden groan he started to drop. You caught him in your arms, the two of you sinking to your knees as you held him tight and he wound desperately around you in return. Only then did he start to fall apart in your arms, shaking in your hold, his grief, his hurt, his relief spilling out in choked gasps where you’d tucked his head down against your neck. He fisted his hands in your shirt as you both rocked, and a ragged moan tore free from him, spilling against your skin when you lifted your hands to trail your fingers lovingly through his hair. You knew, you remembered just how to hold him when he was hurting, a balm across every last wound. His shivering, touch-starved body remembered your touch, too, drowning beneath the sudden surge of good, warm, safe, soft after months of nothing but pain, so much so he couldn’t help but gasp out your name.

“I’ve got you now, D,” you whispered, burying your face against his shoulder until he could feel the heat of your tears against his shirt, too. “I’m here, now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, Matt.”

“I thought you were gone.” There was no way for him to truly sync his breathing with yours, not with the way you were both crying, but still his body tried on instinct, tried and failed over and over again. He closed his eyes tighter, burying his face deeper against your throat as he pulled you in even closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between your body and his, where he could feel every beat of your heart against his skin, as if to make up for the way he’d almost… almost chased you away. “I thought you’d left me and I was alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, and that I didn’t-I didn’t go with you, but I couldn’t—I’m so, so—”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You kissed shakily at his hair, his shoulder, and whatever other parts of him you could reach, your breath, your tears, your absolution washing over him like rain. “It’s not your fault, D. It’s not your fault sweetheart. None of this was your fault.”

“But—” “Hey. Listen to me, before you get any further down in that hole.” You lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his tear-stained face in your hands again. For a moment you both simply breathed with one another, your forehead to his, soaking in the contact, the affection that you’d both dearly missed and needed. “What happened to me outside New York, my memory loss… all of that is not your fault. It never was, D. There are-there are a lot of things we’ll have to deal with in the future, things I need to tell you. Consequences of what we’ve done, and—but this isn’t one of them. Never this. You’re what helped bring me back.” “How? I didn’t…” He let out a breathless, watery little laugh. “I didn’t do anything but try to chase you away.” “Some part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to you. I remembered, deep down, I think.” You gave an amused little huff. “And once Foggy showed me how to get into our thread, all your memories are what brought me back, helped me remember, because I could feel it, how you loved me. That was the key. Speaking of which…” You leaned in to nuzzle up against his cheek, your voice lowering to a whisper. “I think I made you a promise, you ridiculous man. And it’s one I intend to keep.”

And with one small tip of your head, and a single slow breath…

“Kiss me when you come back.”

…your lips brushed against his for the very first time, tender and achingly soft, and so full of love that it would have stolen his breath away if he’d had any left at all.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned months ago just before you left, something triumphant and wild. Nor was it anything like the first kisses he’d imagined before that, the first kiss he’d thought this journey with you might lead to. And God only knew he’d considered kissing you for the first time more than was healthy.

Your first kiss with him was, instead, shaky and gentle, tasting of salt and tears and the fading shades of grief retreating like streamers of night before a welcome sunrise. Slowly, and then more surely, his lips began to move against yours, finally allowing himself to truly taste you for the first time, his eyes slowly falling closed as your fingers ran fondly through his hair, you, it was really you, you remembered. With a quiet moan, he breathed you in deep, calling your grace, your love deep into him until it settled there against his heart, knowing that, no matter what else might come, he would never lose it again, one of his hands rising to tenderly wind around your throat, his other hand finding yours so he could lace his battered fingers tightly with yours.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d expected, but it felt perfect all the same.

Because all that was left was him…

And you.

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naughtyneganjdm · 2 months ago

Text

Favorite New Toy

Summary: Getting in trouble landed you into Ray Lasalle's personal chambers where he made a deal with you. Where you end up? Strapped down to his bed completely naked where he gets to have his way with you.

Characters: Ray Lasalle & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59596456

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, unprotected p in v, no use of Y/N, female reader, little to no plot, leather, praising kink, spanking, over stimulation, bondage, choking, gagging, paddling, dom/sub, slapping, squirting, use of a riding crop, etc.

Notes: This is day 5 to go with this kinktober list. The prompts I chose were Rough Sex and Bondage. This was the character most requested when I started writing it. I realize I'm behind on my days, but I'm working on it. Slowly, but surely.

Trying to move was useless. You were firmly tied down to the bed. Leather straps were wrapped around both your ankles and your wrists. There was no wiggle room or comfort. Nervous energy flooded your veins.

Why did he leave you here so long?

After you got caught boosting cars, you thought you were done for. And then when you ended up in Judge Ray Lasalle’s chambers and he knew that you had been the getaway driver in a few bank robberies, you were sure that your time was up. But then you were given an ultimatum. Work for Ray or go to jail.

Obviously, you picked the first of the two. But then he wanted more from you. And you weren’t eager to turn him down. Ray Lasalle asked you to come to his fancy apartment in Miami. He was rich, powerful and fucking gorgeous. You’d have to be a fool to say no. Plus, he held a power over you. Who knew if saying no would get you in some kind of trouble. Not that you would have said no.

The first thing he did was bring you into his bedroom, have you strip down and then lay at the center of the bed where he bound you. Now he just had you waiting. Which you wondered if this was part of his game. The coloring of the room you were in had a magenta, purple and blue tint to it. Ray was going for a certain aura with the whole vibe of the room.

Resting your head back, you wondered if this was punishment. Making you lay naked. Waiting.

“Comfortable?” a deep rumble of a raspy voice called out to you and you looked over to see Ray leaning against the doorframe wearing a robe. His hair was slicked back, his dimples prominent showing the amusement he had that you seemed tense at the center of his bed.

“Do I look comfortable?” you wondered, your eyes narrowing in frustration.

“Truth be told? I really don’t care,” Ray confessed with a tiny chuckle, moving over toward his dresser where a few bottles of alcohol were sitting. Pouring himself a drink, Ray turned to you and took a seat on the edge of the dresser. Taking a tiny sip of the drink had Ray wincing as he swallowed. “I don’t want you to be comfortable. I want you to be my subservient. I want you to do as I tell you. Even if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Shifting at the center of the bed, you felt a lump growing in your throat. You wondered if the people that Ray worked with knew he was such a freak capable of making anyone do what he wanted.

“You’ve been a bad girl for a long time, I think it’s good for you to finally understand what it’s like to be in this kind of position,” Ray suggested, finishing up his drink. Setting his glass down, he opened one of the drawers and you saw him pulling out several items that had your pulse growing faster. “I want you to understand that I hold your life in my hand. That’s how important this relationship is between the two of us. Do you understand?”

“I’m starting to,” you panted with Ray moving in beside the bed with two things in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, he set down a gag that made your eyes gaze over it. What was left in his hands was a blindfold. “Shouldn’t we have a safe word? What if I decide this is too much and I want to stop?”

“You won’t,” Ray assured you with a wink, lifting your head up enough to wrap the blindfold around your eyes. It completely blacked out the light which made you nervous. When you felt his fingers touching your jaw you took the hint that he wanted you to open your mouth so he could put the gag there. The gag was the most uncomfortable part. “Good girl.”

Now you couldn’t speak or see. He was really taking the point home with this whole your life was in his hands thing. Shuddering, you felt his hand faintly skimming over your abdomen having you arch up toward him. Surprisingly, you never wanted to be touched by someone more. Dragging his fingertips over your ribcage, you heard a deep rumble fall from his throat. This was entertaining him. You were shaking and he knew what he was doing to you.

Small shapes were being drawn over your flesh and you sucked in a sharp breath of air. The two of you hadn’t even talked about what was going to happen between you. He just demanded you strip down to nothing and you did. And then in a silent agreeance you let him bound you to the bed. Maybe you should have been more nervous than you actually were. You couldn’t defend yourself from this man and you hardly knew him. Hell, he threatened you the first time you met him, yet you allowed this to happen.

“Look at you,” Ray hummed, his fingertips circling your nipple getting you to purr out at the contact. “You are such a beautiful thing, aren’t you?”

Every touch was soft, just skimming his flesh over yours. Hovering his hand over your chest, he went to the other breast and circled the nipple with his thumb. Your nipples were hard, aching from just the simple touch.

“For so long you’ve been running free, untamed,” Ray rambled finally lowering his palm down between the valley of your breasts. Sliding his hand down, he caressed in over your hip and hummed. “You need to be tamed because you’ve been a very bad girl.”

Your breathing was becoming uneven, making it harder for you to breathe with this gag in your mouth. Tipping your head back, you felt the warmth of his palm slide between your thighs. Grasping at your mound firmly had your heart hammering in your chest. It was just a soft caress over your body, but when he pulled his hand away you knew it was because he wanted to get you riled up.

“You’re lucky someone like me showed up in your life,” you heard him whisper with the weight on the bed adjusting. It was completely dark, you had no idea what he was doing until his short stubble scratched at the flesh just near your navel. Following it was faint kisses that had you purring out which sounded ridiculous against the gag. “The wrong person was going to get their nails in you one day. It’s best for you that it was me.”

Small nibbles against your flesh turned to bites that you were sure was going to leave marks. Kissing down over your hip toward your thighs had you hoping that he would pleasure you, but you knew the idea was too good to be true when he got up from the bed.

“We’re gonna start with something easy,” Ray slurred and it was followed by a gentle tickling sensation right below your bellybutton. The sensation slid up under your breasts and he clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth. You sucked in a sharp breath of air with the faint sensation teasing at your nipples. “It’s a feather teaser. Not too bad, right?”

All you could do was nod as he dragged the feather teaser down between your thighs and then up again to circle each of your breasts. It was then you felt a firm pinch to your nipple causing you to cry out against the gag. He pinched at the other nipple before the soft feathery touch of the teaser was back at your breasts again.

“Maybe we should take it a step up,” he thought aloud and you heard shuffling amongst the darkness. A moment passed before you felt the cool drag of leather up over the inside of your ankle. It made you suck in a sharp breath with the first gentle smack of whatever it was against your thigh. It left your flesh with a tingling, warm sensation. A deep amused rumble filled the air from Ray and he sighed loudly. “You know, the riding crop is essential for horse riding. It keeps the communication open between the rider and the horse. In this situation, I prefer to use it in terms of punishment.”

Another smacking down surrounded you with the pinging sensation over your flesh after he smacked at your inner thigh again. A few more whacks of the riding crop over your flesh had you panting. When he dragged it under your breasts it had you whimpering. At your breasts, he gave your body fainter smacks of it against your skin, but it still made a point.

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Ray mused with the bed dipping again. The warmth of him beside you was felt. Then his palm covered your warmth again. Caressing at the flesh until he teased his fingers over the length of your sex between your folds. Meeting your clitoris with his rough fingertips had you arching up toward him. “I’m gonna destroy you in the best of ways.”

His touch was rough. You arched your hips up toward him enjoying the circular motions over your sensitive bundle of nerves. It felt like everything was spinning around you along with his touch. Dragging his fingers down from your clitoris to your entrance, he teased small circles over that as well before inserting a long slender digit. Pumping his finger into you, it didn’t take long for him to add a second with his skin smacking up against yours. Rocking toward the movements of his fingers, you did your best not to hyperventilate with this gag in your mouth, but what he was doing felt so good. It was incredibly rough, but he was hitting all the right spots inside of you. Using his opposite hand, Ray caressed at your clit firmly, matching the tempo that he set inside of you.

It was sensory overload. With your eyesight taken from you, it felt like everything was enhanced in sensation twice as much. Every touch, every caress felt amazing. By this alone? You knew that Ray knew how to pleasure the human body. Knowing exactly where to touch, how much pressure to use and how to set a mood.

“Almost there,” Ray’s voice coached you, keeping up the pace. You wanted to cry out, but it just came out as muffled sounds. Your thighs were tremoring with an ache at the pit of your belly. Every inch of you felt like it was on fire with you throwing your head back into the pillows. Continuing to finger you had wet sounds filling the bedroom along with Ray growling. “Good girl.”

Still, even after he made you come he kept up with his movements until he was satisfied. When he pulled his fingers from your body, you were still shaking. Panting against the gag he had in your mouth, you were fighting for air, but still were managing.

“See, I told you I was good for you. I’ll have you squirting plenty more by the time this night is over,” Ray assured you and you wondered how much more you could take. There was a pressure in your head along with your heart racing. You felt it in your chest and temples. Your bounds were being taken off your ankles and Ray was not gentle in the way that he flipped you over onto your stomach. You didn’t have the energy to move. You weren’t going to fight this. “Look at that ass.”

A firm spank to your bottom had you crying out, your hands squeezing tightly into fists. Smack. There was another. Followed by three more. When the weight shifted and he moved from the bed you were thankful. Your flesh was on fire with how hard he was spanking you.

Well, you were thankful. Until you felt the weight of something else at the fleshy part of your bottom. Trying to figure out what it was, it didn’t take long until it was being brought against your ass having you bounce forward. It was undoubtedly a paddle that he was using. Another hit was over your bottom and something that resembled a moan escaped him. Oh, this man was dark. Yet it had you soaking wet, wanting every part of him.

“You like that, don’t you?” Ray hummed, giving your ass a break by palming over it in gentle caresses. You only could picture what it looked like. Your flesh was stinging and you whined when he brought his hand down over your ass again. “Have you had enough with the spanking?”

You could have taken more, but you decided to nod. It made him snicker, but you heard the weight of the paddle dropping on the ground beside the bed. Moving in over you, you felt him straddling you from behind and what followed surprised you. He started massaging your back. Up toward your shoulders and then down again.

Comforting and relaxing you. Well that was a pleasant surprise. And then soft kisses started to follow the caress of his hands. Shuddering, you felt the warmth of his breath pressing in over the side of your neck. The weight of him was over you, trapping you beneath him.

“I have to warn you ahead of time,” Ray whispered, peppering faint kisses at your neck and over your jawline. “I have a big cock. It’s thick. It hurts. Especially with the way I fuck. But the hurt quickly disappears. Are you going to be okay with that?”

You barely considered the question before nodding. If you weren’t comfortable with that, would he really be letting you out of this? No. But the promise of having a big cock gave you something to look forward to.

“Good girl,” he praised you, lowering his hands to squeeze at your sore bottom. “Get up on your knees for me sweetheart.”

That was a harder request. With your hands cuffed to the bed, there was nothing for you to brace your weight on. Trying to get up, you needed his assistance to get you onto your knees. Pushing into the back of your neck, Ray got you how he wanted you. You felt the warmth of him behind you and by the way his body felt against yours, you knew that he was still wearing his robe.

His hands started at your hips, caressing down over toward your thighs. Squeezing at the flesh, he ran his rough palms back up over your lower abdomen and toward your breasts. Gently, he cupped the flesh in his large palms and it had you cooing out. Your body was very confused between both the roughness and tenderness he showed you.

Bucking forward into you had a purr escaping your lips. More than anything you wanted him inside of you right now, but you assumed this was just going to be a night of him doing exactly what he wanted. And right now, he just wanted to touch you. It had you a shaking mess with the way he caressed at all parts of your body.

Gasping against the gag, you tried to balance yourself as he tugged at your hips placing you exactly where he wanted you. Dragging his hands down your back, he gave your ass a firm squeeze. The weight shifted behind you and you felt hot kisses being pressed against your lower back. His hands squeezed at the back of your thighs. And that’s when you felt him nip at your bottom. It had you bouncing forward and he laughed at your flesh.

Mouthing down over your ass toward the back of your thigh, Ray kissed at your flesh until the warmth of his breath lingered over your most intimate parts. It had you tremoring. You were a quivering mess already and he was teasing you with how close he got to you.

“That is such a pretty pussy,” he stammered, his fingertips running a line along the length of your sex. A warmth dragged through your folds and you realized it was the tip of his tongue drawing lines over your body. A growl vibrated against your flesh having you bounce forward, but his hands kept a firm hold of your hips to keep you where you were. You were already sensitive from the orgasm he gave you earlier. Gradually, he started to kiss at your folds, sucking and nibbling occasionally. “Oh, you taste like honey…”

A deep rumble of a groan escape his throat and you bounced your hips back toward him wanting him to go back to pleasuring you. Hell, your body was begging for it. And by the sound he made? He knew it. Instead of giving you exactly what you wanted, he let the warmth of his breath linger over you. You whined. You wished you could talk to beg for him to continue, but this was the reason he put the gag in your mouth. To torture you.

This heightened all of your senses and by the time his mouth covered your body again you were shaking. You were a fucking mess and you knew it. The length of his tongue dragged a line from your clit to your entrance and back again. Repeating his movements a few more times, Ray suckled at your flesh before circling his tongue at your entrance. The grab he had on your body so he could feast on you was strong and forceful. His tongue prodding at your body, plunging into it in a teasing fashion.

Without warning he flipped you onto your back again. A hiss escaped you. The leather cuffs hurt with the way your wrists twisted. Ray hooked an arm around your thigh to pull you close to him. Burying his head between your thighs, his tongue went right back to lapping at your clitoris with his fingers pushing back inside of you. Again, he was focusing on your g-spot while his lips and tongue worked wonders over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You were shaking and tremoring. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to see him. But both of those things weren’t a possibility. He made sure of that. Hell, you couldn’t even beg him to let you see him. The gag made sure of that. You were at his mercy.

What he was doing was testing your limits. Punishing you, but in ways that you didn’t necessarily hate. If this was the kind of punishment he gave out, you’d openly welcome it.

“C’mon sweetheart,” Ray slurred against your flesh sending chills throughout your body. The sound of his voice alone was intoxicating enough, but what he was doing? It was such a euphoric sensation that you just wanted more of it. Whining against the gag, you rocked up toward him. A snicker escaped him before his tongue dragged across your sensitive flesh. For a judge, he knew his way around the human body. Which told you he did this a lot. You weren’t his first, you were his one of many. That thought was quick to leave you though when you felt that all too familiar sensation returning. Desperately rocking your hips against his motions had him humming out when you pulled your hips up and away from him. The sound of his moan filled the air and you were crying out against the gag. After an orgasm like that? You wondered if you were going to make it through the night or if he was actually trying to kill you. “Perfect.”

Your body lay limp at the center of his bed with his fingers lazily pulling themselves from your body. You couldn’t see him, but you knew that he was proud. Arrogance filled the room and his amused sound rumbled around you. This man had turned you into a mess already.

“Now, I hope you continue to be a good girl,” Ray spoke clearly, getting up from the bed. Your head was aching. Your heart racing and your body exhausted, but in the best of ways. “We’re far from done here and I’m gonna need you to keep up with things. Don’t disappoint me.”

God. That made you worried. After all this? The last thing you ever wanted to do was disappoint him because this? This was incredible. You didn’t want things like this to end. No one had been able to bring out orgasms like this from you. Especially so easily.

“I’m gonna take this gag off you, but I don’t want you to say anything. Do you understand?” he reached for your chin, grabbing it firmly between his fingers. A sharp tug had you wincing, but you nodded immediately after. He made his point. “Good girl.”

Right now, he was doing most of the work. You could barely move your body. He knew that. Lifting your head was even harder. When he finally got the gag from your mouth, you let out an involuntary wince. There was a large amount of spit that had come from it being there. The corners of your mouth actually hurt and it left your jaw aching. A thud filled the air and you assumed that it was Ray dropping the gag on the nightstand that was beside the bed.

“You have such beautiful lips,” Ray sat down on the bed beside you reaching out to sweep his thumb in over your bottom lip. Dragging the pad of his thumb agonizingly slow against your flesh caused a purr to fall from your lips. “I bet you give an incredible blowjob with that mouth.”

Taking the hint, you took his thumb between your lips sucking softly at it. A groan escaped him followed by an impressed sound. Instead of allowing you to continue, he pulled his thumb from your lips with a wet sound. Gasping out, you felt his arms hooking around your body to pull you into a seated position with your back against the headboard. It wasn’t the most comfortable position because he didn’t pull you up all the way, but you knew what he was doing.

Once again, he was back on the bed over you. The sounds of what you assumed to be him pulling apart his robe was heard. Pretty soon you were expecting him to be shoving his cock into your mouth, but you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands cupped at your face. That made your breathing uneven with his thumbs caressing at the sides of your face.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Ray slurred and the warmth of his breath lingering over yours made you want him. God, you didn’t know how much you wanted him to kiss you until this moment. Lifting up, you went in search of him in attempts to kiss him, but you couldn’t find him. This damn blindfold made everything hard. If Ray was going to kiss you? He was going to do it when he wanted to do it. Not when you wanted it. Hushing you, Ray’s bottom lip skimmed over yours and you tremored. Why was this something you wanted so fucking much? “You want me to kiss you?”

Giving a simple nod, you knew that you couldn’t talk. So you didn’t. You imagined you made him smile by your reaction. The warmth of his breath grew closer and you knew that he wasn’t far from you. But you weren’t going to push it. You wanted to show that you could be good.

After what felt like an eternity, Ray covered your lips with his. The kiss was slow, barely giving you more than just a little bit to have you yearning for him. Taking a pause, he pulled back slightly and you wanted to whine, but you didn’t. And you were thankful that you kept your mouth shut because this time he kissed you harder. It was a dominant sweep of his lips over yours, claiming you as his. The grasp his fingers had at your jawline grew tighter. The kiss grew in strength with every caress his mouth made against yours. Something about the way he tasted was addictive. Who were you kidding? Everything about this man was addictive.

The simple brush of his tongue over yours sent chills throughout your entire body. You never wanted him to stop kissing you. Maybe it was because you were blindfolded, but each touch of his lips over yours felt so good that you couldn’t even understand it. With your senses taken away, he knew what to do in order to drive you utterly wild with desire.

Pulling back with a growl, Ray’s fingers slid down over your throat. His thumb pressing at the soft, fleshy part getting you to suck in a sharp breath of air. Movement was felt in front of you. Again, you wished that you could see him. This was incredible, but you felt like getting to see him would have been the most amazing addition to this whole experience.

“Now I’m gonna put my cock in your mouth,” Ray informed you and that excited you. It wasn’t often the idea of giving a man oral sex had you thrilled like this. “I want you to be slow. I want there to be a build up and then I’m gonna be rough with you. I’m gonna wait until your ready and then I’m gonna fuck your throat.”

Licking your lips, you felt a lump growing in your throat, “Nod if you understand.”

Without even giving it any consideration, you nodded.

“Good girl,” he praised you again. This time his movements were slow, the bed dipping when he straddled over your body. Patiently, you waited. Soon you were rewarded with a soft rumble of a moan and you heard movements before you. Imaging what was happening, you pictured that he had just taken himself from his boxers and he was caressing over his body. You must have not been far off because soon you were given the faintest of teases of what you assumed to be the tip of his cock over your lips. Mewling out, you pressed a faint kiss at it. Extending your tongue out, you brushed faintly at the velvety skin getting a sharp exhale to escape his lips. “That’s it.”

Start slow. That was the direction he gave you. So that’s what you did. You wet your lips, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses at the tip of Ray’s manhood. Then you dragged your tongue out across the ridges of it. This was the only way you could create an image of what his dick looked like without seeing it. That movement had him bucking his hips toward you and it made you feel good that he wanted more from you. If he wanted more? You’d give him that. Dragging your tongue over the slit collected the taste of him and it made you moan. If you had your hands, you knew this would be such a better experience for the both of you, but they had now become numb with being cuffed to the headframe. Circling your tongue over his body, you were careful with the way you moved. Not wanting to hurt him.

Parting your lips further, you took Ray into your mouth realizing that he wasn’t totally hard and you could tell that he was being honest with you. By the length of his partially erect cock in your mouth, you knew that he was big. Taking him as far back into your throat as you could, you heard his groan surround you. Then his fingers hooked at the back of your head. Your nose buried against his groin knowing that when he was fully hard that wasn’t going to likely be possible. Dragging your tongue along the underside of his shaft when you pulled back had his length growing harder.

Keeping him in your mouth like this would certainly leave to you choking if you allowed him to get completely rigid in your mouth, so you pulled your head back. It didn’t take long with the bobs of your head and the laps of your tongue at his sensitive flesh for him to be completely solid inside of your mouth.

“That’s it,” he coached you, helping to move your head over his body now. Your tongue lapped at the prominent veins over his shaft, your throat opening up to him to try to give him what he truly desired from you. Spit was collecting at the corners of your mouth, your eyes squeezing shut when he started to follow through with exactly what he promised. Both of his hands grabbed a hold of your head. After that, he started thrusting into your throat. Like this, you couldn’t really bob your head over his length. You just sat there, allowing him to use you the way he needed. You could only breathe out of your nose, your throat making a very wet, gagging sound every time his cock hit the back of it. When you felt like it was too much, he seemed to pick up on it with him pulling his hips back. Spit was dribbling from your lips with you panting, but he seemed to caress over your jawline trying to comfort and calm you. “Open up.”

Your jaw was hurting. Ray didn’t fuck around when he told you that he was thick. Between this and the gag? You were going to be feeling it later. Parting your lips for him allowed him to push his girthy cock back into your mouth and down your throat. Now it was getting harder. Each movement made it hard to breathe and you were fighting gagging. When you felt like he might ease up, he instead pushed you down his cock as far as possible. You didn’t want to wiggle too much. The last thing you wanted was to throw up or actually choke. It lasted what felt like a long time, even if it wasn’t. Coughing, you tried to get the air back into your lungs when he let you pull from his cock. You couldn’t imagine you looked very pretty right now. Tears were developing at your eyes beneath the blindfold from nearly choking and he brought up a lot of spit.

“And now you have me ready for you,” Ray breathed, sweeping his thumb over the side of your face after he collected it again. Rewarding you with a lingering kiss, you knew by the sound that he made that he liked the taste of himself over you. Wincing, you felt him forcefully turn you over again bringing you to your knees. Fuck, he threw you around like a ragdoll and he really didn’t care how rough he was with you. This time you were rewarded with the sensation of his thighs pressing in behind you. Expecting him to just jump right into this was stupid. He didn’t jump right into anything. No, what followed was a firm smack over your bottom. It had you bouncing forward, but he brought you right back to him. God, it hurt. It hurt to the point that it reminded you of all the earlier spanks he did over your bottom previously. And then there was another. And then another. God, you were getting so wet from this. You shouldn’t have. Your ass was going to hurt later but having him spanking you had turned you on more than you ever thought possible. “Oh, honey. You are fucking soaked. I love that.”

Tracing his fingertips over the length of your sex, Ray hummed with your arousal coating his fingers. It sounded like it impressed him that you were actually turned on by this whole thing. There was silence and a lack of touch. You hated it. But you were too afraid to say anything in case he got upset with you. So you waited.

A moment later, you cried out when he led himself toward your entrance. He didn’t wait to thrust forward, sinking the swollen tip into your body. This wasn’t about comfort now. Swiftly, he thrust forward bottoming out inside of you. Filling you completely to the hilt. Involuntarily, you bounced forward, but he pulled you right back to him. He wasn’t going to let you off that easily. Fuck, he felt even bigger inside of you than he did when you were giving him a blowjob. It left you with an ache from the incredibly full, stretching sensation. Staying stagnant inside of you wasn’t helping. Wiggling your hips, you wanted some kind of movement. You needed it.

Tsking, Ray’s grasp on your hips grew tighter, not allowing you to move. You whined.

“Please,” you begged eliciting a disappointed breath. Palming up over the center of your back toward your shoulder, Ray’s fingers wrapped around your mouth to keep you silenced.

“I said no words,” he reminded you, pulling his hips back so it was just the tip barely inside of you. Then he smacked forward, filling you completely again. Gasping against the palm of his hand, your eyes slammed shut. You were feeling all of him. There was no question about that. “Now, I’m gonna take longer because you were bad.”

Smack. Another firm spank covered your bottom with his girthy length inside of you. Panting against his hand, you wished he would just fuck you. But you stayed still like he demanded of you. Yet, you couldn’t stop the tiny tremors that you had on your knees.

“Good girl,” he complimented you, releasing your mouth and returning his hand to your hips. The most delicious sounding moan escaped his throat. Even though he was trying to play a hard game with you here, he still was reacting to how snuggly he fit inside of you. “Goddamn.”

Good. This time you were glad that your pussy was effecting him in that kind of way. Wincing, you felt him pushing into your shoulders to get you to lower down closer to the bed. Not exactly was that the most comfortable of positions with your hands locked into place, but you did what you could. It left your ass in the air allowing him to grab firmly to your hips.

That’s when he finally gave in. At first it was slow movements. Very pronounced and drawn out. Every pull back was agonizing and every thrust forward had you bouncing up toward the headboard. Yeah, you were going to be feeling this tomorrow. Probably even the day after that.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Ray growled out, his fingers digging firmly into your hips helping to lead you over his fat cock time and time again. “I think you just might become my favorite toy to play with.”

So that’s what you were now. His toy?

Focusing more on that would have driven you crazy because soon his thrusts grew in both strength and speed. Now, he was wincing and moaning. Matching the sounds you were making. It was also nice because that ache was starting to mix with pleasure. It was strange how the two walked hand in hand.

“I knew the moment you walked into my court that you would be fun,” Ray boasted, hissing out with his rough thrusts behind you. It wasn’t long before he was plowing into you from behind. It led you further toward the headboard. Crawling forward had him matching your movements until you were up on your knees pressed firmly against the headboard. It gave your wrists a break, but with him on his knees pressed against you from behind it only enhanced the sensation of everything more. Ray’s nose was buried against the side of your neck, his hands holding tightly to your hips with him smacking up against you. Now he had you moaning like a bitch in heat. You wanted to grab onto something, but he was fucking you so masterfully that you honest to God felt like you were going to pass out. “You can say my name.”

Being given permission to speak? That wasn’t something you expected, so you happily took it. Whimpering out his name and moaning it between broken breaths. Which only seemed to fuel him even more.

“You were fucking made for me,” Ray’s arm hooked around the front of you, his fingers connecting with your clit which was already so sensitive. His touch was rough, matching that of his thrusts. The headboard was smacking against the wall helping you to realize just how hard he was fucking you. “Tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you didn’t have to fight him on that one. Ray bit at your jaw, his winces growing louder. “Jesus Ray.”

An amused rumble followed when he pulled his hips back with another wet sound erupting from your body. Falling in against the headboard, you sobbed with your whole body shaking. That one sent a rush throughout every part of you with an ache at your head that had you certain you blacked out for a moment. Your breathing was uneven with him yanking at your legs to pull you back down the bed. Getting you onto your back, Ray pushed into your thighs getting your legs up toward your chest.

Balancing his weight on his palms, Ray moved in over you and you liked the weight of him there. Hissing out, Ray thrust forward and he was inside of you again with one fluid movement. You enjoyed that he was a verbal lover. This wouldn’t have been anywhere near as good if he wasn’t. His moans were like music to your ears. When you heard it, you just wanted more.

Again the headboard was slamming against the wall. You were surprised that the bed nor the wall was breaking. This was the hardest fuck you had ever been given in your life, but you liked it. It was going to drain you and it would leave you aching, but you knew you’d be thanking Ray for it afterwards.

“Do you like squirting like a fucking fountain?” Ray breathed out, pushing himself in closer to you.

Fuck, you were too lost in this to even respond. The drag of his hand across the side of your face was felt followed by him firmly smacking at your cheek. Hissing in a sharp breath, you nodded and he chuckled, “I fucking love it.”

“Of course you do,” Ray lowered down enough to press a kiss at the tender flesh over the side of your face. Every plunge in this position felt that much deeper and he was hitting spots you wondered if you ever felt before with another man. “You fucking belong to me now. You understand that?”

You nodded. When he smacked at your face again, you knew that he wanted you to speak, “Yes. I’m yours. I don’t want to be anyone else’s.”

“That’s a good girl,” he rumbled, driving you crazy with the way his body moved inside of yours. Not to sound pathetic, but you actually did wonder if Ray had ever killed someone before because this was all very extreme and hard on the body. Of course, it wouldn’t be a horrible way to die. Being forced to have multiple earth-shattering orgasms was probably a good way to go for most people. “I want you to try something. Something that feels really good and I know from experience. I’m gonna make you come, but I’m going to be choking you. Is that okay?”

Shockingly, you nodded. Lowering your legs, Ray’s body covered yours, balancing his weight on his left arm. Wincing when his fingers curled around your throat, you felt only a soft pressure at first. You were surprised that he asked for your permission with this one, “If it gets to be too much, tap the headboard.”

One single nod was all it took for Ray to be back at pounding inside of you again. And that’s when his grasp tightened. It was firm and you wondered if you were going to be regretting this. By the sounds that Ray was making, you assumed he was close to his release too. Lifting your hips, you wanted to meet every thrust he made over you. You loved that deep penetration, especially with how full you felt with him. Having your hips lifted allowed the friction of his groin against your clit too which only made this whole thing enhanced.

Fuck, you were starting to get lightheaded. Maybe this was too much.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” Ray hummed against your ear and it sent chills throughout your body. “When I come, I’m going to fill you up with my cum. Paint the walls of your tight little cunt with my seed. Would you like that.”

With a tiny nod, you knew you couldn’t do much more. Especially since his fingers were wrapped so firmly around your throat. By now the ache was growing. Both in your head and in the pit of your belly. Something that resembled a gurgled moan was escaping your lips from the air that you still had. Your brain wanted to tap the headboard, but your body wanted this oncoming orgasm. With a wail, your whole body shook and Ray’s lips covered yours. Kissing you firmly and being very dominant with you. Even with your orgasm, his grasp didn’t let up. Things felt like they were fading, but you didn’t know since your world was already dark.

“Fuck…” Ray roared against your lips smacking firmly up against you, his fingers releasing your throat. Inhaling sharply had the air filling your lungs again and everything felt like it was spinning. Inside of you, you felt him throbbing. His release was warm with him bucking up against you through his orgasm. And by the time he was done, Ray had fallen in over you with his head buried against the side of your neck. Silence filled the room, you didn’t have the strength to speak or move. By the time he unhooked your wrists, you didn’t know if you even had any sensation left in your arms. It would likely take a while for it to come back. Ray’s fingers hooked with yours and you knew that his cock was growing soft inside of you. “Amazing.”

Pushing the blindfold from over your eyes did nothing at first. It took a while for your eyes to grow used to the dim light again, but by the time that your eyesight finally did come back, it made your heart skip a beat. Ray’s hair was messy and his body was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. It had the dark curls of hair sticking to the flesh of his torso.

“You okay?” Ray confirmed, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip which you happily kissed at. It made him smile and suck in a sharp breath of air. You nodded. “Good.”

Getting up on his knees, Ray pushed into your thighs watching closely when he pulled his cock from your body. The sensation of his cum sliding down your body was hard to miss and the smile he had over his handsome features told you that he enjoyed it.

“Give yourself some time,” Ray instructed, sweeping his thumb across your clit and it had your hips tremoring against him. An amused rumble escaped his parted lips when he pulled back and away from you. It was the first time you got to see his naked body and you actually appreciated the way it looked. Moving toward the bathroom, Ray reached for a wet hand towel to wipe himself off and your throat went dry looking at him. Rolling over onto your stomach, you were in absolute awe of him. Noticing that you were watching him had Ray’s smile growing larger over his features. Moving back into the room, Ray snatched his robe from the floor and pulled it over his naked form leaving it still open in the front. “You are so high off my cock right now.”

Pouring himself another drink, Ray took his time finishing that one down before moving in beside the bed again to lower himself beside you. Caressing over the lengths of your body, Ray hummed and nodded slowly, “I think this is gonna be the best business proposition of your life.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Leopard Skin #Ray Lasalle #Ray Lasalle x reader #Ray Lasalle x you #Ray Lasalle fanfiction #Leopard Skin fanfiction #kinktober 2024

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canonicallyobserving911 · 7 months ago

Text

Buddie: Eddie supports Buck in everything!

Here's one of the many reasons why Buddie is endgame!

One of the many things I noticed during the beginning scenes of 7x6 that heavily included Buck and Eddie was Eddie’s undying and never-ending devotion to Buck. He's always been like that so it wasn't a surprise to me but IMO, apparently, TM wanted the new viewers to see it too. Also, it was probably included as a reminder for those who've been watching but may have forgotten.

Here's what I mean.

Chimney clearly said he didn't want a bachelor party and he said it so EVERYONE could hear it, including Eddie.

But Buck was adamant about it and he wouldn't give up (in 5x2 Eddie said it to Buck that he never gives up and Buck learned that from Chris in 3x1 - 3x2 when they were talking before and after the Tsunami). Eddie knew Chimney didn't want one but he never dismissed Buck’s intentions of wanting to do something that he believed Chimney should experience. It's who Buck is and Eddie knows him to his CORE and so much so that he indulged him by not only suggesting they go as Crockett and Tubbs from Miami Vice but also he was the only one who complied with Buck's wishes and came in an 80s costume.

He was the first person there and he made sure Chris was cared for so he wouldn't miss it. And he was THE ONLY ONE IN ATTENDANCE WHO STAYED WITH BUCK ALL NIGHT. They partied like it was 1999!

Eddie’s love and support for Buck was on full display and it's what he needs in a life partner. Buck doesn't need someone who just wants to kid and son him and who doesn't support him in EVERYTHING the way his supposed LI is doing. T*mmy didn't even try to oblige him and his response was nonchalant and stand-offish like he thought it was ridiculous. Also, him being on standby didn't have anything to do with it since they have to CHANGE CLOTHES WHEN THEY GO TO WORK ANYWAY. Hello, they wear uniforms.

My point is Eddie’s still waiting for Buck to get it. He gave him his heart years ago but he's patiently giving him the space and the time he needs to realize it on his own. He's supportive and he doesn't dismiss him and most importantly, he loves Buck unconditionally and that's what makes BUDDIE THE SUPERIOR SHIP.

They have spent years loving each other and being there for one another and IMO, it's the reason why TM is putting them front and center in every episode. He said he was going to show their "coupling" (his word) and that's what he's doing. Anyone watching should be able to see they're PERFECT for each other. Also, there's no denying how much chemistry they have and they haven't even kissed yet. But trust when they finally do kiss on screen, it's going to be EVERYTHING because all the years they've spent loving each other will pour out of their hearts and they'll put their all into it. It will be the most satisfying of beginnings for them. They will be each other's last everything and they'll grow old and spend the rest of their lives together.

They've built a life and a family for the past six years that's based on trust, love and devotion and if the Diaz parents showing up in a future episode is any indication of what's to come, I believe Eddie's WILL is about to come into play in a big way and there won't be any room for Eddie to deny what it means. It was a love confession and he did it in the best way he knew how at the time. He loves Buck and Buck loves him and that's what matters.

They're in love with each other and they share something greater than a couple of on screen kisses since they've been sharing a life and a family for the past six years.

They're best friends.

They're soulmates.

I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE!

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bookuce · 4 months ago

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Fools Rush In

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know.

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: Language, Smut, 18+, NSFW

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER FOUR

The doors to the loft suite that Joe was staying in swung open to reveal the damp pair. Nessa enters before him, her eyes immediately shifting to the high ceilings above them. Her lips part, and she lets out a breath. “Wow,” she starts. “I have never been in a hotel room this big before.” She says, turning to face the large man behind her. He was dumping their clothes onto the L-shaped couch in the center of the suite. “Calling this a room would be an insult, right?” She asks, getting a chuckle out of him. “This is like a condo.” She corrects herself.

Joe glances briefly at the floor, an award-winning smile on his lips. “It can be whatever you want it to be,” He says humbly. “Room works.” He assures her. Vanessa turns away from him once more, now walking over to the wall of windows that overlooked downtown Miami. Reflections of lights below filled her eyes, brightening them more than ever. For the first time, she felt like a tourist in the city she’s known her entire life. It’s the same one she’s known for thirty-two years. Same buildings, same lights, same trees, same ocean, same night sky, but here, with him in this room, it felt different. Something felt different.

And he’d agree.

The dazzling smile he wore so perfectly melted as he watched her. He's now putting one foot in front of the other. He felt great turmoil as he slowly walked toward her. Though his mind was sure of what Joe was about to do, his heart was beating out of his chest. His head filled with the thunderous rhythm of his heartbeat, but the vigorous flutter made him feel like he was having an out-of-body experience. Perhaps he was.

Silence makes Nessa anxious, and it’s quiet behind her—a little too quiet. She turns, meeting his gaze for only a moment. His large hands were on her face, pulling her in for a grand kiss. Slowly, she sucked in a breath, her body finally catching up to what was happening. Her lips would move against his in that same passionate manner from before. Her hands find the center of his chest, her nails curving around the mounds of his collarbones as she felt him out. Her fingers curl against the thickness of his throat before her left arm takes the lead and wraps around his neck. His warm hands moved from her face, his knees bending as his palms quickly found the flesh of her under thighs. He hoists her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his thick torso with ease.

Her right-hand travels up his shoulder and down his back, capturing water droplets. His skin was feverish compared to the icy touch of his wet locks against her skin. Despite the contrasting temperatures, goosebumps developed, stimulating her.

Joe swayed slightly with this kiss, his equilibrium getting the best of him. He felt as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall into the unknown. He takes two steps forward, pinning the woman in his arms against the glass behind her. She breaks the kiss, a loud gasp leaving her lips as she arches off the chilled surface. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologizes frantically. His brown eyes were wide with guilt. He takes a few steps back from the glass. “Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” she promises. ��It just…startled me, that’s all.” She laughs slightly.

“Okay.” He nods once.

Silence fell on the pair as they searched each other’s eyes. Their chests quickly rose and fell as they recovered from that head-swimming kiss. Vanessa brings her free hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. Who was this man that had this beguiling hold on her? She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. God, how can one man be so attractive, and what could he want with me? She thought. “Can I be honest?” He asks as if he could read her mind.

Without a word, she nods, her eyes venturing down to his full lips. His lips appeared swollen and perfectly pink. “Would you…” He drifts off. Asking for sex was always awkward for him. “I mean, if you’d like?” He finishes. Consent was the number one rule of the game with Joe. He would do nothing she didn’t want him to do. If she just wanted to kiss all night, he would do that with no questions asked, no pressure given, but if she allows him to do this, he’ll make it an unforgettable evening for her.

He didn’t have to finish his words for her to know what he was asking. He wanted her, and the feeling was mutual. She could feel her temperature rising by the second, the fever that Joe was feeling transferring to her. She’d release her bottom lip from her teeth, her body nearly screaming at her to allow him to put out the blaze that he started.

Slowly, she leans down, letting her lips hover over his. “I’m here, aren’t I?” she murmurs. If it weren’t for the glasses of wine, she probably wouldn’t be here in this room. She’d be in an Uber on her way home by now, and he would have let her go. Liquid courage prevails for both parties. Nessa presses a teasing kiss to his bottom lip. “Take me.” She tells him, now gently kissing his top lip.

Joe elongates his neck, closing that toying gap between the pair. Their lips reconnect for the third time tonight, but only briefly. He reluctantly parted from her, his head turning as he did so. His eyes darted around the room as if he had forgotten where he was. Brown eyes landed on the stairs that lined the east wall, his legs carrying them over to it. He ascends the steps quickly, taking two steps at a time.

Nessa glances behind them, watching as they quickly leave the first floor. She giggles, her legs tightening around the man.“Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” She tells him. Joe stops at the top of the steps, a huff leaving his lips. His heart had an extra reason to soar thanks to the weighted cardio he had just endured.

“I know, I know,” He breathes. “I’m just…” He drifts off when she pulls back to look at him. The moment their eyes meet, his thoughts leave. “Just…”

“Excited?” She finishes. He lifts his eyebrows at her, considering her word choice. He presses his lips together, pushing them up into his nose.

“Something like that.” He murmurs.

Vanessa unwraps her arms from his neck, her small hands resting on either side of his face. He is one beautiful man, she thought. Though she wanted to tell him that, her brain would stop her. Joe is well aware of his beauty. He wakes up and looks at himself in a mirror every morning. Women probably jump at the opportunity to have his attention, and men likely envy him. Joe was undeniably handsome—there was no denying that. “Something like that.” She repeats. Her thumbs would brush over his cheekbones briefly before she leaned in to kiss him again.

Joe could find his way to the bed now. It was a straight shot back, ten steps, and he would be there. One, he thought as he took the first step. He takes the next step, counting silently in his head with each step he takes. Nine, ten—. The front of his thighs hit the edge of the bed, informing him he had reached his destination.

He leans over and presses Nessa into the soft bedding beneath them, their lips still attached. His hands slide up the curves of her hips, his fingers wrapping around the elastic of her underwear. He breaks the kiss, standing from her. Joe taps her left hip, silently requesting to remove her undergarment.

Without a word, Vanessa lifts her hips, allowing Joe to remove the damp panty clinging to her skin. He balls up the article of clothing and tosses it over his right shoulder. His hand would move between her legs, finding her warm, wet center. In response, she shivers at the feel of his hand against her. Two fingers would slide along her folds before slowly pushing into her. She sucked in a loud gasp as she squeezed Joe’s hips with her thighs, her back slightly arching off the mattress. He presses his right knee into the bed, leaning over her again.

Joe would kiss her lips to her cheek, trailing along her jawline, before burying his face in the softness of her throat. His thick fingers move slowly within her, pulling a scant breath from her with each thrust of his hand. He hungrily kisses her neck, biting and sucking to create little markings on her throat.

Wow, they were really about to do this. Despite both previously deciding not to pursue this course of action, they ultimately ended up in bed together. Hypocrites. Drunken, lustful hypocrites. Oh well, this will be a problem for tomorrow if they want to consider it one. Either way, the pair would have to address it.

“Joe,” she moans, her hips moving against his hand now. Her breathing gradually became labored, her body feeling like a fire was consuming it. She was bound to orgasm soon. It had been so long since the last time she had even cared to be intimate with someone, and this feeling she was experiencing was not containable. His hand would quicken in pace, drawing her closer and closer to her climax. “Wait, wait…” she panted. She squeezes his hips with her thighs once more, her hips tensing as she does so. Toes would curl against the edge of the bed as Vanessa pushed her hips further into the mattress.

Her walls begin to spasm around his fingers as she cums. “God!” She exclaims, relaxing into the bed once more. Joe lifts his head from her throat, his dark hair covering their faces. Her chest rose and fell as she attempted to catch her breath. That was...wow. Their eyes would lock with each other only briefly. Joe removes his fingers from her, causing her eyes to flutter at the sensation. He brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly lapping her fluids from them. He maintained eye contact, humming at the taste while he did this.

That was the hottest thing she had ever seen before. Heat settled between her legs again, followed by a swelling pulse. Vanessa flips them over, trading places with the man now beneath her. She sits up in his lap, her hands grabbing the bralette she had on. She tugs it over her head, tossing it to the side to join her underwear on the floor.

Dark locks would perfectly frame themselves around his face as Joe stared up at the naked woman above him. His tongue would drag along his bottom lip at the sight. The growing bulge in his boxer briefs was aching to be free from its fabric confines. His hands would find her thighs, his thumbs caressing the skin beneath the pads.

Nessa reaches forward, her hand wedging between the bed and the back of his neck. She pulls the man up to her, their lips colliding in a ravenous kiss. Joe wraps a strong arm around her waist, lifting off the bed slightly. His other hand was peeling the elastic band of his underwear down, freeing his lower half from the piece of clothing.

Without hesitation, Nessa reaches down between the pair. Her hand wraps around the shaft of his cock, positioning it at her entrance. She breaks the kiss, a shaky breath leaving her mouth as she lowers herself onto him. "Fuck," He breathes. Their foreheads gently pressed against each other in response to the feel. There was a moment of silence, broken only by the sound of soft panting as she started to move her hips.

Her head drops back, exposing her throat to the man beneath her. His warm breath tickled her neck as his lips grazed its surface. Joe shudders slightly before allowing that muscle within his mouth to taste her skin. Though they just left a saltwater pool, she was surprisingly sweet on his tongue. At this moment, he decided to make it a mission to taste every inch of her tonight.

And so he did. It was an unforgettable night indeed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As if someone shouted at her to wake up, Vanessa's eyes opened suddenly. Her gaze meets the high ceilings above her. She blinked a few times before slowly turning her head towards the figure she was lying in bed with. Joe was sound asleep beside her, his hair shielding his face from sight. Her eyes widened as she quickly looked away from him.

Oh God..., she thought, bringing her hand to her face. She pinches the bridge of her nose, gently shaking her head in disappointment. May the morning after regret commence.

Carefully, she begins to remove herself from the bed. Joe's arm was draped across her body, holding her in place like a clip. Delicately, Nessa grabs his forearm and lifts it, careful not to disturb him. She gradually shimmies from the comfort of the bed. Once out of his arms and the bed, Nessa skims the room for her underclothes. She spots them on the opposite side of the room.

She turned her attention back to Joe, watching him as she quietly made her way over to her bra and panties. She leans down slowly, her hands quickly snatching up the undergarments. Her heart beat thunderously in her chest as she peered behind her for the stairs. She descends them backward, keeping her eyes on the man sleeping peacefully in the bed on the second floor. Once he vanishes from her line of sight, she turns and rushes quietly down to the first floor.

It has been years since the last time Vanessa had snuck out of a stranger's home. Seriously, it was a sport she ditched after college. Once her feet touched the first floor, Nessa put on her underwear. "What the fuck did you do?" She whispers angrily to herself as she moves through the living room.

There was a dull aching behind her eyes from the alcohol she consumed the night before, and all the natural light pouring into this room was not helping her. Her clothes were draped over the back of the enormous couch that centered the room. She grabs the hoodie and sweatpants, quickly putting them on. Her phone was still in the deep right pocket of her pants. She fishes it out, immediately opening the Uber app. She needed to get out of here fast.

Her shoes were on against the wall next to the door. She slips them on, reaching for the door shortly after. With one last glance at the suite, she vanishes beyond the door.

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A/N: AHHHHHH IT HAPPENED! THEY FINALLY HAPPENED!!! There was so many people who wanted this to happen in the last chapter, but I had plans! Plans that involved writer's block for several weeks at a time lmao. I won't lie to you, I been getting my ass kicked mentally for like a month now. Hopefully, everything will start looking up soon. Don't worry, it's just work that's got me drained.

Shout out to one of my friends for spamming me with nothing but Roman pictures for 5 hours to force me to finish this lmao

🏷️ list: @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @headoftheetable @mzv11 @southerngirl41 @yana3sworld @wanderingreigns @wrestlingprincess80 @siriuslycee @vebner37 @astridxxxxxx @alichesmi @tshepisho @scarlettnoir01 @brokenglassslippers @reignsboy19 @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @sisinever @truefant4sy @paigereeder @tbmotw @fearlesschimera @venusesworld @usoholic @sageispunk @bebesobrielo @jstarr86 @vibessonvibes @issahyland @fandomphasess @evilli0s

#wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #Spotify

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

Text

Night of the Living Wish

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: The one that got away. Cursing, alcohol and alcohol consumption, self-doubt, Steve Murphy is Big Brother Energy, wish fulfillment, magic, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex in someone else's bed. Summary: Determined to put years of pining to an end, Steve and Connie invite you and Javier to their blow out Halloween costume party the year after returning from Colombia. With the help of some very special costumes, this party is set to be a night to remember. Notes: The first of two Spooky themed one-shots for our now-annual Spooktober celebration!

It took a while to get here, and you're not sure if you're slightly embarrassed about that or not. You've sent letters back and forth with Steve and racked up long distance bills calling Connie from California, but any kind of communication with your other partner in Texas has seemed like too big of a bridge to gap. That is, until you had gotten the card in the mail from the Murphys a month ago, inviting you out to Miami for Halloween weekend.

A big costume party with their friends is their excuse to invite you out to the east coast, and since you've just wrapped up a case pretty neatly, you don't feel bad about taking a few days off. You managed to find a costume shop on a side street while you were walking around the city earlier and deftly avoided having to settle for a murderous clown or anything involving a mask by finding a nymph costume in your size. Maybe a sexy costume wouldn't have been your first choice but it isn't bad, and now you're sitting in the back of a cab wrapped in your coat to avoid lewd comments from the driver on your way from the hotel down to the Murphy's house. It will be good to see Steve and Connie again. It will. Even if you're dreading not knowing if Javi will be there or not.

******

“A fucking Halloween party?” The drink in Javi’s hand doesn’t seem nearly stiff enough as he watches Connie bustle around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the trays of food to serve.

“You know you could help.” Steve huffs, work gloves on as he load a faux cauldron with dry ice in the center of the table in the living room.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Javi asks, smirking slightly as he holds out his arms. “In costume.”

“Hardly.” Connie rolls her eyes, albeit playfully. “You’re wearing your own clothes. Like that is an outfit you would just wear regularly. I had to ask if you even knew it was a costume party.”

“Hey….” Javi pouts and then pulls the glasses out of his pocket to open them up after setting down his drink. Making a show of putting them on. “Now.” He huffs. “Recognize me?”

“Manwhore Clark Kent.” Steve jokes as he swings through the living room making sure that all the decorations are in place. He even goes so far as to adjust the plastic spider in the white webbing over the kitchen door so it’s at the most optimum angle to creep someone out.

“Ah, no.” Javi points a finger at his old partner and then flips him the bird. “Life, uh, finds a way.” He quotes, having watched the movie more than a few times because he enjoyed it. Not because of this party.

Connie snorts, mostly at the impression, and takes a bite out of a carrot stick from the veggie platter before shaking her head at Javi fondly. “Jeff Goldblum is far sexier,” she teases. “And I still say that wearing your own clothes is cheating.”

He frowns, even though he loves Connie, it stings his pride that Jeff Goldblum is sexier. “Not everything is mine.” He protests. “The glasses and the fucking pimp necklace came from that costume shop.”

“Then I stand correction.” She was teasing just to make him pout, and now that she’s accomplished that goal she offers him a beaming grin instead. Messing with Javi is one of the delights missing from her life these days and she’s glad to see him. Steve is too, although he grumbles about it more. “You did very well, Jav. Excellent costume.”

“Thank you, Connie.” He scoops her up into his arms and kisses her cheek. “And you are a very sexy Queen Cleopatra.” He smirks. “Black hair looks good on you.”

“We thought it was a fun change of pace.” Steve - dressed as Marc Antony - throws his wife a wink. They had talked about doing a little Halloween-inspired role play and Connie wanted to change up her look a little just for fun. “No snakes though, baby. Those bad boys stay outside.”

“Really?” Javi grins. “You’d look really sexy with a big snake.” He teases, winking at her.

Undeterred, Connie just smiles. “That’s why I married Steve,” she tells Javi with a wink. “Biggest one I could possibly find.”

“That’s because you hadn’t met me yet.” Javi enjoys poking at Steve, watching the man huff and grumble under his breath. Not like he would admit to his wife that his partner had him beat in the dick measuring department.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Jav.” Connie laughs, only leaving the living room when the front door rings to go and open it. “Here we go!” She announces with glee. Whether it’s trick or treaters or party guests doesn’t matter. She’s just glad to have an active night tonight.

Javi picks up his drink again and takes a sip. It’s good to see the Murphy’s again. Especially since he wasn’t sure they would stay together the last time he had seen them. Swirling his ice around, he wonders if you are coming. Steve had told him that you were in California, but he hadn’t mentioned if you had been invited.

The door was a mix, and the sound of trick or treaters is quickly replaced with the first flood of party guests. Plenty of people that Javi doesn’t recognize all come into the house in a great wave of introductions, but there is one single recognizable voice right at the end. The high-pitched squealing isn’t enough on its own, but it’s very distinctly your voice that exclaims: “Oh my god, you look gorgeous!”

Javi swallows slightly, lifting his glass to his lips to down the rest of his whiskey. The sound of your voice bringing back the next to last time he saw you. An image he had thought about more than a few times over the past year. How close he had come to crossing that line with you. Looking towards the door, he sees your arms flung around Connie and your head covered in some kind of twisty crown thing made of plastic that looks like sticks and flowers.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You’re practically in tears over it, honestly, having missed your best friend dearly since she left Colombia ahead of her husband. That was a rough time and everyone was glad to see the hard portion of the Murphy’s road smooth out in time.

“I keep telling you to trade California beaches for Miami beaches.” Connie squeezes you once more before she pulls back to look at you. “Okay…what are you with the coat?”

“I didn’t want to give the cab driver an eye full,” you admit, and easily take off the long rain jacket that you had been covering yourself with. The ‘nymph’ costume is skimpy but not overly so, just very obvious about highlighting your tits and the skirt is hiked up to halfway up one thigh…because they can? You don’t quite understand it. It’s definitely not historically correct Greek clothing.

“Hot damn, mama.” Connie whistles. “Don’t you look sexy? Steve, doesn’t she look sexy?” Turning her head towards her husband, she grins when she sees Javi nearly choke on his own spit.

“I know you said costumes from your own clothing are cheating so I—” Already halfway out a justification for the choice, you freeze in the doorway to the living room when you see “Javi?”

“Hey, muñequita.” Javi shoots you a small grin. “Been a long time.” He shuffles forward and wraps his arm around you, still holding his empty glass. “How have you been?”

“Good.” Even a measly hug shouldn’t feel this good, but you tell yourself that it’s reasonable to miss your friends after not seeing them for so long. That it has nothing to do with what almost happened. “Busy. I’ve been busy. Just wrapped another case. How’s Texas?”

“Slow.” He rolls his eyes but he can’t deny that he’s a hell of a lot less stressed on the ranch. “Meant to call you, but by the time you’re off work, Pop is snoring in his chair and I’m wiped out.” It’s a lame excuse for why he could never pick up the phone to hear your voice, but it’s the one he will use.

“It’s fine.” You had assumed that his interest in you had waned, not being in the same place anymore, and tried not to take it too hard. Or too personally. “I was just undercover for six months anyway…”

“Really?” Immediately Javi frowns, not liking the sound of that. Undercover work is dangerous and he doesn’t know your partners now.

“Traffickers.” You shrug like it doesn’t matter because honestly? You had a hell of a lot worse in Colombia. “No big deal, it took a while to get in where I needed to be.”

“You got out clean.” His brows raise seriously. Despite the fact he hasn’t seen you in a year, he hates the way that his stomach rolls at the idea of you being undercover without him watching out for you.

“I’m fine, Jav. No knight in shining armour shit this time.” Not like last time. When he’d had to rescue you from an undercover stint under the guise of a sting. That was…ugly.

He doesn’t like it, but he trusts you. Knowing you wouldn’t lie to him about that. “Good.” He grunts and bites his lip. “Drink?”

"Fuck yes." You can't help but laugh at the offer. "I spent the entire cab ride fending off the driver. I deserve it."

“Wearing that, I’m not surprised.” He’s never seen so much skin on you, unless you count the night he was pulling off your- no. He can’t think about that. He wouldn’t survive tonight if he started thinking about that.

“I had a coat on,” you defend, knowing that you had worn one for exactly that reason. Some men just can’t help themselves. They have to comment — or worse. “But now you owe me a fancy drink,” you insist, falling back on your old habit of teasing Javi. “You can’t bust me about my costume when you showed up in your own clothes.”

“I didn’t show up on my own clothes.” He pouts as you obviously don’t recognize the genius behind his costume.

“You totally did.” The shake of your head is amused, though, and you nudge him toward the counter beside the kitchen where the Murphy’s have set up a bar. “I saw Jurassic Park, Jav. Just because you own the same clothes as Ian Malcolm doesn’t mean it’s a costume.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t wear these stupid glasses.” He reminds you. “Or wear a chain. Or a bracelet.” He holds up his wrist as proof.

“You bought accessories.” The grin you flash at his pouty annoyance is genuine and you grab a bottle of rum to shake in his direction. “Please, Jav?” You give him your best innocent eyes when she crosses his arms at you and motion to the whole bar of ingredients and mixers. “You make way better mojitos than I do.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs, but he snatches the bottle from you. “You can never make a decent drink, muñequita.” He teases you.

“Maybe not.” It’s so easy to fall back into old patterns with him. The teasing and natural flirting that you never even realized you were doing until Murphy had called you on it one night in a stake out. “But I open a mean beer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a necessary skill to have.” He smirks. Almost about to say something sexist but he knows you will punch him. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. See if Connie has some mint leaves.”

“I guarantee she does, because you’re here.” The only person who loves Javi’s mojitos more than you is Connie, so you are more than certain that she is prepared. “So what have you been up to?” Even a small lull in conversation is too much for you to consider, and you aim for small talk instead.

“Nothing but fixing fences and trying to keep my pop from killing himself.” Javi snorts, guiding you into the kitchen and over to the bar so he can make your mojitos.

“It must be nice to see him again.” At least you hope it is. You’d hate to think Javi’s been unhappy. Regardless of whatever did or did not end up happening between you, he was still your partner.

“Of course it is.” Javi moves with sure hands. Eyeballing the measurements and looking up at you. “Have you been liking California?”

“Sun, surf, and beautiful people. What’s not to like?” That’s what you keep telling yourself when you miss your friends — and Javi — during your day-to-day life. That there’s no reason not to enjoy California. But the truth is that you’re lonely despite being surrounded by people constantly.

“It’s too bright, the salt is shit and people are assholes.” Javi grunts, even though he wouldn’t mind going to see you on a beach.

“Well I guess I won’t invite you to visit, then.” You would have been too nervous to offer anyway, but at least this way it’s about teasing and you can hide that you’re a little disappointed about it.

Javi frowns, hearing the hurt in your voice and he doesn’t know what to say. “I wouldn’t mind it.” He confesses. “Women in thong bikinis are never a bad thing.” He wonders if you have one and if you wear it to the beach. Reminding him of when he was pulling- no. He can’t think about that.

“Then Miami will be perfect for you.” If all he cares about is ogling women in bikinis? He can stay right here in Florida for that. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skirt chasing by actually wanting to see you.”

He frowns even more, obviously having put his foot in his mouth again. “Muñequita….” He sighs and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“It’s fine.” You promise him, trying to act breezy when he hands you your drink and your fingers brush by accident. Sparks are not breezy, but you’re certain they’re one sided. “I shouldn’t have presumed. Anyway, um…thanks. For the drink.”

“No--" Javi is tired of the missed communication between the two of you. “I’d want to see your bikini.” He admits. Feeling bolder than normal around you. It’s easy with women he doesn’t care about. Respect, sure. He respects all women, but he cares about you. “Been trying to not think about those panties I had in my hand when the phone rang a year ago.”

“Oh.” That hadn’t been what you expected to hear in response, so when you pause it’s with your mouth half open and the glass at your chin. “I…” You’ve thought about that night every single day since, and it hasn’t gotten any easier to stomach the memory. “I wish I hadn’t picked up,” you confess quietly, setting the glass down again.

“Just would have fucking called again.” Javi snorts. “I was going home, one way or another.” He pours himself another whiskey. “Just glad I didn’t drag you two down with me.”

It was supposed to be a game. Javi had told you to pick up the phone with fire in his eyes, intent on making you cum while you carried on a conversation with whoever was on the other end. Thankfully in the end you had been able to convince the ambassador that you were only at Javi’s place for a post-work drink and you hadn’t been kicked off the case. “No…no, we finished it…” you sigh, knowing it should have been Javi to take the bastard down.

“Proud of you for that.” Javi tells you. “Watched every day news report when it came out. Even kept the paper that had your pictures in it.”

“It should’ve been you.” That has always been the private consensus between you and Steve. It should have been Javi on that roof with you.

“I fucked up.” That will never be something that he tries to shift blame on. He knew he was playing with fire. When he got burned, he accepted it. “I would have been there if I could. But it doesn’t take away from what you did.”

“We finished what you started.” For you it’s as simple as that, and you finally take a drink after shrugging your shoulders. “Fuuuck that’s good. I missed having my own personal bartender.”

He snorts and takes another sip of his own drink. Preferring to keep his own simple, he did enjoy making cocktails for you and Connie. Ignoring the way that Steve had teased him about a secret desire to be a bartender. “Glad you enjoy it. You’ll be hammered in no time.” He teases.

“Maybe I won’t mind the cabbie hitting on me all the way back to the hotel,” you snort, taking another long sip of the drink. Though you might wish that night a year ago had gone differently, it didn’t. You and Javi never got to take that next step, and now you probably never will.

Javi glowers, mumbling under his breath about that being bullshit as he takes another drink. Ten minutes with you and he’s already feeling possessive.

“Is it?” That’s news to you, but at least it’s not you and you alone who’s still sore about what happened between you.

His dark eyes slide over to you and he stares at you for a moment. “You want to be hit on by some cabbie?”

“No.” The way he’s looking at you makes you feel positively fucking naked, and not in a sexy way. Like Javi’s once again figured out how to look into your soul. “But if I was drunk I might not mind as much. Sometimes empty compliments are nice.”

“Empty compliments are just that, empty.” Javi steps closer to you, the ice in his glass clinking together. “You deserve real compliments.”

“Those have been pretty hard to come by over the last year.” Which is probably for the best, if you're honest. You’ve focused on work and enjoyed the photos of your sister’s family up in Oregon when she sends them every few weeks. In return, you send your niece and nephew goodies from California in a monthly care package. It was tough being undercover now that you have that relationship back. But it’s been tougher missing Javi. “One guy I knew used to give them out like candy. I never knew he meant them until it was almost too late.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Javi snorts, shrugging slightly. “Most guys are when they realize they aren’t good enough for what they want.”

“Oh, bullshit.” You roll your eyes at him. “You were the single most sought after bachelor in the whole damn country. Nobody was out of reach.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to fuck someone and be with someone.” He murmurs quietly. “A big difference. Finding out you aren’t worthy of a woman is a humbling thing.”

Having been sipping steadily at your drink this whole time, you stop when you realize what he’s saying and put the empty glass down on the counter. “So it wouldn’t have just been a fling?” That question has itched at you for ages, and having an answer for it is both relieving and disappointing. Knowing you were moments away from having him - all of him - makes you wish all over again that you could have not picked up that phone.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Javi doesn’t give you an answer, aware that despite everything, you never reached out to him either. You had been the one to immediately promise to be there and start putting your clothes back on. Obviously regretting what was about to happen. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Sure. Right. Why would it?” Instantly you wish the glass was full again, and you groan internally. This is the guy you’re still hung up on? Really? The least emotionally available man in all of the Americas and he is the one your heart is set on. What a joke — and it’s entirely on you.

He’s still a little bitter that every time a call was for him, it wasn’t you. It was Steve. “Yeah.” He drains his glass and sighs. “Gonna go back out there.”

“Awesome.” You’re gonna go pour more rum in your glass and hope there’s still flavour left in the sugar-muddled mint, then see if any of Connie’s friends are hot. After the left turn your conversation with Javi just took, you could use a couple of empty compliments just to feel human again.

The fact that the conversation went right where he wanted it to and then took a hard left turn pisses him off. His jaw clenched as he walks back into the room, he considers leaving. He doesn’t want to watch you get plastered and giggly. Especially wearing that little costume you’ve got on.

“There you are.” Steve Murphy’s large, pale hand claps down on Javi’s shoulder just as he’s considering running, and he smiles as jovially as always. “Thought you’d gone extinct on us,” he jokes, immediately laughing at his own bad reference.

“I’m gonna head out.” Javi tells his old partner. He doesn’t want to get in the way of your good time and he doesn’t want to remember what almost happened a year ago.

“Noooo. No, you’re not.” Fixing him with a stern look, Steve crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside Javi. “What happened? You guys were hitting it off again. There were practically sparklers going off.”

“Same shit.” Javi shrugs. “She’s not gonna have a good time while I’m here. I’ll just- swing by tomorrow.”

“She asks about you every time we talk,” Steve offers, his expression softening measurably. “She mentioned you at least twice a day every single day we were still in that shit hole. That woman is deeply in love with you and Connie set this whole thing up to get you two in the same room again.”

“Except I pay her compliments and she thinks I’m blowing smoke up her ass.” Javi grumbles. “Takes every fucking thing I say out of context.”

“Maybe be a little more forthcoming this time?” Like a cosmic big brother, Steve is ready and willing to give advice even when unsolicited. “I know you gave her the bullshit about not being good enough for her.”

“It’s fucking true.” Javi snorts. “I fucking got kicked out of Colombia, remember?”

“You’re missing the point, Peña.” Steve shakes his head in exasperation. “You don’t get to decide if you’re good enough for her or not. Only she does. So stop throwing yourself a goddamn pity party and actually let her have a say in her life.” When he shrugs again, he’s smirking. “If you still love her, I mean.”

“Pendejo.” Javi hisses, hating how raw that single comment makes him feel. “Fuck you for that.” He shakes his head and turns around to stomp back into the kitchen.

When Javi reappears you're standing by the fridge, forced into polite chitchat with a couple that Connie works with at the hospital because they came into the room while you were staring at the photo of you, Steve, Javi, and Connie from a rare night off in Colombia. They have it pinned to the fridge with a magnet and you were standing there mooning over Javi's arm being around your waist when you got ambushed by extroverts.

Javi doesn’t comment on the way that the couple are set on either side of you. Walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. Hating that things have gotten so complicated. He had meant to apologize, to explain why he hadn’t called, but he had managed to piss you off.

The best you can do is hope to catch his eye across the kitchen while one of Connie's fellow nurses talks at you about whatever soap opera she's been watching lately that you mistakenly admitted to recognizing the name of. You desperately need a rescue but can't even get a word in edgewise to excuse yourself from the deluge.

He isn’t going to look over at you. He had promised himself that he would leave you alone. Despite what Steve said, you had made your feelings clear. So he’s berating himself when he glances over to find you giving every ‘get me out of here’ signal you can give. “Hey baby, there you are.” Javi hums, walking towards you to save the day.

It doesn’t even matter that he’s playing the fake boyfriend card, although that does make your heart ache a little. You’re just grateful to be able to use the moment as an excuse to break away from the droning soap opera fan for a minute. “I was just getting to know some of Connie’s coworkers,” you explain, gladly and easily welcoming him into your side with an arm around his waist when he strides over.

“Don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” Even though he’s giving an apologetic look, he’s already turning you away. Never one to really be all that nice unless he wants something with strangers and they don’t look like people he would want anything from.

"Awe, of course not." Even thought the woman who has been talking at you looks disappointed, she smiles sweetly. "She'd been looking at that picture of you guys and now I see why. Missin' her fella."

“Yeah.” He doesn’t comment further, just pulling you close as he guides you away. “Were they as bad as I think they were?” He asks quietly as you both walk out of the kitchen.

“Honestly? I think I blacked out for a second there.” Your laugh is relieved, though, and you have to swallow the sigh that wants to bubble out of you at having him close again. “Thanks for the rescue. I guess I do still need the occasional knight in shining armor moment.”

“It looked painful when I saw you.” Javi admits. His fingers dig into your hip slightly. “And I’ll come to your rescue whenever you want.”

Face to face with him again, you feel that knot of guilt twist in your stomach again and swallow a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you murmur, when the two of you come to a stop against one wall of the crowded living room. “I should have.”

“It was better that you didn’t.” Javi tells you. “For your career. You don’t want to be associated with me. My name is dirt.”

“I don’t actually give a shit,” you tell him with a shrug, leaning against the wall and a little against his side. “If nothing else…even if nothing had happened? I still care about you. And I should have called.”

“I picked up the phone a dozen times.” He admits quietly.

“We’re such a fuckin’ mess.” Laughing at yourself makes it slightly better, even if the whole situation still makes you ache.

“Cautious.” Javi prefers that. “We know how hard it is to be in a relationship with our - your - job.” He reminds you, nodding towards the living room. “Almost broke up the best damn couple I know.”

His hand is still at your waist, his shoulder firm beside your head, and lean into him that much more without even meaning to. “Does that mean it’s not worth trying?” You ask, actually voicing the question that’s been in your mind for longer than you came to admit.

“I never said that.” He mumbles, turning and staring at you somberly. While he might think that you deserve better and shouldn’t get involved with him, he respects you enough to let you chose your own path.

“I…kinda hate California,” you admit quietly, although a smirk has reached your lips. “I know that’s sacrilegious and everybody’s supposed to love LA, but I…asked to be transferred out of Graceland.”

“Where are you planning on going, muñequita?” He asks, his thumb rubbing your side as he continues to hold you close.

“I’m not sure yet.” Between his warmth and more than a little bit of rum, you feel soft and as best to relaxed as a government agent ever gets. “Gonna stay on the border to stay most helpful, I know that for sure.” You bite the corner of your mouth and look up at him. “I was thinking…maybe Texas.”

“Yeah?” Javi’s brow shoots up and he looks over at you. “Any reason why?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

"Depends." You could swear there is hope in his eyes, and it twists your stomach like a knot. "If I tell you the truth are you gonna deflect or are you gonna accept it?"

“All things are plausible with Chaos Theory.” Javi changes his voice to sound like Ian Malcom and shoots you a grin.

"Jav--" Despite snorting a laugh at the dead-on impression, you shake your head. "I'm serious."

“You’ve already done it.” Javi rationalizes. “So tell me why you did.”

Suddenly the reasoning seems so small. It isn't the grand romantic gesture that you imagined when you had signed your transfer request, it's awkward and presumptuous and full proof that you got in over your head with him. Like that first kiss you shared broke the seal on your reasonable thinking or something. "Because..." A slight shiver shakes through you and you know it's just nerves but it's fucking embarrassing, so your voice drops to even lower and quieter than before. "--I still love you."

The confession hits Javi square in the chest, warming him inside and out. Especially sweet because you know of his past, you were there while he was living it out. “That’s good.” He murmurs, his lips curling up. “At least we will both get the ‘I told you so’ from Steve and Connie.”

"How so?" Javi has dozens of quirks to his smiles, and this one is equal parts pleased and full to the brim with mischief. This is the Javi who dragged you out to a club in the middle of Medellín to dance the stress out. The Javi who picked your apartment door's lock to be waiting there with a bottle of whiskey and a container of soup the one and only day you were too knock-down drag-out sick to function at work.

“You don’t think that this isn’t a grand scheme to get us together?” Javi asks, smirking as he looks around the party. “I bet that they have a bet going on how long it will take for us to disappear.”

"They didn't even tell me you were coming," you point out, amused at the idea of your friends plotting for you, but not entirely convinced. "For the record, I would have found a much skimpier costume if I had known you were coming."

“How much fucking skimpier could you go?” He asks, sliding his hand down about five inches to the edge of your hem.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The smirk on your lips is borderline evil, but his hand on you makes you feel daring.

“Shit.” He hisses between his teeth. “Good fucking thing I’m not carrying a gun right now. I’d kill the fucker that tried touching you.”

"That's awfully territorial of you, Peña." Especially since you've spilled your guts to him and he hasn't said how he feels one way or the other, but you're not trying to get a marriage proposal or anything crazy.

“I’ve always been protective.” He reminds you. Leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours. “Especially those I love.”

"Yeah?" It would only take about a half a tilt of your head to kiss him like this, but you know once you cross that line again - at least tonight - you're not going to be able to stop yourself. And the Murphy's living room floor in the middle of a party of people isn't exactly where or how you dreamed of finally being able to be with Javi for the first time.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, sighing softly. “Muñequita.” He begins, stopping and smiling. “Do you know why I called you that all this time?”

"Because I'm adorable like a little doll?" Honestly, you had never bothered to ask, just accepting the term of endearment at face value and reveling in any small bit of intimacy you could grasp between the two of you.

“My pop used to call my mom that.” He admits quietly. “His ‘poppet’.”

“Javi…” He so rarely talks about his mother that you never could have known, and you all but melt against him right there and then. “That’s—its so sweet, I almost can’t stand it.”

“They were sweet.” Javi chuckles. “Pop is a hardass. Gruff, stoic, but ma? She was his poppet, his muñequita, and he loved her until the day she died.” He shrugs. “Loves her now. And she’s been gone for fifteen years.”

“Sounds like a love story worth aspiring to.” Somehow your hand has ended up in his at your side, and you tangle your fingers together experimentally only to feel them slide into place with ease as he lets you in.

“When you arrived and I got to know you,” he sighs. “It just seemed natural.” He knows that he holds a lot back, that he doesn’t talk but it’s hard to articulate.

“I was so sure you hated me for like the first few months I was in Colombia.” Javi’s standoffish behaviour and gruff comments hadn’t exactly read as friendly, but slowly you realized that that was just him. And once you understood that it was a hell of a lot easier to let things roll off your back.

“Never hated you. Wanted to fuck you.” He admits easily. He’s a man who enjoys sex and engaged in it as often as he could. Of course the pretty new agent coming in would catch his attention.

“Yeah that wasn’t how it came off at all,” you snort, able to laugh about it now that years have passed and so much has changed.

“It wasn’t supposed to come off that way.” Javi admits. “Didn’t want those assholes in the office to think that you were less than a top tier agent.” He knows the reputation he had crafted down in Colombia, and he knows what it could have done to your own reputation if he had shown interest. So he had kept his distance.

“More knight in shining armor behavior?” You tease, knowing that it isn’t quite the same.

“Self preservation.” He snorts. “They’d make a crack about what position they wanted to put you in, I’d be in the ambassador’s office for shoving a gun up their ass.”

“You probably shouldn’t be around the guys in the LA office, then.” It’s part of being a working woman in a field that’s considered for men, and you knew that going in. You ignore the comments and do your work, making sure to keep your nose clean and your paperwork immaculate. But the comments get made all the same.

“Assholes.” Javi rolls his eyes. “I fucked a lot, but how often did I talk about it?”

“You didn’t need to.” The smirk on your face says it all. “We all saw the secretary’s faces the next day.”

“Still didn’t brag.”

“No, you didn’t.” You have to agree to that. Javi may be an absolute rake, but he’s a respectful one.

“So what do we do now?” Javi asks, feeling like he is in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how you really want to do this, or what exactly you want from him.

“Hell if I know.” There is a nervousness through both of you that would be a lot more nerve wracking if you weren’t both scared. At least that puts you in equal footing. “I feel like we’re a hell of a lot better at cracking jokes and deflecting than we are at talking through shit.”

“Why would we talk about feelings?” Javi scoffs playfully. “Right now, I think you need another mojito.”

“Trying to get me drunk, Peña?” Even teasing him, you still lean into his side and let him lead you back toward the kitchen. The door to that conversation is open for later, and maybe you actually won’t be too afraid to have it now. But for right now? It’s a party. And he’s right — you need another mojito.

“So I got this amulet at the cutest little costume shop.” The wife out of the couple has picked out another victim as she holds up her necklace. “The shop owner was kidding, but he told me that I could have my greatest desire if I just wished it!”

“Oh my god!” Gasps the woman she is now talking to, who clearly is completely on board with the story. “What would you even wish for?”

“Right now?” She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know? A pizza? Yeah. I wish for a pizza.”

You roll your eyes discreetly at Javi and happily let him lead you over to the bar, but it does strike you as a fantastic coincidence when the door bell rings mere seconds later and you hear “Pizza delivery!” Called out from the front porch of Steve and Connie’s house.

“Who ordered pizza?” Steve calls out as he rushes towards the door. He hadn’t ordered it, but even if it was kids playing a prank, pizza sounds amazing right now.

The two women wander out of the kitchen looking bewildered and you throw Javi a smirk. “Weird ass coincidence.”

“That is a weird ass coincidence.” Javi muses. “Unless she ordered the pizza.”

“Already that drunk so early in the night?” You snicker softly. “That’s how you know it’s a good party.”

“Or to make whatever gullible sap she got her hooks in believe that wish thing.” He huffs.

"You don't believe in wishes?" The pout you throw him is adorable as he rolls his eyes at you and takes your glass to make you a new drink.

“I’ll believe it when shit like that actually works.” He grumbles as he starts to mix another mojito.

"Maybe if you wish out loud like she did, it will work." His generally disgruntled self makes you sunny, and that contrast has always been one of the thing that amused you about how you and Javi work together.

“Yeah?” Javi snorts in amusement as he looks up at you with an arched eyebrow. “I wish you’d show me your tits.” He teases.

There's no one in the kitchen with you, and that's the key. You quickly look around to make sure that no one is even by the door, and when you can see that everyone is at least six feet away with their back to the kitchen you slide the wide straps of your dress down your shoulders to expose your breasts -- all the while keeping one watchful eye on the other partygoers and the other on Javi.

He damn near drops the glass, he’s so shocked that you’ve flashed your tits at him. Mouth hanging open even after you’re pulling your dress back up. “You—”

"What?" You giggle evilly, tucking yourself back into your dress before anybody else can see. "I made your wish come true."

“Muñequita.” He breathes, shaking his head. “That’s cheating. The real wish would have been true if somehow your dress had ripped outside of your control.”

The crackling in the air is unexpected, but definitely not more expected than the tearing of fabric that happens immediately after. The seams rip haphazardly but they give way all at once, splitting your dress in half and exposing the skimpy lingerie you managed to wiggle into underneath. It happens too fast to react right away, but a second later you gasp and are too stunned to even think of covering yourself.

“Santa mierda.” Not particularly religious, Javi’s eyes are immediately looking up and then around to see if there is something that could have caused that. “I—”

"What the hell?!" When your hands finally catch up to your mind, you pull the shredded edges of your dress together with wide eyes. The effort to cover yourself is slightly in vain, though. It was a very skimpy dress.

“I didn’t- what the fuck just happened?” Javi demands, even as he’s moving towards you and reaching for the edges of your dress.

"Beats the fuck out of me, but I definitely need something else to wear now." If you weren't so confused you would probably be laughing your ass off. Standing in the Murphy's kitchen is not how you imagined your dress getting torn open with Javi pressed against you.

“What do you want to wear?” Javi moves so he is blocking your body from view if anyone comes in. “We can go get something out of Connie and Steve’s room.”

"I'll go grab one of Connie's old dresses if you just go and tell her what happened." How he'll possibly manage to explain it is beyond you, but right now you're more focused on remembering the layout of the Murphy's little ranch house so you don't stumble into Olivia's room instead of finding your way to Connie's closet.

Javi shakes his head, thankful that there is another door leading out into the hallway for you to try to keep from being seen. He heads out towards the living room and over towards the costumed Cleopatra. “Hey, Con, uh….so muñequita’s dress ripped and she’s gonna borrow something out of your closet. That’s okay, right?”

“What?” Connie turns around to find Javi’s face full of confusion and maybe even concern. “Yeah, of course it is! What happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” He admits. “It just…ripped apart.” She’s giving him a look that doubts what he’s saying, but how does he explain this without sounding completely crazy. “I told her that my wish would be for her dress to rip open and it just…did.”

The dubious expression on Connie’s face is obvious, and she raises one eyebrow. “Like…magic?”

“Like fucking magic.” Javi huffs, knowing it sounds crazy.

Dubiousness goes to skepticism and Connie snorts. “You got hands in the kitchen and ripped her costume? It’s fine, Javi. But now Steve owes me a fancy dinner out.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t fucking touch her.” He knows she won’t believe him, but he’s still trying to sort out exactly what had happened.

“Jav, it’s fine.” The shit eating grin on her face is just because she’s glad for her friends, it really is. “I would offer you the guest room but my sister has already called dibs on it for the whole week.”

He groans, rolling his eyes since it’s not even worth trying to tell her again. “Just- be careful about wishing for shit tonight.” He warns her before walking back to the back of the house where the bedrooms are.

“Connie?” Expecting to see her head pop around the corner, you quickly realize that the footfalls are too heavy to be hers. “No. That’s not Connie, that’s Javi.”

"Hey." Javi knocks on that almost closed door. "It's me." He murmurs. "Can I come in?" He doesn't know what the fuck is going on but he wants to make sure that you are okay.

“Of course.” Now wearing an old pair of Connie’s scrubs with your gold flats, you just look like a nurse who makes poor shoes choices. “You okay? Or are you still…shaky?”

"Shaky?" Javi pushes the door open and slips inside. "Who the fuck was shaky?" HIs scoff isn't nearly as derisive as it should have been, but he glowers at you in concern.

“Or was that just being too excited to see what panties I had on?” He isn’t going to give up his nerves, apparently, so you switch to teasing instead.

"I can find better ways to see what kind of panties you have on." That makes him smirk and his eyes slide down to admire the way you fill out those scrubs. He relaxes because it seems like you aren't hurt so his shoulders roll back slightly.

“Maybe I’ll wish for you to show me,” you hum, moving across the room to sink into his arms.

The urge to have you washes over him. Burning hotter than any other impulse he's ever had. Completely overriding every thought that might have been present and making his arms wrap around you tight as his mouth descends on yours with a hunger that has him groaning.

It hits you like a freight train, the way Javi’s need seems to be all-encompassing, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss when he wraps you up against him. It’s exactly the way you remember it from a year ago, but maybe a little more abrupt. You seem to remember Javi being a little bit smoother last time. But since when do you mind enthusiasm?

Determined to touch you as quickly as possible, Javi starts to push you back towards the large, king-sized bed that dominates the room. Not even thinking about how it would piss Steve off if he fucked you on his bed. If he had been thinking about it, he would have done it on purpose, but right now he just wants to touch you.

“Javi!” Even as he’s pushing you back on the bed, every thought has left your mind. He’s the reason you came here and the reason you’ve been planning on changing your life and this is finally happening so you’ll send Connie some apology flowers later and move on with your life. His hands squeeze and grope your body as he doesn’t even let go to get you on the bed. It’s like he can’t let go of you. “Cariño?” Something in his mannerisms change, and even though his kiss is every bit as insistent as you remember, his touch is different. It’s…like his hands are glued to you. When you pull back he sounds pained more than anything else. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He grunts, rocking his hips forward and it’s insane, crazy, but the words come out of his mouth. “Tell me to show you what I’ve imagined.” He begs softly, his teeth scraping over your jaw. “Wish it.”

Does it really work? And does it work like that specifically? Or is it just tonight’s token sex game? Either way, your body is far too deeply on fire for you to argue. “I wish you would show me what you’ve imagined.”

It’s a fucking relief to be able to touch more of you. To be able to move to start to immediately strip off the clothes you had just put on.

“Fuck—” As strong and sure as he usually is, Javi is even more determined tonight. Like every movement is being commanded. “Don’t rip anything,” you warn him with a grin.

“I’ll pay Connie for the outfit.” He groans, not caring what he rips as long as he gets to touch you. Fingers curling under the band of the scrub bottoms and peeling them off of you along with your panties.

You scramble backward on the bed as soon as your pants are gone, forcing Javi to climb on with you and sprawl across your body like he’s trying to block out the light. “We’ll be buying them a new comforter, too.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Javi groans, hands sliding under the shirt so he can push it up over your head and see your tits again.

“Goddamn, Javi.” His mouth is on your skin in an instant, hot and wet and searching, making sure you have to clamp one hand down over your mouth to keep from moaning too loudly and alerting the rest of the party.

Now he’s playing out every fantasy he’s ever had of you. Rocking his hard cock against your core while he bites and licks at your tits through the thin material of your bra.

“I swear to god if a phone rings anywhere I will break it in half,” you groan, one hand threaded through Javi’s curls to tug at his hair while he devours your tits and the other trying desperately to maneuver enough to unbutton his shirt in the meantime.

He doesn’t even try to move. Too focused on you so he can hear you moan his name like you had when he was about to fuck you the last time. He’s jerked off thinking about that moan for the last year.

You’re practically tearing his own clothes away. Whatever you can get your hands in while you’re flat on your back is getting pulled open and shoved aside so you can get him as stripped down as you are, and when that doesn’t get you very far you shiver your hands behind your back and strip away your bra to let him at every inch of your skin.

Groaning, Javi attacks your tits with renewed enthusiasm. Mouth recovering every inch of skin he had just mapped. Enjoying the warmth of your skin even more.

He's like a man starved, and you genuinely have to wonder if he's gone as crazy over the last year as you have. It's been torture being apart from him, and maybe it really is the same for him because it feels like Javi is trying to burrow under your skin right now. "Baby." The only coherent thought in your head is that you want more, and you hope you can manage a full sentence. "I need you, Javi. Please."

Huffing against your skin, Javi releases your nipple and starts to kiss down your stomach. Not willing to just rush into sex even though the house is full of people. He’s going to show you what he imagined.

He's disarmingly methodical. Taking you apart piece by piece and making sure that you're not only aching but actively begging for him by the time he settles himself between your legs. It's where he belongs, dammit, and right now you need him more than breathing.

Your scent is heavy in his nostrils. Getting richer as he shuffles to spread your legs wide enough to fit his shoulders through. “Fuck.”

"Not yet," you giggle but the sound is breathy and deep in your chest. "You do whatever you want with that mouth of yours, first."

“Always thought about this.” He admits, nuzzling your thigh and then biting it. “I like licking a cunt, and thought about what you would taste like.”

A shiver rolls through you with each nip to your skin and your hips tilt down, dripping pussy begging for attention. "Time to find out."

Javi licks his lips and groans. Ducking his head down and opening his mouth to devour your pussy with the first long lick. Eyes rolling back in pleasure at the wet heat of your tangy essence.

"Oh my fucking god." Even as hard as you're trying to be quiet, there are some things in life worth being vocal about. Javier Peña eating your pussy is definitely one of them. His arms wrap themselves around your thighs and once more your fingers twine into his curls to keep him close.

His own eyes flutter in pleasure as he carves a path through your folds with his tongue. Indulging in giving pleasure rather than taking it. While he had made sure partners enjoyed themselves, this was honestly for him.

His grip keeps you from squirming, only making sure that your hips stay on the bed while Javi begins to methodically take you apart one lick at a time. If this is what he has wished for, for who knows how long? You're absolutely going to enjoy being on the receiving end of all of those pent-up fantasies.

His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as your legs threaten to close every time he swipes his tongue up and down your pussy. Feeling your ass clench under you and his eyes slide down to watch your tits shake as you quiver.

Every swipe of his tongue hits something exquisite inside you, twisting and pulling at that coil at the base of your spine that is always tingling with the impending need for release. Gasping and moaning his name as quietly as you can with so much pleasure hearing your blood, your nails scrape the base of his skull as you get closer and closer to cumming.

Javi’s eyes close when you scratch his head, shuddering in response to the pleasure. Groaning into your folds and worshiping at the alter of your cunt as he feasts and sips your juices.

Fingers tangling more determinedly with every second, you know how close you are. How loud you’re going to end up being if you don’t keep your mouth shut. So you slap you hand over your mouth and bite your lip, tugging on Javi’s hair that much harder to spur him on.

Javi hisses, twisting his tongue around your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. His nose buried into the thick folds protecting your sensitive flesh as he wills you to cum for him.

So close you're about to rocket off the edge of pleasure, a thought rolls through your mind that you let out instantly, wondering what will happen. "Wish it," you moan, so close you're nearly sobbing. "Wish for me to drench your tongue, Jav."

Right now he couldn’t even speak, so his wish is in his mind. Begging for you to come apart for him, needing to see it.

From that moment it’s as if you are being moved — guided — by the hands of Fate. Or, possibly more accurately, thrown off the precipice of pleasure like a chess piece being forcibly ejected from its game. There is no one to catch you but Javi, as you pant out his name in muffled ecstasy, but that is all you need. Just him, ready to drown himself in every drop of cum he can wring from your body.

He drags you hips closer, groaning as he feels the force of your reaction to him, to this. Curling his tongue up inside you as your thighs press against his head and squeeze.

Barely shy of screaming his name as you fall apart, the giggling puddle of a person you become when you finally stop shaking is downright comical. “Goddamn,” you manage to huff out, panting to catch your breath.

A few more licks before he’s satisfied, Javi smirks as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked cunt. “What’s wrong, muñequita? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re the one with your tongue in my pussy,” you quip with your wit since your body is now basically useless.

He snorts and indulges himself with biting your thigh like he’s imagined hundreds of times. “Sure fuckin’ did.”

“I didn’t pull too hard, did I?” The fingers that you still have in his hair smooth of his scalp to soothe any burn that might be left behind.

“No.” Javi still needs to touch you, show you what else he’s thought of and starts to lick and kiss up your body. “Not hard enough.”

“Should’ve known you would like it h—” When his teeth more than graze one of your nipples, you moan unrestrainedly. “Hard.”

Javi grunts, the sound more like a growl than anything as he starts to suckle on your nipple again.

“Fucking hell, Javi.” Your back bows, chest pushing itself up with the curve of that arch to soak up as much of his attention as possible.

Even as he’s paying attention to your tits, his hips are slotted between yours. Pressing the length of him against your clit as he starts to rock his hips.

It splits your body’s attention and casts a fuzzy cloud over your mind where instinct takes over again above everything else. All you want is more of him and the movement of your own hips is a mimic of the way Javi rocks against you. If you could do it blind, you’d be tipping your hips to take him inside you as fast as humanly fucking possible, but he has you at his mercy.

“Impatient.” Javi chuckles, smirking as he pops your nipple out of his mouth.

“Only cause we’re in somebody else’s bed,” you admit. “Otherwise? It should take hours.”

He snorts and is willing to say that the Murphy’s can just fuck off, but he doesn’t. Instead he slides his hand between your bodies and positions himself at your welcoming entrance. “Are you sure, baby?”

“So fucking sure.” It’s been a year of dreaming about the night you almost had and far more than that of daydreaming about him before you knew exactly what his kisses tasted like. “No hesitation.”

“Thank God.” He groans, pulling his hand away so he can slide it under your body. Slowly rocking his hips forward to break you open as his lips descend on yours.

You would have laughed if there was time. A pleased little giggle of understanding after having waited so long to be with him. But waiting has made you both eager, and the moment he slips inside you and you wrap your legs around his waist? There is nothing to laugh about.

It’s painful, holding back and not just slamming his hips home to bury his cock. But it’s worth it to see your face change as he fills you inch by inch. Slow and steady is a very specific kind of torture. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he pushes forward, and you swear you’re seeing stars by the time he’s fully seated inside you. Only slightly longer than average, Javi’s cock is girthy with prominent veins that scrub along your walls as he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Every sensation is a desperate, delicious, perfect overload of your senses and you whimper in a pitiful bid for more.

A long, colorful stream of Spanish and English intertwined together falls out of his mouth. A filthy prayer to whatever Gods were listening as he feels like his entire body is going to pull in on himself like a black hole of pleasure. Those words breathed into you and moaned in praise.

Even if you know exactly how he feels, you don’t have the words to tell him anymore. You’ve lost the ability to express yourself with any kind of eloquence, or in any way at all, and instead are pouring everything you have into kissing him back and pushing back against every thrust to give both of you your maximum pleasure.

The pace is slow, steady to start with. Needing to feel everything as he rocks his hips and fills you completely every time he bottoms out. “Baby, you- fuck.” He hisses.

This time you do giggle, it it’s broken by a moan. “Yeah I do,” you tease with a grin.

“Tease.” He grunts, shaking his head and kissing you again. His next thrust is more jarring as he snaps his hips forward for emphasis.

"Worth it," you contend, when a few quick thrusts leave you completely breathless.

He rolls his eyes and slides the arm that isn’t around you down to your thigh to pull it up on his hip so he can thrust just a bit deeper into you. “Fuck.” He hisses.

The give and take, push and pull, is intoxicating. Everything about this night has been unexpected and you’re not about to start questioning it now. There’s nowhere else you would rather be, now or for the rest of your life. Slowly, the need gets the best of him. Starting to move faster, putting a bit more force into his thrusts as he fucks you.

It’s impossible not to get wrapped up in him. Even if he didn’t have one arm literally wrapped around you, you would still be lost in being close to him. The world is nothing but Javi now and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Wanted you every damn day we were in that fucking office.” He pants quietly. “Wondering what you would look like spread out, sound like.” He bites your chin. “Never could imagine that you were better than my dreams.”

“So much fucking better.” The number of times you had fantasized about him is completely beyond counting but this is far beyond anything you thought it could be. You fit together like you were always meant to find each other this way.

Instead of ramping up to a frantic pace, Javi keeps it steady and just on the sensual side of things. Nearly lovemaking.

You’ve definitely been gone too long. Someone will have noticed, and it will be Steve, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with that coil of tension pulling tight in your belly and making your legs shake. “So—” Panting in his ear, you turn your head and bite Javi’s jawline the way he loves doing to you. “Fuck baby. So close.”

“Good.” He groans, teeth becoming a part of the kisses he is scattering over your skin. Fingers digging in just a bit harder as his pace falters for the first time.

Just because you didn’t mean it as permission doesn’t mean it can’t be taken that way, and your nails dig their way into Javi’s back as his thrusts get deeper and more erratic.

“Cum for me, muñequita.” He begs, feeling his own control starting to slip. It’s the climax of his dreams and wishes for the past year, quickly making it difficult to maintain stamina for long. He’s too pent up, too eager to have you.

As if he wished it again, you can feel the tension in your body snap like a rubber band. All of a sudden your body hurtles over the edge of pleasure, pulling Javi into you as tightly and deeply as your needy cunt possibly can while you groan into his kiss and press little half-moons into his back with your fingernails.

It's like the floodgates opening, soaking him as you convulse underneath him. "Oh fuck, baby." He moans quietly, steadily rocking into you to make sure you don't miss a second of the pleasure.

“Come on, Javi.” As unbelievably fucking good as it feels, it won’t be complete unless he comes with you. “Cum for me, baby.”

His hands tighten on your body, gripping you as if he's afraid to let you go. As if you might slip away even if you are encouraging him to cum. Gritting his teeth as his pace becomes frantic. Needing only another moment, another thrust before he's cumming. Pushing deep and groaning your name as he fills you. Pouring wave after wave of hot cum into you as he presses his lips to yours.

“Fucking hell.” When both of your bodies are finally still and you feel like you can gasp for air again, you leave lingering kisses on his lips and jaw, indulging in every second of contact.

Javi pants, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours when you stop kissing him. "Fuck is right."

You giggle softly, eyes closed against the feeling of him weighing you down. Afraid somewhere in your mind that if you open them you might find out this was all a dream. “You’re coming back to my hotel tonight…right?”

"Or you can come back to mine." He nuzzles into your neck, kissing your jaw and scraping it with his teeth. "Whatever you want, muñequita."

“Mine has a huge hot tub.” If he hadn’t just completely devastated you, you’d be ready to jump him again at the first nip of teeth. “I plan on riding you in it.”

"Oh?" His brow arches and he pulls away to smirk down at you. "You had those plans when you booked the room?"

“I had those dreams when I booked the room.” You suck a mark into the hollow of his throat and grin. “It’s only a plan now that this happened.”

"I don't mind that dream." He hums. "We can make it a reality."

“All my dirty dreams have a very Javi-esque leading man,” You promise him. “You should feel very flattered.”

"I am." He drolls playfully, leaning in and kissing you again.

“The chain is sexy, by the way.” He still has the necklace and bracelet on that he bought at the costume store and your fingers tangle in it, locked between your chests. “Just so you know.”

"Yeah?" He smirks and winks at you. "It's a little flashy for my tastes, but if you like it..."

"Definitely keep it." As if to prove your point, you use it to tug him a little closer and press another kiss to his lips. "Who knows? It might be magic like the woman downstairs who wished for pizza."

“Yeah?” He snorts. “Maybe the fairy costume you were wearing is magic. That’s why it ripped.”

"It was a nymph costume," you correct him with a pout. "And you should have seen the way your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw me in it. I'm gonna miss that dress."

“You think that shop has another?” Javi asks seriously. “We could go get it.”

“Ohhh, you really liked that dress.” The way you can’t help snickering is almost evil, but he’s still laying on top of you with his softening cock about to slip out of your pussy and you swear you felt it twitch.

"Bend over in it and I get to see your cunt." His hand slides down and he slaps your thigh after one last kiss.

“I’ll let you do more than look if you want to.” The wink you shoot him is devilish, and accompanied by a wide grin. “We have a whole lot of missed time to make up for.”

Javi grunts as he feels himself fall out of you and he shifts onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling for a second and reminding himself that he's on Murphy's bed and not his own. "Yes we do." He groans as he sits up and looks over at you. "Wanna get out of here?" He asks. "Start making it up?"

“Absolutely.” You’ll pull on the scrubs you were borrowing from Connie and you’ll get the hell out of here with Javi for the rest of this first glorious night. But first? You will absolutely be opening the window to let the room air out.

"Leave it." Javi tells you when you move over to the window, guessing what you are going to do. He grins wickedly and tilts his head towards the door. "Steve deserves it for all the shit he's given me."

It takes a couple of minutes to get yourselves straightened out, but once you do, you’re prepared to just say good night and offer to but the Murphy’s dinner tomorrow as both thanks and an apology for slipping out early. What you find when you leave the bedroom, however, is nothing short of chaos. A woman dressed as a cowgirl stands amazed with a pony in the middle of the living room. One guy is standing in the middle of a pile of money cradling the keys to a new car. Another has two beautiful women vying for his attention. The woman who wanted pizza now has an entire stack — it seems like you and Javi weren’t the only ones throwing your wishes around for fun.

"Fuck, there you are." Steve looks positively relieved to see the two of you as he drags Connie over to you. "What the fuck is going on?"

“Do you believe in magic, Murph?” You ask, raising one eyebrow even as Javi’s fingers kink through your own.

He rolls his eyes and then they fall on your joined hands. "Holy shit, maybe miracles do happen if you holding hands means what I think it means."

“You don’t want to know what it means.” It’s your assurance, but you crack a grin anyway. “Just…be careful what you wish for tonight. Okay, Stevie?”

"Huh?" He frowns, but Connie bites her lip, rushing forward to give you a hug. She knows how long you have pined for Javi.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” you murmur, squeezing her back in a tight hug. “Dinner tomorrow. On us. I wanna hear how the rest of this party goes.”

“It’s getting crazy.” Connie admits, hugging you fiercely and stepping back to shoot Javi a grin. “Go have fun you two.”

“Don’t worry,” you shout back over your shoulder as Javi immediately starts to move you toward the door. “We will!”

Javi wraps his arm around you as you exit the house, guiding you towards the rental car he had driven over. “They are in for a wild night.” He predicts. “Steve’s been wishing for threesome for years.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x dea!reader #dea!reader #coworker romance #pining #the one that got away #halloween party #Halloween #Spooktober

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