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megalony · 5 months ago

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A Family Gathering- Part 2

Thank you all for the amazing feedback on my Eddie Diaz imagine, I hope you will all like this next part.

Let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Prequel

Summary: (Y/n) and Eddie are close to their due date with their twins. But when they go to a family meal with her siblings and parents, it doesn't go as planned and family secrets are revealed.

(Reader is Buck and Maddie's sister)

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) clenched her hand around her brother's bicep and gave a sharp tug to try and get him to listen to her words. "Take me home." She gave his arm a little shake like she was trying to make her words sink in.

"Okay, okay just take a minute-"

"Home." Her nails scratched into his skin while she pulled on his arm when she tried to move.

She wasn't staying here any longer. She wasn't staying in that apartment or standing out here in the hallway. She was going home to be with the family she chose. She was going home to get away from the family that hurt her and her brother.

Tears continued to drench her face and her lips kept curling and pulling down into a broken frown, desperate to continue crying. Her chest was quaking with sobs she was holding in, desperate to release but she couldn't. Not here. Not now and risk Maddie or their parents coming out and try to stop them all from leaving.

Her body twisted to the right and she let her shoulder slump against the wall, closing her eyes to draw in a deep breath in an attempt to settle her system again. She let her weight shuffle against the wall and did her best to move forward until Eddie was suddenly stood in front of her, blocking her path while his hands found her hips.

"Baby, stop. Just for a minute, please." Eddie's fingers pressed into her hips like he was trying to mould her out of clay and make an imprint of his hands on her body forever.

He helped her lean up off the wall and he didn't say anything when she gripped his forearms and pushed some of her weight onto him. He kept her upright while she felt Buck hovering behind her with his hand on her shoulder and his eyes rapidly looking between the couple, waiting for answers.

"Take a breath," His voice softened and one hand moved up to swipe his thumb across her chin while his head tilted down so they were level and looking at one another.

(Y/n) nodded, gripping his arms tighter as she leaned into his touch and tried to copy his breathing. Panicking and getting worked up wasn't going to do them any favours right now. But she just wanted to leave. She wanted to be as far away from her parents as possible. She wanted to be somewhere that she felt safe and protected and not like her whole life had been a lie and that her purpose hadn't been served.

"Alright, where are the pains and how bad are they?" Eddie's voice was oddly calm, despite the raging emotions plastered across his face. He was always easy to read. His eyes were dragging up and down her frame, noticing every slight movement she made, how she shifted from foot to foot, how she leaned forward. The way she tried to hold her breath and keep it for a few seconds to calm herself down.

"It's easing now," (Y/n) panted through her words as she took one of Eddie's hands and moved it down her stomach where the tension was starting to loosen like an elastic band that had been pulled and then let go.

She stayed still as Eddie moved his hand around her stomach, focusing on the way his jaw clicked from side to side and he arched a brow.

"I'll bet it's contractions." His hand left her stomach to run across his jaw and the hints of stubble kissing his skin.

He couldn't see it being anything else when (Y/n) was so close to her due date, closer than they expected to be with twins. They had been waiting for this to happen for weeks now, they had all been on red alert. All the team were ready for (Y/n) to call in and say she was in labour so they could send Eddie home and pick up his shifts for him.

At least it was happening now, while Eddie was off work and everyone was together. It just happened to be after a family argument.

"I w-wanna go home." (Y/n) repeated, looking between her husband and her brother until they both nodded. They had to go now while the contractions were just starting, before (Y/n)'s water broke and before the contractions became frequent.

They needed to go and tell Chris and get everything ready and get someone to babysit him so they could go to the hospital.

"Alright baby, let's go."

Arching her back out, (Y/n) clamped her hands down on the back of the sofa and leaned down until her forehead was pressed down against her arms. She could feel the sweat rolling down the back of her neck and her hair sticking to her temple and around the sides of her neck making her itch and squirm.

The shirt she had been wearing all evening was tossed on the floor somewhere, leaving her in her bra and maternity leggings which kept rolling further and further down her stomach.

Her nails scrunched up in the back of the sofa while a groan muffled through her clamped lips.

Once the pain rolled through her abdomen and shook down to her toes, (Y/n) flopped one arm down until her hand curled around her brother's shoulder. She wiggled her hips from side to side, trying to reduce the pain and get the stiffness to dissipate.

"H-how long was that?" She didn't bother to open her eyes, but she felt Buck lean his head back into the sofa so he could look up at her. His left hand came up to rub up and down her shoulder and arm soothingly while he propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"About thirteen minutes apart now. Almost there." Buck tried to smile up at his twin.

He had been timing the contractions since they came home and started to get everything sorted out. All three of them had been oddly calm up until this last hour when the pains got worse and they knew they would be heading to the hospital soon.

He had kept count of each contraction, noting how long they lasted and the time between each one. While Eddie grabbed their hospital bag and tried to sort everything out for Chris. Carla had since gone home after wishing them all the luck she could and making them promise to ring her once the girls were born.

The plan was for Buck to stay here and watch Chris for the night and then once the girls were born, he would bring Chris down to the hospital to see them.

"No wonder mum had a C-section with us." (Y/n) grumbled under her breath as she sank lower into the sofa and wriggled her hips around to see if it would do anything for the pain. Her back felt like it had been broken. She wanted to lie on the floor and click each column of her spine back into place, but she would never get up if she did that.

She felt Buck laugh and give her shoulder a squeeze as he nodded in agreement, they had always been reminded from a young age that their mum had to have a C-section with them.

That was starting to feel like an easier option than this, if (Y/n) didn't have the energy now to keep going through these contractions, how on Earth was she going to get through pushing two girls out?

Now though, after finding out about Daniel, (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if their mum would of planned a C-section all along when she had her and Buck. She wondered if their birthday had been planned out and decided beforehand in order to give Daniel the best chance. A chance that clearly hadn't worked for him since he wasn't here anymore.

"That was only 'cos you got the cord around your neck."

She felt Buck let go of her shoulder so he could rub his hand up and down her arm and he tipped his head back on the sofa to look across at her.

"Do y-you think that will happen with them?"

Her hand dropped to cradle her stomach that felt like it was weighing her down to the floor as a spark of worry shot through her heart. Could something like that happen with her girls? Could that be happening right now and (Y/n) didn't know about it?

Their mum had had to have a C-section right away when they found out the cord was around (Y/n)'s neck causing both twins to be in distress. It was one of the reasons why (Y/n) had been kept in the hospital longer than Buck when they were born.

And now (Y/n) understood why their mum always made her seem like an inconvenience when she told them about their birth. Their mum had things on her mind. She had Maddie to look after and another sick child she was trying to nurse back to health, without the added stress of having twins who had to be born earlier than planned.

But that probably helped a little, being born early meant the doctors would of been able to harvest the stem cells and any blood they needed from the twins, for Daniel.

Did they take blood from the twins? Did they only take the stem cells from the umbilical cord? Or was that not enough? Had the twins donated to their brother when they were little and never known about it?

"Hey, that's not gonna happen." Buck's voice was stern but his expression was sincere with his eyes boring into hers like he was trying to see through to her soul. He could practically hear her overthinking. "You're all gonna be fine, and they'll have Eddie wrapped round their fingers."

His words calmed down one of the many worries running around in (Y/n)'s mind and she tried to nod and agree. Nothing had been wrong so far so there was no reason to start worrying now.

Her hands pressed down on the sofa again and she pushed herself up, locking her elbows to try and steady herself.

She continued to sway from left to right, hoping to ease the pain in her back and hips. A soft smile washed over her tense features when she saw a familiar mop of brown curls bouncing along, aiming her way.

Chris stood beside her and waited for (Y/n)'s sign of approval that he could reach out and wrap his arms around her.

When she turned to face him and slouched her left hip against the sofa, she opened her arms so Chris could give her a hug. He always had that cheesy smile on his face when he wanted a hug and he wouldn't meet her eyes, but his face said it all.

His arms locked around her and he pressed his face into her stomach, his curls tickling her bump since she wasn't wearing Eddie's shirt anymore. She looped her arm around the back of his neck and kissed his curls while Buck reached over and gave Chris's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Okay mum?"

"I'm good," She murmured into his hair, dragging her hand up and down his back and she smiled when she felt Chris kiss her stomach.

"Just you and me soon buddy, come find a film, we can stay up late." Buck was quite glad it was the weekend. He and Chris would be up well past midnight- not that Eddie or (Y/n) needed to know that- and they would be watching movies or documentaries with bowls of sweets surrounding them.

Buck loved when he and Chris got to spend time together and he couldn't wait to be able to take Chris and the girls out soon and proudly announce he had a nephew and two little nieces. Then when Maddie and Chimney had their girl, Buck would be overwhelmed with nieces to make his knees go weak and he would be desperate to babysit them all.

He could already see him, Maddie and (Y/n) going on days out with all the kids to the zoo or the park. And family dinners - without their parents- was going to get a lot more interesting and full of love.

Chris finally untangled himself from (Y/n) and moved to slump down on the sofa next to Buck, taking the remote so he could scour through for a film. While (Y/n) went back to leaning forward against the sofa since it was the only way she felt comfy.

Sitting down wasn't an option, she was in too much discomfort to sit and she didn't have the energy to pace anymore. Standing and swaying like this was her only option.

Her eyes watched the tv as Chris flicked through the channels, trying to find something worth watching. And her lips tried to curve into a smile when she felt a hand on the small of her back and a sudden pair of lips glued against the back of her neck.

She felt Eddie curve his chest over her back, muttering a quiet "Hi baby," into her skin before he reached his free hand over the sofa and tapped Buck's shoulder.

"Maddie's ringing me now, she must be worried. Here."

Maddie had tried calling both the twins but neither of them answered. They knew their parents would still be at Maddie and Chimney's apartment and they didn't want to speak to them. Chimney had tried calling Buck twice but he didn't answer. The pair of them were fine. They were with Eddie, nothing bad was going to happen and they were hardly going to go off the rails.

If (Y/n) wasn't pregnant or married to Eddie, if the twins got this news a few years ago, there would have been trouble. They would have been reckless, they would have gone out drinking or wandering the streets, wallowing in the news they had just been given. There would of been cause to panic.

But that wasn't the case. They were with Eddie, he kept them both level-headed and (Y/n) had too much pressing on her mind- and her pelvis- to be wallowing anymore.

It seemed best to try and pretend tonight hadn't happened and lock away the thoughts, questions and anger about Daniel. Feigning ignorance like Maddie and their parents had done for years, felt like the easiest option, just to get (Y/n) through this labour.

Once the girls were here, they could all talk and try to move past this.

"Pass her over." Buck sighed, reaching up for the phone. He had turned his own phone on silent and (Y/n) had left her phone in her bag near the front door.

They knew Maddie must be desperate and panicked if she was calling Eddie to try and find out if the twins were okay. And the last thing they needed was the other Buckley sister getting so pent up and nervous that she too went into labour from the stress of this evening.

"Hello?"

"Buck? Oh thank God. Are you okay? How's (Y/n)? I wish you all would of stayed, we want to talk, to explain-"

Buck groaned, running his hand up and down his face while his sister rambled in his ear and turned his brain to mush. She always was a panicker, much like Buck and (Y/n) were overthinkers.

"Mads stop panicking, we're good I swear. We haven't gone off the rails or gone out on a bender." That might not be strictly true, both of them weren't exactly okay, they were dumb struck and boggled and uneasy about all of this. But there wasn't cause for concern either.

"How's (Y/n)? I need to talk to her-"

"Nows not the best time… just give us 'til tomorrow-"

"No, Buck I need to talk to you both. I need to explain, we're all so sorry and we're worried."

He could hear the pain in her voice and he knew she had been crying. And the phone was loud enough that (Y/n) and Eddie could hear her too.

A pang shot through (Y/n)'s heart and she tipped her head down onto her forearms, arching her back out into Eddie. Her heart calmed down its erratic rhythm when Eddie bent over her, his hands on her hips and his mouth attached to the side of her neck to try and keep her calm.

"She's gone into labour. They're heading off soon and I'm staying here with Chris, I swear I'll call you when I hear anything."

Buck nodded to himself, hummed and muttered a soft 'love you too' before he hung up and handed the phone back to Eddie. His mind was exhausted from tonight but he was also running on overdrive. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight, he could feel it.

"Oow, a-another one." (Y/n) hissed, arching back into Eddie while her hand flapped down to alert Buck that she was getting another contraction.

She felt Eddie's hands move round to cup her stomach while he hummed against her neck, running his lips up and down her soft skin that was starting to become flushed. He could feel her shaking into him and she bent her knees until he was holding some of her weight up for her, not that he minded at all.

"Eddie…" Her nails scratched into the sofa, close to breaking through the material as her knees bent down and she felt like she was going to kneel down on the floor. She didn't know what to do with herself, she wanted to move but she didn't have the energy, but staying still didn't feel right either.

"You're okay, mi amor. Come on, sit on the chair, not the floor please." Eddie knew if (Y/n) crouched down here they would have a hard time getting her back up again.

His words caused both Buck and Chris to turn and look behind them over the shoulder. Watching as Eddie pulled (Y/n) back up so she didn't go down on her knees.

"You're down to ten minutes apart, it's time to go." Buck looked at his watch while he twisted and pushed up to look at his sister.

He could be accurate and tell her she was ten minutes and twenty-one seconds between contractions, but he didn't think the accuracy would help her right now. Ten minutes was their marker, once she hit that then it was time to go down to the hospital and have the girls.

(Y/n) could feel Eddie smiling against her shoulder. That was what he had been waiting to hear. He was no good at milling about the house, waiting and trying to keep busy until it was time to go. Especially when they didn't have an exact time for departing. Things would go swiftly when they got to the hospital.

"Alright, let's get you in the car." Buck's voice was soft but he couldn't keep the hint of excitement from his voice.

He pushed up from the sofa and moved round to the back to stand on (Y/n)'s other side while Chris leant up against the back of the sofa. He smiled at both parents, folding his arms near (Y/n)'s and resting his chin on his arms.

They had already told him what to expect. It would be another normal sleepover with Buck round at their place. The twins wouldn't be born until the morning at the least so Buck and Chris could try and get some sleep. And then Buck would take Chris down to the hospital as soon as Eddie called them to say the girls were here and okay.

Then when Chris went back to school on Monday, he could go and tell his friends and his teachers that his mum had finally had the twins. All the teachers had been asking after (Y/n) and his English teacher had asked Eddie four weeks ago if the twins had been born when Eddie had dropped Chris off quite a few times and no one had seen (Y/n). Finally, they would be born now.

"Wait, I- oow," (Y/n) leaned back into Eddie and let Buck take hold of her hands, but she shook her head.

Her knees bent down again and she tucked her chin down into her neck, snapping her eyes closed as shivers wracked down her body. She felt Eddie's arms tighten around her while he leaned his chest back a little so he could look her over and see why she was suddenly tensing up. Surely it couldn't be another contraction that quickly.

"Oh," Eddie's lips curved into a soft smile and he kissed the back of her head when he realised the reason. "Alright, maybe let's get changed before we go, hm?"

Her waters had finally broken.

***

A bright smile lit up Eddie's face and he pushed himself off the wall when he glanced down the corridor. His eyes locked onto the two faces he had been waiting around to see.

Pushing off the wall, he opened his arms and leaned down when Chris sped forward and barelled into his torso. His arms looped around his son and he kissed the top of his head, ruffling his curls while Chris clung to him and started to laugh. They had only seen each other last night, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

It felt like days instead of hours since Chris had kissed his parents goodbye and watched from the window as Eddie and Buck helped (Y/n) into the car and his dad drove off. The night had dragged out while Chris and Buck watched two movies and ate their weight in popcorn, and then Chris couldn't sleep. He just wanted the night to go by quickly like it was Christmas Eve and he was desperate for morning to break so he could delve into his presents.

And Eddie felt like he had been here at the hospital for over a hundred hours. His body was burning from lack of sleep but he felt like his batteries had been fully charged and he could go for days running off this adrenaline high.

His hands were aching, his arms suddenly felt empty and his body was about to be overcome with shaking, but he felt better now Chris and Buck were here.

"Hey! You okay?" His voice was muffled in Chris's hair before Chris pulled back and pressed his chin into Eddie's chest so he could look up at him.

"Yeah, is mum okay? The girls are here now?"

He could see the light sparkling in Chris's eyes and he was practically bouncing up and down like he was charged on rocket fuel, waiting for lift off. He had woken Buck up extra early this morning, desperate to be told that his mum had had the girls and they could go down and visit. He had bounced off the walls waiting for Eddie to ring and finally, just after nine o'clock, Eddie gave them both the news they had been waiting for.

"Your mum's doing great, they're all okay and waiting for you. Go say hi."

Uncurling one arm from Chris, Eddie gave the door a nudge and motioned for Chris to head on inside. He could have a minute or two alone with (Y/n) and the girls while Eddie and Buck talked.

"All went well then, no problems?" The smile on Buck's face was as giddy as ever and his hands were jittering up and down against his thighs. He knew if something had been wrong, Eddie would have said over the phone, but he couldn't help the spark of worry he felt.

Buck had been praying for this to go well ever since (Y/n) told them she was pregnant again. He couldn't see his sister go through the turmoil again like when she had her miscarriage. He knew she and Eddie wanted this, to have a family together, desperately.

"Yep, no problems, except I think she might have popped a knuckle in the process." Eddie shook his left hand to signal his point.

Eddie had been apprehensive. His experience with Shannon during Chris's birth had been smooth sailing right up until he got stuck and Eddie didn't want to see that happening to (Y/n), especially since they were having twins. But everything had gone smoothly, so smoothly in fact that Eddie felt like he was still waiting for something to go wrong. It felt like they were having too much good luck.

But all three of his girls were doing great, the only issue was his index finger and his knuckle that was throbbing from how tightly (Y/n) had deadlocked his hand in her grip. At one point, Eddie felt his knuckle crack and he couldn't be sure if she had popped it out of place or just clicked the joint.

"So you're a girl dad now, huh? When Chim and Maddie have their girl that's three to one. You're next one needs to be a boy, even the score a bit." He reached out to pat Eddie's shoulder and he grinned when his brother in law let out a loud laugh.

"What makes you think the next kid in this family will be ours again and not yours or Chim again?"

As much as Eddie could see Buck being a family man and wanting kids of his own, that might not be happening for a while. He wasn't in a stable relationship right now to think about having kids. But it did entertain Eddie that his brother clearly thought he and (Y/n) would be the next ones to have another kid.

Eddie would want another kid, he could see them having a big family and it was something they had talked about a few times. But they'd just had two kids at once, they wouldn't be thinking about another baby for a while. It might well be Chimney and Maddie having another kid before Eddie and (Y/n), or Buck could find himself in a stable relationship and having a kid before them.

"Because you're the one who gets baby fever."

A playful sigh parted through Eddie's lips and he nodded while he rolled his eyes. Valid point. He wouldn't argue it any further, this wasn't a topic he needed to think about when his daughters had just been born two hours ago.

He stretched his hand out towards the door, about to push it open so they could head inside, but he stopped when his gaze darted down the corridor.

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he couldn't find the will. Not when his eyes glanced past Maddie and saw two people he didn't want to be around anymore. Phillip and Margaret.

They shouldn't be here.

It had taken Buck and Eddie over an hour to calm (Y/n) down when they got home last night. She had been distraught about the bombshell that dropped over dinner last night and she didn't want to think or talk to or be around her parents. She wanted them to stay as far away from her and Buck as possible because the twins were better off away from their parents.

This was a happy occasion, this was a day to be celebrating. Eddie didn't want them here chiding at (Y/n) or putting her down or making her feel uncomfortable. After everything she had been through, she deserved to be happy and stress free, especially today.

"Hi, how is everyone? Chim's had to go on shift but he's definitely coming by after work. Can I…?" Maddie rubbed her hands together and pointed towards the room.

She would never barge in if she wasn't welcome and she hadn't spoken to her sister since dinner last night. She wouldn't want to go in and ruin a sweet family moment or upset (Y/n), she would rather go home than risk distressing her younger sister.

But tears welled up in her eyes and she sighed when Eddie's lips curved into a smile and his hand gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Of course you can."

He knew the twins had already forgiven Maddie. They had most likely forgiven her before they got home last night. They weren't happy she had kept this secret. She could of told them when they were older, when they moved out or the countless times they asked why their parents were so cruel and distant and uncaring towards them. But they were starting to see things from Maddie's point of view and understand why she didn't.

And she had raised them, they couldn't do anything but forgive Maddie who had become their mother over the years. They found it easy to forgive her, but their parents wouldn't be so easily forgiven.

"Are we okay?" Her hand reached out for Buck but she was taken by surprise when he reached out and deadlocked his arms around her. He reeled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. His hand rubbed up and down her back as he smiled and murmured a soft "We're fine," into her hair.

He pushed open the door and let Maddie walk in ahead of them. It was clear that Maddie had turned up separate from her parents. She wasn't waiting for them, she wasn't talking or acknowledging them. After all they had said and done last night, Maddie was saying bare minimum to them and it wouldn't be her place to argue with them today, right here.

She wanted to see her sister and her nieces, whether their parents were allowed in was up to Eddie and (Y/n).

Once she was inside, Buck shut the door and turned to face his parents. He didn't want (Y/n) knowing they were here, he didn't want anyone or anything to upset his sister today.

"I think the room's at maximum capacity now." He couldn't find it in himself to smile. They weren't forgiven yet and Buck wasn't happy to be stood so close to them. He didn't want to be around them after all the problems they had caused and how badly they had traumatised both Buck and (Y/n) over the years. And now the twins knew why, it just made them want to retreat away even further.

Buck knew he was speaking on his sister's behalf, he knew (Y/n) wouldn't want them here. And he couldn't go inside and leave Eddie stood out here talking to them, not unless he wanted to risk a fight breaking out.

Eddie had no patience with his in-laws anymore. He would be blunt, crude and down-right dismissive to them if he wanted, and he wasn't past the point of swearing or possibly becoming physical if the occasion called for it. Buck felt like he had to stay in case he had to guide Eddie back into the room so he didn't get himself kicked out of the hospital.

"Evan… Eddie, it's our granddaughters," Margaret clasped her hands together in front of her and leaned into Phillip as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

The way they smiled was desperate, they wanted to be given another chance, but it was becoming apparent that they weren't going to get one.

Buck and (Y/n) had given them so many chances over the years and they were tired. Buck was tired of hurting himself to get their attention. (Y/n) was tired of screaming and shouting and never being heard. They were both done with being dismissed and ignored and treated like they weren't part of the family or that they were disposable.

They hadn't made it a priority to come down to LA when Buck had his leg crushed by the fire truck and went through five operations. They didn't come down when (Y/n) was in turmoil after Eddie got shot.

And they only came down after (Y/n)'s miscarriage because Maddie told them to show some respect for their daughter and see how she was doing. That had been a mistake everyone regretted.

The Buckley parents weren't needed here anymore and they weren't wanted, the twins were loved and cared for by the family they chose at the 118.

"If you wait three months, the granddaughter you're most bothered about will be here." The snide tone couldn't be hidden from Eddie's voice while he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall.

He had always seen how Maddie was prioritised over the twins, over (Y/n). She was the preferred and loved daughter and it bugged Eddie, especially because Maddie never acted on it or seemed spoiled or like she wanted their attention. It was irritating.

Eddie had to watch the Buckley parents barely pay (Y/n) any attention when she told them she was engaged. He saw how they weren't so interested when Maddie told them (Y/n) was pregnant, they couldn't of cared any less. And when she lost the baby, it was as if they could hit a reset button and forget.

When (Y/n) told them that she was pregnant again, they were responsive, but only mildly. Congratulations, that's sweet, when are you due? That was the most (Y/n) got over the phone.

But when Maddie announced she was pregnant, oh the world lit up and Eddie despised them for it. he despised that (Y/n) had to seek that love and joy from Eddie's parents instead of her own.

When they told Eddie's parents, they were so thrilled. When they lost the baby, Eddie's parents came down for a week to stay with them and his mum was so good comforting and trying to comfort (Y/n) and make her feel understood and loved. After telling them about the twins, his parents were always on the phone, asking how they were and wanting to visit.

And now his parents were coming down in two days to stay for a week to see the twins and be with their family.

"Eddie, please we don't want to fight-"

"Good, neither do we. You've barely bothered with (Y/n) since she got pregnant, this is the first time we've seen you since telling you and look how that ended, you stressed her into labour. Not to mention you were fucking rude to her about near enough everything, and you brought up her miscarriage."

Eddie could feel his blood starting to boil over and he curled his hands into fists at his sides to try and calm himself down.

He didn't need to start a fight. He didn't need to cause an argument or make this into a big thing. He just needed them to understand that they weren't wanted nor welcome here right now and they had to go now.

"You're not going in there and upsetting her today." His voice calmed down and his lips almost curved into a smile as he took a deep breath and lowered his tone.

He felt Buck's hand on his shoulder, turning him towards the door so they could both head inside and leave this dreaded conversation dead and buried out here.

"She doesn't want to see you yet, and neither do I." Buck couldn't bring himself to look at his parents. His hand tightened on Eddie's shoulder and he gave him a nudge until the pair of them were walking through the door. And he used his heel to kick the door shut behind them, making it clear that his parents were not invited for this family moment.

"There you are, what were you two doing?"

The grin that spread across (Y/n)'s face was enough to have Buck smiling in return and had Eddie's heart jumping up into his throat.

"Just talking."

Eddie danced his eyes around the room, taking in the sight of his family as he moved to sit down on the bed. He sank down next to (Y/n) and looped his arm around the back of her shoulders so he could tuck her into his chest. Her arms immediately looped around his chest and her face smothered into his shoulder while she felt wet kisses being pressed against her temple.

She had Eddie sat next to her, Maddie perched on the side of the bed next to her knees, and Chris was sat in the chair beside the bed. It left one more chair vacant which Buck grabbed and dragged over so he was next to Eddie.

"Come on then, introduce me." Buck smiled and leaned his elbows on his thighs so he could lean over and try to take a look at the youngest set of twins in the room.

He could see one girl in Maddie's arms who the eldest sibling was cooing and smiling at, cradling her against her own bump. And Chris had his other sister in his arms, swaying from side to side as he grinned so brightly he could barely open his eyes.

"This is Isabella," (Y/n) unhooked one arm from Eddie so she could lean across and rest her hand on Maddie's wrist, indicating to the newborn she was cradling.

"And Chris has Sophia." Eddie cast his eyes across to the eldest who slowly tilted his arms so Buck could lean over to look at both twins.

"My turn, come to uncle Buck." He held his arms out expectingly while his big sister sighed and carefully eased the newborn over to him. It was only fair since she had already held both twins and Buck hadn't seen either of them yet. And Chris clearly wasn't giving up his other sister just yet.

His smile broadened when the little girl was in his embrace and he danced his fingertip across her cheek. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her until a sudden thought crossed his mind and he looked up, trying to look across at the other twin before he glanced across at Eddie.

"I almost forgot… are they identical?"

"Yep." (Y/n) relaxed back into Eddie, feeling a sudden wave of tiredness wash over her like she was being swept away in the ocean. This had been something she often worried about. Identical meant the possibility of getting them mixed up. It meant (Y/n) wanting to keep their hospital bracelets on them for a while longer when they got home to make sure she didn't switch them up.

She was glad they had bought some hats and onesies with S and I printed on them to make it easier to tell them apart. And neither twin had any birth marks to be able to help tell them apart.

"You owe me twenty." Buck muttered quietly, tapping Eddie's arm to remind him of the bet they made a few months back.

(Y/n) let herself sink down against Eddie's chest and when his other arm looped around her chest, (Y/n) latched both her hands around his bicep. She nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder, smiling when she felt his lips against the top of her head and he squeezed her into his chest.

This was their family, right here.

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #maddie buckley han

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captain-hawks · 3 months ago

Note

What’s this? A Thursday edition of spicy sleepover??? Thank you as always, Dee!!

I think our dear Osamu needs some attention—perhaps in the bathroom 👀👀

impatient

osamu miya x f!reader

You wear a new sundress to the twins' birthday party, and Osamu's patience treads a woefully thin tightrope.

wc: 1.2k

c: 18+ only, established relationship, bathroom sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER - PART V

“Didja really have to wear this?”

Osamu’s voice is a gravelly, labored exhale between the hot, messy press of his lips to your neck, punctuated by the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut as he pushes you up against it.

“Should I go home and change?” you ask, the amusement in your voice tapering off into a gasp as he drags his teeth against the soft, sensitive juncture between your shoulder and your neck.

“Fuck no,” Osamu rasps, the damp trail of kisses making its way to the swell of your breasts that’s hardly contained by the neckline of your sundress.

To be fair, Osamu’s first time seeing you in this new sundress was when you picked him up from work earlier—and he subsequently spent most of the ride over to Atsumu’s apartment going through the seven stages of horny grief.

“Atsumu’s going to be mad if we’re late,” you chided as the hand on your knee began to migrate higher.

“It’s my birthday party, too,” Osamu griped, lips turning downward in a pout as you laced your fingers with his and moved them to the outside of your thigh.

The goodwill of Osamu’s precariously balanced patience nearly ran out when you bent over to grab his brother’s gift out of the trunk—and you may very well have never made it inside, if not for the sound of Aran’s voice calling out your names in greeting as he leaned out the front door, the sound of music pouring out onto the sidewalk.

At the very least, the two of you managed to traipse through the house and backyard for hellos and before Osamu eventually caught you on your way back down the stairs from the bathroom.

It’s ironic, in a way—finding yourself pressed up against the inside of Atsumu’s bathroom door again, a breathy, low whine teetering on the edge of your lips as Osamu’s hands push up the skirt of your dress.

“Remember the last time—”

“—we ripped the towel bar right outta the wall.”

(Atsumu bitched about his security deposit for weeks.)

Osamu’s kneeling on the floor between your legs now, eyes sparkling with mischief as he gazes up at you, lips quirked upward in a grin as his hands brush the backs of your thighs.

It was years ago, back when Osamu’s hair was still an ashy gray, when Onigiri Miya was still a pipedream. Before he got down on one knee in the middle of a busy sidewalk in the snow and choked out a laugh when he told you he couldn’t wait any longer, pulling a small, black box out of his jacket pocket.

This apartment and bathroom are far nicer than the last one, too, courtesy of the blonde twin’s MSBY salary.

But some things haven’t changed—like the way your husband’s staring up at you now, eyes alight with a hunger and fondness that hasn’t faded in the slightest.

Osamu squeezes your ankle gently, and you lift one foot after the other as he slips your panties off, tucking them into the pocket of his black button down top for safe keeping.

“For someone that kept swattin’ me every time my hand went near yer ass out there, ya sure are wet,” he drawls from underneath your dress, coy as ever.

Your ability to formulate any sort of response is quickly vanquished by the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick folds, and you can feel the slick drip of arousal already beginning to slide down the inside of your thighs without your underwear to soak into.

Osamu knows what he’s doing when he slips a finger into your tight entrance, angling his free hand just right so that the cool metal of his wedding band is pressing into your clit.

“‘Samu,” you whine, palm clamped to your mouth.

He shifts his hand, massaging the throbbing bundle of nerves with the ring while he stretches you open further with a second finger, and an amused huff falls from his lips as you drag a shaking hand through his hair.

“That sure ain’t gonna be inconspicuous,” he muses as you tug on the dark strands and muss them even further, biting your bottom lip to stifle the moan crawling up your throat.

“I’m sure Atsumu’s got a brush in here somewhere,” you pant out, readjusting your balance as Osamu lifts your left foot to rest on the edge of the tub.

“‘m gonna pretend ya didn’t just say my brother’s name while I’m between your legs,” he grouses.

“Give me a reason to say yours again, then,” you tease, if only because you know what kind of a reaction that kind of provocation will get out of your husband.

Osamu snorts and rasps under his breath, “Ya love playin’ with fire.”

And it’s the only warning you have before he licks a broad, firm stroke down the length of your slit.

Your husband is quietly modest about most of his talents, a pride that peeks through in the crinkling of his eyes when a new customer compliments his food. The steady, careful flex of the veins in his forearms as he shapes the rice with a rhythm that’s become muscle memory.

(He says Atsumu uses the Miya name to brag enough for the both of them, after all.)

But he’s different here, with his mouth latched onto your cunt like he’s never known a taste so divine.

Osamu knows just how good he is at this—making you tremble and whimper beneath the dexterous tease of his tongue, saliva and arousal dripping down his chin as he glances up at your ecstasy-stricken face while he’s knuckle-deep inside of you.

He might be the one on his knees, but you’re the one ready to fall apart, held aloft on continuous, cresting waves of pleasure only by the sheer precision of Osamu’s control over your orgasm. And he’s more than a little smug about it, too, as you writhe against the wall, tongue slipping into your cunt as he grasps the globes of your ass and works you open like a filthy, sloppy meal.

“Osamu.”

Sparks of searing, hot pleasure burst through your veins, and your legs feel impossibly weak as the rest of your muscles are fraught with tension. Osamu’s quick to notice the trembling of your thighs, readjusting his grip to hold you steady as your hand slides down the wall.

But it’s all for naught when he thrusts two fingers back into your pussy and starts sucking on your aching clit, the coil of tension deep in your abdomen collapsing in on itself under the weight of your pleasure as an intense climax punches out of you. Your hand scrambles for purchase, fingers closing around something soft as clear liquid sprays from your cunt, and Osamu lets out a deep groan as you squirt all over his face and hand, finger fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his own hand colliding with the wall as he begins to lose his composure as well.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he exhales, voice rough.

There’s a loud snapping noise, and you glance beside you to find the towel bar dangling from the wall, both of your hands fisted in the material.

It’s only after Osamu’s subsequently bent you over the sink, cock plunging deep into your sensitive cunt until he’s filled you to the brim with ropes of hot, sticky cum, that he finally spares a remorseful glance at your joint handiwork.

“Should we try and fix it?” you ask as he presses a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before making his way across the curve of your jaw, dubiously eyeing the ruined drywall anchors.

Osamu turns and stares at it for a moment, clearly weighing the pros and cons of doing something nice for his twin.

"Nah," he grins, twirling your panties around on his finger with a smirk before stuffing them back into his pocket and unlocking the bathroom door.

#osamu miya x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu #dee writes #spicy sleepover weekend

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dunmeshistash · 2 months ago

Note

Fav detail about elves I didn't fully register until I saw that one summer colour page - elves look rosy when they're light-skinned, but get slightly greyer as their skin darkens.

It looks like a creative decision that was made a little later, though, around the time of introducing the black-skinned elves, which makes sense - in order for them to be pure black, something other than melanin had to be happening there.

Idk if that's really an active choice or just bad coloring on Kui's part ngl.... unfortunately making darker skin ashy is a common mistake by artists, especially if they tend to draw light skinned characters more often, they might pick a light skin tone and just make it darker which turns them ashy. Dark skin is often neglected when people study painting skin color (you know how it is with racism and colorism being ingrained in society and the reflections of it showing up where you wouldn't expect)

Kui also wildly changes the colors she uses so it's hard to take any of it meaningfully in small details, If you look at art of Thistle or Kabru you can see their skin colors change both hue and darkness between art. Even his hair keeps changing how intense the yellow is and sometimes is fully white.

In this case there's also the scan differences but you can see how much Cithis skin changes art to art too

It really doesn't have much consistency in undertones, I imagine some of it might be traditional art (copic markers or watercolor?) but even between her digital art the undertones keep changing, sometimes she's greyish sometimes yellowish sometimes more redish and in the swimsuit one she even looks kinda purple to me

Kui is a great artist but based on how she has also painted Kabru and the twins greyish (the worst one under this paragraph) I can't say the greyish tone of the darker elves is any sort of intentional choice but rather mistakes.

She does it to some extent to her lighter skinned characters too, but I think it's especially obvious in the darker skinned ones (here's Senshi getting slightly paler/grayer between different art)

At least now we have the anime with more set on stone colors/darkness, and I'm overall happy that the dark skinned characters got officially darker overall (although some of the skin tones still look a little off to me)

Anyway, other than the obsidian skin elves I don't think there's any indication the greyish tone was intentional.

Sorry for the long winded response, it's just something I wanted to acknowledge since sometimes I see people discussing skin colors in my notes

#ask #idk what to tag this maybe I rambled way too much #uh #speculation #long post #longpost #dunmeshi complaint #maybe #I love ryoko kui but she gotta step up her dark skin coloring game #I think her more recent art has better colors tho

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theecholegend · 9 months ago

Text

AWWWWWWWWWWW!!! Thank you Ashie!!! This was very much appreciated ❤️🫂❤️🫂❤️🫂❤️🫂❤️

Hey, you!

Yes, you, the one reading this! Come here! I have somthing to tell you!

You listening? Ok, good, here it is.

You're doing great, and I couldn't be more proud of you, ok? You're out here, surviving, and that's something to be proud of, got it? Ok, good, love you. /p

Hey, before you go, do you mind reblogging this? Spread the love to the next person, ya know?

#Thank you!#Twin Ashie!

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destroyingangelneveragod · 8 days ago

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RAFFLE FOR PALESTINE

Hey everyone!

Apologies for the bad photo (phone is not good and I have a tremor). I am running a raffle for Palestine that will be drawing on Dec 1st. I can ship anywhere in the so called us or canada. All go have to do to enter is donate to one of the three fundraisers linked to this post and send me proof. Two are very underfunded, one is close to completion and is someone i know/dm directly! That one accepts paypal as well.

$5 = 1 Entry

$10 = 4 Entries

$25 = 15 entries

$50 = 50 enteries

Included is a zine on sustainability, a zine about chronic illness, a bracelet (admittedly small but could be used as a keychain etc) that says Free Palestine Forever, Two Stickers, an original drawing of mine (usually 40+ on it's own and a painting of mine (usually 60+ on its own)

#palestine #free palestine #anti zionist jew #anti zionist #antizionist #organizing #free free palestine #palestinian #art raffle #art fundraiser #gift package

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pokemon-ash-aus · 2 years ago

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His daughter is about 6 years old, so its been a looong time since everyone last saw Ash

#false twin au #mewtwo #babytwo #ash ketchum #red ketchum #ashy ketchum #art

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theecholegend · 11 months ago

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I love you too!!! *happily gets squished with hugs*

@silvrash-797 @theecholegend

:3 :3 :3

Look at you you’re both so adorable and thinking about you makes me happy 🩷🩷🩷💖💖💖

*wraps you in toasty blankets, straight out of the dryer*

#yall are the best #💖💖💖#Twin Ashie!#Mama Plink!

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

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there ain't enough room in this twin bed in our shitty Bogota apartment for the two of us

rating: E (explicit - 18+)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 13K 🫣

summary: after surviving the bomb, you and javier make it home to your apartment . . . and promptly pick up right where you left off in the car.

warnings/tags: canon typical violence, discussions of death/violence, oral (f receiving), piv sex, smut-smut-smut, edging, slight overstimulation, lots of feelings, no use of y/n

a/n: part two of Go On, I Dare Ya - the final chapter because writing smut for these two really wears me out

🤍 AO3 Link

🤍Series Masterlist | Prev | THE END

🤍Masterlist

There’s a ringing.

Smoke. Acrid and burning. It’s in your chest, your mouth, your eyes – is that why you can’t see? You cough and just breathe more in, inhaling nails that scrape your lungs. There’s a bright spot on your hip and back and palm – pain? – yes, that’s blood – fuck, where’s your gun? Why are you laying down?

There’s a ringing. A vibration. Like the world is made of brass and someone is tapping tapping tapping with their finger nail and you can actually feel the swelling ring –

There’s still smoke. Less now. Controlled. Intentional. But it still vaporizes the air in your lungs.

“Can you put that out?” You snap at the large fed standing by the doorway. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to you, frowning, as if you are being unreasonable. But eventually, your glare wins out over his and he, as if moving through molasses, reaches towards the metal table, and snuffs out the cigarette into a grimy ashtray.

You realize the ringing is someone speaking to you.

Noonan. She looks worried, pale, but determined. The lines around her mouth are sharp, distinct, as if someone with endless patience carved them out of her skin. She looks old, you think, an idea that doesn’t come to you very often, if at all. Her mouth is moving but you don’t really hear what’s coming out of it. You watch her lips move, they look like they’re made of rubber, flapping over an empty, black hole. White. Teeth. Bite.

Something warm touches your wrist and it’s like you’re sucked back into your body.

You blink, the overhead light of the empty interrogation room suddenly very bright, the scratch of the tape recorder as it rolls on in the silence. You can see yourself in the mirror over Noonan’s blue padded suit. God, you look terrible. Ashy, dirty, there’s a cut over your left eye and suddenly you’re aware of the blood there, the pain there, and in your hands and hips. By the pressure there, you know you’re going to have bruises if you don’t already. Your hands have bandages over them so you can’t see the damages, but the cloth scratches what feels like an open wound. How much blood is there?

Three sets of eyes watch you with varying mixtures of emotion. Noonan, verging on concern. The suit behind you – Ken Something – remains unimpressed. And –

The warmth on your wrist is Javi. Just the barest touch of his fingers. He gently says your name, your last name at least, and you hear it very, very clearly. You follow the bend of his fingers with your eyes, over his wrist, up his arm that has a large bandage just around the elbow, then up his shoulder – God, that white shirt is ruined, torn, bloodied, filthy – to his eyes.

Eyes you saw in the midst of all that smoke and fire. Panicked and white like searchlights. You remember him screaming your name – your first name – then.

He’s looking at you like he wishes you two are the only ones in all of existence.

“Agent,” he says softly but firmly, “the senator asked you a question.”

There’s a cut along the arch of his cheek and you want to touch it, but instead you turn back to Noonan.

“Sorry, I missed it. What did you say?”

Noonan glances at Javier, something about concern communicated, before interlocking her fingers on the table in front of her.

“I said, for the record, I’d like your account of what happened after the first bomb went off. We have Agent Peña’s and now I’d like yours.”

The microphone in front of your face feels invasive, like some streaker just flashed you before running off, giggling. You try not to scowl.

“The car bomb in front of the gambling den went off and blew out half the building. Agent Peña and I were fifty feet up the road at the intersection of Manacha and Comal. It had been a strictly routine follow up to a tip we received on Tuesday. The target, Edwardo Valasquez, was rumored to be meeting with one of the upper narcos so the mission was to watch where he went, to validate that claim. Peña and I had been tailing him all day. That night, in the car, we –,”

Your voice catches. The tape winds, black film consumed again and again. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Javier stiffen. The room still smells like smoke, but this time you can’t tell if it’s coming from your clothes or the ashtray.

You swallow. “We had been there for seven hours when the first bomb went off. The target didn’t come out before then and we didn’t see anyone mess with the rigged car. It was a trap.”

“Who do you think the intended targets were?” Noonan asks, interest overtaking the worry on her face. Those lines around her mouth go slack, and that no-nonsense senator is back.

“If someone drove it there and parked it, then most likely the target was Valasquez. It was dark, I couldn’t make out the faces of the men that drove it.”

Noonan writes something down on the yellow pad beneath her hands. “And the perpetrators? Who sent the bomb?”

“Cali.” You say simply. “They’re sending a message that no one is safe unless they’re with them.”

Noonan nods grimly. She fixes those hawk-like eyes on you again. “And the second bomb?”

“Insurance. I didn’t see it go off, but it looked like it was stationed at the exit behind us.”

“And where were you when the second bomb went off?”

You swallow, mouth filled with smoke, and it feels like, for a second, that your guts are oozing out onto the table. You cross your arms to hold them in.

“I don’t know. I was providing Agent Peña with cover when the explosion went off. There was a firefight, between the two cartels. Did I mention that? After the first bomb, the street erupted into an active warzone. They shot at us because they didn’t know who’s side we were on.”

Noonan chuckles darkly, writing down something again. “I think a bomb going off would be enough to classify the situation as a warzone, but I understand your point.”

She sighs and looks up. “We’re almost done. Just a few more questions. What happened after the second bomb went off?”

This is where it gets tricky.

You’d think after a second bomb to go off within twenty feet of the first that there’d be noise. So much noise, for so much chaos. That much destruction cannot go quietly. But of all the things you remember about tonight, the first thirty endless seconds after you opened your eyes, sideways on the pavement, hip bones grinding into the rocks and debris, gun out of your hands and lost to the smoke, those were thirty seconds of silence.

You know if given time, you could parse it out, you could construct something like a timeline. But now, in this yellow smoky room, you can’t quite put it together. You remember people, people bloodied, people dead, you remember something about gathering up an old woman in your arms and dragging her until something inside you told you to stop. You remember you couldn’t find Javier, and the sinking, horrific dread that clawed into your bones. You remember EMTs and lights and the scream of sirens and the fires and the smoke. But you don’t know the order.

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Noonan frowns. “Were you cleared for release?”

“I . . .”

You trail off, unable to find the words. You think you remember someone checking for a concussion. Yes, thick, square hands grasping your elbows, forcing you to look, look at him, are you okay, are you bleeding, are you hurt –

“Yes, Senator, she was.” Javier’s voice is smooth, collected. He has his arms crossed against his chest and his left knee is bouncing. You know that look. He’s about ready to start cracking heads for a cigarette. “I saw it personally myself.”

“Okay, but why –,”

“With all due respect, ma’am, it’s shock. Plain and simple.” You don’t understand why he’s taking that tone so you look at him. To everyone else, he appears bored, disinterested, eager to get out. But to you, he’s coming apart at the seams. His dark eyes haven’t left your face since you started speaking. “This was her first bombing.”

Something about his words breaks through this numb little box you’ve found yourself in and you can feel the grime on your face pinch your skin as you frown at him. His mouth flattens; what are you looking at me like that for?

“Is that true, Agent?” Noonan pulls your attention away from Javi.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Noonan rifles through a folder to her right, another line appearing between her eyebrows. “And reports say you helped at least five civilians to safety? You did that, while experiencing shock?”

“I –,”

“Yes, she did.” Javier cuts you off and leans forward onto his elbows. He’s closer than he was before and you smell the smoke on him. “This agent performed admirably under intense pressure and I am officially recommending her for commendation.”

“Javier –,” you hiss as the air in your lungs evaporates. He won’t look back at you.

Noonan raises an eyebrow before putting her pen to the pad again. “Noted, Agent Peña.”

“Please, don’t write–,”

“Is there anything else, Senator?” Javier’s knee is incessant, liable to knock over the entire table in a single twitch. With a sigh, Noonan reaches over and switches off the recording.

“No, Peña, there’s nothing else . . . for tonight. But you can bet your ass there’ll be a shitload of crap tomorrow. I wish I could tell you both to take tomorrow off, given the hell you just went through, but there’s already inquiries coming in from the press and the government. Both ours and Colombia. What a fucking nightmare . . .”

She stands, collecting the folder and pad. She stares at you and Javier with unreadable eyes, a thick wall of distance brought about by exhaustion and concern. A house of cards straining to hold up bricks.

“Go home. Eat. Shower. Sleep. As much as you can because tomorrow we hit the ground running.” You nod while Javier just watches her go, but she stops by the door, Lurch already moving down the hall. “And off the record, your country thanks you for your service.”

Your stomach knots and she leaves, her heels clacking as she goes.

“Ready to go home?” Javier’s eyes are dark, soft. He’s filthy and he holds his hand out to you. You stand without taking it.

“Yes.”

By the time, Javi parks his Jeep against the curb, you can feel a bone-deep ache settling in. Exhaustion is so palpable in the air you can almost taste it. Given five more minutes, you would have dropped your forehead against the window and gone to sleep. But you fought it. You drove back the aches and the dreams and the steady pull into a dark sleep because Javier was driving and if he is awake, so are you.

The car engine shuts off, the air still warm from the heat outside, and Javi’s door opens and shuts. You fumble with the handle, pop it back, and almost stumble into the street. But he’s there. As if he had been coming around to get your door for you.

You stumble down from his Jeep and his hands catch you around your shoulders, your waist.

“Easy, easy,” he murmurs to a quiet street. This neighborhood in Botoga is empty this time of night, its residents asleep beneath blankets of darkness. His thumb rubs your waist once before letting go. You’re somehow upright and steady. His hand on your shoulder remains, grounding you, centering the unstable universe. “Can you walk?”

You nod and your eyes fall to his hand on your shoulder, so he lets you go. He watches you take two steps, then go up into the apartment building. He’s always close by, a shadow you could never lose.

He’s somehow even closer, more insistent, more there when you climb the stairs to your shared apartment on the second floor. If you breathe wrong, his hand will shoot out and snatch away whatever is causing you harm. You hear the jingle of keys behind you and you realize your purse is gone.

In the midnight blue hallway, it’s like he can see your thoughts as they cross over your eyes. He’s using his own key to unlock the door. “Everything recovered was taken in as evidence. Everything from the car and everything that was found. We can get it back tomorrow. I’ll talk to Noonan personally.”

What makes you so special with Noonan, you want to say. But you can just picture your keys and purse and everything you held important to you sitting exposed in the evidence locker for anyone to rifle through.

He pauses, as if expecting something from you, but when given only silence, he nudges open the apartment door with his shoulder and the familiar smell of home greets you in your time of need. It smells like the chilaquiles you made last week. It was Javier’s birthday and you didn’t forget and the look on his face when he walked in and instantly recognized the taste of home and –

He stands by the couch, taking up too much room, quietly thinking, the keys still in his hand. He’s so fucking broad.

With a sigh, he tosses the keys onto the coffee table and they clatter against the glass, the sound loud and ringing in the silence.

That heady mixture of fatigue and exhaustion slowly peels back from your brain like water receding from the sand when he tugs that filthy ruined shirt out of his waistband. He scratches the back of his head like he’s trying to knock a thought loose before pinching his eyes. With a huff, as though frustrated, he finally looks at you.

“You wanna take the first shower?” His voice is rough, attached to the back of a truck and spun in gravely circles.

It takes you a minute to realize he’s talking to you.

“Oh, I was, I was just going to go to sleep,” you say honestly. “Just pass out, face first, you know.”

You smile, hoping that might relieve the tension that’s winding up in his shoulders like a batter taking aim. But it doesn’t. In the dark, you can’t quite make out the expression in his eyes. But you do see the whites, like searchlights, seeking you out in the smoke.

“Don’t let it sit with you. Don’t . . . hold onto it.” You think you might know the “it” he’s talking about but you aren’t sure. But his tone lessens as he continues, “just at least rinse off. I wanna check your bandages before we go to sleep.”

The thought of Javier peeling back anything on you leaves you almost rooted to the spot. You want to move but you can’t. There’s a slow, expanding heat starting in your lower stomach, but you won’t acknowledge it. Won’t look at it directly. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Javier–,” his name is strangled in your throat, this entire night living somewhere between your memories and your windpipe.

He’s over to you in a second, hands clutching your elbows, are you hurt, are you here – I can’t find you –

“What? What do you need? Do you need me to help you?”

“Help?” Your voice is barely a whisper. You wonder if you press your thumb to the hollow of his throat, if your skin would come back gray and dirty, and there’d be a clear spot over his skin. His chest fills your vision.

“Yes. Do you need help getting into the shower?”

Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.

The memory is so suddenly clear and loud and invasive you feel like you’ve slapped with the strength of it. You jerk out of his arms, scowling.

“No. No. It’s not that.” You physically lift your arm to keep him back. “No. I’m . . . just make sure the front door’s locked, okay? I’ll be out of the shower . . . in a minute . . .”

You stagger backwards and his nostrils flare, teeth grinding in his jaw, and his eyes carry the ache you feel in your bones.

“You’re in shock. Let me help you –,”

“I’m fine. Just winded.” Turning away from him, your fingers brush the wall to guide you in the etched darkness, the lines of things just barely visible. You slide out of your shoes as you go, unbuttoning your pants and not caring if he follows.

“Can I help you into the shower?”

“No.”

“Can I wait outside?”

“No.”

“Can I sit outside the door, with it open just a crack? In case you fall.”

The fact that that was a mere possibility ran you cold. You pause with your hand on the bathroom door, the zipper of your pants undone. He’s a shadow in the dark apartment, neither one of you reaching for the lights, but you know he’s concerned, coming from a place of care, not condescension, or ire, or disgust. Something about tonight scared the shit out of him.

You nod, allowing this one transgression, and go in before you see him move. As per his request, you leave a small crack in the door and then brace yourself for the light switch. You squint against the bright blaze, the pounding in your head flaring for a second as you slowly open one eye, then two, and your vision adjusts. You meet your gaze in the mirror and gasp.

“What? What is it?” His voice is panicked and you know if you don’t answer in a way that satisfies him, he’s going to break the door down.

“I’m fine, Javi. I’m just . . . I just saw myself in the mirror and I look like I’ve been run over by a semi-truck.”

Silence. “It’s not as bad as you think,” he says simply. You can almost picture him huddled up by the door, not daring to step into the strip of light. “A lot of it is swelling and that’ll go down soon. Give a day or two.”

That’s not really what you meant, but the sentiment from him is overwhelming and for the second time tonight, you struggle to find your voice.

“G-g-good to know.”

You smother his response by turning on the water behind you.

Hot. Scalding hot. You want to disintegrate into the steam. With your belligerent guardian hovering nearby, you unbutton your shirt and ease your jeans off down your hips. Everything was unsalvageable. You wonder if you could get a reimbursement for clothes caught in the crossfire, remembering the story Steve told you about the time Javi got his cash bribery to a cop paid back in full by the DEA.

Despite the things you said to him in the car, and despite what you know about him, you know he’s not eyeing you through the crack. He would never.

I wouldn’t brag about you to anyone, even if you lost.

And I especially would never if you let me fuck you.

That heat blooms in you again and you quickly shuck off your underwear. The steam is overwhelming, soothing the singed insides of your lungs with a wet compress. You step under the water and bite back a gasp. Fucking Jesus, it hurts. It burns, but it feels like it’s stripping off layers and layers of dirt and grime and destruction and smoke and chaos and holy shit, you almost died –

“Javi.” His name is in your mouth before you can stop it. It’s so heavy there, you can almost taste it.

“Yeah?” He responds instantly, cautiously.

“Uh, nothing. Sorry. I was just . . . just making sure you were awake out there.”

“I’m still here.”

He sees through your bullshit so fast it makes you flinch in anger. You scowl at the floor, focusing on watching the gray water rush down the drain. You struggle to fully wash your hair – the bandages around your palms are completely soaked but don’t come off easily – and when you go to rub soap on yourself, you pass over your hips and hiss.

Yep, bruises. Purple ones the size of your fist, up your left side, and by your ribs. You remember waking up sideways, the blast having launched you off your feet and into the road. You were grateful you didn’t knock your head against anything permanent. And lucky nothing got pierced, shattered, or snapped in two. Or crushed or bent or displaced. Two bombs and you get to go home to your bed and sleep.

And so does Javi.

Even just imagining that Javi wouldn’t make it home ran a shudder through your body so painful, the water shooting out of the shower head could have been ice cold. But the images in your mind grow and distort, his eyes wide open and no life within, his body too mangled for identification, your consciousness and his separated forever or maybe lost together in the same snarling black pit of endless nothing – tears spring into your eyes so fast it hurts as sharpness clogs your throat.

God, you came so fucking close to dying and all this petty bullshit that you’ve dragged him through just because you didn’t want to seem incapable, when in fact, he thought you were the most talented agent he’s ever seen – why the fuck are you doing this to him? The intensity in your chest swells but you beat it back, beat it down, as you wrangle back your belligerent emotions into the box where they belong. No, fuck, that’s stupid. He’s fine. You’re fine. This is what you trained for. You cannot afford to lose it now. This is standard operating procedure. He’s not crying so neither should you. Buck the fuck up.

You stand there for a full minute, every muscle in your body locked to steady yourself, mouth twisted down, hands fisted, thighs clenched, thighs locking up at the memory of him, of his promises, of the line you nearly crossed before it all went to hell.

Just fucking relax and let me take you apart.

You release, eyes open, mouth apart with a gasp. Fuck, this is so fucked up. You wanted Javi alive and breathing, to annoy every day, and to rail you within an inch of your life.

I’d make it good. I’d make it so fucking good, I swear.

He is just outside that door. Just waiting for you to say the word.

No. He didn’t go running into the next open bed just because he was sad or some shit. Sad or scared or whatever. No, you aren’t going to be that pathetic, no matter how badly you throb, no matter how much you ache, no matter how much you already know that your fingers won’t be enough – and you can’t even use them. Hissing from the hot water on your skin and the frustration that grows between your legs, you carefully, gingerly, knowing full well what would happen if you made any sort of unusual sound, stepped out of the bathtub and took a towel down from the shelf. You wrapped it around yourself, your skin warm and smarting, but no longer aching.

The door hadn’t moved an inch.

You brush your hair a few times out of habit more than anything else and squeegee it until it's no longer dripping. Now to face him. You knock on the door, feeling as though you should respect this boundary you made on both sides.

“Uh, Javi,” your chest won’t let you forget you were near tears, or the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn that insatiable animal between your legs decided to make. You try again, firmer. “Javier, I’m done.”

“Do you want me to leave so you can go to the bedroom?”

Leave? Why would you want him to leave the apartment?

No. He’s asking if you don’t want him to see you in a towel. You can almost picture his broad hand on the other handle. A phantom over your own.

“N-n-no. It’s fine. I’ll just – I’ll just come out.”

You pull back the door and he’s there against the door frame, his broad shoulders turned away from you like someone left the paddock door open and all you have to do is run, run free, run away –

“Thanks,” you murmur, not meeting his eyes as you slide past him. You don’t even fault him if he looks at your ass, but you make it to the bedroom. The bathroom door clicks shut behind you and your lungs release a pent-up breath.

He was fucking right. Getting it off you does make it better.

From your dresser, you grab just some underwear and your older brother’s old college t-shirt. It comes to your midthigh and that’s exactly what you need right now. You don’t want anything thick on you. The smell is comforting in a way you can’t describe and you inhale as all the tension eases from your body.

You drop your towel over the handle of the closet, in which Javi had somehow managed to find space for his many collared shirts despite you swearing there was not an inch of room for him, when you see something on the floor by the dresser. Call it delusion from the events of the night, but you don’t recognize it for what it is until you pick it up . . . and immediately drop it when the realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

It’s a rag, one you both (horrifyingly) use to wash your face, and it’s stiff on the inside. Not full, but hardened. Vaguely you can still hear the shower running as you contemplate what this means. For all the shit you give him, you really didn’t think he would cheat and not fess up. No, this wasn’t him consciously cheating – the rag was too casually discarded for this to be considered evidence. This is something else.

All of this – the bet, the rules, the fact that you actually included wet dreams – you decided on!

Twice now I’m pretty sure I’ve gone blind in one eye, listening to all that and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it.

This is . . . your freebie.

Your face warms, your fingers flexing around the edge of your t-shirt. Holy shit. Wet dreams. Nocturnal emissions. Holy shit.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

The shower turns off just as the warm rushes between your legs, unrestrained and unrestricted. You swear your mouth waters at the thought that you might find an ounce of relief, tonight. Even soon. Your thighs quiver.

The bathroom door opens and you all but launch yourself under the covers. Your fingers are between your thighs before you can stop them, just there, a reminder of relief and you fight off a shiver. The respect he gave you slips into your mind the second before he rounds the corner into the bedroom and you snap your eyes shut, the covers to your chin.

He moves in silence, but the things around him do not. The floor cracks where he walks. The dresser drawer groans as he opens them and shuts them. You think you hear the rustle of a towel falling, then fabric moving on skin, and the floor squeaks in protest as he walks back out of the room.

You breathe out, the air hacked up and choppy as though through between blades. You take your fingers from between your legs, but the stickiness in your underwear remains, just as it has been for a month and a half now. You might be berating yourself – what kind of fucked up were you that this is your reaction to a near-death experience? – if the light at the end of the tunnel wasn’t so bright. You could take off that searing, serrated edge that’s kept you from sleeping well, from dreaming, remove your brain from the hot plate it's been sizzling in for a month and a half. You try desperately not to imagine Javi entirely naked as he moves about the room, but you can’t help it, not now that you’ve given yourself permission to marinate in those feelings, in that heat. Oh God, please can’t he just go to bed?

There’s a click and suddenly light blooms behind your eyelids. You squint open one eye to see him coming towards you with a medical kit in his hands.

“I know you’re awake. Sit up and let me dress your hands.”

The white gauze was damp and soggy from the shower, but you hadn’t really noticed. He sits down, just beyond where your toes are covered by your blanket, and sighs.

“C’mon. Faster you do this, the faster we can go to sleep.”

“Or we could just not. Just go to sleep now.” Just go over there. All the way over there. The bed sinks where he adjusts on your mattress and you swear you can feel his body heat through the covers. You bite your lip and force that whimper back down your throat.

“It’ll get infected.” He taps your thigh under the comforter. “C’mon.”

You sit up but don’t give him your hands. He’s turned on the lamp light between your two beds, not the overhead light, and it blurs all the lines of his shoulders, his jaw, his hair. His white shirt is warmly golden and you realize you had been hoping he wasn’t wearing one. He still hasn’t looked up at you. Maybe he really is irritated that he’s not asleep yet, which you marvel at – you won’t be able to fall asleep for hours, even if you weren’t low throbbing between your legs. With a sigh that’s more practice than sincerity, you stick out your palms. The gauze and tape no longer sit right over your skin and you can now see the pink skin beneath it.

Javi makes a noise in the back of his throat before digging around in the med kit for something. He pulls out a small pair of scissors and starts cutting back the gauze.

“I could do this myself, you know.” It’s petulant and bratty but you didn’t think Javier Peña was capable of the delicate touch with which he holds your hand steady.

“I know,” he says. “I wanted to do it for you.”

It is painfully obvious that you absolutely could not do this unassisted but for the life of you, you can’t imagine why he’s humoring you. You watch him as he methodically cuts through the wet gauze, inordinately careful not to catch or drag the material. He cuts down between your third and fourth knuckle on both hands, and eases the gauze away.

Exposed to the open air, the wounds on the heels of your palms sting and you hiss. Javi, who just had his head in the kit, snaps his head up to you.

“Don’t–,”

But it’s too late, you’ve already turned over your hands. Angry, red, pulsing gashes, some so deep you can see muscle, sit in matching places at the bottom of your hands. Presumably, when you were thrown, you reached out to catch yourself and your hands and hips got the brunt of the impact. But your hips had your jeans over them while your hands had nothing.

“You don’t need stitches.” Javi’s gaze is heavy, his voice low. His hands loosely hold the new roll of gauze and tape. He looks like he’s bracing himself, that he’s worried you’re about to yell at him. “I checked with the EMTs. You don’t need stitches.”

“Oh.” You won’t be able to properly close your hands for months.

“They don’t think–,” his voice catches. “They don’t think it’ll scar either. Maybe a bit, but not so much that –,”

“Where were you?” Your question isn’t accusatory, but curious. You look up at him and he flinches. “I don’t see anything on you.”

“You were closer.” The room is thick with his solemnity. “You were covering my right and I,” he swallows, his eyes fixated on your bloody hands, “I should have seen it coming.”

“Bullshit, Javi. No one could have seen that coming. No one could have stopped it.” His nostrils flare again and he not-too-gently takes your hand with his fingers. Your wrist looks so small in comparison to his fingers. He unwinds the gauze around your palm, and wraps it up against your wrist, securing it with tape, his movements tight and short. There’s real rage in his eyes.

“Yes, I could have.”

His fucking ego. It scratches against you until you feel your skin catch fire. You want to snatch back your other hand, but he’s insistent, not rough, but boasting no room for negotiation. “There’s nothing you could have done, you idiot. You’re not actually Superman.”

He grinds his teeth. “I should have just done my fucking job.”

There’s only so much you can take. This fucking man.

You snatch your hand back from him the instant the tape seals the gauze.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” His shoulders are lined with tension. You want to kick him off your bed. His fingers dig into your mattress. “You fucking follow me around like I’m liable to break apart and then you go and pull this shit.”

“What shit?” He growls as he angrily packs up the kit and drops it on the floor.

“This! This tough guy, I’m-fucking-invincible, John-Wayne bullshit. We were both there, Javier. Both of us were in the crossfire of not one, but two explosions tonight. So don’t act like I’m the only one upset. Don’t act like this didn’t affect you.”

He goes still. His nails freeze in their excavation of your bedsheets, his shoulders hunched like he’s straining under some immense pressure. Just as you’re about to lift your eyes to find his, he stands – and moves closer to your end of the bed. You flinch, react, because this is not at all what you were expecting from him, and you pull your knees to your chest.

His hand hovers over your knee.

He’s so broad he eclipses the light until he’s all you see. There’s a twitch in his jaw and finally his hand settles down. His thumb rubs your skin once, as if to confirm you’re there.

For the first time in your partnership, his face is unreadable to you. His gaze is dark, stormy, raging, but the corners of his mouth are pulled down and his breathing is sharp. His swallow unsticks his jaw from his upper teeth.

“I thought I lost you today.” His voice is firm. Solid. Unwavering. It had been building up against his teeth, around the soft palate of his tongue. It sat in his mouth and waited for its turn. His confession makes him braver. He sits, closer to you than he was in the car, closer to you than he’s ever been. He watches his hand on your knee. How close it is to your thigh. How easy it would be to slide down to your hip. And then he shakes his head, as though physically fighting back sleep. “Don’t ask me to talk about it. Okay? I can’t. Don’t ask me about it.”

You can almost feel his gravitational pull. But you resist. You always resist.

It can’t be this easy for him. You can’t be this willing. You cannot be some stupid skirt for him or anyone to throw around.

“You told Noonan this was my first bombing, that I was in shock.”

“You were. That’s why you don’t remember what happened clearly,” he says gently, no condescension, “it’ll come to you, in a few days. You just need time to process it.” He speaks from experience and it makes you so angry. He breathes out his nose and his hand retreats, sliding back down your calf, his fingers wrapping around your ankle as if you intended to fly away and he wasn’t going to let you.

“But then why did you make it sound like I couldn’t handle it?” It’s not in your imagination when his eyes go dark, mouth flatting, when he sees you just have underwear on underneath your shirt. You watch him as his eyelids fall heavy and his head turns, just a bit.

What the fuck is wrong with you? No –

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“It has nothing to do with you,” he says softly, his gaze riding back up your knee, as slow and as steady as his hand. He stops in his touchless-roving of you and looks you in your eye. Now this look . . . this look you know. It was the same one he wore when he told you he wanted to ruin other people for you. “I’ve seen fully grown men curl up into a ball after experiencing what you went through. It was horrific. People died. There’s a natural reaction to these things. You’re only human.”

It’s a sentiment that disgusts you.

“And it’ll come to me too.” Javier admits. The words ring in the air, hovering, crawling into your ears, down your throat and taking root into your heart. Eyes never leaving your face, he suddenly comes forward, hand going across your hip, drawing his body over yours as you lean back as far as the headboard will let you go, but his broad shoulders have you pinned. You swallow a whimper in your throat. His head turns, and the electrons between the tip of his nose and your skin crackle. His breath is less close than he is. “It’ll come for me. I know it will.” He sighs as if your scent is soothing, “do you want me to help you forget?”

Just his gaze has you in a stranglehold. If you move a muscle, you’ll touch him. The tendons in his forearms flex on both sides.

“I-I-I want– I want–,”

“Tell me, baby, tell me what you want.” His voice is honey smooth, glazed with sparks and fireworks. He says one thing when he means, let me kiss you.

His nose drags down your throat, inhaling as if to savor, and he plants one chaste kiss on your collar bone, lets his lips linger. He’s tasting you for the first time. “What were you going to say? Do you need a reminder?” As quick and as hot as lightning, his hand leaves the mattress, eases around the back of your thigh and he presses his knuckles into the wet clutch of your underwear. He punches out a quiet groan as your breathing stutters – fuck, how did he know? “She seems to remember me pretty well. Remembers how I made her feel.”

You snag him by the wrist, your other elbow quaking, your breathing small and tight. This is it, this is how it all ends. You look him in the eye, knowing whatever is rapidly expanding in your chest has made it into your gaze, into the set of your jaw, and Javi looks like he wants to drink whatever’s in your mouth right out of your lips.

“I found the rag.”

Tonight’s full of firsts, it seems; Javier Pena fucking blushes.

“That wasn’t– I was sleeping, that doesn’t count. I can’t control it.”

Your breathing hitches, victory squeezing your lungs.

“F-f-fine,” you murmur. Slowly, you push his fingers back into your wet panties. You think you might melt from the intensity of his stare alone, “but I want a f-f-freebie too.”

You watch as Javi’s irises plunge into darkness.

“You want me to make you come, and it won’t count? The bet’s still on?”

You nod, frantically, rolling your hips against his fingers and he hisses, yanking back from you.

“Fucking finally. But we’re doing this my way.”

“What do you–,”

Snagging you by the hips, he twists you perpendicular to the bed as he sinks to his knees on the floor. Your heart is pounding in your throat as you watch him toss your knees over his shoulders, eyes fixated on that wet spot on your crotch.

“Javi, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Bed’s too small,” he murmurs, licking his lips, still focused on you. “Can’t stretch out with the dresser. Knees are gonna fucking kill me but . . .”

As though called, Javi drops his head and kisses where your clit would be over your underwear. All strength is suddenly zapped from your elbows and you flop back, the sound of his corresponding groan forever imprinted on your hips.

“Oh, fuck, Javi, what are you–,”

His fingers curve around the waistband of your underwear and with his nose hovering just over where the waistline sits, he tugs, over one leg and then the other. You feel his breath warm over the dampness in the thatch of your curls and you cannot fight the noise that breaks out of your chest. Your fingers dive into his hair and he hasn’t even touched you.

“Just the one, right?” He licks the inside of your thigh and you arch, just a bit. God, you are so oversensitive and it’s fucking embarrasing – but it’s been so goddamn, fucking long and it’s him.

“Y-y-yes, just, just the one.”

He surges forward, mutters something that sounds like, “we’ll see”, and licks the entire length of your slit.

He is relentless. He is relentless and talented and so very, very, very eager –

Head thrown back, you press your shoulders into the mattress as he licks the slick from your cunt, washing your clit with his spit and your slick. He plays there, twisting and swirling, and just at the peak of pleasure, he sinks two fingers into you and a moan rockets out of you.

“JaviJaviJavi–,”

His responding moan sends shivers across your skin as he opens his jaw wider to lick you even deeper. He shifts attention, focuses on your fluttering cunt while his thumb makes laps around that sweet bundle of nerves. With every heartbeat, you can feel his hands, his tongue, the tip of his nose, flush with your slick. It’s like he’s bleeding you dry, wringing every bit of pleasure from you while he still can.

His fingers pump hard and fast without warning and you jolt, thighs tensing, sending a crackle down your spine that thrusts your hips into his face. Oh god, they are so much bigger than your own fingers. Oh god, he’s right. Oh god, oh god, oh god –

The white-knuckled terror of what happened tonight snaps in half as your back arches against his chest. You can feel the hold it had on you crack as he beckons you forward, beckons you back to that knife-edge of relief, as he drags you out of this broken, horrified shell. How did he know exactly what you needed? That coil springs red hot and tight, pleasure rocketing between your legs and up your spine.

“Worst thought I had all night was that I’d never get back inside this sweet pussy,” he mutters into your thigh. He doesn’t even ask when he adds a third finger, his other hand ridiculously stroking under your knee, as if you’d ever be calm, ever be rational again.

“Do you hear that, baby? She’s crying for me. She missed me so much,” he grunts directly into your sopping wet pussy. He groans at the sound. Eyes fluttering, he drops his head and licks around your clit again, his wrist snapping against you so roughly you bounce up the mattress.

Goddamn it, Javier.

Your core starts to flutter, this orgasm that has been mounting for weeks every time you look at him roaring down on you. It's the one from the car that’s been lurking just out of sight. It’s the one from when you sat on the toilet as he paraded around topless, so consumed with hatred and blind lust you couldn’t move. It’s the one that sparked out, unwanted and unbidden when he smirked at you over his desk, and said, “fine, I’ll take your fucking bet.”

Your nails scratch at his head, fingers knotting his hair, that enormous, crushing orgasm just out of reach, with every muscle in your body extended out to reach it – if you could just get a finger on it –

“You come for me, now. Only me.” His gaze is transfixed on you, mouth, chin, cheeks shining in the low light, but the blazing in his eyes has a direct line to the white-lighting thundering behind the thrust of his fingers. Your eyes roll back in your head as he flicks his wrist faster, the precision of his thumb on your clit mind-numbing.

“Oh, Javi, Jesus Christ, I—,”

“Just let me take you apart.”

He curls his fingers, and sucks on your clit hard.

You’re launched.

Launched off the ground. Into the stratosphere. White noise, propelling you higher and higher, static where your limbs should be.

There’s the height, the peak, the intensity almost burning out your nerve-endings to numbness, you’re pretty sure you’ve stopped breathing, toes curled against his back, heels digging into his spine –

– and then –

He french-kisses your cunt and you slam back down so hard you curl inwards. It knocks you flat back against the mattress, your fingers ooze away from the crown of his head and flop against your stomach. You do not possess the willpower or ability to open your eyes. The warmth between your legs settles, purrs, satiated.

“J-Javi,” you try and speak through a completely dry mouth. “J-Javi, come here.”

He grunts, uh-uh, and slowly, as feeling returns to your legs, you feel his hands around your hips, fingers pulling you down, down into his open mouth where he’s still –

You whimper, that simmer ticking up again. There is no energy left inside of you to stop him, and you don’t want to. Not really. Not when he’s rocking you smoothly, gently with three fingers, through your first high and leading you towards another. He twists his wrist, middle finger brushing you yourself could never quite reach and your hips buck up, wavering on the edged line between pain and pleasure. He presses a wet, salty kiss into your hip bone, keeping you still.

Your own breathing seems to set you off, as if any movement at all is liable to heat that spark, make you clench tighter and tighter on his fingers. “Javi, please – it’s only-only supposed to be the o-one–,”

He groans, rubbing his forehead against you as his fingers plug you up again and again. He licks a patch of skin just below your hip bone and you shiver.

“You come for me when I tell you to come,” he tongues your clit and you twist, not entirely overstimulation, but god it makes you ache. “You come, you frustrating hermosita, and you let me give you as many orgasms as I want and you forget this stupid fucking bet–,”

Your trembling thigh pulls out of his grasp, heel digging into his shoulder, and with a jerk you pry him off you, out of you, and your second orgasm is wrenched away from you so fast, you actually black out for a second. You kick out, gasping in shock and agony, and he falls back on his ass on the floor. But you were too close, on the heels of what quite possibility was the biggest orgasm of your life, too sensitive and freshly fucked. A gyroscope of blinding heat and pulsing wet, you’re oscillating between pain and pleasure, and you clamp your legs shut, hand springing to your mouth. This is it, this is the moment you cry, the moment you break down. You can’t take it anymore. Not after a month, not after all this time as his partner, not after almost dying–

You feel like your body is actively rebelling against you, punishing you for being so fucking stupid.

And you know you’re being stupid too, but it's a reaction. It’s an instinct at this point – self-preservation above all else. Groaning, you roll onto your side, trying to breathe through it, trying to swallow it all down – but your thighs – they’re sticky, and wet, and you can feel your slick all the way down to the curve of your ass – and it makes you just –

“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the bet,” and he laughs. Easy, a little disbelieving, but not angry. You wrench your eyes open, mustering all that throbbing into a glare that you hope burns his skin. He’s climbed into the far end of the bed, leaning back against the dresser at the foot of your bed, thick cock fully tenting his shorts, but looking so smug you want to kick him again. You weakly bat at his ankle with your toe.

“Y-you . . . shut the fuck up,” you groan, your thighs quavering. You gulp down air, seeing

the other side of it, but it’s not going away fast enough.

He sighs, adjusting himself in his pants, but not trying to hide in the slightest. “Stop squeezing. You’re making it worse.”

“What?” you pant.

Javi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark, then lifts his hands, a universal white-flag, and he gently takes your ankle, pulling it back across the mattress. It spreads your legs, the cold air in the room against your overripe and exposed cunt almost tickling, but the pressure lessens, eases. You might have been embarrassed to be so completely exposed to him but you stopped worrying about dignity a long time ago.

“Relax. And breathe.”

You throw your crossed wrists over your forehead, sucking in lungfuls of air, as he slowly parts your thighs as they finally stop shaking. Inhaling, exhaling, you bury the sensation until it isn’t overwhelming anymore. He gently thumbs your ankle.

“There you go. You did it . . . whatever it is you’re trying to do.” You open your eyes to his smile, no longer smug, but a little delirious. He shakes his head, laughing a bit as he looks at the ceiling. “Do you feel better?”

You scowl at him and haul yourself to the other end of the bed, closing your legs that have completely turned to jelly. You curl away from him.

“No, you fucking asshat, I don’t feel better.” You eye his still-tented pants. “Do you?”

He sighs, a fraction of his control slipping, and he traces mustache with his forefinger and thumb.

“Not particularly.” He watches your ankles move on the blankets with interest, gaze hardening as it curves over your thigh. “So what’s your next move? What’s your plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to deny yourself, forever?”

“No, just until you come first. Then, fuck, I think I’m going to join a swingers club.”

“Not funny.”

“It is if you’re me.”

His cock is softening, easing back down, and he sulkily rubs himself. The hum between your legs has finally gone to sleep. You could turn your foot and brush his calf. This bed is definitely not meant to hold two fully grown adults.

You can tell he’s itching for a cigarette.

“Why do you want to win so much?” He crosses his arms, contemplative instead of sour. “I mean, you prove to them that you have more willpower than the rest of the building combined and every man at the DEA knows not to fuck with you. But then what? What do you get then?”

You push back with your shoulders, turning so that you’re facing him, your foot now near his knee. There’s a birthmark on his left inner thigh you’ve never seen before. Never before has anyone tried so hard to understand you.

“Peace,” you answer, the answer coming to you immediately. “Quiet. I can finally do my job without worrying about some mouth-breather taking a photo up my skirt.”

His eyes darken, an unsettling rage sparking to life. “Did someone actually do that to you?”

You pick at a thread on your shirt. “It’s none of your concern. And if it did, you don’t have to worry because I fucking launched his camera out the third story window.”

“Good. But I want you to tell me who it was.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

“What if this was just for me? What if I don’t want to work with a fucking asshole who takes pictures of my female colleagues? What if I’ve had a shitty month and a half and I want to kick someone ass, huh?”

You sit up a little straighter, his diatribe flushing something warm inside you. He shakes his head, but you can see his gears turning about how to sneak employee records from the old lady in HR. But he brings himself back to the moment, to you.

“Okay, so peace, quiet. Fucking dead men who take pictures up your skirt. What now?”

“Now I live uninterrupted. My work is judged on its merit not what’s between my legs. I’m finally left alone.”

“Alone? Isn’t that . . . well, lonely?”

“Doesn’t matter when you’re queen of the mountain,” you smile. And that’s what you always believed. That was the goal. That was the end. Whatever you had to crawl your way through, whatever monstrous form your ambition took, there was always the mountain.

Javi chews on the skin behind his bottom lip as he looks at you. If there ever comes a time when he’s not frowning at you, there’s something probably very wrong.

And then he turns his head, as if seeing a light in the distance.

“So you’re queen of the mountain top. Ice queen, frost witch, all alone.”

Something in his voice tears at a vulnerable place inside you. “Javier, don’t. Just drop it, okay?”

“All alone and no one to call you a monster. What was your phrasing, a nagging bitch?”

“Get off my bed, Javier. Right now. Get out.”

“If I make you come first, I’ll tell everyone I went first.” His brown eyes catch the lamplight and burn gold for an instant.

You tuck your legs underneath you, your heart rate doubling. He’s cutting a line through your emotions, jerking you back and forth between anger, sadness, embarrassment, fear — you’d swear he was using a scalpel.

“Why is it so fucking important to you that I get off?” You snap. “Why do you want to be the one to do it? Why did you t-touch me like that? Why do you care?”

He moves quicker than he has all night, probably now that he knows you can’t out run him. That you don’t actually want to. You want him to catch you every single time. Javi crawls forward, follows your legs up to your chest, and cages you between his thighs. Your feet slid under the space between his calves and the mattress.

He’s not trying to crowd you, not trying to intimidate you. But he does want you to be overwhelmed by him. To let only him exist in your mind.

Gently, but this time because he wants to savor every delicious second, he takes your hand again and kisses your wrist, eyes closed.

“Cariño,” he murmurs in his native language and it’s like someone dropped a bucket between your legs. Your cunt bottoms out at that single word. His other hand scoops down around your waist, encouraging you forward, and of course you go willingly, until you’ve got your thighs around his hips and your head tucked into the curve of his neck. He breathes deep . . . And he holds you. Just holds you.

It’s so raw you’re trembling.

He lifts the collar of your shirt and presses his lips to your skin.

“Te han lastimado antes. No otra vez. No conmigo.” He puts his forehead against your temple. “You know exactly why I care. I thought it was obvious when I nearly lost my goddamn mind in the street tonight. I couldn’t find you in the smoke. I knew I was being too obvious, but I couldn’t care. It was written all over my face.”

He’s plucking back your exposed wiring, to the meat of you. To the fleshy tender bits. The thing you always feared the most.

And yet, with him, it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel like you’re losing, when he discovers your secrets. When he learns the truth of you. And more importantly, he doesn’t flinch away.

That’s quite literally never happened before.

Tears flood your eyes before you can stop them and you bury your face in his throat. You’ve gotten very good at silent crying but a single breath and he has his broad hands rubbing up and down your spine.

“I think even Noonan knows. But what’s she gonna do?” He snorts, characteristically cavalier about his career in the face of what he finds most important.

You feel very small against his chest, a position you never wanted to be in your most terrifying nightmares.

But looking back, there’s a lot you would tell your past self.

You lift your head, not trying to hide your tears as you gaze up at him. “Noonan knows what, Javi?”

His smile is sad, still disbelieving, but warm. Gentle. Loving. It pricks at your heart.

“Ask me again in the morning, baby. Okay? Pregúntame entonces.”

You nod and he wipes back the streaks of tears with his thumbs.

“Can I please make you come now?”

You swallow, that heat sparking from his hands on your cheeks, down your spine, and into the very center of you.

“Okay.”

You reach forward and cup the back of his head, fingers twisting into his hair, and you realize this is the first time you've ever touched him like this. You sniffle.

“Okay, Peña. Do your worst.”

He snorts. “It’s not supposed to feel like ripping off a bandaid.”

Logically, you don’t disagree. But . . .

“I know.”

Do you?

His eyes search your face, his hand on your cheek almost firm as if inspecting you. “We’ll come at the same time, alright? No winners, no losers, just us.”

You nod frantically, eyes tracing his lips, his nose, his chin. “Yeah. Just us. Just us, Javi.”

“Only us,” he murmurs breathily, gaze locked onto your mouth, and your hands tighten around the back of his neck. Shifting more into his knees, his fingers tug at his shorts, dragging them down over his hips and once you realize what he’s doing, your pulse instantly skyrockets.

His waistband slips down and his cocks springs free, tapping against your thigh and it’s suddenly too real – his arm around you is crushing the wind out of you, but it’s not enough and too much. Is that what was in his jeans? Is that what he rubbed up against the steering wheel over and over again?

“I’m gonna do it right, I swear,” he promises your sternum as he knees out of his shorts. “I’m gonna eat your pussy for as long as you can take it, but I –,”

His gaze flickers to your hand as you drop your shirt off the side of the bed and he stills for just a second. Then he looks back up at you, those dark brown pupils blown wide in lust and awe, and you feel the air sucked from your lungs. You are, in every sense of the word, naked in front of Javier Peña.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, pulling him on top of you, your nipples rubbing roughly against his shirt. He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, to ready you, but you shake your head, the lack of oxygen in your brain making you slightly light-headed as if you’ve been tumbling down the side of a hill.

“It’s fine, Javi, I just need – I want –,”

He nods because he understands you – he fucking sees you, he always, always had – and he lifts your thighs. His breath shortens in anticipation as he works your hips, your damp folds rubbing against his length.

“I’m gonna – I’m gonna do it right, I s-swear –,”

Your nails dig into the back of his neck and he groans.

“Javi, just do it now.”

He settles you down and lets the weight of you take him in, inch by agonizing inch, up into your warm, dripping center. After almost two months of aching emptiness, the sudden burst of pleasure nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” the stretch is magnificent, ecstacy rippling through you, and you claw yourself closer to him. He grunts in your ear and his other hand latches onto the headboard.

“Ngh– fuck, I know.”

He grip on your waist tightens, either fighting the urge to come or fuck up into you, as you sink down onto him. Your eyes flutter and you feel sweat spark out down your spine. Your hand lifts the back of his shirt and you press your palm into the small of his back.

“Take-take this off.” He complies, shifting you both and you open-mouth gasp at the change in pressure. He sags forward, his head on your shoulder, and his forearm binding you to him. His teeth nip at your skin.

Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing in your entire life.

God, he is going to ruin you.

“Javier, please move—,”

He nods, and sits back. “Yeah – yeah, okay –,”

He rolls his hips once and fuck, you are never going to do this to yourself again. It’s not just that you haven’t had sex in almost two months but you had been teasing yourself around him, some primal part of your brain throwing a fit that you didn’t give into your baser instinct for him. It was him specifically that wound you tighter than a wet knot and now you are in danger of coming so hard and so fast from just a single thrust.

He shifts you more so your weight is more on top of him, pressing your low back closer, and finally he starts rolling his hips, dragging the length of him just enough out. You swear you can follow the line of your orgasm on the lines of his hips.

“I just – I need to take the edge off–,” He confesses to your throat, in a low, wrecked voice. “Just a bit.”

“I don’t care, Javi,” you squeeze your thighs and you can hear the headboard groan behind you. “Just move!”

He bucks up into you, rougher, all in one go, giving himself over to your demands, to his own and starts hammering into your hips. It hurts, but fuck it feels good too. He sets a pace that has your mouth go slack, his hip bones rubbing right up against your clit over and over and over again, overheating every inch of your skin and making your mouth water. You think you feel him up in your cervix.

“Fuck, why did we wait so long to do this?” he murmurs against your jaw. “Huh? Been living with you for a month – nghh – this’s what we could’ve been doing instead?”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull your warm tits against his chest. He groans, and his fingers slip down to the bottom of your spine, one resting against the crack of your ass.

“Month in a half–,” you correct him breathlessly. “‘ve had to watch you walk around topless in the morning . . . for a month and a half.”

He releases something between a growl and a groan from his chest and he drops you a bit, angling his hips down, and you gasp at the angle. You lean back and scrape your nails down his chest.

He drops his mouth open and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, rolls it between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. When you jolt, he seeks out the other one, nipping just hard enough it makes you gasp.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Javi–,”

“You like that?” he smirks, his sideburns damp, “yeah, you do.”

You barely nod before he turns you both onto the bed, but he grabs your knees from his hips and splits them. Switching from that rough bounce, Javi grinds his cock deeper into you, brushing a place inside of you that flicks the heat like a lighter. You want to hold your legs open for him.

“Can’t wait to see you come like this,” he grunts. His hand leaves your knee and starts to tease your clit again. You’re leaking into the mattress, your cunt fluttering as though electrified. “See you turn off that fucking gorgeous brain of yours. Maybe then you’ll be nice to me.”

“Never.”

He smirks above you and you can’t help but grin back.

“You’re such a tease, you know that?” His grinds are long, deep, allowing for the sound of your cunt sucking him in to punctuate the silence.

“Only for you.” You want to take it back the second it's out of your mouth, but you can’t and he is . . . the expression on your face, it makes him bite down on his back molars.

His eyes flutter and he rewards you with a swift rub on your clit. You shudder, feeling so full, you can barely form sentences, much less words.

“Yeah? Only me?” His damp hand leaves your clit and slides up your ribs, taking his time as he fucks you so deep, you’re going to feel it tomorrow in your guts. He cups the heavy flesh of your breast, and circles your nipple with his thumb. You arch into his touch and his mouth drops. “All this – just for me, baby?”

You squeeze him once, your fingers wrapped around his forearms, and his rhythm slips. “You fucking heard me the first time. Don’t stop.”

He slows, his irises jet black and wide, lust-blown. His sweaty chest heaving, droplets running down the back of his neck, he pins you to the mattress with just his gaze. His hips draw little figure eights and you fight to keep your eyes from rolling back, to force that oncoming orgasm at bay.

“Still with that mouth. That goddamn attitude.”

You swallow, because oh god, you’ve really done it now. “Yeah. I remember something about fucking that attitude out of me.”

His head cocks to the side. His hands leave your knees, hovering as they tease the microscopic hairs on your skin, until he’s braced over you. You wrap your legs around his hips, bringing them down to you.

“Do you want that?” He husks, nose trailing over yours, then your mouth, your chin, as drops of sweat patter onto your neck, your chest. The Bogota heat is really unforgivable. You know you’re staining your sheets with multiple fluids. “You want me to fuck the attitude out of you?”

“A lady never repeats herself,” you mutter, your hands combing through his damp curls. “Javi, I’m so close, please. . .” One of those disbelieving eyebrows arch up. He doesn’t seem to hear you.

“A lady, huh? Well, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I came first, so why don’t you just . . .” He unwinds one of your legs from his hips, balances it over his shoulder, and grinds down. Your snarky retort is lost to the recess of your brain and the tension flares within you, forcing a breathy moan out of your mouth. His gaze follows your nose as you arch back and come down. “There we go, just needed it right, huh?”

“Just–,” thrust, “a little–,” thrust, “attention–,”

“God, Javi–,” you cry out.

His new pace is even more staggering than the last. At this angle, you feel like you’re being split up, carved out, taking him in until there’s more of him than you. His thrusts are just as deep as the last but harder, rougher, faster–

Oh, god, so fast, so, so, so fast–

He’s fucking you down into the mattress and you deliriously consider the sturdiness of this fucking twin bed. It squeaks and rocks.

“So fucking tight,” Javi mutters to himself more than you, his jaw locked. “So fucking good.”

You’re right at the peak in a fraction of the time, your walls no longer fighting him. He groans deep as you start to flutter, start to come– when he stops – again.

“Javi,” the halting of your orgasm is officially painful, your stomach tight and your cunt clenching. And fuck, you’re crying. “Javi, please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything. Anything you ask, but please, please let me come.”

He half-chuckles, half-pants as he lifts your hips up and sets a pillow down under them.

“When I said I was going to fuck you and make it good, I meant it. Besides,” he swings your other leg over his shoulder again, rocking over you and nearly splitting you in half. He fills you in a single, rough stroke and at the new angle, where he’s deeper than ever, and now the tears stream out the corner of your eyes as you gasp at the sensation. “I thought you said you didn’t want to come.” You whine, high-pitched and needy, as he drags all the way back out and plummets down again, making you feel every inch of him. You’re a sobbing mess when he does it again.

“Fuck, Javi, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please keep doing that–,”

With little half-thrusts, he kisses your left temple, right over where the tears flowed into the sheets.

“You did everything right tonight.” You split open your watery lashes to see him watching you. He looks about as wrecked as you feel, brow furrowed, cheeks pink. How does he fucking maintain control like this? “You’re doing everything right. You did so good. But let me do this. I want to – I’ve wanted, for s’long –,”

Your breathing stutters between the tears and his words. You can only nod, your bottom lip trembling, as Javi picks up his speed again, steady at first, then harder. He grunts with every stroke, like he’s trying to prove something. The slap of hips against yours is outrageous. Every thrust threatens to shatter the very center of you. Detonate something precious and vulnerable inside of you.

“You’re close, aren’t you? God, I can feel it. I can fucking feel it.”

He thrusts down more, faster, like he’s chasing you, chasing your orgasm. He grits his teeth, neck muscles corded. He hitches your leg higher.

“C’mon, ba-by, that’s- it, that’s it– lemme fe-el it–,”

But you are seconds away and he’s still not there, still sprinting after you. So you do the only thing you can think of.

You lean up, your knee falling off his shoulder, and you kiss him. Hand clutching his neck, you kiss him with every last ounce of your awareness, of self-preservation, of fucking adoration because this man is the only creature on the planet with a willpower to match your own. And you fucking love it.

He grunts and thrusts one more time and that’s it.

Your vision whites out, your thighs trembling, tension snapping, and sends you hurling over the edge. Both of you over the edge. You whine against his mouth, as he cock drives deep, deep within you one last time. You feel his warm ropey cum paint the inside of you, cock twitching, your walls rippling, sucking him dry, and his entire body sags down into you. You have to turn your head to breath, to gasp in air, oxygen flooding your brain, and he pants into your neck. His bicep trembles where he’s trying and failing to keep his weight off you.

“Jesus, fuck–,” he mutters against your skin, the sweat on his forehead mixing with your own wet salt. He’s shaking above you, his pulse pounding so hard in his neck, you feel it on your skin. You wonder vaguely where he can feel your pulse. He takes a few more steadying breaths before lifting his head slightly.

“This isn’t how I usually do things after,” he pants between words, “but, uh, there is literally no room for me to roll off you.”

You laugh, the motion stealing precious air from you, you can feel your stomach expand against his, and he finally meets your gaze. You eye the embarrassing lack of space in this ridiculously tiny bed.

“And here I thought you just wanted to cuddle.” This close, you feel the flush of his breath as he chuckles. “Here, lean up a second.”

He groans, “mi jodida espalda. Creo que me desgarré un músculo,” but manages to get high enough for you to scoot to the edge of the bed and he dips his shoulder into the open space between you and the wall. Your bodies are so tightly pressed together, he manages to stay inside of you the whole time.

With anyone else, you would have just gotten out of the bed. Moved away. You’ve never been one to linger after sex – either your partner was already asleep or you had better things to do – but Javi seemed intent on studying your face as his breathing slows and your heart rate eases. His softening cock slips out of you and you fight a groan at the sensation. He tucks his bicep under his head like a pillow. Sweat rolls over his tight muscle.

“What? No post-cigarette sex?” You smirk to cover the rising blush on your cheeks, the longer he stares. “No slap on the ass, ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’?”

His face is expressionless when he asks, “is that what that was to you?”

You swallow, feeling a bit like you’re being scolded. “No, of course not, I just–,”

“Good. It wasn’t like that for me either.”

He cups the back of your head and brings you closer, closer than you possibly could be, and kisses your mouth, soft, easy, with a hint of tongue.

Something sickening like adoration claws through your chest because fuck, what if he doesn’t ever kiss you like that again? What are you going to do when he walks through the office doors coated in another woman’s perfume, his scent all over her and –

You break apart, hands on his chest. His brow furrows.

“What? What did you think about just now?”

Like he wants to know what’s going on inside your brain.

“So we tied. What a great story that’ll be. I’m sure the office will laugh themselves silly on how we both won and lost at the same time–,”

He says your name firmly, once, with his fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep. He cuts off your ramblings instantly.

“Stop,” he begs quietly. “Why are you talking like that, querida? What are you thinking about?”

His dark brown eyes are sad, hurt even. Why do you keep pulling away from me?

It’s been such a long night. It’s been such a long month. Year. You’ve been fighting for so, so long and all it takes is for him to knock at your door, and everything comes crashing down. You feel exposed, a live wire, a nerve rubbed raw – too much, Javi, too much – and tears rim your lashes before you can stop them. You shrug, the vice grip around your throat painful and choking. You shrug weakly, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m just preparing myself for something funny to tell the bullpen when you walk in after you’ve fucked the secretary on the second floor. She’s been eying you for months and it wouldn’t be fair to deny her!” Your voice swings, high-pitched and pathetic on that last word, and you clamp your mouth shut, tears rushing down your cheeks. You expect him to sit up, snarling, grab his clothes and storm out the door. It would be fair. It is what you would do if he tried to pull the same bullshit you are right now. It’s too late to act like an adult right now, but at least you can try and salvage something. “You don’t owe me anything, Javi. Not after this. Not after this insane crap I put you through. I didn’t have any expectations then and I don’t now. You don’t owe me anything.”

Your gaze focused on the crux of his elbow.

“Can you please look at me?” Soft. Gentle. Patient. But firm. Brimming with shame, you lift your eyes up to him.

Brown eyes. Sad. Hurt. He wipes your tears with his thumb, before cradling your neck. He runs one finger up and down the skin in a motion that is instantly soothing. He watches you, cautiously, and then he brings his face forward, his lips catching yours as his finger strokes your chin. He kisses you until you’re flat on your back and the tension eases from your shoulders, from your fingers, your mouth. When your lips freely receive him, he pulls back, hovering over you, hand gently settling on the cup of your jaw.

“Since I’ve clearly not been able to convince you with anything else I’ve done, I’m just going to come out and say it.” His nose flares and he nips at his bottom lip before opening his mouth and saying, “I like you. I really like you. I really, really like you and more importantly, I want to date you. Only you. No one else. Do you understand that?”

Your mouth hangs open and a brush of his thumb makes you shiver and shut it.

“Nod so I know you understand.”

Slowly, you nod.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Let me prove that.” He shifts closer and you nod frantically. “I’m going to take you out and we’re going to drink, you’re going to try and dance very badly . . . I’m not going to let anything bad ever happen to you.”

And, fuck, you believe him. You do. You really do.

His lips press a promise into yours and you swallow the swelling emotion. He’s making you feel small but that’s suddenly not so bad. He pulls back and you can feel a grin spread across his lips.

“So, now that I’ve seen you naked,” he whispers against your skin. “Does this mean I can finally be in the shower with you?”

“Sure, but lemme take out that camera I put in there first.” He smirks as he pinches your nipple and you giggle as you slip off the edge of the bed. “What? I was very committed to winning the bet.”

“Oh, yeah? Had no idea.”

He lets you pull him to his feet and he stumbles into you. He kisses you again, crowding you to get moving.

If someone had told you that this is where all of it, everything, would end up . . .

You wouldn’t have believed them

The END

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix

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aspiringtrashpanda · 6 months ago

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HI TUMBLR USER ASPIRINGTRASHPANDA im a big fan of your work please keep it up!!!!!!!!

would it be too oddly specific to request raph introducing mc to hella britney spears obey me? :D

HI TUMBLR USER SHOOTINGSTARRFISH IT WOULD BE AN HONOR TO WRITE ABOUT HELLA BRITNEY SPEARS OBEY ME. 💕

Characters: Raphael, MC, appearances by Solomon and Simeon Raph shows MC his pet. pure fluff! No warnings apply

“Ah, welcome,” Simeon smiled from the doorway of Purgatory Hall. “I heard from Luke that you were coming by. Are you seeking refuge?”

You shuffled your feet, ducking your head as shame prickled the nape of your neck. “How did you know?”

His eyes squinted, that pretty jingle of his laugh filling the air between you. “I think I can see smoke coming in the direction of the House of Lamentation.”

“Oh. Yeah, you see…” Where did you even begin to explain the domino effect that had happened this time?

“No need,” Simeon came to your rescue, gentle gaze oozing sympathy. “I know those brothers well enough to surmise what happened.”

When you winced something akin to an agreement, he ushered you inside, sheltering you from the occasionally overwhelming presence of your favorite brothers. As you toed your shoes off in the entrance, the scent of Simeon’s cooking washed over you. You may as well have turned into a cartoon caricature of yourself, floating towards the delightful smell in the kitchen.

“Luke and I are making lunch.” As if he even had to clarify. He did, however, add, “but you’ll find Solomon and Raphael in the living room,” which was basically Simeon for don’t bother trying to help.

Making the familiar turns throughout the first floor, you lifted a hand to wave at Solomon and Raphael, only to drop it to your side when you found them. The two men stood side by side, folding laundry. Or, more like Solomon was hauling clothes out of a basket, molding them into a roughly square shape, and placing them on the coffee table… Just to have Raphael re-fold them right beneath his nose, with piercing eye contact.

You watched for a few seconds before making your presence known. There was a twinkle in Solomon’s eyes, a twitch to his neutral lips that had you wondering if he was intentionally ruffling the angel’s - currently withdrawn - feathers.

Solomon’s amusement was lost on Raphael. You were certain you could see the cogs whirring in his brain beneath his ashy hair. The crease of his brow told you he had absolutely no idea how Solomon could be so bad at laundry.

“Hi,” You broke through the silence, putting on your cheeriest smile, “How is my favorite Purgatory Hall resident today?”

As you saw the confusion give way to suspicion in their twin looks of surprise, you considered that perhaps you, like Solomon, also liked to stir the pot. It was funny, how they both straightened their spines, puffed out their chests, sized the other up while simultaneously pretending to be unbothered. Subtle peacocking, in a way.

You would do the same to the brothers, but… Well, then you would just end up at Purgatory Hall once more, wouldn’t you? Such a taunt was sure to start another fire of some sort between the Rulers of the Underworld.

“Well, if it isn’t my adorable apprentice,” Solomon beamed, reaching behind the laundry basket to procure a bowl of pastries. “Can I interest you in a macaroon?”

“Did you make them?” You eyed the fluffy cookies. They did look good…

“Of course!”

Never mind.

“Ah, sorry Sol, I ate before coming here and I’m stuffed.” You lied. Thankfully, Raphael’s malfunctioning tastebuds saved you from further scrutiny. He lit up like the heavens above, blue gaze sparkling like sapphires as he snagged one of the sweets.

“Truly delicious, Solomon.” Despite his praise, Raphael remained as stoic as ever. Only the slightest glimmer of joy dancing in his eyes gave away his genuine gratitude. “I must get your recipe. Michael is so fond of sweets.”

“I’ll make sure to bake him a special batch at the end of the semester,” Solomon preened beneath the compliment, “You could send him my regards.”

And just like that, the angel’s guard flew back up, an expression edging confusion finding solace in your hum of surprise. What on earth - er, the three realms? - did Solomon want to send regards to archangel Michael for?

As Solomon turned back to the laundry, excusing himself by claiming he had to retrieve another load from the dryer, Raphael eyed you with unveiled curiosity. You shrunk under the intensity of his stare. It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with the latest exchange student from the Celestial Realm, and you weren’t sure you would ever get used to the way he watched you so carefully. Though he rarely voiced his thoughts, his stare had a certain weight to it. One that told you that he was questioning every flex of your fingers, every slope of your lips, every shift of your limbs. Why he found you so interesting, you weren’t sure.

As for you… Of course you found him interesting! Luke had said it himself - Raphael was the youngest angel to ever be given the rank of seraph! He was quiet and mysterious and so very guarded. You never knew just what he was thinking at any time. You could examine him for hours and you were certain boredom would elude you.

In fact, you were about to find out who would win a casual staring contest between the two of you. Almost taken aback by your confidence, there was a split second where you thought he was going to cave, his jaw clenching and his lips pursing in a pout you almost considered petulant. But then, he steeled his resolve, doubled back with a burning question in his gaze.

You had no answer for his silent inquisition, but you felt scorched regardless.

“Hey,” He blinked slowly, forfeiting. “Do you want to see my spears?”

“Actually…” You were answering before you even knew what you were going to say. “Yeah, I do.”

“Come with me,” He nodded curtly, exiting the living room with little warning.

Nearly tripping over your feet in your haste, you raced after him, the flutter of his Celestial Realm clothes a flash of ivory turning a corner. Your heart thudding in your chest, you felt your anticipation growing with each step. You had heard so much about his rain of spears! The terrifying display of violence that struck fear into even Belphegor’s heart!

And so, you were completely flabbergasted when Raphael spun around from the corner of his temporary bedroom, brandishing… not a weapon.

You almost considered it anticlimactic, but the disappointment lingered for less than a second. Your brain’s buffering complete, it reached a very reasonably enthusiastic conclusion: Raphael was cradling a hedgehog. Not just any hedgehog, but a shadow hedgehog native to the Devildom. Its charcoal quills quivering under your awestruck gaze, you hit the brakes on your excitement, your index finger hovering an inch away from its curious nose.

“Can I pet it?” You whispered, even though no one had told you to keep quiet.

“He likes when you rub his forehead,” Raphael matched your volume, lifting the little mammal closer to your face.

Sure enough, the shadow hedgehog squeaked in delight as you carefully ran the pad of your finger up his nose to the patch of fur between his ears. “Is… Is his name Spears?”

Raphael looked at you incredulously, as if the answer was obvious. “His back is made of a thousand spears.”

To accentuate his point, he gently stroked the needles laid flat over Spears’s back. You smiled, “Shadow hedgehogs are known to inflate like pufferfish when they feel threatened.”

Raphael regarded you with a stern frown, “I would never harm Spears.”

“No!” You squawked, startling the hedgehog. He hissed softly, nuzzling into Raphael’s thumb for reassurance. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

A pensive hesitance fogged those sapphire eyes. Cradling his pet close to his chest, he seemed to calculate the potential risks in his head before offering, “Would you like to hold him?”

Did you ever! Your hands shaking, you extended them towards Spears, your palms pressed together in a makeshift platform. “Okay…”

It tickled, the way his little paws scurried across your skin. His nose - wet and cold - nudged against the base of your thumb, his miniature spears raising in apprehension until he deemed your hands safe. Then, he sat still and allowed you to marvel at his pristine quills and beady onyx eyes. He was an awfully cute hedgehog.

“You know, in the human world, there’s a musician named Britney Spears.” You weren’t entirely sure why you were bringing up the pop star. You were positive she was not to Raphael’s liking.

“Are they any good?”

You sidestepped. “They’re iconic.”

His silence seemed louder this time, his lips twisted into the smallest frown as he watched his pet tentatively lick at your palms. With a resolute jerk of his head, he decided, “I will allow Britney to be his middle name.”

“Middle name? Like, Spears Britney… Last name?”

“His first name is Hella.”

“What?” You blinked. Listen, you led quite a bizarre life. From being yoinked into the Devildom, to nearly dying at the hands of Levi because you lowkey cheated at a quiz show, to actually dying in a different timeline for wanting to hug Belphie, and then to somehow becoming the apprentice of the world’s strongest sorcerer. And yet, this hedgehog’s name managed to be the oddest thing you had heard yet.

Raphael shrugged, “Solomon assures me it is a name for only the most honorable warriors in the human world.”

Your lips curled inwards, sucked by the force of your inhale. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh.

Still, your voice wavered with amusement. “Hella…Britney Spears, the shadow hedgehog.”

“Yes,” Raphael confirmed, pride overwhelming his gaze as he gently took the little mammal from your hands. “The best around.”

The glint in his eye told you that arguing would only end in a rain of actual spears. All you could do was nod, thank him for sharing a piece of his life with you, and echo, “The best around.”

*・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜・*:.。.*.。.:*・☆・゜

My requests are open! Find out more HERE. Banner by the incredible @4laurus, Beel fan extraordinaire.

ALSO HERE IS HELLA BRITNEY SPEARS OBEY ME.

#obey me raphael #I guess I should say #Raphael obey me #hella Britney spears obey me #if we can give him his own tag that would be amazing #wait am I misgendering hella #Starr i'm sorry #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #my writing #aspiringtrashpanda

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megalony · 6 months ago

Text

A Family Gathering

As promised, here is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, I'd love to do a follow up to this if anyone is interested.

Please let me know what you think.

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 2

Prequel

Summary: (Y/n) and Eddie are close to their due date with their twins. But when they go to a family meal with her siblings and parents, it doesn't go as planned and family secrets are revealed.

(Reader is Buck and Maddie's sister)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mum…"

The knocking at the door brought (Y/n) out of her trance and she leaned forward, lowering her head down towards the sink that she was leaning heavily against. Her lower back arched out, trying to relieve the pain in her back that felt like it was snapping in three different places, all at once.

Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and she couldn't stop them from falling down her face as her nails started to scratch against the porcelean sink.

A twinge rolled through her back and her knees bent forward into the sink that felt like (Y/n) was about to rip it off the wall.

It took more effort than (Y/n) would of liked for her to open her eyes and it caused more tears to trickle down her face which she hastily brushed aside. She didn't want Chris to notice she had been crying, it would only panic him and that wasn't fair.

She tried to straighten up but the movement caused her spine to click oddly and send a loud crack through the air which had her quivering on the spot.

One hand moved to her lower back and the other pushed up off the sink that had been keeping her upright for a while now.

(Y/n) danced her eyes around the bathroom for the rest of the clothes she had brought in with her.

"Mum," Chris knocked again, followed by a giggle that almost lifted (Y/n)'s heart. She knew he was getting impatient both to use the bathroom and for her to hurry up because Buck was coming over.

He was picking (Y/n) and Eddie up and taking them round to Maddie and Chimney's apartment. Chris knew this, he knew his uncle wasn't going to see him for long and he knew Carla would be round anytime now so she could babysit him for the evening. But Chris was still excited to see his uncle even for a few minutes and he had a few games picked out for him and Carla to play tonight.

"I'm coming, just- just one minute."

Her legs quivered when she slowly eased down to sit on the toilet so she could get dressed without falling over. She kicked the lounge set she had stole from Eddie this morning to one side. The shorts had been a little uncomfy because they didn't stretch properly over her stomach anymore, but there was very little that still fit (Y/n) these days.

She reached out for her maternity leggings and when she stood up, she grumbled to herself and raked them upwards until they were over her underwear.

They didn't feel as comfy as they used to. Not now her stomach yet again seemed to stretch and grow in the last week. There was less than two weeks left until (Y/n)'s due date and she was becoming restless. Her stomach was bigger than ever, the twins were twisting and kicking and moving all the time and making it so hard for (Y/n) to try and sleep or sit down without any discomfort.

And now her back ache seemed to triple in the last two weeks and she didn't know what to do with herself.

She dragged the leggings as high around her bump as she could before she reached out for her dress. Another maternity dress that (Y/n) wasn't fond of wearing. It had been alright in the beginning, but now most of her dresses looked strange and just made her look an odd, rounded shape. (Y/n) had been living in Eddie's clothes these last two months but even his clothes were starting to become tight.

Tears welled up in her eyes again when she dragged the dress down over her bump.

This wouldn't do.

(Y/n) wasn't going to a family meal looking like this. She looked like a strawberry. An oddly shaped, deformed strawberry, thin on the top and wide around the middle.

Her back strained as she grumbled and fought to get the dress off again. She looped it over her arm and grabbed the loungewear set she had worn all afternoon.

When she finally opened the bathroom door, Chris grinned cheesily and flashed his teeth up at her. He wormed his arms around her and gave her a hug, nuzzling his face into her bump before they switched places and he headed into the bathroom.

Her hand pressed against the wall, using it as leverage to get herself further down the hall towards the bedroom. She had only just got up and already she wanted to sit back down again. She just wanted to sit down and try and get some sleep which had been evading her for the last week or so. (Y/n) had never had to take so may naps during the day as she did now to catch up on all the sleep she lost when she couldn't get comfy at night.

Something soft formed on her lips when she headed into the bedroom and looked over at Eddie.

He was stood in front of the mirror, buckling up his belt and tucking his shirt into his high-waisted jeans that fit snugly over his waist.

(Y/n) liked the shirt he was wearing. He had a light beige button up shirt on that looked a size too small for him. It stuck to his shoulders like glue, tensed and bunched up around the elbows whenever he flexed his arms and his chest was straining against the buttons that looked like they were about to pop. But he looked good.

His head turned in her direction and he quirked a brow as he looked her up and down. Stood there near the bed in her leggings and her bra and most of her stomach exposed for his flooded eyes to drink in and observe.

"Are you going like that?" He danced his eyes up and down her frame while he turned away from the mirror to face her instead.

"The dress didn't look right, think I'll have to raid you instead."

She tossed them in the hamper and looked in the wardrobe for a shirt that would look half decent on her and not make her look a fool or like a football. Her eyes locked on a dark navy blue button up and she swiped it from the wardrobe, smothering a groan as she clicked her spine into place, again, and dragged the shirt over her head.

"Oh no." Her head tilted to one side as she tried her best to wriggle into the shirt.

A quiet grumble left her lips and she felt like crying again when she tried to stretch the shirt over her large bump. When she pulled the shirt down, she gasped as the top few buttons popped undone. These kind of shirts used to hang off (Y/n)'s frame and stretch down to her thighs. Not anymore. Eddie's clothes always used to be loose because her husband was taller and broader than her. But now his clothes didn't stretch over her bump anymore.

She tried again to pull it down a bit more but the buttons kept popping open.

Her lower lip sucked between her teeth to stop herself from crying as she undid the buttons at the bottom of the shirt and stretched it down before doing up the buttons near her chest. It would be better to let her stomach be on show rather than her cleavage, and she had her leggings pulled up as high as she could get them.

She fiddled and pulled the shirt to try and cover her cleavage, but she paused and held her breath when a pair of arms circled around her waist.

"Looking good." Eddie murmured, punctuating his words with a kiss against her shoulder and travelling his lips up to the side of her neck.

He slid his hands beneath her shirt and danced his fingers across her stomach and beneath her leggings that were pulled up near her belly button. His words made (Y/n) smile but she didn't quite believe him. She didn't feel like she looked good when her leggings were getting tight, her dresses didn't look right on her anymore and even Eddie's clothes were starting to become too small for her.

"Hm, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

The genuine disappointment in Eddie's voice had (Y/n) shivering and she leaned her head back on his shoulder, pressing her forehead against his neck. She felt him lean his cheek on top of her head while his elbows pressed into her waist so his arms could squeeze her lovingly into his chest.

"Look at me, I can't even wear your clothes anymore." Her hands travelled down to hold Eddie's wrists and she lifted her head from his shoulder when Eddie leaned forward into her.

He nudged the collar of her shirt out his way, moving his pointed chin across her shoulder so he could pepper kisses across the front of her neck, feeling each shallow breath she took.

"I am looking, and I love what I see." He punctuated each word with a kiss up and down her neck before he lifted his chin and connected their lips. She felt him murmur "All my girls," against her lips and his hands pressed into her stomach as if to reassure her and punctuate his words even further.

They broke apart when they both heard Chris's excited squeal of "Carla's here!" and the sound of his footsteps clamouring down the hall to go and let her in. That was good. That meant that whenever Buck arrived, they could head off to Maddie's house.

(Y/n) wasn't ready. As much as she loved her big sister and her twin brother, it wasn't just them that they were having dinner with.

Their parents would be there.

Their parents had made the trip down since (Y/n) was a week away from her due date and Maddie had two months left before she would be ready to have her baby. This would be the first time they had seen their parents in over a year, the first time both sisters would see and interact with them since being pregnant.

And (Y/n) knew just what their mother would be like. Insufferable. She would be nit picking at any little thing she could, commenting on (Y/n) choice of clothing, how big she looked now, if she had decided to have a home birth or a hospital birth. Anything she didn't approve of would be outspoken and (Y/n) wasn't ready for that.

It was why Chris wasn't coming along with them tonight, it was just a small family gathering and (Y/n) didn't want him there in case her parents said anything out of order or upset him.

They barely acknowledged him as their grandson and they weren't so keen on him calling (Y/n) his mum because biologically, she wasn't. But they couldn't understand that (Y/n) loved him as her own and Chris thought of her as his real mum.

"Do you really think I look okay? You know what they're like." (Y/n) glanced towards the mirror before she looked over her shoulder at her husband.

He didn't look phased or disapproving and all she could see in his eyes was love and a while lot of lust.

His hands continued to roam across her stomach and as if to prove his silent point, he rolled her shirt up so it bunched beneath her bra, exposing her stomach to his eyes.

"Mi amor, you look beautiful… although I'd prefer you without these on." He gave a sharp tug on her shirt and pulled the elastic waistband on her leggings so they snapped back on her hips. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send an electric jolt through her nerves.

"Eddie…" (Y/n) latched her fingers into his hair when he shifted round to stand in front of her.

Her head tilted to one side and she watched with a quickening heartbeat as Eddie's eyes clouded over. Her fingers dragged through his wavy curls and her other hand clamped down on his shoulder while he roamed his hands across her stomach and round her hips. She tightened her fingers in his hair when she felt him try to drag down the hem of her leggings.

If he started this game they wouldn't end up leaving on time, and her brother was going to be round at any moment.

Her weight shifted from foot to foot when Eddie started a trail of kisses along her stomach and she could of cried when she heard him muttering 'beautiful' between each kiss.

"Dad!"

Eddie grumbled quietly against (Y/n)'s stomach but his lips curved into a wide smirk when he felt a kick beneath his lips. He pressed a few more butterfly kisses against her skin, running his fingertips across her hips before he pushed to stand back up to his normal height.

His fingers glided up her sides and he stole a kiss while he slowly pulled her shirt back down from where it was bunched beneath her bra. He much preferred the sight of her without anything on and he wanted nothing more than to strip her down here and now in the bedroom. But they both knew they had no time for that. Not now, not yet.

He stole a feverish kiss from her lips, inhaling every ounce of air she had in her lungs and (Y/n) could barely see when his fingers brushed beneath her chin and his thumb swiped across her lips when they parted.

(Y/n) moved her hands to her hair, fiddling to put it into a bobble while she slowly followed Eddie out the bedroom.

Once her hair was up, (Y/n) trailed one hand along the wall and pressed the other to her lower back. She couldn't move very fast these days, not when her back was throbbing and her stomach was weighing her down. She constantly felt like she needed to walk doubled over to ease the pain in her back and let her stomach hang forward like it clearly wanted to.

The twins were weighing her down and (Y/n) was desperate for her body to go into labour. She was close to her due date now. The midwife had warned her that she might go into early labour since she was having a multiple pregnancy.

She and Eddie had been on red alert since she hit thirty three weeks, but she was almost thirty nine weeks now and she hadn't gone into labour yet.

Eddie kept saying the girls were clearly too happy and comfy to meet them.

While Eddie headed into the dining room where Chris and Carla were, (Y/n) aimed for the living room. She wanted to sit down, again. She got one foot into the living room before the doorbell rang and had her groaning and turning in the other direction towards the hall.

"Chris, Buck's here." She could hear Chris dropping whatever was in his hands onto the table and she knew she heard Eddie moving about, but (Y/n) was closer to the door than the boys.

As predicted, when (Y/n) opened the door, it was her brother standing there on the other side. With a bright smile and sunglasses pushed up into his hairline now that he was on the doorstep to his second home.

"Come in." (Y/n) shuffled out the way and beckoned Buck inside, noticing the smirk on his lips when he looked up and down her attire. She knew she looked far from her best, doubled forward and tiredness clearly written on her face. When she noticed him raise a brow, she looked down and gave her shirt another tug so it covered her stomach a bit more.

"Are we ready for a family gathering?" He headed inside when (Y/n) moved out the way but he stayed close.

"No." (Y/n) grumbled, binding her arms around her waist while Chris pelted forward and barelled into Buck. She leaned back into Eddie when he stood behind her with his arms around her and his lips pressed against the back of her head.

She just wanted tonight to go smoothly and swiftly, but (Y/n) had a feeling tonight wouldn't go well at all.

***

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned her head back until she could tuck her face into Eddie's neck. She felt his arm loop around the back of her shoulders, holding her against his chest while he put his drink back down on his table and wormed his other arm around her waist.

His lips pressed to the top of her head and his hand feathered up and down her stomach while he glanced around the apartment. Out of them all here, Chimney seemed the most relaxed. Both twins were uneasy, they never knew how to act when they were around their parents. And Maddie seemed uncomfortable now the attention was on her. As for Eddie, he didn't get along well with Phillip and Margaret. Not after a family meal went wrong a year ago just before he and (Y/n) got married. And Eddie ended up raising his voice at Margaret after the way she spoke to (Y/n) and then subsequently told Phillip to fuck off.

They were being civil now because they both knew they had been in the wrong and they were trying to patch things up now both their daughters were about to become mothers.

Eddie was part of the family and if they wanted (Y/n) to stay in their lives, they had to accept Eddie too.

"You okay?" He whispered against the shell of her ear and pecked the side of her head.

"Stiff… give me a push?" She pushed forward, one hand on the table and the other on Eddie's thigh. Her lips curved into a smile when both Eddie's hands moved to her hips and he kissed the back of her neck, carefully helping her up to her feet.

Dinner had tasted great but the atmosphere had been a little tense. No one knew what to say or how to act and now, (Y/n) just wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up in bed with Eddie and try to get a proper night sleep.

Once she was up, (Y/n) gave Eddie's shoulder a squeeze and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. She felt his hand linger on her hip while she rounded the table and slowly padded into the kitchen to get another drink.

Her elbows dug into the kitchen counter and she arched out her lower back, smothering a groan when one of the twins started kicking. She wondered if her mum had been in this much discomfort when she was pregnant with her and Buck. Their mum never spoke about when she had them or when they were little, the only thing she used to say was she had them by C-section and that Buck had been perfectly healthy. While (Y/n) had a few problems to begin with.

"Are you good?"

A soft smile pulled at (Y/n)'s lips and she nodded when she felt Maddie's hand on her lower back and then her sister's chin was perched on her shoulder.

Maddie was the mother (Y/n) and Buck always wished they had. She was the one who patched them up and taught them to ride their bikes, she took them to appointments and walked them home from school and helped them with their homework. She gave them the unconditional love their parents didn't know how to give.

Sometimes when she was a teen, (Y/n) thought about telling people she didn't have any parents. She thought about saying that she was raised by her big sister because in a way, she was. It felt like life would have been better if she and Buck cut all ties with their parents rather than continuing to try and win their love and affection when it never worked.

"Yeah, just a bit of back ache, I'm good."

"Not long now." Maddie whispered, giving (Y/n)'s arm a squeeze just as their mother walked into the kitchen.

It wouldn't be long now and (Y/n) would have her two girls, then Maddie would have her daughter and they would all have a bigger extended family together. They would raise their three girls together and make sure all of them had a different, more stable and loving upbringing than the Buckley kids ever had.

"Maybe you should try straightening your posture honey, walking like this won't help you."

A tight-lipped smile grimaced on (Y/n)'s lips as she nodded but stayed leaning over the counter. She felt comfier and more at ease leaning over like this and (Y/n) didn't care about her posture. She felt weighed down and she would do whatever necessary to try and feel more at ease.

Eddie never said anything about her posture. He was forever wrapping his arms around her and holding her stomach up or lying with her and trying to find different positions that relieved her back ache and made her feel better.

"What are you wearing, honey?" Margaret danced her eyes up and down (Y/n)'s frame while (Y/n) slowly straightened up now she felt a bit better.

"Eddie's shirt." She shrugged and took another gulp of her drink but the way her mum narrowed her eyes and looked at her made (Y/n) shiver.

"Maybe you should try some bigger clothes, ones that actually fit… you are quite big now."

She was sure Margaret tried to reach out to rub her stomach but before she could, Eddie was in the way. His jaw was locked tight and his eyes were narrowed while his brows furrowed. He took a deep breath and walked up behind the girls, his hands on (Y/n)'s waist and his lips against her temple.

He kept his left hand on (Y/n)'s hip and his chest pressed into hers, her bump hidden between them so Margaret couldn't get too close. He reached around (Y/n) for one of the beer bottles on the counter behind her before he turned to look at his mother in law.

"It's almost as if we're having twins." He deadpanned, about to say something else until he felt (Y/n)'s hands on his chest and her lips kissing the side of his neck.

"Eddie," She murmured softly into his neck, a quiet warning sign for him not to start a fight right here and now.

"Let's sit down." Maddie's voice broke the tension in the air and she motioned her hands towards the living room where Chimney, Buck and Phillip were all sat with a drink each.

Eddie's arm looped around (Y/n)'s waist and he followed behind her, his lips stuck to the top of her head as he held both their drinks in his free hand. He took a quick look around the living room, debating where they should sit so they wouldn't have to be right next to Margaret who liked to cause arguments recently.

He took note of Phillip sitting in the armchair in the far corner and Buck was on the end of the sofa nearest to his dad. With that in mind, Eddie headed over to the sofa and sat down next to his brother in law and put their drinks on the coffee table. But when (Y/n) went to sit next to him, he shook his head.

He shuffled back and sat up straight, parting his legs with a smile that had (Y/n)'s skin heating up and made her heart add in two extra beats.

(Y/n) felt Eddie's hands on her waist and she pressed one hand onto his thigh while Buck reached out and held her left hand to help her sit down without breaking eye contact or conversation with their dad.

Both Eddie's arms circled around her middle so his hands could spread out across her stomach and his knees pressed into her thighs. Lovingly squeezing her into his embrace.

She felt Buck pat her knee and smile softly over at her while Maddie sank down on (Y/n)'s right next to her and Eddie. And Chimney perched on the arm of the sofa behind Maddie so their mum could sit on the other armchair. It was a bit of a tight fit for them all on the sofa, but they made it work. It was comfortable, cosy.

(Y/n) let herself slouch down into Eddie's chest a little more to try and get comfy and her hands moved down to hold Eddie's wrists. While his hands started to draw aimless patterns up and down her stomach. She knew he was waiting for one of the twins to start kicking or moving around. It seemed to be Eddie's mission to feel every movement during this pregnancy and she couldn't wait to see what he would be like once he finally had their girls in his arms.

"Here, we got you girls a few things."

Her attention turned to the left and she let her cheek flop onto Eddie's shoulder, nuzzling her nose against his shirt while she looked over at her dad.

He got up and came back a few seconds later, placing a few things down on the table in front of each of them.

Something softened in (Y/n)'s eyes as Eddie leaned them both forward so she could reach out and take a look. She caught her sister's eye and both of them shared a smile as they had a look. It was mainly a few baby grows, ranging from Winnie The Pooh to blushing pink, with a few teddies in the mix.

(Y/n) handed a few across to Buck so he could look through and held them up so Eddie could see. Although his chin was already perched on her shoulder so he could take a look.

"Thank you."

"These are so sweet," Maddie folded the clothes back up once she and Chimney had taken a look through before she reached out to look at the teddy bears.

The eldest Buckley sibling couldn't help but notice there were more personalised items in her pile than in her sister's. The onesies Maddie had said things like 'mummy's girl' or 'Granny's little star' and there was a rattle and a Winnie the Pooh bear. Whereas the onesies (Y/n) had were plain except for the one Pooh Bear one she had seen, and there weren't any rattles or bibs and only three teddies.

She tried not to overthink but when she looked at her younger sister, (Y/n) had already put the presents back down on the table. If she had noticed the differences, she wasn't letting it show. And something told Maddie the twins had both noticed, judging by the way (Y/n) snuggled further into Eddie and how Buck ran his hand up and down his freshly shaved jaw, hiding his displeasure.

"I can't believe it, three grandkids at once. You're first kids," Margaret reached across and ran her hand up and down Maddie's knee but she looked across at Buck when he scoffed.

"Chris is your first grandkid."

"Come on Buck, he doesn't count." Eddie muttered quietly, reaching across to grab his beer bottle and take a long swig. He wasn't bothered because Chris didn't care. He didn't think of (Y/n)'s parents as his grandparents. He had Eddie's mum and dad and he had (Y/n) as his mum and another aunt in Maddie and a great uncle in Buck. He didn't want or need anyone else.

And it wasn't as if Margaret and Phillip were around often anyway, they were barely parents to (Y/n) and Buck as it was. The twins didn't care about having a relationship with them anymore.

(Y/n) had her siblings, she had Eddie and Chris and now she had her daughters. She didn't need anyone else and Bobby and Athena seemed to have taken Buck and her under their wing and accepted them as part of their family so all in all, the twins had parents with Bobby and Athena.

"Evan, I meant that this is their first pregnancies, and both at the same time, it's so lovely." Margaret tried to smile before her eyes locked with (Y/n) and something flashed over her face. "Oh, well, the first pregnancy that's worked out, hm?"

Eddie's shoulders tensed and pulled upwards as he slammed his beer bottle back down on the coffee table.

"Jesus Christ." Anger seeped into his voice that was gritty and hard but oddly quiet.

(Y/n) could feel him tensing up behind her, one hand still on her stomach while the other hand dragged through his hair. He leaned forward, tugging (Y/n) back into his chest because he could feel the tremor that shuddered through her system. And his lips pressed against the back of her head, breathing into her hair to try and calm himself down.

"Mum!" Buck barked and leaned his elbow on the arm rest, propping his head up on his hand as he shook his head in anger.

How could she be that rude and inconsiderate? How could she not see that saying something like that was hurtful and would easily upset both (Y/n) and Eddie? That wasn't the kind of thing she should say, especially not to her daughter when she was almost nine months pregnant.

Part of (Y/n) wished they'd never agreed to come here tonight, it wasn't worth the hassle of being around their parents. And the other part of her wished Maddie never told their parents about the miscarriage she had not long after she and Eddie got engaged.

But (Y/n) had been twenty weeks along when she miscarried and by then Maddie had just told their parents the good news that (Y/n) would be the first of the three siblings to have a baby.

"Alright, alright let's not start arguing." Phillip held his hands out in front of them to try and calm the room down while Chimney sat forward on the arm rest.

"Uh, what's in that box over there?" Chimney pointed across towards the pale cream box he could see near the window. Maybe that would prove to be a great distraction for them all and lead them back onto a more pleasant talk for the evening.

"Oh," Margaret seemed to become animated again and she got up to retrieve the box that had Maddie written in cursive writing across the top with glittered letters. "The baby box I made when we had Maddie, here. I thought you might like it, maybe you could make one for your little girl."

A tremor tore through (Y/n) when she looked at the box and she couldn't help but push back into Eddie who gripped her tighter. He leaned his head round to look at her, wondering what was wrong, but he could read her expression like a book he knew off by heart.

All night while they had been here and the other infrequent times her parents had been down while she and Maddie had been pregnant, they had been more pleased for Maddie than for (Y/n). They asked Maddie questions, they wanted to keep copies of her scan photos and know if she had names and see the nursery all sorted out.

Whereas with (Y/n), they seemed to play along like they were feigning interest. Eddie knew it hurt. He knew no matter how much of a brave face (Y/n) tried to wear, it upset her to know she and Buck had to fight for attention that Maddie got without question.

(Y/n) rested her head back on Eddie's shoulder and closed her eyes, looping both hands around his bicep as she looked at her sister. She didn't want to look in the box. (Y/n) didn't want to know what little treasures their mum had kept from when Maddie was little.

But when she felt her twin lean over with one hand on her arm and the other rummaging through the box, she knew Buck felt it too. The slight displacement they had suffered through all their lives.

"That's so cool, did you bring ours?"

One little look at her mum was enough to cause a callous smile to cross (Y/n)'s face and she couldn't hide the tears welling up in her eyes.

"We don't have one Buck. Do we?"

Both parents stayed quiet, sharing a few looks with each other while Buck gripped (Y/n)'s arm and leaned closer to her as if to comfort his twin. He could feel her heart breaking and it made his own chest tighten like he was about to have a heart attack.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what Eddie was about to whisper in her ear when he kissed her neck, but he didn't get chance to say when (Y/n) looked at her sister. She noticed Maddie trying to scrunch up a picture and slide it beneath her leg, something she always did when she was trying to hide something. Whether it was a bad report card she didn't want their parents seeing or a party invite she was trying to hide from the twins to make a big surprise.

She uncurled one hand from Eddie's bicep and snatched the picture before Maddie had chance to stuff it under her leg or the sofa.

She recognised that red bike.

It was the one they used to have in the garage, the one that presumably had been Maddie's when she was younger because their mother kept it even when Maddie outgrew it. She wouldn't allow the twins to touch it, let alone try and learn how to ride a bike with that red, tattered old thing.

But that wasn't Buck on the bike. (Y/n) knew what her twin looked like as a child, and this wasn't him. And when she turned the picture round and saw the date on the back, she noticed it was over a year before the twins had even been born.

"Who is that?"

Eddie peered over her shoulder and Buck leaned over her arm to get a look, but when he looked at their parents, both of them had gone as white as paper. Tears were welling up in their mother's eyes and their dad was scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had never been able to hide.

It was the tears in Maddie's eyes that had both twins on edge. Why was she covering her mouth and trying not to cry? Why was she looking at them with such sorrow like that?

"Daniel."

"We, um… we had him two years after Maddie. He had leukaemia, he, he passed when you were only babies."

Every thought possible swirled round in (Y/n)'s head as she felt both her brother's hands on her shoulders like he didn't believe what he was hearing. This couldn't be possible. Why wouldn't they tell them? Why would they keep such a secret? Why would they keep this all to themselves? Were the twins not worthy of knowing they had a big brother they never got to meet?

"Wh- no, no. No you never told us- why wouldn't you tell us something like this? Why wouldn't you acknowledge him around us?" Buck's voice grew louder and louder with each word as his head snapped from left to right, trying to look between his parents who he didn't recognise right now.

There was no plausible explanation for hiding something like this. If Buck ever had kids and God forbid he lost one, he wouldn't erase them from existence and pretend they never happened. They had never celebrated Daniel's birthday. They never had pictures of him in the house- there were hardly any pictures of the twins in the house as it was. No one uttered his name or had any memory of him in the house.

"We lost him, Evan. We didn't want to live our lives mourning him-"

"So you chose to forget him?"

"Evan we would never-"

"No, oh no. You… you didn't…" The words wouldn't come out. All (Y/n) could do was let the tears fall from her eyes as she began to shake in Eddie's arms.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Both Eddie's hands moved to her stomach as he sat up straighter behind her and leaned round. Was she having pains? Did she not feel well, was she going to be sick? He couldn't work out what was wrong and neither could Buck who stopped rambling so he could reach out for his sister's hand.

But when Maddie tried to take (Y/n)'s hand, the younger girl shook her off and leaned into Eddie.

"You s-said I wasn't planned, that I- I was the surprise, but Buck wasn't." (Y/n)wiped her eyes but the tears continued to fall. "We were donor babies, weren't we?"

The way Margaret's lower lip wobbled and Phillip refused to look at either of them while he pressed his hands to his mouth secured (Y/n)'s answer.

They were donor babies.

They were designed embryos, made with the exact blood and bone marrow type to match the brother they never knew they had. They were supposed to save him. They weren't wanted, neither of them were born to be wanted or loved or cherished. They were born specifically to save the child their parents did want and they couldn't even do that right.

Everything seemed to slot into place and the more pieces that fitted together, the more (Y/n) started to feel sick and feel bile rising to the back of her throat.

All those times their parents never made a fuss on their birthdays, all those times they barely heard the words 'I love you' unless it was Maddie telling them. Each time they had to get hurt for attention or run away to cause a panic and be shown that they were valued and cherished. Each time (Y/n) asked about when they were born and their mother refused to answer, this was why.

Their mum always used to say that having twins was a surprise. That (Y/n) wasn't planned, she was a surprise since she was the younger twin by five minutes. This was why. They planned to have one more child to save their son but they ended up with (Y/n) too. Neither of them were truly wanted, they were just needed for a short while and then couldn't be returned after they were no longer of use.

This was why the twins always felt disconnected and why there were barely any photos of them growing up. This was why all of the pictures of (Y/n) and Buck as babies were with no one holding them. (Y/n) had been the sick twin, stuck in the hospital for two weeks before coming home and there was only one photo of her in the hospital when she was born.

Did they even visit her when she was sick? Did they check on her, or did they just take what they needed from her and Evan and stay with Daniel the whole time?

"All these years. All this time, we felt so out of place and alone, and this is why. You never wanted us. Did we remind you of him? Did we fail you every day we woke up and he didn't?"

"Evan please, we tried our best-"

"We just wanted you to love us!"

The sheer outburst and the way that Buck bolted up from the sofa sent everyone reeling.

The artery in his neck was close to bursting, his hand was pointing out at his parents and his jaw was grinding tight and about to dislocate. His body was shaking from adrenaline as he glared at them. His parents had lied to him all his life. His big sister who was the only one who loved him, she never told him why he felt so out of place and unloved and misunderstood. The only person he could rely on was his twin and she felt exactly the same as him.

Maddie was leaning into Chimney who had an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Margaret was crying into her hands, unable to look away from her son for the first time in a long while, and Phillip was now stood up, running his fingers through his hair as he tried not to breakdown.

And then there was (Y/n). Silently crying, rocking back and forth with Eddie's arms around her and his lips pressed against the back of her head.

"I walk into fire every day of my life because of you. I tried everything to get your approval, to get you to love me, to love us the way you do Maddie, but nothing would ever work. And now I know why, because we failed you."

When Maddie tried again to reach out for her sister, she gasped when (Y/n) all but slapped her touch away.

"You should have t-told us." All those times (Y/n) and Buck asked why their parents didn't pay them any attention or turn up for school plays or listen to them or even love them. Maddie had the answers and she never said anything. She should have told them the moment the twins moved out. She had years to tell them and she never mentioned it. Not once.

(Y/n) ran her hands across her face, brushing the tears away before she moved her hands to Eddie's thighs to push herself up.

"I wanna go home."

She could feel both twins wriggling and waking up and she had to lean forward to ease the pain in her stomach and the horrible twinging pains shooting up and down her spine.

One hand pressed to her stomach and the other reached out for Eddie's shoulder, knowing that if she didn't try and prop herself up she was going to collapse. She didn't want to stay here any longer. (Y/n) wanted to go home. She wanted to leave and be alone with Eddie and be home where she felt safe enough to cry and scream and let everything sink in and wash over her.

She felt Eddie grip her elbow and his other hand moved round to her waist as he stood behind her.

"Guys, you don't have to leave." Chimney pushed up from the sofa along with Maddie who tried to reach out for them. But she pushed back into Chimney, smothering a cry when (Y/n) shook her off and moved away.

"I feel sick… please, take me home." (Y/n) pressed her face into Eddie's arm and shrugged back into him when her dad tried to reach out for her.

Why were they all trying to grab her? Why couldn't they just let her go home? She didn't want to be here. She didn't feel safe here. Maddie lied to her. Their parents lied to them their entire lives and now the twins understood why their parents looked at them the way they did. She wanted to leave.

"Alright baby, we're leaving now."

Eddie moved his hands to (Y/n)'s hips and carefully guided her forward while he felt Buck follow swiftly behind them since he had drove them here. And he wasn't staying here to continue arguing. He didn't want to see his parents again for an indefinite amount of time and he wasn't going to forgive Maddie yet for this. He wanted to be with his twin or be on his own.

Reaching across, Eddie snatched (Y/n)'s bag from the kitchen counter and looped it over his shoulder while Buck grabbed his keys and opened the door.

His hands tightened on (Y/n)'s hips as he leaned around her when (Y/n gripped his wrist tightly and moved her other hand to her stomach as they shuffled out the door. Her lower abdomen was aching. She couldn't help but lean forward once they were in the hall and she felt like crumpling over and sliding down to her knees.

"Baby?"

Fright dwelled in Eddie's stomach and pierced through his heart with doses of adrenaline when (Y/n) tilted her head over her shoulder to look up at him. He didn't like the way she tightened her hand around his wrist or how she leaned against the wall while they heard Buck slammed the door closed behind them.

"Hurts."

"What? What hurts?" Buck rested one hand on Eddie's shoulder and leaned over them both to try and figure out what was going on. He could see Eddie shaking his head and groaning while (Y/n) pressed her hand against the wall so she didn't go down on her knees.

"Christ. I hope you're not going into labour, mi amor."

#eddie diaz x reader #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #pregnant! reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #maddie buckley han #howard han

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