#and soul is couch surfing in their apartment

[meemaw-the-beemaw]

Soul eater is weird because it’s my favourite anime of all time and I would never recommend it to anyone.

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Logan and Wade's relationship post movie is slow burn in the most infuriating way cause they have so many hang ups about the relationship

On Logan's side: He fell in love with Wade first. Which mortifies him cause 1) Wade is still in love with Vanessa 2) they're roommates in a one bedroom apartment with Blind Al until he gets his life together in a parallel world where he's technically dead and his SSN is donezo 3) Wade Winston Wilson is probably the most embarrassing person to have a crush on, let alone be in love with. Logan will defend him to heaven and hell and back, but even he knows it's crazy to fall for the Blowjob Queen of Sasqatoon.

He's fully aware of his feelings but tries to squash it down, acts like he hates Wade's guts. Even though every morning he wakes up early to make coffee for the both of them before Wade wakes up. Even though he's memorized what's his favorite gun cleaner and oil are, then stocks them up before Wade even notices his supply is running low. Even though he's the most at peace when Wade and Laura are having Girls' Night in the living room, wearing face masks and watching A24 horror films, while he's kicking back with Blind Al in the kitchen, sipping shitty beer.

On Wade's side: He has no idea Logan likes him. Or, better to say, he has no idea WHY Logan would like him. He might be gods perfect idiot, but if 2+2 = 22, then if someone tells you to shut up and stabs you in every argument to be had, they can't possibly LIKE like you. So even when the initial hostility of being new roommates dies down, he takes the domesticity they find together a side effect of being a Wolverine over the age of 40 with a teenage daughter and no active income in sight. "Beggars can't be ungrateful bastards who couch surf for free" and all that jazz.

Wade is also still hooked up on Vanessa. She'll always be his soul mate, and that will never change. So they try to talk it out. They go on a couple dates. They try to work something, anything out, but in the end they both agree it just isn't right anymore. They still love each other, but that doesn't mean they should be in a relationship. They both deserve better than to be stuck in the past.

So by the time Wade is single for real, Logan is already set on them not getting together. Previous points aside, he's no rebound chick. He just got promoted from Worst Wolverine to Okay-est Wolverine (via the coffee mug Laura got him from etsy) -- so he's absolutely NOT fucking gonna be a sloppy bitch and make a move on his roommate after he got out of a whatever the fuck situationship with his ex-dead, ex-fiance.

When they finally get together, it's so far down the line and so slow-burn, that they genuinely don't know how they got there. All they know is that they share a new one bedroom apartment together, alone (but Blind Al lives on the same floor of the complex) and that they are so far gone in domestic bliss that they're arguing with each other over how to properly assemble a pet condo for Mary Puppins.

[gothcsz]

December | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 6 of Unscripted Desire | ~16k wc | Series Masterlist | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Your winter getaway with Javier.

Tags: alternating pov, javi is having an identity crisis, established relationship, fluff (i cringe), romance (still cringing), smut (no longer cringing), jealous!javi, oh no the triple frontier boys are here, oral (m&f), p in v sex, once again: javi is clipped, filming a sex tape, dirty porn talk, hot tub sex, pussy/dick pronouns, javi puts you in a headlock (i've been influenced by all the headlock fics also stream headlock by imogen heap), breath control play, squirting, clit stimulation, no use of y/n, reader has some vague physical descriptions (mid-sized, curvy, hair that can have fingers run through), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thx.

A/N: happy holidays ❄️ i wanted to do something fun for the season and to thank everyone who has supported this story so far! i love you guys 🩵 as always, thank you @persephone-girl for reading over bits of this and being my emotional support hehe

You’ve barely shut the door when a loud, frustrated “Fuck!” echoes through your apartment, followed by the unmistakable clatter of things hitting the floor. Your brows knit together as you toss your keys into the bowl by the entrance and hang your bag on the back of a kitchen chair.

The sight waiting for you confirms your suspicions: your very hot, very frustrated boyfriend is pacing in the middle of the room, his broad shoulders tight with tension. Scattered across the coffee table and floor around him are puzzle pieces.

“Javi,” you say, crossing your arms as you take in the scene. “What’s going on?”

He stops mid-stride, scowling down at the pieces as though they’ve personally insulted him. “The fucking puzzle is broken,” he gestures angrily toward the mess.

You blink at him, biting back a grin. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. You have to put it back together.” Your voice lilts with playful teasing, hoping to lighten the mood he is in.

He shoots you a look that’s equal parts annoyed and sheepish. Stepping forward, you place yourself squarely in his path, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He’s got no choice but to halt his pacing, and after a moment, his arms drop heavily around you. You can feel the frustration draining out of him like air from a balloon.

“Estoy volviéndome loco, nena.” His chest rises and falls in a heavy exhale, hands instinctively finding their place on your lower back. 

You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. It’s hard not to get lost in his good looks—those dark, soulful eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls perfectly so, no matter how much he’s been raking his fingers through it.

He could be pissed at the entire world, and he’d still be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He told you he was done with porn, and he meant it. It didn’t happen all at once, he stuck to solo work until he lost the passion for it entirely before finally cutting ties with his agent and declaring himself “retired.”

The checks will keep coming, sure, but they aren’t a permanent safety net. That left your boyfriend at a crossroads, staring down the daunting question of what came next.

“Fuck, I don’t know. What else am I even good at?”

Now, Pornstar Javier Peña is just… Javi. Without the glitz and veneer of his former life, he’s a bit of a mess, honestly. A hot mess, sure, but a mess all the same.

He spends most of his days drifting between your apartment and his place, and more often than not, it’s your bed he ends up in. Sometimes he’s sprawled on the couch, lazily surfing through the channels, other times he’s fast asleep, limbs tangled in your sheets, his brow furrowed even while dreaming.

It’s like he’s waiting for the pieces of himself to fall into place but has no idea where to start.

You have, actually, tried helping him find new interests, with mixed results.

Cooking classes? A bust—too many rules and timers for someone who likes to work off instinct. Hiking? Not his thing, and you’d barely made it halfway up the trail before he declared he needed a cold beer and a hot shower. Pottery seemed promising for about five minutes before a poorly shaped bowl sent him muttering a string of Spanish curses under his breath and he quit then and there.

It’s not that he’s… bad at these things, necessarily, but none of them feel true to him.

“Baby, you’re not going to figure out who you are overnight. It takes time,” you murmur, tilting your head up to press a kiss to the tip of his chin, the roughness of his stubble brushing against your lips.

He grumbles. “I’m impatient.”

“I noticed,” you tease, a giggle slipping out as your hands sneak under his shirt. Your fingers trail along his ribs, stroking the warm, solid muscle there. The quiet hum of satisfaction you let out isn’t for his benefit—it’s for you. He feels so damn good under your touch, like he was built to be admired.

Javier shifts slightly, straightening up as if your hands have hit a reset button on his mood. “How was your day?”

You started a new job with the camera crew on an actual film set, and it’s a sweet gig, the opportunity kind of landing in your lap out of nowhere. Someone you knew from college reached out, and the pay was too good to pass up, even if the work itself wasn’t all that different from what you’ve done on porn sets.

Less dicks and tits, but the same technical work. When you’re not on set, you’re still clinging to the comfort of your shifts at Lucky’s. 

You shrug lightly, nuzzling into him. “Same as always. Nothing too exciting. But I’m glad I don’t have to work the bar tonight. Maybe I can help you with that puzzle.” You tease.

“Or…” His tone shifts so quickly it’s almost dizzying—warm and doting one second, low and sinful the next. His hands drift south, firmly gripping your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze

“Or?” you repeat, your arousal flaring.

That’s all the invitation he needs.

In no time, you find yourself naked and sprawled against the coffee table, the surface pressing into your back while scattered puzzle pieces stick to your damp skin. But none of that matters—not when Javier is between your legs, his broad shoulders holding you open like a prize only he gets to claim.

His mouth is buried in your pussy, wet and eager tongue moving with a purpose that has your thighs trembling. He laps at you expertly, each flick and thrust inside your cunt dragging whimpers out of you, your body singing under his touch.

Javier groans, the sound vibrating against your pussy. “You taste so,” kiss, “fucking,” lick, “good,” suck. Your back arches and you sob his name loudly, eyes fluttering close at how good he is at eating you out.

No matter how many times he does it, he somehow manages to surpass the time before. Men like Javier are a rare thing, and you’re annoyed at yourself for not succumbing to him earlier. You just had to prove a fucking point.

He pulls back just enough to lick and bite at your inner thigh, trying to control himself from devouring you whole, before diving back in. His hands keep you pinned to the edge of the table as you shake uncontrollably in his grasp.

Every obscene noise he makes is matched by the wet, filthy sounds of his tongue working you over and you feel the pressure winding tighter and tighter. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling as you gasp his name, and the pleased growl he gives in response sends you careening over.

He doesn’t stop, not until your body shudders and you’re left panting, your limbs heavy and boneless. When he finally lifts his head, mustache damp and lips glistening, he’s looking at you with that satisfied smirk you’ve grown accustomed to seeing.

“Fuck, I could stay down here for hours.” His voice tapers off into a groan and he doesn’t wait for a reply before pressing soft kisses along your drenched folds, letting his teeth scrape ever so lightly against your sensitive flesh. Then his tongue, broad and sinful, drags a slow, torturous stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“You could… if you wanted to,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper as your body gears up for even more pleasure. You pull him closer, grinding your hips against his face, feeling the delicious pressure of his nose pressing against your swollen nub.

Javier lets you take what you need, his large hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady while his tongue thrusts back inside, exploring every fluttering inch. His curved nose rubs against your clit with each motion, sending you into a fucking frenzy.

You’re shameless, unabashedly humping his face, chasing the high only he can give you. And he loves it—thrives on it—his tongue relentless as it maps out every curve and crevice of your pussy. The slick, creamy mess makes it easier for you to move, his grunts and your mewling cries swirling together.

“Javi, I want to come on your cock—oh fuck!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and his answer is a wicked nip of his teeth against your labia, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“You will, nena,” he murmurs, his voice slurred with lust as he adjusts your legs, planting your feet at the edge of the table. He spreads you open obscenely, his dark eyes gleaming as he takes in the sight of your wet pussy laid bare for him. “But first, you’re gonna come all over my tongue again. Puta madre, you’re so fucking hot.”

His tongue flicks over your pearl rapidly and your back arches off the table as euphoria courses through you. You glance down, locking eyes with him, and the pruriency in his gaze sends you tumbling over the edge.

“Javier, oh shit!” You’re left helpless against the onslaught of his mouth, gushing all over his handsome face as he keens in satisfaction.

You collapse back against the table, your body spent and your mind still buzzing. Javier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning smugly down at you, his girthy cock hanging heavy between you, droplets of precum squirting from the slit and drizzling down the heated shaft.

Pros of dating a pornstar: He can fuck. Cons of dating a pornstar: He can fuck.

It’s like being in a constant state of delicious ruin, where your needs—both romantic and sexual—are met in ways you never thought possible.

But damn, this man knows how to wear you the fuck out.

Sometimes he gets a little too ambitious. Twisting, bending, and pulling you into positions that make you pause and remind him, between panting breaths, that you’re not as flexible as the women he’s been with before.

“Practice makes perfect, baby,” he always says with that infuriatingly charming grin, right before fucking you so thoroughly that you forget how to breathe.

This time is no different. Javier hovers over you with the kind of dominance that makes your pussy clench, his strong hands gripping your body like he owns it.

Somehow, he’s managed to maneuver you on the awkward height of the coffee table, one leg slung over his broad shoulder while keeping your opposite thigh spread wide.

Then, with a sharp thrust, his fat cock splits you open, stretching your pussy in a way that’s so brutally perfect.

The force of it knocks a loud yelp from your lips, your forearms press against the table for balance. You can’t look away from where your bodies meet, watching in filthy fascination as your sticky folds swallow him whole and spit him back out, his cock glistening with the rich evidence of how turned on you are.

“My fucking god,” he growls, words laden with desperation, “you feel better than you fucking taste.” He spits the words out, literally, a thick bead of saliva falling from his lips to land on your cunt.

Without missing a beat, his thumb moves to your clit, pressing down and swirling in tight circles.

The pressure makes your entire body tense, a strained cry of his name tearing from your throat.

Your tits bounce wildly with every rough thrust, and his dark eyes flicker between the hypnotic sway of your breasts and the lewd sight of your pussy stretched tight around his dick.

Your mouth hangs open, brows furrowed as helpless sounds spill out while his cock punches deep into that one spot that has colorful dots blotching your vision. Your toes curl as the overwhelming feeling builds, your body on the verge of complete surrender.

“Right there, baby—oh fuck me, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You sound wrecked, like you’ve been possessed by the pleasure he’s giving you. Your back falls flat against the table again, your hands reaching up to squeeze your tits, pulling at your nipples as you let him use your cunt however he wants. 

He deserves it.

Loose curls fall over his face, making him look so sexy while he fucks into you with everything he’s got. His tongue pokes out in concentration, his fingertips dimpling the plush skin of your thighs as he holds you steady. The poor coffee table groans beneath the brutal rhythm, creaking with every hard snap of his hips.

It doesn’t take much more—your body seizes up as you come hard, the orgasm crashing through you so violently that you’re certain you’re going to pass out. Your pussy clamps down around his shaft, milking him for everything he’s worth.

“Fuck, take it,” he groans, his pace faltering as he spills inside you, thick ropes of cum filling your pussy until you swear you can feel it gurgling in your throat. The vicious, overwhelming sensation makes you shudder, your body twitching as his weight settles against you, his cock still buried deep inside your quivering walls.

You feel pulverized, your body humming in content, but all you can think is: God, this man could fuck me to death, and I’d die happy.

Immediately, your calf seizes, the muscle knotting painfully as a piercing cry slices through your throat. Your body jerks involuntarily, hands pressing against Javier’s chest to push him off you.

“Shit, stop— cramp!” you gasp.

Javier freezes, his face instantly morphing from focused lust to deep concern. He pulls out of you carefully, hissing at the feeling, his touch tender as he lowers your trembling leg from his shoulder. “Where? Here?” He’s already massaging the rigid knot in your calf with his strong, calloused hands.

“Yeah—fuck, ow! Right there.” Another pang shoots through you, and you wince, clutching at the edge of the coffee table for stability. “I keep telling you I’m not fit for—ahh, ow!—your crazy-ass positions.”

He huffs a little laugh, though his hands never stop their steady kneading. “It wasn’t that crazy,” he mutters defensively, but one warning glare from you is enough to shut him up.

Once the cramp begins to ease, your body relaxes against the table with a long sigh. Javier’s touch softens, his thumbs now sweeping soothing circles over your calf. He leans down and presses a kiss to the tender muscle, murmuring, “Sorry, nena. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your heart swells at his care, and you can’t help but grin as he kisses his way up your body. His lips trace a slow, reverent path—your pelvis, the softness of your belly, the suppleness of each breast, the hollow of your throat. By the time his mouth meets yours, your annoyance is completely forgotten, replaced by a lazy, bubbling affection.

This is the first real kiss he’s given you since you got home, and it’s the kind that melts you from the inside out. You hum against his lips, your tongue tracing the curve of his mouth, savoring the way he tastes like sex and something inherently Javi.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both sit there for a moment, naked and tangled together, his cum still slick between your thighs and smearing against the surface of the table.

“I’ll try to be more considerate next time,” he says, almost teasingly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “You better, or I’ll start vetoing these gymnastic stunts of yours.”

He chuckles, his eyes dropping briefly to where his cum is trickling from you. A rueful grin spreads across his face as he reaches for the shirt he’d discarded earlier and uses it to clean the mess between your legs.

The simple domesticity of the act makes your chest ache in the best way.

As he finishes, you stretch your arms over your head, your muscles still warm and loose despite the cramp. “I need a shower, some real food... and maybe another round later.”

“Only maybe?” He raises an eyebrow, his dimpled, teasing smile returning.

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze tracing the defined line of his jaw as your finger follows. “If you think sex is gonna be a distraction from the mess in your head, think again.”

“It’s the best distraction,” he mutters. “Would rather make my girl feel good than deal with everything else.”

“And while I’m flattered, baby, it’s not the healthiest thing you can do.”

His expression falters, the cockiness slipping away like a mask being gently peeled back. “I’m fuckin’ terrible at this. Always have been,” he mutters, his hands roaming your body as if touching you might patch together all that’s unraveling inside him.

His palms are warm and firm, one cupping your breast in a gentle squeeze, the other sliding down to rest at your hip.

He kneads and caresses you, almost like you’re the one who needs the comfort instead of him. “I’ve spent so much time doing what I thought people wanted from me. Now I don’t even know what I want.”

“There’s no rush to figure it out, you know. No one’s expecting you to and I promise you’re not the only person that feels this way.”

“Feels like I’ve got nothin’ to show for myself, though. Just a pile of bullshit and a broken puzzle.”

You sit up, drawing his focus to you as your hands grip his toned biceps to steady yourself. “Hey.” Your voice is soft but insistent. “You’ve got more than you think. And I happen to like this version of you—even if he’s a grump.”

A faint smirk breaks through the inner struggle that clouds in his eyes. “Yeah? Even when I’m bein’ a lazy ass?”

“Even then,” you tease, grinning back at him.

His gaze lingers, drinking you in with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. You’re weightless, floating in the way only Javi can make you feel when he kisses you like this.

“I don’t deserve you, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

“It’s always nice to be reminded.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, his teeth catching your lower lip in a gentle bite before he finally lets you go. He stands, offering you his hand to pull you to your feet.

As you wobbly get up, a few puzzle pieces that had clung to your skin fall to the floor, catching both your attention. Javi chuckles, a little more relaxed than before. “Should’ve cleaned those up before spreading you open like that.”

“I feel like there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”

He turns you gently so he can pluck off the remaining pieces, his hand lingering to deliver a playful slap to your ass which makes you giggle.

“You know,” you say after a beat, glancing at him, “this puzzle thing could be good for you. Builds patience.”

He arches a brow, skepticism written all over his face. “Once again, that isn’t exactly my strong suit, cariño.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Your grin is infectious as you nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “But maybe that’s what you need right now. Something slow. Something that’s just for you. And something that isn’t…” You trail off, eyes darting to the box abandoned on the couch. “A hideous horse puzzle. God, Javi, what even is this? I’d be pissed trying to put it together too.”

A scoff escapes him, sharp and playful, his brown eyes narrowing as he straightens. “First of all, it’s vintage,” he says, the mock defense in his tone making you laugh.

“Vintage? That’s not an excuse.” You’re already stepping back when you see the shift in his stance, the way his hand twitches toward you. “Don’t even think about it.”

But it’s too late. His fingers dart out in an attempt to pinch your side, and you squeal, darting out of reach. The sound of your laughter fills the room, loud and unrestrained as you scramble to keep distance between the two of you. He’s, unsurprisingly, quicker, his footsteps closing behind as he chases you down the hallway.

Just as you reach the bathroom door, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body. You’re both breathless, his warm breath fanning against your ear as he holds you close. “Gotcha.”

Your heart pounds, your laughter subsiding into soft, breathy chuckles as you twist to face him. The sparkle in his eyes is undeniable and you let him walk you backwards into the bathroom with the intention of piping you down again before finally letting you shower.

The late afternoon light filters through the half-closed blinds, casting warm, golden stripes across Javier’s bedroom. You’re sprawled on his bed, your legs stretched out, absently flipping through a magazine. 

The quiet creak of the bedroom door catches your attention, and your eyes lift to meet his.

He leans against the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His white t-shirt clings to his torso in a way that makes your thighs rub together, the fabric stretched taut over his solid build. There’s a small grin on his lips as he watches you.

“Hey,” he drawls, finally pushing off the door and crossing the room.

“Hi.”

Without hesitation, he climbs onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath you. He crawls toward you, settling his head on your lap and nuzzling against your stomach. You can’t help but laugh softly, moving the magazine out of his way and onto the bedside table.

“You’re comfortable,” you tease, your fingers threading through his thick hair, twisting a few strands absently around your finger.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest. “Can’t help it. I’ve got the best pillow.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Can I help you?”

He opens one eye, peering up at you with a smirk. “I have a gift for you.”

Your brows lift, curious. “A gift?”

“Mm-hmm,” he mutters against your skin, peppering your jawline with lazy, affectionate kisses. The bristle of his mustache has goosebumps curling over your skin. “Tis the season.” He punctuates the sentiment with a playful nip at your neck, making you squeal softly before he pulls away.

“Come on,” he tugs gently at your hand and coaxes you off the bed.

You let him guide you into the kitchen, your bare feet padding against the cool floor. He pulls out a barstool, gesturing for you to sit as he reaches for something on the counter. With a small flourish, he places a travel magazine in front of you, flipping it open to a glossy spread.

Your eyes land on the page, and your breath catches. The images are of a stunning ski resort, nestled in snow-dusted mountains with cozy lodge interiors and breathtaking views of the slopes.

“You didn’t…” you whisper, your voice caught between disbelief and excitement.

His lips tug into a wolfish smile, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he watches the realization dawn on your face.

“You didn’t!” you exclaim, jumping up from the stool and throwing your arms around his neck.

Your momentum nearly topples him, but he steadies the both of you with a low chuckle.

You’d mentioned it what feels like ages ago—a casual, offhand story about that ill-fated trip to the mountains with your college friends.

Everything about it had gone wrong. The busted gear, the unexpected blizzard—but through all the chaos, you’d confessed how badly you still wanted to cross skiing off your bucket list.

And Javier remembered. Not just the story, but the way your eyes had lit up despite the unfortunate circumstances. Now here he is, ready to give you that second chance—the best do-over of all time, with him.

“I had to,” he murmurs by your ear. “Spending a week on a winter retreat with you seems a lot more fun than going home this year.”

You don’t press about his family, knowing it’s a tricky subject. Instead, you let the moment settle, your heart swelling with gratitude for his thoughtfulness.

“You’re the best,” you say between a flurry of kisses, peppering his face until his deep chuckle vibrates against your palms. His eyes crinkle at the corners, happiness radiating from him as he gazes down at you.

“The best for you,” he replies softly. “You deserve this, nena. Workin’ so hard all the time… I just wanted to give you somethin’ special.”

You shake your head, grinning so hard it hurts your cheeks. “Do you know how impossible it’s going to be to top this?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t get my man a gift?” You’re already racking your brain for ideas. It has to be something meaningful—something that feels right for him, not just a wallet or some cologne.

He pulls you onto his lap when he sits on the barstool, going over the details. 

Everything’s covered, he explains—all you have to do is pack and show your pretty ass up. Your excitement bubbles over at the thought, visions of cozy lodge nights and snowy adventures filling your mind.

“Guess I need to go shopping,” you say, already making mental plans to call Connie for help picking out the perfect wardrobe.

Javi chuckles, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Just don’t forget to pack a swimsuit.”

“A swimsuit? For a ski trip?”

He grins, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Hot tubs, nena. Trust me, I plan on having a lot of fun with you while we’re away.”

The resort feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from. It’s only been a few days, and you’re already dreading your departure.

Javier really hadn’t held back, booking a private cabin with sweeping views of the snow-kissed mountain horizon.

A real Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of the living room, next to the fireplace, its lights twinkling softly against the glassy expanse of the giant windows that line the walls.

Despite the openness, the space feels warm and intimate, like it was made just for the two of you.

And then there’s the hot tub. Nestled in the patio area overlooking the gorgeous scenery, it practically beckons you to defile it, steam curling up against the chilled glass. 

You’ve been biding your time, waiting for the right moment to unveil the gift you have for him. It’s actually kind of genius and the perfect way to help pull him out of his post-porn funk. 

For now, though, you’re content to let the days unfold naturally, filled with skiing lessons, childish snowball fights outside your cabin, and lots of great sex.

The lift sways gently as it carries you and Javier up the mountain, the cool air biting at your cheeks, though you barely notice.

Your attention drifts to him, as it often does—his profile sharp and striking against the backdrop of the rising sun. The golden light casts a glow over the snowy peaks, painting the scene in colors too beautiful to let slip away.

You shift closer to him, the insulated fabric of your jacket brushing against his as you tilt your head to rest on his shoulder. His arm instinctively drapes across your lap, steadying you, his gloved hand giving your thigh a light squeeze.

“Take a picture with me,” your voice is eager, breaking the quiet hum of the lift.

Javier turns his head, a brow quirked beneath the edge of his snow goggles. “Now? On this thing?”

“Yes, now.” You’re already moving to pull the small camera out of your pocket. “The view is perfect, and I want to remember this.”

He chuckles, leaning back slightly to give you space to situate the camera. “Alright, but if you drop it, don’t start bitching at me.”

You roll your eyes, holding the camera up and adjusting the angle to capture the two of you against the sprawling mountains bathed in warm hues, making the snow sparkle. 

You make sure to move both of your goggles so they’re resting atop of your head, your faces on full display.

Javier tilts his head closer to yours, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you snug against him.

“Smile,” you say, though you know it’s unnecessary—he’s already grinning, that playful smirk you’ve come to adore on his pouty pink lips.

The camera clicks as you take a few photos. Smiling, him kissing your cheek, and you quickly check the screen once you’re finished, heart warming at the sight of the two of you.

“See? Perfect.” You declare, showing him the pictures.

He glances at them, mirroring the same doting expression you’d just made. “You make ‘em look perfect, nenita.”

As the lift continues to ascend, you find yourself watching him more than the scenery. 

It’s hard not to marvel at the layers to this man who had once driven you up the wall. You think back to when you first met him—how easily you’d pegged him as cocky and self-centered, someone who wore his charm like a defense mechanism.

It feels surreal now, knowing how wrong you were. Javier wasn’t just the confident pornstar that could command a room with just a look or a smile. He was thoughtful, protective, and deeply giving in ways that made your heart stutter. You can’t fathom how someone like his ex would ever think about cheating on him.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize you’ve gone quiet until he glances down at you, brows knitting slightly.

“What’s on your mind, cariño?”

“You really surprise me, you know that?”

His expression shifts, the teasing edge softening into something more earnest. “Surprise you how?”

“I thought I had you all figured out when we first met.”

His mustache twitches as he bites back a knowing grin. “In your defense, I didn’t let you see more than that.” 

“Yeah, I know...” You laugh lightly, shaking your head. “But I couldn’t have been more wrong. You’re… so much more than I gave you credit for.”

He’s quiet for a second, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Guess I should thank you for giving me a chance to prove you wrong.”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, nose scrunching as the hairs of his mustache tickle you. “You’ve done more than just prove me wrong, Javi.”

The lift jerks slightly as it approaches the landing, but neither of you move right away. The world feels quieter here, suspended between earth and sky, just the two of you and the golden light.

“You’re going to make me fall for you talkin’ like that.”

You feel warmth spreading in your chest at his words, wondering if it’s too soon to start catching feelings like this.

You smile against his mouth, not saying anything yet not needing to, before pulling back to move your face covering up and adjust your goggles back over your eyes in preparation to go down the snowy hill.

Your shoulders ache slightly from today’s falls, but it’s the kind of soreness that feels good—earned, but nevertheless annoying. Like now, as you pick yourself up from yet another fall, calling it quits.

“You held out a lot longer than I expected.” Javier teases, his voice muffled by his face covering but still carrying that low, raspy timbre that makes your stomach flutter.

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re glad he can’t see the smile tugging at your lips.

You take him in—bundled up in his blue snow suit, goggles perched perfectly in place, his broad shoulders and confident stance somehow still exuding that effortless magnetism he carries everywhere.

Even out here, in the freezing cold, with his face obscured, he manages to look unfairly sexy.

Something about him always pulls you in. Maybe it’s the way his energy feels like gravity, anchoring you to every little thing he does. Or maybe it’s how even the simplest acts—like standing on a snowy hillside—become more vivid, more fun, more everything with him.

Your boots crunch through the snow, the skis clumsy but manageable. He’s watching you, his stance casual, hands resting on his poles as if he’s been doing this his whole life.

He had picked up on this activity much quicker than you. The instructor even called him a natural—but you’re certain she was only saying that because she was attracted to him… which, honestly, fair.

“This is your thing,” he says as you approach. “You’re the one who wanted to cross this off your little list. I’m just here for moral support... and to check you out in that suit.”

You burst out laughing, nearly stumbling again as you try to grab the poles you’d dropped when you fell over. “You can barely see anything in this suit,” you shoot back, gesturing to the thick layers of waterproof fabric that make you feel more like a marshmallow than a person.

“Baby,” he drawls, stepping closer, “I could make out those tits and that ass under anything.”

You shake your head, warmth blooming across your cheeks. “You’re such a fucking flirt,” you say, though your voice softens as his gloved hand reaches out to pull you to him.

“And yet, here you are,” he murmurs, leaning just close enough that you catch the mischievous glint in his eyes through the reflective goggles.

“Here I am.”

You’re back at the general area where you’d first gotten your ski gear, adjusting your snow boots while Javier deals with returning your equipment. 

The air is warm inside the lodge, a stark contrast to the crisp chill outside, and the hum of other skiers and snowboarders unwinding after their runs fills the space.

You’re so focused on fastening a particularly stubborn buckle that the sound of your name catches you off guard.

Your head snaps up, brows furrowing, and there he is. Frankie.

He’s making his way toward you, his strides familiar, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and that lazy, warm smile plastered on his face like it hasn’t been forever since you last saw him.

Your surprise must show because his grin widens slightly as he stops in front of the bench you’re sitting on.

“Frankie, wow, hey.” Your voice is polite, if a little flat.

He wastes no time, dropping down onto the bench beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sudden weight makes it creak, and though you subtly shift a little away, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Small world.” He’s looking at you with an easy kind of interest, eyes warm and familiar. You have a type. “Didn’t know you were into skiing, hermosa. How have you been?”

Your stomach does a little flip at the damn nickname but you keep your expression neutral, returning your focus to lacing your second boot. “Great, actually. I’m trying it for the first time. Been taking lessons since we got here.”

His brow lifts, amused. “And how’s that going for you?”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you tug off your gloves. “I’ve wiped out more times than I’d care to admit.”

He chuckles, stripping off his own gloves, clearly in no rush.

“So what brings you here?” The question feels innocent enough.

“Trip with the guys,” he answers, nodding his head in the direction of a group near a counter. You glance over and sure enough, you see the familiar faces from his circle, all caught up in their own conversation.

“Sounds fun,” you offer, “How’s Elliana? Not too happy her daddy’s missing Christmas, I’m sure.” You smile teasingly, meaning no harm, but the flicker of something on his face makes you pause. His jaw tenses ever so slightly, and the way he drops his gaze feels telling.

“She’s great. Actually, on a trip of her own with her mom and her... uh, new boyfriend.”

You catch the faint cringe he tries to hide as the explanation comes tumbling out. Your chest tightens in an uncomfortable way, not out of sympathy for him, exactly, but more at the reminder of why you two had split up to begin with.

Looks like his effort to “work things out” hadn’t exactly panned out.

“Good for her,” you reply softly, though the exchange feels a little awkward now, like neither of you knows quite where to steer the conversation.

Frankie opens his mouth to say something else, maybe an apology for oversharing or another attempt at small talk, but before he can, you catch a glimpse of Javier weaving through the crowd.

Your heart lifts instantly, as if the room somehow brightens at the sight of him. His tall frame stands out, eyes scanning the lodge, clearly searching for you.

You don’t give Frankie the chance to drag things out any further.

You quickly gather your things, standing as casually as you can. “I have to get going,” you announce, shouldering your bag. “Enjoy the rest of your stay, Frankie.”

He hesitates before he gives you a small nod. “For sure. You too, hermosa. See you around.”

You give him a brief wave before turning and making your way to Javier, your boots thudding lightly against the floor.

His face lights up when he spots you, his gloved hand resting gently on your lower back once he pulls you to him.

“You all set?” he asks, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. The simple affection melts away whatever oddness you felt lingering from your run-in with Frankie.

“Yeah,” you reply, glancing up at him. He looks so effortlessly attractive, his cheeks pink from the cold and brown hair tousled from being under his hat. “I’m ready to get all cozy by the fire.” You purr the words a little, blinking up at him, and it works like a charm.

That sweet smile of his shifts into something sultry, and you don’t miss the way his fingers curl slightly against your back.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” His voice slipping into that seductive, honeyed tone that makes you wish you could fuck a voice. “Lead the way, nena.”

The cocktail table feels like your personal island amidst the ebb and flow of the crowd, the muted hum of holiday music weaving through the air. Warmth blooms across your cheeks from the drinks you’ve nursed through the night, and the haze only amplifies the rich sound of Javier’s laughter.

His hand rests on your lower back, fingertips brushing over the smooth, exposed skin where your dress dips low. The heat of his touch sears into you, enticing enough to have you arching into him.

You giggle as he leans in closer, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers something puckishly suggestive. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re not makin’ it back to the cabin without me pulling this dress off you.”

Your thighs press together instinctively and you bite down on your lip, tilting your head to look up at him, your eyes swimming with the shared heat between you. “Don’t tempt me into letting you do it,” your words are a bit slurred from the alcohol, saturated with desire.

“Oh, I’m not looking to tempt you,” he murmurs, his hand sliding an inch lower. “I’m promising you.”

Your stomach flips, and the idea of staying out any longer feels suddenly impossible, the phantom touch of his hands and lips on you eclipsing all reason.

If there wasn’t an audience, you know you’d already be on your knees with four inches in your mouth, trying to fit the other four like the needy little thing he reduces you to when he gets you all horny.

“Sit tight, nena,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. “Gotta hit the restroom. When I’m back, we’ll settle up and get out of here.”

You nod, though your brain barely processes the words as your eyes follow him weaving through the throng of people, his presence polarizing even in his absence. 

As you sip the last of your drink, your gaze shifts to the large windows lining the restaurant. 

Even at night, the resort resembles something out of a postcard. The twinkling holiday lights outside illuminating the snow in festive tones. You let yourself sink into the magic of it all, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your glass, a serene moment settling over you—until it’s promptly shattered.

“Look who it is,” a voice cuts through the ambient noise, pulling your attention.

Your head turns, and there’s Frankie, his easy grin and brown eyes locked on you. He’s not alone, three more figures flank him—Santi, Benny, and Will, each wearing varying degrees of amusement on their faces. The sight of them, clearly under the influence and rowdy, throws you a little.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Frankie quips, his voice carrying that raspy drawl you once found charming.

Your eyes narrow, your posture stiffening. “You keep finding me, wouldn’t necessarily call that meeting,” you acknowledge curtly, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Once he told us you were here, we couldn’t pass up the chance to say hello,” Benny adds, his grin wolfish as he scans you from head to toe, and you can practically feel his gaze lingering on the dip of your dress. “We miss having you around.”

You know these men. You spent enough time with them while dating Frankie to be able to place them all.

Santi, the smooth-talking charmer who always seems a little too pleased with himself. Benny, the loud, lovable wildcard who you’re sure has never taken anything seriously in his life. And Will, the quiet one with a piercing gaze that could unnerve anyone who wasn’t used to it.

They’re a reminder of why you usually avoid military men. Sure, they’re hot as hell, their confidence and strength undeniably attractive. But beneath that lies a mess of issues—trauma, control, and a certain recklessness that always seems to spill over into their romantic lives.

Frankie had been no different, but he’d wormed his way past your better judgment with that soft charm and rough-around-the-edges allure. And it didn’t hurt that he was real fucking good at eating pussy.

Not as good as Javier, though.

You take a step back, your hand reflexively resting on the edge of the table as though to steady yourself. Their presence feels suffocating, a sharp contrast to the cozy, all consuming warmth you’d just shared with Javi.

“That’s nice of you, but my boyfriend should be back any minute now...”

There’s a beat of silence as your words hang in the air, they exchange looks and you watch Frankie’s expression flicker—something almost smug crossing his features before it’s masked by a crooked smile. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Benny lets out a low whistle, leaning his forearms against the table top. “Didn’t think anyone could tame Fish’s girl.”

“Tame?” You shoot him a glare. “I’m not a fucking animal and certainly not his girl. Not for a while now. So you can all fuck off.”

They laugh at you and that only fires you up even more. Frankie slaps his hand on Benny’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Ease up man, she doesn’t take any shit.”

Benny cocks his head, his eyes gleaming with drunken amusement. “Which I think is hot. Definitely wouldn’t have fumbled you like this asshole did. And you do porn?” Another low whistle and you swear your eye twitches.

Before you can respond, Santi jumps in, his smirk as infuriating as ever. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Camera woman. Not actually a pornstar. Though,” he adds, now his turn to fuck you with his eyes, “I think you’d be a lot better in front of the camera, hermosa.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. You can’t stay in this conversation any longer. 

Santi raises his hands in false defense, his grin never faltering. Meanwhile, Will leans over to whisper something into his brother’s ear, and you catch the shift in Benny’s expression as he gives you a once-over, his gaze laced with something that makes your skin crawl.

You grip the glass in your hand tighter, seriously contemplating how much damage it could do.

“Things serious with your new man?” Frankie replaces Will across from you and you roll your eyes.

The audacity. “Yes,” you say through gritted teeth. “Very.” You lean forward slightly, your voice dropping into a cutting tone. “If I were you, I’d leave before he gets back… or before I shove the stem of this glass down your throat.”

Their laughter rises again, whistling and being overly obnoxious about your reply, but you ignore it, your focus razor-sharp on your ex.

“We had our time together, Frankie, and you decided to cut it short by going back to the mother of your child. Whatever, fine, shit happens, but now you’re acting like a real jerk. All of you are and I have no interest in continuing whatever the fuck this is, so, leave.”

You can tell your words hit their mark. Frankie has always respected your no-nonsense attitude, but being on the receiving end clearly doesn’t sit well with him. 

Just as you turn to remove yourself from this stifling mess altogether, Javier reappears.

Javier doesn’t expect to come back and find four men crowding you, their broad shoulders and cocky stances cutting into your space like they own it. The sight stops him cold, but only for a second. Then his back straightens, his jaw locking tight as something territorial flares in his chest.

One of them catches his eye immediately—the scruffy, stray-dog-looking motherfucker he’d recognize anywhere.

That damn Malibu shoot, the tipping point for all the change that came after. The memory of Frankie all over you, the obnoxious flirting, how you had played into it.

Then you left Robbie’s crew and he made his move, securing you as his girlfriend, getting exactly what he wanted.

Javier had no right to feel possessive when it happened, even though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to do something about it. Sure, you shared moments that left him restless and aching for more, but it wasn’t enough to stake a claim, no matter how badly he wanted to, and you were so adamant about not wanting anything to do with him.

So, he’d done the only thing he could—told himself to get over it and buried the jealousy under layers of maintained indifference.

But now? Now you’re his girl. The first real, healthy relationship he’s had since Lorraine, and there’s no way in hell he’s holding back about anything when it comes to you. Especially not when Frankie and his action-movie crew are standing there, eyeing you like you’re some trophy to win.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice cuts through the noise of their conversation, sharp and unyielding as he closes the distance.

He’s met with four pairs of eyes—two amused, one indifferent, and Frankie’s, which narrow slightly in recognition. Javier keeps his focus steady, his gaze hard as he takes them in.

His confidence has grown over the years, forged by his experiences and the praise from the industry. Yet, there’s still that lingering thread of insecurity that twists in his gut as he watches Frankie make his indifference clear.

“We were just catching up. Saying hello,” Frankie answers almost too casually, but his eyes gleam with something else—a challenge.

Javier doesn’t flinch. Instead, he steps closer to you, his hand finding your waist. “Looks like you’ve said it. Time to move on.”

Beside Frankie, one of the men grins as if he’s enjoying the show. “Easy, man,” he says, his tone teasing. “We’re just being friendly.”

Javier’s jaw ticks, a muscle in his cheek jumping as his grip on you tightens slightly. “Friendly looks more like crowding someone who doesn’t want to talk to you.”

While you’ve never gone into detail about what you had with Frankie, the updates Javier had gotten from Steve are enough to stir doubts. Words like satisfied are currently resurfacing to make him question things he knows aren’t true.

These men are something he isn’t. And even though you’re together now, there’s a small, irrational part of him that wonders if one day you’ll realize he isn’t what you want.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—he does, with everything he’s got. But being cheated on leaves wounds that never fully close, scars that ache at the worst times. And seeing Frankie standing there, beaming like he still has a chance, stirs something primal in Javier.

“No need to get territorial, Peña. We were just having a little fun. Besides…” He trails off, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Javier. “She can handle herself.”

Javier’s blood boils, his free hand twitching at his side. It would take so little—a single punch to wipe that smug look off his face. But then your hand is on his chest, soft and grounding.

“It’s fine. I was just telling them to leave.” 

Frankie’s gaze lingers on you in a look he recognizes all too well because he looks at you in the same goddamn way, and that has his vision tunneling.

“No harm done,” He steps back with exaggerated nonchalance. But then he throws one last barb over at you. “We’ll catch up some other time, hermosa.”

Javier doesn’t think, words slipping out before he can stop them. “No, the fuck you won’t. In fact, if I see any of you bother her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

For a moment it looks like things might escalate. But one of the other men—blonde, with a calmer air about him—steps in.

“Alright, boys,” he says, reaching out to pull his friend back. “Let’s not make a scene.”

Frankie hesitates, his jaw tightening, but he relents with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever.”

Javier watches them retreat, his heart still pounding, until they’re out of sight. Only then does he let his shoulders drop slightly.

“Hey,” you say gently, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “You okay?”

“I didn’t like that one fucking bit,” he mutters, his voice rough.

Your smile is gentle, reassuring, and you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek which melts him immediately. “They don’t matter,” you whisper, your lips brushing his skin. “You’re the only one I care about.”

The words ease the last of the tension, and Javier lets out a breath, pulling you close. “Damn right,” his tone softens as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Let’s get out of here,” you suggest, a small mischievous smile on your face, “Your gift is waiting for you back at the cabin.”

It’s as if the entire confrontation is forgotten at your words and he becomes intrigued immediately. “Oh yeah? Then what the fuck are we doin’ still standing here. Let’s go.”

“Are your eyes closed?”

Javier leans against the armrest of the couch, his lips curving into a small smile as your voice carries from the bedroom.

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting slightly, his eyes obediently shut.

“You’re not lying to me?”

“No.” He chuckles, the deep, easy sound rumbling from his chest.

There’s the faint shuffle of movement, and then he feels you—the subtle electricity that always seems to spark when you’re near.

His hands are cupped in front of him as instructed, his curiosity piqued. He has no idea what you’ve planned, no inkling of what’s coming.

Honestly, he can’t believe you actually got him anything. The trip itself has been more than enough—a week of unfiltered joy, amazing sex, and waking up to you in his arms. If that isn’t a gift in itself, then what is?

Then you’re standing in front of him, placing something in his hands. He feels the cool weight of it, the texture of smooth plastic beneath his fingertips.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

Javier’s eyes flutter open, immediately drawn to the object cradled in his palms. It’s a handheld camcorder, a glossy red ribbon tied around it like the finishing touch on a present. His brows knit together in brief confusion, but before he can ask, you fill in the blanks.

“I want us to make a tape together, Javi.”

Your words hit him like a freight train. No, they hit his cock like a freight train, and the damn thing stirs to life before his brain even fully registers the meaning.

“You naughty little thing,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that gravelly tone that always gets a rise out of you.

You bite your lip, a playful giggle escaping. “I figured it’d be something fun for us,” you say, stepping closer until he can smell the faint traces of your perfume. “Plus… I really like how you fuck on camera. Not that it’s any different from what we do, but…”

You trail off with a small, breathy moan that makes Javier’s restraint snap. He sets the camera carefully on the couch before pulling you closer, his hands gripping the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric in his fists as he pulls you between his knees.

“But…?” he prompts, his lips finding the curve of your neck. He kisses, nips, and licks, each touch of his mouth drawing little gasps from you. You taste divine, every inch of you always does.

“But it’s different,” you breathe, your fingers digging into his biceps as his teeth graze your skin. “I want to experience what all those other stars do when shooting a scene with you.”

His lips crash against yours, the kiss heated and possessive. He can taste the remnants of the cocktails you had at dinner, but more than that, he tastes you.

The memory of those old sets pales in comparison to the thought of filming with you.

“I’m all yours, nena,” he growls against your lips, his hands slipping lower to slap your ass then gripping onto the flesh. “This is a brilliant fucking idea. I’ve been telling you how hot you’d look on camera. How do you want to do this?”

Your smile is roguish, your confidence intoxicating. “I want us to take turns filming... directing… Wanna get some good shots of me sucking your cock.”

Your hand trails down his arm, skimming over the muscles there, then lower to pinch his hip before you palm his erection through his pants, his hips jerking involuntarily as he grunts.

“And I definitely need footage of that tongue of yours working my pussy,” you add, your tone sultry. “We’ll figure the rest out as we go. I want to start in the hot tub.”

Javier swears under his breath, his head tilting back slightly as your touch sends a fresh wave of desire through him. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice thick with need.

You smile, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away, leaving him half-dazed and completely aroused. “Get changed and take the camera outside. I’ll join you once I put on my costume.”

“Costume?” His brows arch in curiosity as his eyes track your retreating form.

“Costume might be pushing it. It’s something to set the tone for the amateur vibe I want this to have. Even if we know what we’re doing.”

“Whatever you want,” he’s so desperate to take you, “I’m going to tear you the fuck up.”

You blow him a kiss, your giddiness as palpable as his. 

Javier watches you disappear into the bedroom, letting out a long breath as he stands and moves to his bag which you had purposefully, he realizes, brought out before leaving for dinner.

He pulls out his swim trunks, quickly changing and grabbing the camera again. He can’t help the simper pulling at his lips as he removes the ribbon and flits through the settings, familiarizing himself with it.

Javier slides open the patio door, the soft scrape of the glass breaking the stillness of the night. A cool breeze rushes in, sharp against his skin, but it’s a refreshing contrast to the heat coursing through his veins.

The glow of the string lights overhead reflects off the rippling water of the hot tub. They frame the scene perfectly, tiny stars encircling what already feels like a secluded slice of paradise.

He steps out onto the wooden deck, the chill biting at his bare chest and legs. A small shiver runs through him, but it’s chased away the moment he dips into the steaming water. The heat rises to meet him, coiling around him like an inviting embrace.

Javier lowers himself deeper into the tub, the warmth spreading instantly, soothing muscles. The jets hum to life with the press of a button, sending gentle ripples across the surface. Another tap, and the colorful lights beneath the water bloom, shifting from deep blue to vivid green, then a lurid red.

He leans back against the edge, one arm stretched casually along the rim, the other cradling the camcorder.

The setting is perfect—intimate, cozy, and alive with the kind of cinematic allure that’s been a part of his life for so long. Only this time, it’s personal. This time, it’s with you.

“Alright, I’m coming out,” your voice calls from inside, and Javier’s pulse spikes as if his body already knows it’s about to be wrecked. 

He shifts in the water, the tent in his briefs straining beneath the surface. His fingers move automatically, adjusting his grip on the camcorder, raising it to eye level, his thumb brushing over the small record button.

“Ready whenever you are,” he says, his voice a little lower, raspier.  

Through the steamy glass, he tracks your shadowy movements, catching fleeting glimpses of red that tease him to the point of madness.

The condensation and reflections blur the details, but it only adds to the attraction. He can feel his heart thudding against his ribs, a primal drumbeat that matches the ache in his cock.  

And then you step out, framed by the sliding door like a vision he couldn’t conjure even in his wildest fantasies.  

“Fuck me.”

The red bikini bottoms sit high on your hips, the delicate ties framing your curves like artwork. That vivid, sinful shade of red makes your skin seem to glow, the contrast leaving him weak.

In one hand is a bottle of champagne, the other holding two flutes, and his tongue pokes against his cheek at how festive you’re being.

He zooms in with the camera, starting at your legs then capturing every dip and swell of your thighs, the plushness he knows so well.

The lens follows up, slowly drinking in the soft curve of your stomach, lingering over the way your tits press against the satin ribbon wrapped around them like a present he’s dying to open. The bow tied between your cleavage looks precarious, like it might unravel at the slightest tug.

The silky fabric is no match for the chill in the air, your hardened nipples poking through in a way that makes his tongue twitch in his mouth at the thought of flitting it over the stiffened peaks. 

But then his gaze—and the lens—finds your face, and it’s game over. Your lips are parted, plump and glistening as you lick them, the slight haze in your eyes a telltale sign of the alcohol still swimming in your veins. Your lashes frame your eyes perfectly, their sparkle teasing him as if daring him to lose control.  

His mind is already racing ahead, imagining the way those lips will part as you take his cock into his mouth, the way your head will tilt back when he suckles at your clit, or how your eyes will roll into your skull when he’s buried deep inside your tight cunt.

“You look so fucking good. Shit,” he breathes, his voice shaky. The camcorder threatens to tremble in his hand as he refocuses on you, watching you strike playful poses against the doorframe, snowflakes getting caught in your hair.

Each one is more tantalizing than the last, and when you bend over to show him your sweet ass, he zooms in on how the red fabric outlines your pussy.

“Thank you,” you purr, your voice smooth and syrupy as you turn and saunter toward the tub, setting the drink and glasses aside. You exaggerate the sway of your hips, fully aware of the effect you have on him, and it’s almost too much.

He’s never had a woman make him feel this way.

Javier keeps the camera trained on you, his years of expertise blending seamlessly with his overwhelming desire to immortalize this moment.

The way the light dances off your skin, the ripple against your flesh as you move sensually, your smile—it’s all so perfectly you.

For a moment, he forgets the camera is even there. Every inch of you seems made for him, like a custom design he never dreamed he’d be lucky enough to have.

When you finally join him, stepping into the steaming water, his restraint frays to a thread. He’s gripping the camcorder like it’s the only thing keeping him from lunging at you.

“You’re teasing me, baby,” he rasps as he films you lowering yourself into the tub.  

“I know,” you reply with a flirty smile. “But don’t you love it?”  

“Too much,” he shifts his legs to relieve some of the pressure at his crotch, though it’s futile. He’s already undone, and the night’s only just begun. 

“Keep posing, like you did by the door,” Javier instructs while his dark eyes remain fixed on you, not the viewfinder. Capturing this for later is one thing, but experiencing it now is something he wants seared into his memory for the rest of his life.

“Flirt with the camera using those beautiful eyes, nena.”

You bite your lip, your lashes lowering as you tilt your head, blinking slowly at the lens. You know exactly what to do, and he guesses this comes from watching the other stars do it on set.

The result is undeniably erotic. Knowing that you’ve never done it before like this, yet exude such natural talent, makes the moment infinitely hotter.

The water kisses your skin, glistening under the string lights and making every curve gleam like a jewel. You shift your weight, cocking your hip, arching your back—it’s fluid, seductive. Droplets of water run over your tits and how badly does he want to reach out and lick at them.

He will, he just wants to get enough footage of just you being so damn sexy.

You move with languid grace, tilting your head just so, and then giggling as you reach for the champagne. The sound is rousing, making his cock twitch.

You curl your finger, beckoning him closer, and he obeys without hesitation, the camera steady in his hands as he floats toward you. 

You pour the golden liquid into your glass, bringing it to your lips with a playful flick of your tongue along the rim, a teasing preview of what’s to come.

When you tilt your head back, letting the bubbly glide past your lips, your throat moves with every swallow and he makes sure to let the shot linger there, fixated.

“Mmm,” the sound is a decadent hum that has his teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Tastes so good.”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he growls, his large hand reaching up to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushes over your cheek, warm and damp under his touch, before sinking his fingers into the soft skin. “Look at how gorgeous my girl is.”

He angles your face toward the camera, showing you off like a precious work of art. You go pliant under his touch, your eyes locking on the lens as you bring the glass to your lips again, deliberately spilling the champagne, letting it cascade over your jaw and his waiting fingers, trickling down his wrist in a sticky, sparkling trail.

“Oops,” you say, your tone dripping with false innocence. Lowering your head, your tongue darts out, tracing the line of champagne from his pulse point up to his fingers.

You take the tip of his finger into your mouth, sucking lightly, swirling your tongue around the pad before releasing it with a wet, lingering kiss.

“Dios mío,” Javier groans, his hips shifting as his swollen cock brushes against your thigh. The soft gasp that escapes you only feeds his need. “Pretty and dirty. A real fuckin’ star.”

His hand trails lower, abandoning your face to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the damp fabric before tugging at it, unraveling it completely. 

The cool air kisses your skin just before his touch follows, warm and possessive. He doesn’t ask—Javier never does when it comes to adoring you; he just takes, knowing how much you love it.

Especially when he plays with your tits.

You shake them playfully, the soft, bouncing motion making him snarl, the sound rumbling low in his chest.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hand kneading your flesh, his thumb brushing over your nipple before he pinches it just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips.

His eyes flicker to the viewfinder, ensuring the camera catches every detail as he lavishes attention on you, pinching and rolling your puckered tips between his fingers until you’re squirming against him.

“Give me the camera,” you breathe through soft whimpers, reaching for it. He hands it over without a second thought, his hands lingering on yours as he relinquishes the device. 

The power shifts, and you waste no time, pointing the lens at him. “Suck on my tits, Javi,” you coo, each word laced with seduction, and his reaction is immediate.

He pulls you against him, your bodies slick with the heat and bubbles of the water, his hard cock pressing insistently between your thighs. His mouth finds your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucks it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you whine.

Your free hand tangles in his damp hair, guiding his head and angling his face for the camera as he lavishes attention on you. The viewfinder captures everything: the way his lips move, how his tongue circles your areola, the glistening trail of water droplets and his spit on your skin.

His mouth moves to your other breast to do the same, sucking harder this time.

“So good, baby,” your voice trembles with pleasure. “You’re so good to me.”

He chuckles low against your chest, relishing in your praise and how he’s able to make you react.

His large hands slide up, cupping your breasts as he pushes them together, burying his face between them and motorboating you. The deep, playful groan he lets out makes you laugh breathlessly behind the camera.

“Pass me the champagne,” Javi murmurs, his lips brushing your collarbone.

You loosen your hold on his hair, reaching for the bottle. The moment it’s in his hands, he tilts it back for a quick swig, the liquid catching the light as it drips from the corner of his mouth.

He pours a generous stream over your chest, the cool champagne trickling down the valley of your breasts. His tongue is quick to chase it, licking and sucking every drop, his movements rougher now, hungrier.

You adjust the camera, your arm stretched out to capture the way his mouth trails up to your neck, nipping and kissing as if he can’t get enough.

The wet, desperate sounds of your kisses fill the air, drowning out the gentle hum of the hot tub jets.

It’s messy, all tongue and teeth, as if he’s trying to consume you entirely.

Javier takes the camera back without breaking the kiss, adjusting the angle to film the way your lips move against his. His free hand grips your waist, guiding the both of you backward until his body presses against the tub’s edge. 

Snowflakes drift in on the breeze, clinging to your hair and his, melting instantly against your heated skin.

“You gonna be a good girl and show the camera how much you love my cock? How good you are at taking him down your throat?” he asks, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing against your ear.

He zooms in on how your mouth parts in an eager smile.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding with unrestrained excitement.

Javier lifts himself onto the tub’s edge, the chill in the air biting at his skin, but he doesn't care, not with the way his excitement overrides any of his discomfort. His legs remain submerged, spreading wide to give you space.

You move between them, the warm water lapping at your waist as your hands trail up his legs, your fingers kneading the firm muscle.

“I’ll make it extra good for you today, baby,” you promise, and he knows you mean every word.

He lifts his hips up to help you pull down his trunks, his erection bobbing free from its constraints. Javier hisses as the cool air hits him, but it’s quickly soothed when you wrap your fingers around his shaft and he groans, your softer touch feeling like fucking heaven.

You stroke him a few times, and the visual of you jerking his cock while the bubbles from the jets flutter around your bod has him tightening his grip on the camera.

As he watches you, he knows—he wouldn’t change a single thing about what got you here.

Not the fights, not the doubts, not the messy way you two stumbled into this, because every moment led to this one.

You hum, looking up at him through your lashes, giving the camera a flirty wink before your tongue darts out to kitten lick at his weeping tip, his skin flushed a devious red.

You start slowly, teasing the sensitive skin of his spongy head, swirling around it and tasting the saltiness of the precum that beads at the slit. He sucks in a sharp breath, his free hand tangling in your hair to guide you closer.

“So fucking perfect.”

Your eyes twinkle at the praise, taking him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. The camera captures every second—his cock disappearing into your mouth, the way your cheeks hollow as you suck, the slick sounds of your efforts filling the air.

Javier’s hips jerk, unable to hold still as you bob your head, your tongue working him over. Drool slips from the corners of your lips, mixing with the water from the tub as you take him as deep as you can, gagging, the messy display making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice breaking. “You’re so goddamn good at this.”

You moan around him, the vibration making his grip in your hair tighten. You pull back to catch your breath, your hand stroking him while your tongue laves attention along the underside of his shaft, tracing every pulsating vein.

“Messy little thing,” he murmurs, the camera focusing on the spit shining his cock, dripping from your chin as you smile wickedly up at him.

“I like it messy,” you reply, your voice a foxy, hoarse purr before you take him back into your mouth, sucking harder, faster, the wet, obscene sounds driving him closer to finishing.

The camera feels heavier in his hand as he adjusts the focus, trying to capture every detail of this moment, but his heart beats faster when he realizes the truth: no recording, no photo, nothing tangible could ever truly do justice to what he feels right now. It’s more than physical. It’s more than lust.

It’s her. She’s it. She’s everything.

As if reading his mind, your gaze flicks up to meet his, and you fucking smile with his cock in your mouth.

He exhales a shaky breath, barely holding on to his composure when you release him with an audible pop and trail your tongue down his length. The hand pumping him doesn’t slow, but your mouth finds his inner thigh then his balls, licking and biting just enough to make his leg tense under you.

“Where do you want to come, Javi?” Your voice is a soft, breathy rasp, and his whole body reacts to the sound of it. Your hand moves faster, and he’s unable to form an answer before you stop abruptly, making him curse under his breath.

“In my hand?” Your grip tightens around his cock.

“Goddammit,” his frustration turns to a low, guttural noise when you lower your mouth and tap the tip of his cock against your tongue.

“Or on my tongue?” The slick glide of your lips as you tease him is pure torture, but you’re not done. You push your chest forward, letting his dick slap against the humps of your tits.

“Maybe all over these?” Your voice is sweet, almost playful, but your intentions are anything but. The sight of his cock glistening against your skin, the jiggle of your flesh under his weight, makes his vision blur for a second.

“Or are you going to hold it in and fill my pussy?”

The way you say it, so casually filthy, sends a jolt of arousal through him. He bites down hard on his lip, every muscle in his body tightening. You’ve always had a mouth on you, but this—this is something else entirely.

Your confidence, the way you’ve grown into yourself since being with him, sends a surge of pride through his chest. 

“Baby, I’m going to fuck you so full of my cum you’ll be tasting it for fucking weeks.”

Your breathless giggle is music to his ears, and when you lean in to kiss his cock, licking over the tip, his control shatters.

“C’mere,” he sneers, pulling you up into a heated kiss. His mouth is desperate, his teeth scraping against your lips. He adjusts, submerging himself back into the water, being mindful of the device, and pulling your back flush against his chest.

He angles the lens to capture the way your bodies press together, the steam from the water curling around you both. The viewfinder is flipped and shows your damp hair sticking to your face, his lips dragging over the curve of your neck.

“Look at how good we look,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear as his hand palms your breast, squeezing roughly.

A smile splits your face, drunk on the taste of his cock and the alcohol. Slowly, you shift on your toes, bending forward just enough to tease him with the curve of your ass, playfully wiggling it as you rub his cock between your cheeks.

“Come fuck me, Javi.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, bringing the camera lower to capture the way the bubbles skim over the curve of your body. He smacks each cheek, the sound sharp against the steady hum of the jets, and you huff, arching even more.

When he pulls at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the fabric fall away, he curses under his breath. “Mierda,” he hisses, his hand kneading your supple flesh before gripping the base of his cock and slapping it against your skin. 

He can’t help but grin as he shows off for the camera.

When he slides himself along your slick folds, he groans, feeling how wet you are for him. “Damn, suckin’ me off gets you this turned on, nena?” he asks, breathless.

You let out a needy whimper, nodding as your hips push back against him.

He doesn’t make you wait, sinking into you with a grunt that’s half your name and half prayer. The way your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, makes him swear under his breath as he sets a rhythm that sends water spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Oh, Javi, oh fuck!” Your voice is loud, shameless, and he loves every filthy syllable of it.

“You like that, huh?” he growls, slowing his thrusts to drag his cock out of you torturously slow, the tight suction of your pussy making him grit his teeth.

“Gorgeous fucking pussy doesn’t want to let me go,” he mutters, angling the camera to capture the way your body takes him so perfectly, the wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you echoing around you.

He licks his lips, the phantom taste of your tangy sweetness haunting them, and the thought of you spread out while he loses himself in eating you out burns through him like fire.

The way you whimper in protest when he pulls out is enough to make him consider sinking back into your tight, sopping heat, but he reins himself in. Instead, his hand comes down on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the chilled night air.

“None of that. Let’s move this party inside. I need to taste you.”

You bite your lip, shivering from the combination of his words and the cold air biting at your damp skin. 

Both of you are dripping water as you climb out of the hot tub, the biting chill of the night air wraps around you, sending goosebumps racing across your skin.

Javier notices, of course he does, and he drags his hands over your arms, a fleeting attempt at warming you before snagging the nearest towel.

“C’mere, nena,” he mutters, pulling you close. The towel is large, but his hands are clumsy as he rubs it over your body. The motion is both tender and hurried, his fingers lingering on the curves of your hips, your nice tits, and the slick heat between your thighs. “Can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?”

You giggle, your teeth chattering as you take the camera from him as he brings you inside. You stumble over the threshold, recording every imperfect second.

The contrast between the icy air outside and the inviting heat of the cabin is immediate, the crackling fireplace casting a golden glow across the room.

Javier wastes no time, pulling you toward the plush rug in front of the flames. You lay on your back, taking a moment to admire your boyfriend.

He’s a masterpiece carved by desire, every part of him sculpted to make you ache.

You handle the camera in your hands, the viewfinder framing Javier like the sex god that he is. You’re practically purring as the lens lingers on his thighs and how they flex subtly when he shifts his weight.

The camera pans higher and you feel that insistent heartbeat at your pussy.

His cock stands heavy and proud, the firelight casting shadows along his delicious length and girth. He’s gorgeous—thick veins trailing up velvety skin, the head angry and eager to punch into your cunt, his balls heavy with the load he’s already promised to fill you full of.

Continuing your digital ascent, you capture the sharp planes of his torso, his golden-brown skin glowing in the warmth of the flames. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths.

Finally, you settle the shot on his lips, looking plush under that sexy ass mustache. They have ruined you time and time again with words, kisses, and the way they dote on every part of you.

“He’s so fucking good at using those.” You whisper to the camera.

“You done admiring?” He asks with playful arrogance, as if he hadn’t been absolutely eating up every reaction you had given to the body he’s sculpted into a living, breathing fantasy

“Never.”

He leans down to kiss you, sticky precum brushing against your lower stomach. Slyly, he takes the device from your hands, now his turn to marvel at you.

His lips part slightly as he looks at you, the flames illuminating every curve and dip of your body, painting you in shades of gold and amber.

“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks heated under his gaze. Javier adjusts the angle, zooming in on the way your thighs press together, craving him again.

“Spread your legs for me, nena.”

You hesitate, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze, but he makes it impossible to deny him when he looks at you like this.

Slowly, you part your legs, exposing yourself to him fully.

“Goddamn,” Javier growls, his free hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, his calloused fingers trailing to where you’re still sticky with arousal from how he’d taken you outside. He uses his thumb to spread open one of your pussy lips, revealing your pretty cunt to the camera, his thumb pressing down on your clit, smearing your juices around.

“You know how perfect you are?” he asks, his voice low as he sets the camera down at the perfect angle to capture what he’s about to do next. “Every fucking inch of you drives me crazy.”

Javier leans over you, his lips trailing down your neck to the hollow between your breasts. His hands spread you open further, his breath hot against your skin as he settles himself between your thighs.

You shudder as his lips press against your inner thigh, sinewy fingers keeping you spread open so the camera gets a good view of his tongue doing what it does best between your legs.

The fire crackles beside you, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his mouth as he begins to devour you, his tongue and lips coaxing soft moans and gasps from your lips.

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, savoring every sound you make, every tremble of your body. He pulls back briefly, some of your slick clinging to his lips, just long enough to grab the camera again, angling it to capture your flushed face and the way your body arches toward him before handing it over to you.

You almost drop it from how fucking lightheaded he’s left you, but manage to hold onto it, doing your best to record this handsome man going down on you.

“No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

The possessiveness in Javier’s voice is laced with an edge of jealousy, a dark fire stoked by earlier moments that now claw their way back into his mind. Flashes of other men crowding you, eyeing what’s his, swirl in his thoughts, blending with images of you and Frankie tangled in your sheets. 

The thought ignites a growl deep in his chest. His fingers grip your thigh harder, nails biting into your skin as he buries his face between your legs with renewed intensity. 

His tongue swirls and flicks over your clit, his lips sealing around the swollen nub with a pressure that makes your toes curl.

He’s punishing those images, driving them out by proving how thoroughly you belong to him.

“Just you, Javi, no one else,” you gasp, your back arching off the plush rug. With one hand on the device, your other lets its fingers twist into his thick brown hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt against your slick heat.

The vibrations ripple through you, sending you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering with anticipation.

You’re close—he feels it in the way your thighs shake, the way your breath stutters. Determined to pull you over the edge, he buries his face deeper, his nose nudging your clit as he shakes his head back and forth.

The scratch of his mustache against your tender flesh only intensifies your pleasure, and when his lips seal around your swollen clit and he sucks harshly, it shatters you.

“Oh my God, Javier!” you scream, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you, the camera shaking violently in your hand. The heat of the nearby flames amplifies your euphoria, sweat beading on your skin.

“Pussy tastes so fuckin’ delicious,” his voice is muffled but heavy with want. Javier has always loved going down on women, but there’s something about you—your taste, your scent, the way your body responds to him—that drives him wild. 

His cock thrums painfully, desperate for relief. He’s grinding against the rug without even realizing it, his need to claim you consuming every thought.

Even as your thighs twitch in the aftermath of your orgasm, he laps up every drop, greedy for more, his tongue sweeping over your oversensitive flesh until you’re gasping and squirming beneath him. Only then does he pull away, his lips and chin glistening with your essence.

Taking the camera again, he points it at you, capturing the sight of you sprawled across the rug, utterly spent. Your chest rises and falls, your eyes half-lidded with bliss.

“¿Todo bien, nena?” he asks, gingerly yet smugly satisfied.

“Mhm,” you hum, stretching languidly under his touch. “Just need a minute.”

He strokes your face, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips and you kiss the rough pad softly. 

Wordlessly, he adjusts the lens, zooming in on your face, capturing the blissed-out expression that is all his doing. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does, bending down, his lips brushing yours in a smoldering liplock.

“Such a good kisser, Javi.” You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, bringing your hands up to cradle his face to keep your lips on his. He lets you, lost in the feeling in the same way you are, that poor camera idly recording the blur of your moving heads.

When he does finally pull back, he moves with purpose, setting up the camera on the coffee table, his fingers steady despite the heat thrumming through his veins.

He flips the viewfinder to showcase the two of you, positioning it to capture the perfect scene: the crackling fireplace, the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the snow-kissed mountains visible through the frosted window, bathed in the silver moonlight.

The setup is a masterpiece, the kind of shot you’d call pure art. You’ve teased him about this before—how his talent for making things look so effortlessly beautiful extends even to his most smutty creations.

When Javier returns to you, his breath hitches. You’re stretched out on the rug, naked as the day you were born, your skin kissed by the soft illumination of the Christmas lights. You look up at him with a cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten and his cock throb.

“Hey, baby,” you say, your voice teasing yet soft, inviting him closer.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, his own lips shifting into a smile that mirrors yours.

He lowers himself to you again, cradling your jaw as if you’re the most delicate, precious thing he’s ever touched. “You havin’ fun?”

“So much,” you reply with a laugh that’s pure music to his ears. Your teeth catch his lower lip playfully, and your hand sneaks down between you, wrapping around his pulsating cock. The sound he lets out vibrates against your lips, and the look in his eyes is molten.

“Now fuck me full, Javi,” you whisper, your words bold and needy, a demand he’s more than eager to fulfill.

His hands are on you in an instant, pulling you up and shifting your body until you’re perfectly centered in the shot.

You look like a vision, his personal angel.

Javier kneels behind you, his strong hands gripping your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to leave marks he’ll admire later.

His cock teases your entrance, the slick head gliding over your swollen clit, and you mewl, your body quivering with anticipation. He watches, mesmerized, as you arch your back for him, offering yourself up completely.

Slowly, he sinks into you, savoring the way your walls envelop him, the tightness making him hiss through his teeth.

His grip tightens as he thrusts deeper, the stretch and fullness making you sob. The sound shoots straight to his cock, and he growls low in his throat, his hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt.

Your cries rise in pitch as he sets a brutal rhythm, each powerful thrust sending your tits bouncing uncontrollably. 

Javier leans back slightly, angling his body just so, ensuring the camera captures every detail—the way your pussy clenches and drips around his cock and how obscene the sounds of your bodies joining echo in the cabin.

His nose skims the side of your neck, his breath hot against your damp skin. He bites down gently, soothing the sting with his tongue, before whispering filthy promises into your ear, each word making you tighten around him.

“You were made for me,” he declares, “This tight pussy, fuck, no one else gets to feel how perfect she is. Just me. All mine.”

Something about being inside you triggers this untamed passion in him, an insatiable desire that no amount of good fucking can quench.

He’s relentless, taking and taking, chasing the pleasure that only you can give him. The thought of you creaming all over his cock, screaming his name, and begging for more while teetering on the edge of oblivion has him thrusting harder, deeper.

No one else has ever felt like this—like home and sin wrapped into one. Fucking you is better than anything he’s ever known.

It doesn’t even have to be elaborate or kinky—though he certainly doesn’t mind. He loves it all, from nights like this to the slow, sleepy mornings when he wakes you by sliding his cock into your warm, welcoming body, loving the way you melt against him with soft sighs.

Now, though, it’s anything but slow. His hips piston up into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, and you’re crying out his name like a prayer.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice rough in your ear as his pace falters momentarily.

You’re too lost in the haze of bliss to respond right away, your whimpers spilling from your lips in broken waves. Javier slows, grinding into you, letting the friction bring you back to him.

“I said, do you trust me?” he repeats, his tone firmer.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, your voice a breathy plea as your pussy clenches around him.

A dark, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “I’m gonna put you in a headlock, baby. Keep you right where I want you while I tear this pretty pussy up like I promised.”

You mewl, the sound making his cock twitch inside you. He nips at your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. 

“If it’s too much, tap me three times, okay?” His voice softens slightly, a thread of tenderness weaving through the raw desire.

You nod eagerly, your voice trembling as you beg, “Please, Javi.”

When you turn your head to look at him, the vulnerability and trust in your eyes make his heart clench. Fuck, I love her.

Without another word, he surges forward to kiss you messily, his lips claiming yours as he loops a strong arm around your neck. The position pulls you flush against his chest, your back arching as he adjusts his knees, locking you into place.

“I’ll start slow, get that pussy purring,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear.

His cock drags against your walls, unhurried, and you shiver as he finds that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

“Right there,” you gasp, your voice hitching as your body tightens around him.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he groans, his arm tightening just enough to make your head swim in the most delicious way.

With a growl, he picks up his pace, pounding into you with enough force to get your body jolting against his. The rug beneath you rubs raw at your knees, each wet slap of his cock driving into your soaked pussy sending ripples of heat through your core.

Javier watches the way your body reacts to him from the viewfinder across the way. “That’s it, nena,” he clenches his teeth, his own release building as he claims you over and over again. His large fingers move from your hips down to toy with your clit. “Take it all. Take every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your hands shoot up to grip Javier’s arm, manicured nails biting into his flesh and leaving streaks of angry red lines down the muscled curve. The sting only fuels him, a feral satisfaction curling in his chest as you claw desperately for purchase.

Drool slips from the corner of your lips, pooling in the crease of his elbow, and he can’t help but smile smugly at the camera, his ego swelling alongside his cock. He’s unraveling you, making you fall apart so completely that you’re losing control—going stupid for his cock.

The slick sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, drowning out the crackling fire. You’re soaking him, your pussy so wet that the coarse hairs at the base of his cock are drenched, shining with your mixed juices.

He tightens his grip around your throat, your voice reduced to breathy, incoherent gasps. The pressure is perfect, the lack of air sending your senses spiraling as he pounds into you with reckless abandon, fingers relentless against your puffy clit.

It’s enough to coax your submission further, and he feels your slick walls start to quake around him. Your pussy flutters, gripping him so tightly it takes everything in him not to lose control right then.

“I—” You try to speak, but your words dissolve into an unintelligible cry as your orgasm slaps you right in the face.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Javier growls, his voice low and rough. He drives into you harder, faster, the head of his cock hitting that devastatingly deep spot that only he has been able to touch. Your eyes roll back, your cunt clenching him like a vice.

Your body trembles on the edge of euphoria and exhaustion. You lift your hand to tap out, but before you can, his own climax barrels through him like an angry bull.

His hips snap wildly as he spills into you. Hot spurts of cum fill you, thick and endless, his curses mixing with your cries as your body trembles uncontrollably.

The second he loosens his hold on your throat, air rushes back into your lungs, and with it comes a blinding, second wave of pleasure.

“Ah—fuck me!” you yelp, your body spasming as an intense pressure bursts inside you. Liquid heat sprays out of your pussy, soaking his lap and the carpet beneath you.

You fall forward, about to collapse, but Javier catches you, holding you close for a moment, his own body shaking as he fights to catch his breath.

The sticky warmth of your release and his cum pooling between your thighs has him grinning like a devil. “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he pants, pulling out slowly, hissing at the tight drag of your walls around him.

Gently, he lowers you forward, your cheek pressing against the soft carpet. He goes to caress you, but your body twitches, still caught in the aftershocks, and you let out a weak, incoherent whimper.

“Too much. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.”

He laughs, a low, heady sound, still lightheaded from his own climax. “Whatever you say,” he mutters, reaching for the camera. He adjusts the viewfinder, pointing it at your wrecked body bent over in front of the fireplace.

“C’mon, nena,” he coaxes. “Roll over for me. Gotta get a good shot of my cum dripping out of this perfect pussy.”

His vulgar words make your clit tingle but you know you can’t go for another round right now. Or any time soon, really.

With a soft huff, you roll onto your back, spreading your legs wide despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs. Tears of pleasure still cloud your vision as you gaze up at him, your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

The camera captures everything—your swollen, glistening folds, the obscene trail of his cum trickling from your hole, evidence of how thoroughly he’s claimed you.

A lewd gurgling sound fills the air as the thick, creamy fluid bubbles out of you, sliding down to smear across your puckered entrance.

Javier is transfixed, his cock twitching despite his exhaustion. The urge to stuff his spend back into you with his fingers is almost overwhelming, but he reels it in. You’ve tapped out, and he respects your limits.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs, his voice reverent as he watches. “Blow a kiss to the camera, baby.”

You smile weakly, giggling through your exhaustion. Licking your lips slowly, you pucker up and blow a kiss toward the lens, finishing with a playful, fucked-out wink.

The action is pure lust and sweetness combined, and he lets out a satisfied hum before finally stopping the recording.

“My girl, you did so well,” Javier murmurs, his voice soft and full of admiration. His praise seeps into your skin like balm, soothing you with the warmth of his presence.

He reaches for the couch pillows and the throw blanket, crafting a cozy nest right there on the floor by the fire. 

He doesn’t care that you’re both sticky with sweat and the remnants of your passion— all he cares about is making you comfortable.

Feeling the fog of pleasure begin to lift, you roll onto your side, your body aching in the best way possible, reaching for him instinctively.

Javi doesn’t hesitate; he scoops you up with ease, settling you on his chest. Your head rests between his pecs, rising and falling with his steady breaths. His calloused fingers trail up and down your naked back, a calming rhythm that lulls you into serenity.

“I can’t believe I squirted,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “Isn’t that…you know…piss? Shouldn’t we be in the shower right now?”

The question pulls a laugh from deep within him, a sound so rich and full that it vibrates through his chest and onto your cheek. “Eh,” he says, shrugging lazily. “Doesn’t really matter. What I do know is that I’m so damn proud of you, baby. I know the tape is goin’ to be fuckin’ gold.” His tone drips with adoration, each word laced with pride.

“But if it makes you feel better, we can always get back in the tub.”

You hum in response, nuzzling into the curve of his chest and letting your lips wander, pressing soft kisses over his golden skin. “That sounds really good, actually,” you murmur, your voice still laced with a dreamy haze. “But I don’t think I can walk.”

He lets out another laugh, his arms tightening around you. “I can carry you,” he offers, ever the gentleman, even now.

“Or,” you counter with a playful grin, trailing kisses up to his collarbone and then his jaw, “we could stay here, take a quick power nap by the fire, and then…” You pause, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I can ride you.”

Javier groans, the sound low and full of mock exasperation. “You’re definitely trying to kill me.”

Your laughter mingles with his as you capture his lips in a kiss, slow and unhurried. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined by the warmth of the fire. His hands cradle your face as yours slide into his hair, fingers weaving through the dark strands.

The kiss deepens, turning languid and exploratory, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire.

With you in his arms, he feels whole, like every piece of you was made to fit into his. Time seems to stretch and stop, the crackling fire and the soft hum of your breaths the only soundtrack to your moment.

Here, in his embrace, you’re not just his lover; you’re his everything.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @thundermartini . @auteurdelabre . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @yourmommycallsmemommy . @larascorneroftheworld . @letsmeetintheafterglow . @lunatiquess . @myownwholewildworld . @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch . @xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @guelyury . @doblasftcisco . @ashhlsstuff . @kluvspedro . @goodvibesonly421 .

[aquamarixx]

breaking the internet

chapter one after Bastard München's third loss, Hiori Yo finds a spark of hope in a warm, unexpected article by a cute keen-eyed journalist blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader angst, fluff, very hiori yo centric piece masterlist

The locker room was thick with tension, the air heavy with the aftermath of another brutal defeat. Bastard München had just lost to Manshine City — the team considered the weakest in the league this season. It was their third consecutive loss and their unexpected poor performance has become the shock story of the season kickoff. They’d barely left the field but everyone can already hear the criticism in their heads, each biting comment more brutal than the last. 

Isagi Yoichi, usually one of the level-headed players during these times of turmoil, lets out a frustrated groan as he tosses his sweat-soaked jersey into his locker.

“Can’t believe we lost again to Reo and Nagi, of all people.” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. 

“God, I wanna wipe that smug look on Chigiri’s pretty face. So annoying.” Even Kunigami himself can’t contain the disappointment he was feeling. 

Murmurs of frustration filled the locker room, with each player coming to terms with the loss in their own way. Some stared blankly at the floor, others punched the lockers. But Hiori Yo, the team’s offensive midfielder, sat apart from them quietly in a corner. 

His sunken eyes are glued to his tablet, focused on the screen before him. He’s replaying some of the match’s most critical moments, engrossed with dissecting their performance. The heavy feeling of frustration that sat at the bottom of his stomach only made him more fixated in figuring out what they’re doing wrong.

They didn’t play badly per se; they were just simply scattered, struggling to navigate the field without a commanding anchor like Michael Kaiser.

And it’s not like Manshine City outplayed them. They were only able to exploit those gaps between the seams in both Bastard Munchen’s offense and defense, allowing them to snatch their first victory of the season.

He sighs as he watches Nagi Seishirou effortlessly slip past them and score Manshine City’s winning goal just before the buzzer goes off.

The post-match debrief followed quickly. Coach Noel Noa entered the room, trailed closely by the team’s manager. The debrief was short and direct. Nothing that the players don’t know about. At this point, all they can do is let this pass and allow this frustration fuel them to do better and win the next match.

“This loss will sting. And the critics will only make it worse. They’ll amplify everything that went wrong.” Coach Noa’s voice was firm but calm as he warned. 

“I’m not going to sugarcoat, it will be brutal. But remember, it’s a long season. Don’t let the noise get to you.”

Later that evening, Hiori returned to his apartment. Instead of diving right into the new Souls game he bought, he threw his duffel bag on his bed before sinking onto his couch. He pulled out his phone, deciding to “ego-surf” a bit.

Usually, he won’t scroll through the comments after a loss, knowing how unforgiving fans can be. And him being one of the more reserved players made him an easy target, with critics often pointing out the lack of “fire” in him compared to his fellow Blue Lock graduates.

But curiosity got the best of him tonight. He scrolled through the headlines, wincing at the relentless criticism pouring in. 

“Is Bastard München all bark and no bite without superstar Michael Kaiser?”

“Noel Noa: Greatest striker of all time, wasted on Bastard München’s bench.”

“Blue Lock graduates fail to hold down the fort, leaving Bastard München struggling to fill Kaiser’s shoes.”

Some articles accused the team of riding on Kaiser’s coattails, while others declared that Bastard München had drawn the short stick from the Blue Lock project, forced to settle for “nobodies.”

Before he can continue, his phone vibrates to life with a message notification from his mom. And like clockwork, another message comes in from his dad. Despite being divorced, they’re still scarily in sync. For all the wrong reasons. 

Bracing himself for yet another round of thinly-veiled criticism, Hiori opens his father’s message:

“Yo-kun, I saw your game. Hopefully your team can bounce back. You know, if you’d just put in the extra effort and stay focused, you could be the person Bastard München needs. I know you have it in you—just need to take it seriously.”

The words are meant to sound encouraging, but the expectation and judgment beneath them is all too familiar. 

Then, another message pings from his mom. This time, there’s no critique or pressure. Instead, she’s sent a link to an article titled “Don’t Count Out Bastard München Yet—The Brains Behind Their Strategy Are Just Coming Into Focus,” along with a simple note:

“Hi Yo-kun, I hope you’ve had dinner. Thought this might make you feel a bit better.”

At least one of them is trying, despite their strained family dynamic.

He re-reads the article title. 

"'Brains'? Whaddya mean by that?", he mutters to himself.

Even if Bastard München is known for its calculated approach, there wasn’t much strategy happening on the field lately—or at least not for most players. Curious, Hiori clicks the link and begins to read.

Don’t Count Out Bastard München Yet—The Brains Behind Their Strategy Are Just Coming Into Focus by Y/N L/N With the recent departure of Michael Kaiser, Bastard München’s superstar and core playmaker, the team faces an uphill battle. Kaiser's absence has left a gaping hole in their strategy and a noticeable lack of offensive cohesion. After three consecutive losses, including a shocking defeat against Manshine City—the lowest-ranked team last season—it's evident how much the Bastards are struggling to recalibrate. But while the setbacks are significant, it may be too soon to write off Bastard München entirely. Their performance against Manshine City, despite the loss, showed promise. The team is experimenting with new plays that fit their overall style and individual strengths. To long-time fans, these changes might seem futile, but there’s a method to the madness. For instance, the decision to use Kunigami Rensuke and Yukimiya Kenyu as the main strikers might seem unusual at first. In hindsight, it allows Alexis Ness and Isagi Yoichi to create more scoring options while still playing to each player's strengths. This strategy leverages Isagi and Ness’ unpredictability, while maximizing the straightforward power of Kunigami and Yukimiya.  Additionally, their midfield defense and offense remain strong, with Benedict Grim and Hiori Yo commanding the center. They provide support and drive plays, utilizing players like Kiyora Jin, and Raichi Jingo to full effect. This demonstrates the potential of the new Bastard München. Even without Kaiser, the team has the makings of a powerhouse. And this isn’t the first time the team has faced adversity, nor will it be the last. Last season, despite a critical injury to the Magician, Alexis Ness, they fought their way to the semifinals, proving that resilience is embedded in the team’s DNA. Coach Noel Noa, a world-class striker turned coach, has also acknowledged the challenges ahead. His expertise remains a pillar for the team, alongside long standing veterans like Mensah and Erik Geisner, who provide stability. However, the real responsibility for filling the void left by Kaiser’s raw power and impact now falls on the team’s ‘brains’—Coach Noa, Ness, and perhaps most intriguingly, midfielder Hiori Yo. Hiori Yo may not be the most flashy player on the roster, but his subtle playmaking has become an essential part of Bastard München's strategy. Both Kaiser and Noa have recognized Hiori’s value, crediting him numerous times during key victories. “His role as midfielder may not grab headlines, but his precision, strategic thinking and game sense provide the grounding force the team needs” Coach Noel Noa mentions before during an interview mid season last year, after winning a do-or die match against Ubers. Thus, this could be a transformative season for Bastard München.  For those quick to count them out, this season might just reveal a new side of Bastard München. The team’s resilience, adaptability, and strategic evolution could turn the tide, especially with emerging playmakers laying a strong foundation. As they face the challenges ahead, fans may witness a more mature, tactically sophisticated version of the Bastards that proves they’re far from finished.

The journalist (Y/N) didn’t hold back, addressing Bastard München’s weaknesses head-on. Furthermore, you highlighted how the team could lean into a more dynamic strategy, blending the flashy, ego-driven style that fans loved with a more calculated approach—a style that Hiori himself had been quietly cultivating. 

For the first time, it felt like someone truly saw his potential, his value beyond just raw skill or charisma. You acknowledged him as a player who might not command the spotlight but who laid the groundwork, providing the strategic foundation the team needed.

As he reached the article’s end, Hiori felt a strange warmth settle over him. It wasn’t praise, exactly, but it was understanding or validation, something he rarely received. On a whim, he looks you up on Winstagram, curious about the person behind the words.

Your profile was as intriguing as your article. Your feed was a hodgepodge of your life. There are photos from tournaments, interviews with other athletes, and even a few posts about your favorite manga series. You're all over the place and rough around the edges but seemed very passionate by the way you wrote about the things in your life.

A photo of you with a 2B cosplayer catches his eye. You're shyly forming a heart with the cosplayer’s hand, your face flushed as you tries to smile.

“Huh, well aint’cha cute.” he says out loud, before bookmarking your profile. For the first time in weeks, Hiori found himself smiling, feeling an unexpected spark of optimism.

He shares your article to the Bastard München group chat with a simple comment: “At least one person ain't giving up on us.” As the chat notifications pinged with his teammates’ responses, Hiori leaned back, allowing himself to savor this small moment of encouragement.

 For now, it was enough.

author's notes: phew! so how was it? i know it's bit long but i want to bring out hiori's charm, focusing on his character and growth, while showing the effect of reader journalist's role in his life, both as professionals and as love interests. it's a bit on the serious side of things (with tooth rotting romance still), it might not be everyone's cup of tea but hopefully this grows onto you. if you have any questions or requests, feel free to send me an ask! i'm planning on writing drabbles and light hearted fics for other bllk characters including hiori ofc some time this month!

[hoe4rairai]

❌️ RAIAN FEVER TODAY ❌️

My Answers ❣️ :

1- If you were in Raian's universe, will you accept him as he is ? The murdere , the Assassin ...

Hard at the beginning, but I will grow a thicker skin if he only assassins bad people. Otherwise, it's a huge pill I might not even be able to swallow. Also, if he likes animals, it might be a bit easier to accept his job.

2- Continue dating him after what he's done to Alan ?

YES ... but it will take me a while to accept what I saw him doing, and i might not be relaxed for a while when he's around me. If I distant myself from him, he will go and never come back because he'll think I don't support him. However, I DOOOo support him, especially with these worms. But the mere fact that he torn a full-grown human ass apart will not settle well with me at the beginning . Speaking about it might be a good idea, but I can't show Raian my discomfort, as to him, it means weakness, and he hates mentally or physically weak people. My my discomfort might have, however, show unintentionally when he touches me or makes a sudden move on me. I can't help it, I am not a kure , my brain functions differently.

3- Will you support his mission to destroy the Worm and accept that he might never come back ?

I support his mission 💯... If He might never come back, I will probably disappear as well. In the alternate universe, Raian will be the air I breathe, so him not around ever again means no point for me to live , so i will go search for him in hell and live with my king for eternity .( too dramatic, I know 🤣 )

4- Will you be able to handle his rough handling and obsession over his power ?

Me personally, i am obsessed over his power and i brag about it whenever i get a chance, but with me, I might have to keep reminding him gently every now and then that I am breakable and I would need little TLC every now and then, specially that time of the month, he however, will do whatever he pleases until i show some physical discomfort, then he snuggles with me like a kitty, I SWEAR HE PURRRSSSSS.

5- If you were transported to Kengan universe, how would you seek his attention ?

Looooool .. I have no Fuckin idea .... he likes strong women physically and mentally. I will surely be a mantal challenge for him. It's not hard to be chased by men if you play the right cards, but with the Kure Devil, I better be quick-witted and challangbleonce once the bait gets hooked he will claim me. AND I WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN. Am just worried about the aftermath ☠️☠️

6- In Kengan univers, how would you want to look like ? Describe yourself ( looks, figure, hair, strength, height, weight , foreign or Japanese , job.. what will your unique feature be ? SET YOUR IMAGINATION FREE

It's not so much different from how I look in reality. I am 162cm and 50kgs . umm, maybe longer hair , like a long breeded dark black hair. I would probably want to look like a human cute but sexy cat 😄😁😁 Meow. Though, I know he would be attracted to a unique beauty with a twisted yet mysterious personality that I can be, but Raian , likes his woman big and strong, so I might not stand a chance if ever ...

8- How you met ?

7- Imagine your first kiss / Sex .. ! It's NOT traditional ...!!!

First Kiss : forced, pushed, and messy but will deepen when I gradually lose my grip.

Sex : he won't be an asshole but he will manhandle me , and I think I will get attached after that. It won't be easy at first to adjust to his black sharp eyes paralyzing my body and soul or the positions he will force my body into that would make me very vulnerable and hopeless and SCARED but I will get attentive when he slows down a bit and relaxes.

I WANT TO READ ALL YOUR WILD IMAGINATION YOU HAVE ABOUT THIS MAN ...

At Fusui's apartment. Visiting, I saw a huge body laying on the couch semi naked face down . I mean, I could surf full board on that broad back ... Fusui gestured not to make a sound, but his presence tickled me so I purposely spoke loud, he Turned and his eyes looking at was enough to sent me into her room in a blink of an eye shutting close and wasn't sure if my mind captured the picture of his angry face correctly or I literally saw a real devil in my bestie's living room ..?!!!!!!

Disclaimer: My blog is a safe place for your imaginative mind. We all are wild for this man, and it's perfectly fine to have a comfort character. Don't be shy to go absolutely wild ... 😜 🎶 😉 🤪

[fantasticsandwich]

Stockholm in Oslo

au/short story from a series I have

tw: suggestive content, implied drugging

You keep running the numbers, re-tallying the sums, but all the signs point to the fact that somehow, you're barely scraping by. Well, more accurately, Kit is. Not you; you don't pay a dime to live here. In this tiny apartment at the heart of Oslo, your days begin atop crumpled sheet in your shared bedroom. The other side of the bed is always cold. The floors are cold on your bare feet, and the halls are arctic maws spitting you out into the kitchen, where an even colder breakfast awaits you in the fridge.

        Shoving articles aside, you find a plate balanced atop another. A sticky note attached to the top designates it as 4 AM's omurice. Kit finds cling wrap redundant, so instead of removing a filmy sheet, you set the other plate aside and dig into the meal, too tired to bother to heat it up. What have you done to be so exhausted? Yesterday, you'd completed your household chores early, so your day consisted of channel surfing and intermittent naps, snacking on prepared meals. Even if Kit insists you don't lift a finger, you're ashamed that you can't even bother to wash the dishes most days.

        As you sit and spoon cold leftovers into your mouth, your phones pings, alerting you to an email, from someone from another life. Kiko must be doing well these days. From the message's contents, you learn that he has a foundation now, offering aid to underprivileged minds in Haiti. He has contacts across the globe to make their dreams possible in the same way you almost let yours. If only you hadn't fled the States, then Spain...

        But it isn't too late for you; he dangles an opportunity like fertilizer, bonemeal to your mincemeat soul. One of his dream-making contacts wants your creative spirit to thaw on a residency where it all began. A summer-long retreat to the wilderness of New York, just you and a handful of peers, if you can still call them that. Maybe if you could, you would've jumped at the chance, but now, the prospect of leaving your new life and return to a fragmented version of the old is obscene.

        Can you leave for that long? Survive or thrive? Kit won't be there to make your breakfast. You'll dine on instant meals, peel the cellophane, then wrap leftovers in cling wrap. In your search for something beautiful to paint, you'll trail a bird to your demise.

        Your finger hovers over the reply button. Before you can even dream up a draft, your phone pings again, this time, with a message from Kit. He wants you to take inventory of the produce. He'll go shopping on his way back from the office today. Maybe you can ask to join him.

        Yawning, you close out of your email. Somewhere, in a corner of your mind, the concept of a draft lingers, waiting to be ensnared by cobwebs. Drawing up the notes app, you inspect the barren pantry and hastily type a list. Before you can permit your tiredness to make you forget, you promptly take a screenshot and send it to him. Bored again, you fish a feathered fan from a cupboard beneath the sink to do some dusting, but there isn't much surface area to clean. In the city center, everything is compact, apartments included. An Ikea bookshelf houses an array of trinkets that gather dust.

        Staring at those exotic destinations, you think about going outside, but the winter is far too cold. The room is cold, too. Shuffling to the thermostat, you crank up the heat. Feet padding across the frigid surface of the laminate floor, you venture to your shared bed to swipe the comforter. With it bunched into your arms, you plop onto the couch. When the day began, you'd thought about all the productive things you'd do, but even washing the plates leaves you feeling groggy.

        The remote has been consumed by the cushion. When you finally wrangle the device free from its plush depths, you mindlessly flick through channels, all spluttering in a language you haven't even began learning. Still, you see glimpses of the world you're hiding from. Some type of festival is going on downtown. Do you want to go? Before you can decide, you hear the lock turning, the jingling of keys. The door slides open and gently shuts. You hear the sound of shoes being toed off, then the impact as they hit the hardwood floor.

        His voice calls out to you, beckoning, "Love? Where are you?"

        Summoned from your linen doom, you arise as a gauzy-eyed phoenix. With the blanket draped over you like a shawl, you peel off the couch enough to turn and face Kit. Hefty bags dangle from his arms. Ignoring their weight, he approaches in three quick strides and snaps over at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Winter frost clings to him faintly, like a prostitute's perfume. With him leaning over the couch, you grip the canvas handle for purchase, fingers tracing each fiber.

        He only goes shopping on Fridays. Ever proud to advertise, he only uses bags with your designs. Imprinted with your most recent surrealist portrait of him, this one is fresh from the manufacturer, still stiff and fresh. Your usual vibrant colors are muted and monochromatic. You painted him blue, the same color as the walls and sky. In the city center, there is only sky and its reflection on the window.

        A waxy slip of paper juts out from one of the bags. Snatching it, your eyes widen as you scan the list. Only fresh produce and ingredients, your limited Norwegian tells you. Kit has made your household one of ingredients only. If you want a snack, you'll either have to muster the energy to make it from scratch or call upon him and squander his precious free time for your own selfish desires.

        "How much are you spending on groceries?"

        He quickly snatches the receipt back. "You don't need to worry about that," he pointedly says, crumpling the paper into a ball before tucking it into his pocket.

        "But I'm hardly contributing anything to help cover the costs," you lament. Flopping over, you crush your ribs against the couch's bony spine. "I only get a few commissions here and there. I'd make more with a part time job."

        You miss feeling like you were doing something with your life. Instead, you've become a glorified maid, and even then, Kit does all the shopping, deals with the paperwork, and prepares the meals most days. Your energy expenditure isn't enough to warrant lunch, so you've never touched the stove. The seasoning rack is coated in a layer of dust. Damned Kit, who has a palette becoming of someone from the British Isles. Your days are blander than his food. Your soul is empty. Simply existing is brutal and unfulfilling. Sure, you're able to pursue your hobbies. Yet while you were never a social butterfly, you sincerely miss interacting with others. You never thought you'd be one of those people, longing for those hazy college days, when you worked three jobs, only to have to take out another loan to pay your remaining fees. In a sick way, you wished you were still stuck juggling it all, barely managing to scrape by.

        Unable to find the pit from which these sentiments arose, you'd never tell Kit about these strange beliefs. He works too hard for you to be ungrateful. Instead, you'll pretend to enjoy your bleak days, how the world beyond the window is a perfect, unchanging snow globe. His steady hands will ensure your vision is never clouded. Here, you are safe and protected.

        From who? From what? You no longer remember. You resigned your fate and faith to him long ago.

        "When you add it all up, I'm sure it covers our groceries," Kit quickly dismisses. His voice tapers as he disappears into the kitchen. You hear rustling bags, then cupboards slamming as he crams the dry groceries into place. You don't like how he organizes the pantry. He stacks boxes as if he's trying to make paper skyscrapers.

        Briefly, you envision that drab outcrop as a gleaming skyline. Another diorama. Made from his toil, of course. If you can manage to sneak out of his grasp during the night, you'll reorganize the pantry, reaching your arms into that thin space, fingers brushing the edges, prying into the dark to dredge sense of the chaos.

        "Could," you correct as he shuffles into the living room. "You only let me pay if we go out together, and only if it's a place I want to go."

        "It's teatime," he says, setting a saucer down on the coffee table. His thigh rubs against yours as he settles onto the couch beside you. He tries to press the porcelain into your grasp, but your fingers skim the side. The heat seeps into your chilled fingers, restoring warmth.

        You wrinkle your nose. "Too hot."

        "Alright, but drink when it cools. You've been having trouble sleeping."

        Your several micro-naps and incessant exhaustion beg to differ, but you don't want to tell the breadwinner about your pitiful qualms. "And you have trouble letting me do things for myself."

        "Your money is yours. If you feel bad about it, then just get me flowers. Or keep painting for me. Paint me. You never used to do that."

        Who or what else could you paint when he is all you see? He has become the anchor to your ship, your sky and horizon, the bringer of dawn and daylight. You'd go mad without him. You're going mad at his side. He floods your head with sweet, gentle delusions.

        "But I want to be useful, too. I could... I could make and sell more art," you offer. Cold and unfeeling, you'll transform into an industrial machine. You need to be useful before you break and are discarded. "Or I'll apply for a residency program. Kiko sent me the information to one, and I'm sure I'll get it if I apply. In the meantime, I could get a part time job bagging at a supermarket or even cleaning—"

        "Y/n," Kit sharply says, bringing a hand to rest on your shoulder. His touch is gentle, almost a caress. He slides his hands down to cradle your elbows. In a single, swift motion, he draws you closer until your chest presses against his. You feel his heart beating in tandem with yours. "If this is something you want of your own volition, then by all means, pursue it. But if you're trying to find a reason to leave me, then I simply cannot allow it."

        Your voice sounds leagues, lifetimes away, like you're a ship rotting at the ocean floor.

        "It'd only be over summer," you say, shivering as his hands clamp over your thighs. "I'll come back to you."

        "You have to," he says. "I fought to have you at my side, so don't you know that I'll do anything to keep you here? If money's such a concern, then let's review our budget."

        "But..."

        What if you're just a burden? What if having you here is ruining his life? Keeping him from being successful? You couldn't even support yourself working two jobs back home. You crashed and burned, and in the fallout, paralyzed your taste for life. Kit is still young and lively. He should be out on a Friday night, not consoling his pathetic girlfriend because you can't cope with your own incompetence.

        Fortunately, you don't need to speak. He hears the implications in your implicit silence.

        "Y/N, I chose to make you my priority. If that means that I need to pass on things, then I don't care as long as you're taken care of. Missing a few meals here and there won't do any harm, but if I don't have you..." Drawing in a sharp breath, he pins a piercing gaze to you. "To me, that simply isn't an option. You came here, knowing I'd be taking care of you as long as you stayed."

        "But did you know I'd be such a mess?"

        "Yes. And I still accepted you because I want to love you. Now, you'll just have to keep your end of the deal and let me do just that."

        Tears sting the corners of your eyes. Kit has already done so much for you. Removing you from that wench's clutches, rescuing you, sweeping you off to a foreign land where the painful memories of what she did couldn't follow. He is permitting you to be free.

        "But..." Blubbering, you wipe at your face, unable to meet his gaze, "how could you still want me? I can't ever repay you for everything you've done for me. I'd still be in a terrible place if it weren't for you. I wouldn't be here without you. That's impossible to repay."

        Kit sighs, fingers ghosting across your cheeks to wipe away your tears. Once satisfied, they dance lower and lower, slipping down your sides, eventually intertwining with your frostbitten hands. His smile is innocent, but the thoughts it conjures should be enough to condemn you to hell. You feel an unwelcomed heat flood your face, a gentle lurch in your stomach when his head plops onto your shoulder, hair tickling as teeth rake across your neck. The low rumble of his sultry tone echoes against your collarbone, melodic with your heart as a metronome.

        "It isn't about transactions, but if it makes you feel better, I'd be more than glad to show you one way."

        His words rouse something fearsome in you, sending a chill down your spine. But you look up and accept that manic gaze, the pleading, linen-clad look. Your eyes are circled by rings of cotton as you caress his cheek.

        "I love you."

        Pleasantly surprised, Kit momentarily relents control as you kiss him, but not for long. Pressing you down into the cushions, he quickly regains it, looming over you. Your heart thumps furiously in your chest. His eyes bear into yours as his hand crawls beneath your shirt, up your torso.

        "Good. Wanna see how badly I need you?"

an: again, unfortunuately not cillian, but I'm a bit out of practice and needed to write something. and although i love writing him, cillian isn't the yan i'm most fond of, so i wrote about kit, a character from my other series. the lore is heavy with this one, so i won't explain it, but i hope that doesn't stop y'all from enjoying it.

[chion3spid3r]

The bell rang, signaling the start of lunch period at the Vision Academy. you grabbed your bag and headed to the cafeteria, catching sight of Miles across the crowded hallway. His two neat braids and deep brown eyes stood out even from a distance. As usual, he was surrounded by his crew - the popular guys who ruled the school's social hierarchy.

you watched as Miles nodded along to whatever Jake, the football captain, was saying. His face was neutral, almost bored-looking. To anyone else, he probably seemed like the quintessential mysterious hot guy. you had to stifle a laugh. If only they knew.

"Earth to Y/N!" Your friend Zoe waved her hand in front of your face. "You're zoning out again."

you blinked, turning back to my own group of friends at your usual lunch table. "Sorry, just thinking about that history test later."

"Ugh, don't remind me," groaned Alex, dramatically dropping his head onto the table.

You fell into our usual lunchtime chatter - complaining about classes, planning weekend hangouts, and debating the merits of the cafeteria's mystery meat. Every so often, you'd glance over at Miles's table. He'd catch my eye sometimes, the tiniest smirk playing at the corner of his mouth before he'd turn back to his own conversation.

The rest of the day dragged on. By the time the final bell rang, you were more than ready to ditch the school persona and just hang out with your best friend. you made my way to our usual meeting spot by the bike racks, finding Miles already there.

"Took you long enough," he said, a teasing grin replacing his 'school face'. "I was about to leave your slow ass behind."

you rolled your eyes. "Yeah right, like you could survive a whole afternoon without my sparkling wit and charm."

"Wit and charm? Is that what we're calling your bad jokes now?"

you fell into step together, heading towards his apartment like we did most days. The walk was filled with your usual banter - inside jokes, ridiculous hypotheticals, and playful insults.

"So how was your day, Mr. 'imsohotandmysterioustoeverygirlsinschool'?" you asked, nudging his shoulder. "Break any hearts with your brooding stare?"

Miles snorted. "Oh yeah, I had to beat 'em off with a stick. It's exhausting being this irresistible, you know."

you laughed. "I'm sure. Must be tough, having everyone think you're some deep, tormented soul when really you're just a dork who cries at dog videos."

"Hey! That golden retriever learning to swim was emotional, okay?"

You both reached his apartment building, taking the stairs two at a time in your familiar race to the door. Miles won, as usual, unlocking the door with a triumphant grin.

Inside, you fell into your after-school routine. Bags were dumped by the door, shoes kicked off haphazardly. Miles headed straight for the kitchen while you flopped onto the couch, already channel surfing.

"Heads up!" he called, tossing you a soda before joining you with a bag of chips.

"So, for real though," you said between handfuls of chips, "how was your day?"

Miles shrugged, his carefree demeanor softening slightly. "Same old, same old. Jake wouldn't shut up about some party this weekend. I don't know why I still hang out with those guys sometimes."

you nudged his leg with your foot. "Because you're too chicken to tell them you'd rather stay home and watch documentaries about conspiracy theories?"

"Hey, those theories are legit!" he protested, but you could see the smile tugging at his lips.

you both settled on the decision after a lengthy discussion. As the evening drew to a close, Miles glanced at you with a familiar glint in his eyes. He stood up and extended his hand, a silent invitation. you took it, feeling the warmth and reassurance of his grip.

Together, you walked down the hallway to his room, a sanctuary filled with shared memories and the scent of his cologne. The door clicked shut behind you, enclosing you in a world where only you existed. Miles’s room was your refuge, a place where you could shed the day’s worries and just be yourselves.

"need some practice?" Miles asked with a playful smirk.

you laughed, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Always…" you replied, knowing that these moments were essential for your future dates.

at least you thought

you had made a pact to help each other become more confident in all aspects of your missions, including the art of distraction and seduction. It was a strange but effective part of your training, and over time, you had grown comfortable with it.

Miles pulled you close, his hands resting on your hips, his breath warm against your skin. "Just like we practiced," he whispered, his voice gentle and encouraging.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "Got it," you replied softly, your fingers tracing the familiar contours of his face.

your lips collided in a fiery explosion, igniting every nerve in your body. His kiss was both intoxicating and maddening, urging you on with each breathless moment. As your bodies pressed together, heat radiated between you both, suffocating in its intensity. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling like electricity as your tongues battled for dominance.

Miles's skilled hands moved with a confident ease, skillfully navigating the curves of your body. One hand slid up your back, pulling you closer to him while the other gently cradled your face. your heart pounded in your chest as you responded in kind, your own hands finding their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair. your kisses deepened, each one more intense than the last, as if you were trying to convey all your unspoken desires and emotions through the passionate touch of your lips. The warmth of your bodies intertwined sent shivers down your spine as you lost yourselves in the moment, consumed by the intoxicating taste of each other's lips.

your bodies moved in perfect synchrony as you sunk onto the plush mattress, your embrace unbroken. As you straddled him, his solid warmth radiated through you. The new position intensified every sensation—the weight of his hands on your hips, the way your bodies fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces. The tension between you grew thicker, the room feeling hotter with each passing moment, your breaths becoming more ragged and urgent. With a newfound fervor, Miles's hands roamed over your skin, tracing all the familiar curves and dips with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. In response, you mirrored his movements, your own hands exploring the solid muscles of his back, pulling him even closer to you.

your journey into the world of kissing began unexpectedly behind the bleachers at a high school football game when you were both barely fifteen. Nervous and unsure of your agreement, your lips met in a hesitant dance. What started as awkward fumbling soon evolved into stolen moments in hidden corners and secret rendezvous in Miles’s bedroom. your make-out sessions transformed into a ritual, born out of the need to conceal your inexperience from prying eyes while secretly preparing for future dates with practiced precision.

Without uttering a word about your escalating fascination, each touch, each kiss carried the weight of unspoken desires that had been growing within you since adolescence, you grew obsessed of each-other's touches and lips. As you embraced tonight with a blend of familiarity and fervor, the urgency in the air spoke volumes about the silent bond you shared, forged through years of perfecting your technique in secrecy.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourselves in each other. In those moments, nothing else mattered but the feel of Miles’s lips on yours, the warmth of his embrace, and the love that flowed between you. It was as if the intensity of your connection could somehow make us invincible, ready to face any challenge your future quests might throw at you.

As you slowly disentangled yourselves, a warm and contented sensation enveloped you. Miles's gentle touch brushed a stray strand of hair away from your flushed face, revealing his endearing smile. "You're... grewing skilled at this," he murmured, his voice soft and filled with admiration, a blush creeping up his cheeks. he murmured softly, his voice filled with admiration

you nodded, your heart beating rapidly in my chest. "Thanks. You too..." you whispered, feeling a shy smile tug at your lips, overcome with a breathless sense of contentment.

[imagintheworldaway]

Florida

A/N idk with this one, i just could't stop myself.

Warnings: Drugs, memory loss

Requests: Open

Life hasn't been easy. We both got dealt shitty hands, abusive childhoods, absent parents, people only ever caring when the fame and money followed. But that wasn’t for years. We were both broke kids trying to figure it out, only having each other as a comfort blanket. It's so shitty to think about, we were both just kids, two kids who were never given a real chance. That's where it started. At Least that's my theory. What do you expect, kids learn from the adults that raise them, and when the adults are shitty there is no question that the kid will more than likely also turn out to be shitty. Deep down, somewhere in my soul, I knew I had good in me, but what's the point of being good and decent and nice when the world and everyone in it had only thrown it all back in your face? 

I don't really remember the first time I met Frank. I remember we were kids, well teenagers, we ran in similar crowds, and he always had this smile, this cheeky smile which you just couldn’t say no to. And those eyes. Those emerald green eyes, the way the sunset shone in them when we were lying on top of a building, no cares, no one to answer to, just ourselves. Maybe the silence in knowing that we were both doomed was what comforted me. Maybe it was the fact he was tall and handsome, or maybe because he could do things to me that made my knees weak and screams echo through the city. 

When he suggested, well when he told me he was moving to LA there was no doubt I would follow him. There was nothing holding me down, so why not follow a boy to LA and see how it goes. I think that's when everything truly clicked for the first time. Being homeless, couch surfing, working dodgy jobs just to buy liquor and cigarettes was how we got by. That sunset, nothing really beat the LA sunset, the warm hues and bright rays that glistened in his eyes, illuminating his face reassured me that this was all worth it. 

But LA changed us. Like it does everyone else who gets sucked into the black pit which is the city. As we grew we were able to scrape together some pennies for an apartment. That's when the bug changed. My Frankie was now the sexy Nikki Sixx and I gained the nickname of Florida, or Flo. why? Well I was still as carefree as when I had arrived here. I didn't care where, when or what we did, and everyone we met said I was like a ray of sunshine, meaning I was like Florida. I was also majorly sedated most of the time which only added to the birth of the nickname. Nikki said he always saw Florida as the much more chiller younger cousin to LA, he always wanted to go to Florida, maybe it was the child in him that missed out on such a core memory that so many other kids got to have. So I became his Florida.

We had our own funny little rituals to get by. I would pray for snow and Nikki would produce the white powder that sent shivers down my spine but always brought me a great warmth. Our house was an apartment but our home was on the borderline. We would work these stupid jobs, meet our dealer, then climb on the roof. Heads frazzled in white powder but the same comforting silence that we had as tennagers still there, reassuring us that this was right. 

Sometimes Nikki would hold me so close I could swear that I could hear his thoughts. His hand was always squeezing mine, comforting me, knowing we were at the same place. But bliss cant last forever. 

I was happy that Nikki was finally in a band that made sense. Tommy was such a goofball and always knew the right thing to say, Mick was quiet, but we had a silent understanding, we looked after each other and then there was Vince, he was gorgeous, and always knew how to make my heart flutter and my cheeks red. They would practise and write songs as I would cut the lines. I never got involved with their business and they left me to mine. It was good. So fucking good. Until it wasn’t. 

The more popular the boys got the more money i got a hold of and the more lines, spliffs, pills, tabs and alcohol i consumed. I became the girl always at the show, dancing along on the side, supporting her boys. The music used to create colours, streams of vibrant vibrations would cloud my vision as I swayed and moved to the beat. I couldn’t care about the other girls. Why would i? He always came back to me, no matter what. I was the one in the pictures who he had his arm around, i was the one he brought to the parties, i was the only who kept his supply safe. 

It never stopped. I was the new guy everyone went to. You wanted something, you went and talked to Flo to get it. It was like my own dirty little secret that few people were in on. It was never my intent but it was easy. I kept the gear, he kept me satisfied. What I once thought was love I think was deeper. Nikki and I were the same person, and people knew that, you can't find Nikki? He's with Flo. Need some gear? Florida will be in Nikkis' room. A package deal, two of a kind, dare I say soulmates. 

All good things must come to an end. That's what our first dealer had said to us. How did he know that all the way back then? I don't know, I don't care to know. He always did warn us though. He always said how I was stupid for following a boy because I was in love. Love was only an emotion, so why did I care so much about a silly little feeling? Maybe because, as fucked up as whatever this thing we had was, it was the only form of love either of us had ever felt. 

I was a good girl. The perfect girlfriend, anything he could ever want, but i wasn't enough, i would never be enough. Florida was pretty, Florida was fun, but Florida wasn’t without its demons, it's blotches on its happy go lucky outlook on life, I truly was becoming the worst parts of it all. I took a second to think. When was the last time someone had called me by my real name? What even was my real name?  ‘Hold out your hand’ someone said, easily distracting me from my thoughts. Who was that? I was alone, wasn't i? Maybe not. I felt a light pressure on the back of my head, forcing it down. So that my nose met the white powder that had been lazily sprawled across the side of my hand. I took in the sensation of the powder I had felt so many times before. Don't forget to smile Florida, this is as good as it gets. 

[ogamagirl]

Heck it - I answered the rest of those Poke-themed asks because I wanted to, fight me ✨

Art by Nonny - go under the readmore to read me rambling bout us |3c

Eevee - What Eeveelutions would fit you and your F/O?

-He's Umbreon for sure! I feel like dark n steel types tend to suit him best so Umbreon is his Eeveelution for sure - Umbreon has sort of a broody expression that matches Soul well, and it, like Absol his ace, I think gets sort of a bad rep because of its typing, kind of how some might assume the worst about Soul because of his sort of "bad boy" aesthetic, when that couldn't be further from the truth! On my end - my first fav Eeveelution was Vaporeon because it was the first one I raised properly, but my current fav is Sylveon (actually it's a tie between Sylveon and Umbreon but seeing as Soul has Umbreon) so I guess...a tie between Vaporeon and Sylveon? Water is often associated with adaptability and I don't particularly like being adaptable but I think I'm fairly good at doing so lol, while Sylveon evolves through lots of love and I think I have a lot of love to give!

Alolan!Raichu - Have you and your F/O ever tried surfing?

-No! :0 Soul's done body-boarding before but not full on surfing; I have never tried either properly (like, I've used body-boards for fun but that's it). We both like swimming tho!

Gengar - Do either of you believe in ghosts?

-Mm...SE-verse wise, technically souls that persist without being absorbed quickly have the potential to manifest as ghosts, so :0

Meganium - Flower power! Do you two have a garden (or plan to grow one)?

-Nah; I do not have a green thumb and we also have a cat - our apartment doesn't have a lot of outdoor space so anything that we grow would have to be grown inside, and Yutaka would 100% chew on the plants sjfdgnlsfjg. Maybe when we have our own bigger space growing vegetables might be fun to try, but I don't think I'm particularly adept at growing things to begin with so probably not TuT;;

Roserade - Have you or your F/O ever given each other a bouquet? What kinds of flowers were in it?

-I am actually allergic to flowers |D I think they're very beautiful but having them in the same room as me makes me sneeze like crazy, so Soul does not often get me bouquets TAT;;; a couple of times before he knew me well enough to know that he did though! Standard roses the first time, but he got me a bouquet with red spider lilies once - which, we're both aware of the standard symbolism behind them, but they're my favorite flower regardless, so I was touched because he remembered!!

Soul's not the biggest fan of flowers so I've never given him a bouquet as a present.

Comfey - The best way to relax with each other?

-Chillin'  on the couch either watching something or playing a video game  together. Video game might be our favorite - we don't play a lot of  multiplayer stuff, rather we tag-team a single player game, giving each  other hints or working together to solve puzzles, it's a lot of fun! TuT

Mimikyu - Imagine cosplaying as your F/O (or your F/O cosplaying as you). How does it turn out?

-Mweheh, I do casual cosplay of him all the time because I have stolen multiple articles of clothing from him :3c mostly stuff he wore as a teen that doesn't fit him anymore but fits me well enough because I'm short, like his track jacket and a couple of sweaters. He is bemused by this |3

The style of t-shirt I used to wear back them is actually a style of t-shirt he wears fairly frequently still, so I guess he does casual cosplay of me too in that way? 🤔 I don't think he's ever worn the exact color combo I did tho (red and black, haha). But we do matchy outfits a lot now =w=

Chansey - Who worries more if either one of you ends up in a hospital?

-BOTH of us would be worried, but definitely Soul TAT;; I've broken bones multiple times since we've been together and he was always super worried ;; Thankfully none of those hospital visits necessitated staying overnight, he absolutely would have slept on the floor lol.

Ditto - If someone tried to impersonate you or your F/O, how would you distinguish the two?

that's all I'm saying on that lmfao

Altaria - What’re yours and your F/O’s thoughts on cloud-gazing?

-Hm!  I don't think either of us feel one particular way about it :0 clouds are pretty and fun to look at, and if we're outside and bored we've both  pointed out clouds that look like funny things to each other, but it's  not something that either of us actively seek to do.

Jirachi - Would you or your F/O wish for anything?

-I'd wish for money ;; I know that's pretty materialistic but I'm a broke millennial that basically lives paycheck to paycheck lmfao - I don't want to be CRAZY rich, I just want enough for us both to be comfortable and not have to worry about things and be able to get treats for ourselves and our friends consistently...

Soul's not a very materialistic person, so I think he'd just wish for the continued strength to protect his loved ones.

Luvdisc - Who fell in love with whom first?

-Meeeeeeee .////////. I mused on this recently in other asks I think, but it wasn't love at first sight, rather interest at first sight that developed into love fairly quickly the more I got to know him. It was because I was trying to hang out with him more and get to know him that he got to know me too, and subsequently found himself developing feelings as well 💖

Stoutland - Any pets you own? Care to tell me a bit about them?

-We  have a black cat named Yutaka! He is a nasty beast boy whom we love  dearly. I am definitely the cat person between the two of us (having to  deal with Blair soured Soul on cats for a while lmfao but he's come around) and baby Yutaka more but Soul always gives him treats n   scritches and sometimes I've found them napping together and it's   adoooooorable TAT////////

Articuno - It’s snowing outside! Do you two play in the snow or stay inside and cuddle with warm drinks?

-STAY INSIDE AND CUDDLE LMAO - I do like cold weather and snow is very pretty but I like to observe it from the inside nowadays. Soul gets cold very easily so he's definitely inside snuggled up to me haha - he will also have a warm drink, but I do not like warm drinks, so I get warm by cuddling him u//v//u

Vanillite - What’s yours and your F/O’s favorite frozen desserts?

-We both like ice cream!!!! My favorite flavor is chocolate - and like, that includes any kind of chocolate, be it plain or with extra stuff in it like chocochips or shavings or brownies or cookie dough or....uh, yeah you get the idea |D

Soul's not a huge sweets person but he likes cinnamon or fruit flavors!

Bellossom - How do you two help each other fall asleep?

-The act of being next to each other in bed is already a big contributing factor to helping us fall asleep, but in case we're having trouble falling asleep:

Soul will often tickle my back and talk softly to me - it could be about anything, it's me falling asleep to his voice that helps. He also once wrote/played a really quick instrumental piano piece that he put on my iPod all sneaky like to help me fall asleep when I had a period of having really bad nightmares, so if I need an even EXTRA push he'll put that on for me ;/////;

I'll sing to Soul if he needs help falling asleep, and I will also tickle his back or play with his hair while I do so.

Jigglypuff - On a scale of one to ten (or tenouttaten), how much of a softie is your F/O towards you? (alt. how much of a softie are you towards them?)

-He's a tenouttaten of course! But in his own special Soul way - like, he's very good at being firm with me if I'm being unreasonable, so he doesn't coddle me. But he's very patient and gentle, and he never gets angry with me if I'm having a bad day because of my anxiety or depression, he's always just steadfastly next to me for as long as I need. We both know each other extremely well at this point, of course, so he'll often give me hugs or physical affection without me having to ask for it, because he can tell when I need it. But he'll also be playful and give me physical affection because HE wants it, coming up behind me when I'm cooking to hold me around the waist and rest his head on my shoulder, or surprising me by taking a shower with me and washing my hair for me. He's .//////. mmm. always so wonderful....

I am also of course a tenouttaten towards him sjgnlgngdg when I get affectionate I get AFFECTIONATE and very clingy and cuddly - my style of giving affection is a bit more "aggressive" than him, I guess? xD but again, we know each other and understand the way we each give affection so he takes all of it in stride - and let's be honest, it makes him very happy that I hype him up and call him cool and the best all the time =//w//=

Delibird - How fancy are you two when it comes to giving gifts?

-Not super fancy in the sense that we don't often get each other expensive stuff. Like, I don't wear a lot of jewelry and don't want expensive jewelry to begin with, so that's not something Soul often gets me - the only things he gets me with any regularity are earrings because I like them and he picks things that he think I'll like, not based on how expensive they are. That's critical for both of us, thinking about what would mean something to each other rather than the price tag - like, one of his favorite things I've gotten him was a little bell with a skull on it that's supposed to protect motorcycle riders, and he still has it on his motorcycle keychain! It wasn't an expensive gift, but it was meaningful to him, because it's connected to one of his hobbies and shows I was thinking about him. So...not fancy, but always thoughtful 💖

Blaziken - Do you or your F/O train often?

-Heeee does! He kind of has to lmao - he and Maka still go out on missions so he has to be in good physical condition to be ready for any sort of situation that might come up. I have gone on and off over the years in regards to working out regularly (anxiety and depression combo be a bitch lmao) but CURRENTLY I try to do some physical activity for at least 30 minutes a day. He comes on my walks with me!

Gardevoir - Has your F/O referred to you as “their princess/queen”? (or vice versa?)

-Noooooooo lmao that's not Soul's style at all |D I know I'm that IMPORTANT to him, of course, but he's never been one for many nicknames; his most often used one for me is "babe". I don't think I'd want him to call me princess or queen tbh, it would feel weird. I like being his babe //w//

I've never called him prince or king either for the record lmao.

Cherrim (Sunny Form) - If it’s a sunny day outside, do you go outside to spend time together or no?

-That  is entirely dependent on the temperature lmAO I hate the heat, so if  it's above, like, 75F (so like 24C) I will not willingly spend any kind  of time outside. But if it's not too hot, sure! As mentioned above we  like taking walks together so if the weather's nice and it's sunny we'll  take a walk together.

Wailord - Who’s taller, you or your F/O? What’s the height difference?

-Soul issssss a foot taller than me =w=b 💖 (that's around 33cm for my metric friends) Our height difference is v important to me I treasure it, can bury my face in his chest when we hug, I'm the perfect height for him to give me forehead kisses u///u

Chatot - Give me a song that sums up your self ship!

-I think...a tie between Alone Together by FOB and Felidae by Hiroyuki Sawano. Alone Together just felt like our song from since the first time I heard it, same thing with Felidae. We have two playlists (one "normal" one, one strictly for Black Room songs) and a LOT of music is important to us (naturally), but those two songs are special.

Munchlax - What’s one food that both of you refuse to eat?

-Hmm! That's a good question...I refuse to eat a lot of things, I have a lot of texture issues ;; He is far less picky and eats pretty much anything! But something both of us refuse to eat...maybe...zucchini? I don't think either of us like zucchini |D

Shaymin - Have you or your F/O expressed gratitude? How so?

-Oh man all the time! We are both extremely grateful for each other. I express gratitude by doing extra things for Soul, like getting him a present just because or making his favorite thing for dinner. He does those things too, but he'll also take care of things for me, like if I'm too tired to clean but the apartment really needs it he'll take care of it without asking for help, or if I'm tired he'll carry me to bed without asking. We both always watch out for each other 💖

Victini - How do you two motivate each other to do stuff?

-Lotta pep talks! Soul especially is very good at this - I get in my own head A. LOT and he is very good at being objective/taking a step back and helping me work through things when I'm having a tough time or need a little extra push to do things. I'll motivate Soul if he needs it with lil rewards as well - not physical stuff, but like "if you do these chores when you're done we'll hang out/I'll make you a snack/rub your shoulders", stuff like that haha.

[orphicpoieses]

A giant tag game response...

In the last several weeks, I've been tagged by multiple people for tag games, including some games even multiple times. So, instead of just creating a post for each and every tag I got, I decided to go deeply insane by creating one giant post in which I will answer each and every one.

For all of this, I am tagging: @enchantress-of-words @mirrorthoughts @leafamaranth @blind-the-winds @writingpotato07 @writingbyricochet @j-1173 @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @eli-writes-sometimes @lockejhaven @365runesofwriting @thetruearchmagos @yourfriendlywriter @moonlitinks

Wish me luck.

Okay, so first, let's start with the game I got the most tags for: Heads Up, Seven Up. I've been tagged by @primroseprime2019 (not quite as Heads Up, Seven Up, but Seven Snippets, Seven People), @mariahwritesstuff, @thetruearchmagos and @howlingbreeze. Thanks to you all for tagging me 💕

Since I got the tag, I nearly wrote 30k words on my current project. Sadly, I cannot share any lines with you, so here is an older snippet of mine and I hope, you forgive me for being so mysterious with my WIPs...

This belongs to a snippet for Celestials. I have this one in my drafts for about three to four months now, unsure, if I should continue. So, please, leave some feedback, if you want to read on or not! It would really help me out!💕

His strides were long as he ran down the hallway to the stairwell. "I said you should go away!", Conan growled behind him, but he ignored the archdemon, who followed him angrily. Their voices were already echoing through the door of Asra's apartment and before she could get up from the couch, there was a vigorous knock on the wood. "Asra!" His soft voice got through to her and brought back memories that she actually wanted to forget. Tears welled up in her eyes and even though no one saw her, she hastily turned away. "Get out of here!", Conan growled again and for a moment it seemed as if the two uninvited visitors were at each other's throats. Asra hastily wiped away the tears and stood up. If he didn't listen to Conan, then to her if she was about to send him away.

Next is 10 Songs, 10 People, tagged by @darthenra. Shuffle your music and share the first ten songs.

Looking Back by Satoshi Takebe

We're in the club now by Michael Giacchino

Shine my shoes by Robbie Williams

We are the people by Empire of the Sun

Dream Glow by BTS & Charli XCX

Unbroken by Arealie Brighton

Mayweather by Maître Gims

Mehr Davon by Tim Benzko

Destruction by TSFH

Steel on Steel by Jeremy Soule

Also from @darthenra, the Four Main Character tag. Describe four characters in your WIP that are not your protagonist.

Sadly, I cannot answer this, since my project is a mystery.

The next game is Get to know me, tagged by @eli-writes-sometimes.

3 Ships: I only got one and that's Crowley X Aziraphale.

Last Song: Heat Waves by Glass Animals

Last Movie: A Pale Blue Eye (Rewatch, because it is so good!)

Currently Consuming: The series Designated Survivor.

Currently Craving: Summertime vibes, beach waves and surf lessons

And last but not least: The OC Songs Tag by @writingbyricochet 💕

I will not name the OCs (yes, multiple!), but here are 5 songs with a that make me feel very close to them and just have the right vibes. Usually, I resonate with the complete lyrics, but because this would otherwise end in a much much longer post that I want to, I just give a snippet of the lyrics. Just google the songs, if you are interested in the soundtrack in my head 😁

Open Your Eyes - UNSECRET & Alaina Cross

Open your eyes Now is the time All that you know is changing Open your eyes Into the light There is a world that's waiting

I know where your secrets hide - Klergy feat. Katie Garfield

Bite your lip Taste your lies I write your name in circles Strike the fear Where the dark lies Where you are, your sins will follow Shadows come into the light I know where your secrets hide

Heat Waves - Glass Animals

I just wonder what you're dreaming of When you sleep and smile so comfortable I just wish that I could give you that That look that's perfectly unsad Sometimes, all I think about is you Late nights in the middle of June Heat Waves been faking me out Can't make you happier now

Would I lie to you - Nico Santos

Shadow in the dark, shadow in the dark I know what you've been through Trouble in your heart, trouble in your heart Where no one's ever been to I know you've been hurt before Don't want you to hurt no more Let me get to you

Dirty Hands (Gone Mad) - Kendra Dantes

Look in my eyes, they lie Went to hell a couple of times Can't say I don't try, I tried Now there's nowhere left to hide Now it's done, I'm undone Everything that I've become Let me show you my darkness It's dark, yeah

And that's it! All the tags I recently got, collected in one post!

If you read everything, let me thank you with my whole heart. It means a lot to me. I also appreciate likes, comments and reblogs and don't forget to tell me your opinion on the Orphic Daydreams and wether or not I should continue them.

Giving you all a nice hug and see you in the next giant post 💕🌈

[lostaroace]

A deal with Hades | Anders Johnson x OC Fem!Hades (Ch.5)

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Fandom: The Almighty Johnsons

Pairing: Anders Johnson x OC Fem!Hades

Rating: Mature (for cussing)

Content warnings: free call on mythology and beliefs, swearing, and self-esteem issues. Honesty.

Summary of the chapter: After the ritual, everyone is fully mortal again except for Anders. He’s not Bragi anymore, but he’s also not human. When he confronts Hades about that new situation she opens her heart and soul to him being completely honest. He has to make a decision. 

Word count: 2755

More content in My Fanfic Masterlist | Multifandom

Also available on AO3

This work was created to be part of the Deanobingo2023 event by @deanobingo​ It fills the General Prompt Card with Honesty.

A deal with Hades | Chapter Five 

Knowing that Michele was dead and, as soon as the ritual was complete, the goddess using her body would leave her to rot was not pleasant, to be honest. Yes, with all the finding Frigg and the brotherly fight between Axl and Mike for her, Michele had finally bedded him which was cool although he was well aware that the only reason he was not in Aïdi's bed was that he had no idea if she wanted him like that or not. She made him feel like something precious, like they could build something together, but then Anders was alone in his apartment and the intrusive thoughts occupied his mind yelling at him that she was a true god, the most powerful of them all (as far as he was concerned), therefore the idea of Anders as a giving soul was more like a pet, right?

He looked at everybody around him feeling nostalgic. The only thing that had united the Johnsons to those incredible women was the fact that they were vessels for the Norse gods. Once the ritual was complete, there was no reason for them to keep meeting. Michele and Mike had broken up and although Anders had had sex with her a couple of times, it was not meant to be a long-term relationship. Stacey and Olaf were together, yes, but for how long? He was still a nomad by heart, and now that he knew death was on the corner he probably would spend more time surfing and traveling than with his family, and she had her own business to run. Ingrid's future was a mystery. The idea of seeing any of them again was almost utopic. On the other hand, there was bloody Colin, no one wanted to deal with him again.

Hanna slashed her brother's chest and the fun began. The ritual was made, a little shake on the earth was the only indication of something working. Then a white smoke came out of them, the perfect representation of a soul in the media; and it flew up into the air. Once they had regained their balance, Hanna's brother, Heimdallr, was gone and Michele was laying on the ground.

As Hanna was explaining what had happened to Axl and they figured that there was no real reason for them to be together now that Frigg and Odin were reunited, Anders felt that there was something wrong with him. He touched his chest, right where Hades' mark rested and it felt cold to the touch but burning all the same. There had been no light smoke coming out of him.

They walked to their cars making plans and when Michele insinuated that she wanted to go to Anders' again, he shook his head with a frown.

"There's something wrong with me. I think I have to talk with Hades."

"Maybe Bragi won't be able to go to Asgard, you know, with the deal you made and all," Axl pointed out.

"Yeah, but does it mean that I still have the powers? I need her advice."

The ride to Aïdi's house was slower than he had wanted, his senses were hyperaware. Using the key she gave him, Anders let himself in. Aïdi was sitting on the floor with her back resting against the couch, Blanc tucked between her legs and arms as she hugged him, running her hands up and down his fur. She had heard him, but she didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He approached carefully as if she was some sort of scared animal.

"I hate wars," she mumbled. "Did you know that all the war gods are gone from the mortal realm? There's no one left to command or help or to blame. This is all human making. I– I don't understand how humans can be so twisted. Collateral casualties, they say. They always hid their thirst for blood behind that as if just because they had no real intention to murder all those civilians they were innocent of their deaths. Bullshit."

"Bad day at work then," Anders tried to sound sympathetic but the truth is that he was kind of awkward. He didn't know how to comfort someone so he felt like a fish out of the water.

Hades unburied her face from Blanc's fur to look at him with tired eyes and an understanding look. She nodded before rubbing her face with the cuffs of her cashmere sweater. As she got up, Blanc padded towards Anders greeting him with a bump on his head on the mortal's leg. She got into the kitchen putting the kettle on.

"I presume you have not come here for listening to my complaints about the job. How may I help you, love?"

"We did the ritual. Heimdallr's vessel left for Asgard, but the others just stayed mortals as you said." She hummed to make him know that she was paying attention, "There was this smoke that emanate from us and flew to the sky, but I did not. I feel weird."

"Right. This is the thing, love, when you made the deal with me, Bragi's soul got linked to yours. However, once the ritual was complete, Bragi as a Norse god went to Asgard, although not as the others did. He left with some of his powers, not all of them, because his soul had been linked to yours.

"Meaning that, with that exchange, your mortal soul became the soul of a god. A true god, although mortal if we understand that you can still be killed, of course."

Anders sat on the stool from the breakfast counter, stunned. The gears of his brain turned and rolled as he tried to understand the new information. Aïdi put a cup of tea in front of him before cupping hers between her hands and taking a small sip.

"I don't understand. So, I am not a common human anymore? I am a god."

"Seems like you understood that pretty well, love. However, your powers still have some limitations. They're not like Bragi's entirely, as I also had some influence in the transformation. They won't work with other gods, gods' vessels, or former vessels; and they won't be used to promote havoc, I'll be very pissed if you use your powers to have a free meal or to force your will upon someone else."

"Wait. Wait… If I'm mortal in terms of 'can still be killed' does that mean that I won't die from natural causes?"

"Precisely."

"How does that affect our deal?" He frowned.

"I'm sure you've read the contract by now."

"Yes. It did not say anything about me becoming a real god."

"How about the last part?" With a gesture of her hand, a fancier binder than his own appeared. She opened it and made him look at the last part, the one about Bragi slipping from the deal.

"That's for Bragi and you already said that he's in Asgard now."

"Where does it say Bragi, Anders?"

True. He had just assumed that it was directed to Bragi, but the truth is that in the document what was mentioned was 'the god', therefore, that god was now Anders himself. This wasn't even a loophole in the contract, it was an out for him.

"You gave me an out," he accused.

Hades shrugged, "You weren't selfish when you propose the deal. It wasn't even to save the life of a lover. You wanted to save the life of your baby brother and by doing so, save your other brothers and your grandfather. It was selfless with a suicidal point, obviously, but it was done by heart and I– I just want you to be happy, Anders. I don't want to impose my will upon you."

"You keep saying that. You walk on eggshells when you're with me and it's driving me insane. Why did you write this out on the contract!"

Fuck it, it was time to be honest.

"Do you want my honesty, Anders Johnson?" Her eyes changed to her supernatural white, but the rest of her body remained unchanged. "Gods are awful creatures! We do not restrain our cravings and wants; we see what we want and we take it. I will never be like my brother, not now and not ever. Zeus is a bastard that changed his shape to impose his will upon the poor mortals he was infatuated with. I have always hated that infatuation that drove gods to become disgusting creatures! Then you had to exist!

"I came to New Zealand with the only objective of finding Loki's vessel and taking Loki's soul to the netherworld and making him pay for the migraines he gave me. Unfortunately, you were here, hitting your twenty-first birthday and becoming Bragi's vessel and suddenly the infatuation hit me. Hard. Like a bullet on the neck, Anders. That's not very nice.

"I wanted you. I want you. For eternity. I want you to be mine and only mine." Her voice took on a profound supernatural tone that made Anders' skin break into goosebumps. "I wanted to take you with me and not let you leave. That's not how it's supposed to be done, however. That's not who I am.

"That's why I kept my distance from you until the meddler of Heimdallr decided to make us bump into each other. I tried to separate myself from you after that but you kept looking for me, encouraging our friendship and I couldn't escape. The infatuation became caring, became affection, and love; it became jealousy and possessive behavior that I loathe. If I was like the other gods I would have used your insistence to my advantage and used you, abused you to the point of making you need just as much as I need you. But I'm not like them. I won't be.

"Helen, Gaia, Axl, Michele… I wanted to destroy every one of them. Crave their skin with my nails until they begged me to kill them and then just allow the hellhounds to play with them until they were crumbling into pieces. Again, that's not very nice of me, is it?

"Zeus sending one of his offspring to kill Axl in front of me was a dick move, but when you offered the exchange something broke inside of me. I wanted to keep you, and I still do, but at the same time, I'm aware that spending eternity chained with me won't make you happy. That's why I'm giving you an out from the contract, Anders." Her eyes came back to normal. "Now that Loki had gone to Asgard there's nothing I can do against him, and apart from you, there's nothing in the mortal realm that makes me want to stay. Once you acknowledge the final part of the contract and decide to break free from my claws I would go back to my palace."

The silence stretched between them. Anders had not taken a single sip from his cup but his eyes were fixed on the dark liquid feeling the burning of his chest growing. He had a choice now but he didn't know what he wanted.

"I don't want you to leave." As his confession left his mouth before his brain registered, Anders' eyes locked with Aïdi's. The hope and fear in her look cemented Anders' resolve. "I thought you didn't want me the same way I wanted you. I thought you saw me as some sort of pet."

"Absolutely not!!"

"Then, I don't want an out."

"Anders…"

"As long as I'm not a slave for eternity–"

"Of course not!!"

"I'm all yours then."

His mischievous grin made her heartache and Anders was able to notice it. Yeah, being honest with himself he could say that he wanted to belong to her as much as he wanted her to belong to him. These last months had been a roller-coaster of emotions. Anders had found himself needing her, wanting her presence, her smiles, and her white eyes on him. Now that the possibility of being 'free' had been presented, he understood that he really wanted to see the netherworld, to live in Hades' palace, to meet Anubis and his cats, to just… to be in a relationship with Hades. Fuck, he wanted a fucking relationship. Monogamous and permanent.

Getting up, Anders approached Hades cornering against the counter. Her eyes were looking for something in him, maybe a twitch or slip that proved that he wasn't serious, that he was playing. He was not, though.

"If– If we do this, I will rather you don't mess with anyone else, you know. It kind of hurts when you do and I don't think it would be very healthy if my jealousy consumes me and I start reaping souls out of my official influence area."

"Sounds good to me."

"You say that now. Eternity is a very long time, Anders."

"I'll be yours and yours alone, Hades. I give you my word,"

Well, isn't that a tricky thing to say in front of a powerful god?

The contract destroyed the last part itself and in its place, there was a page with those words from Anders. Now it was official.

When Aïdi closed the distance between them, her kiss was tentative and soft as she placed one of her hands on Anders' chest, on top of the mark, and the other caressed his neck. Anders melted surrounding her waist with one of his arms while using the other hand to cup her face in order to keep the kiss going, fixing the angle and even kissing with more intention. He moaned unconsciously when she was the one willing to deepen the kiss by tracing his lips with her tongue. Anders opened his mouth and he let himself go. There was nothing else in the world but Hades and himself resolving the sexual and romantic tension that had been building up between them.

*

Three thousand one hundred and five years after.

Hades was playing on the floor with the new batch of hellhound puppies. The three-headed animals were barely able to control their limbs as they jumped and ran after a toy. The door of the drawing room opened with the typical vigor of her husband, Anders, god of persuasion; after him were a few white souls that were visiting Hades' realm as they did every decade.

"See Dawn? I told you the puppies were cute!" Anders pointed out.

"I'm still freaked out by the three heads," confessed Olaf.

"I think Anders has forgotten what normal dog puppies look like," Hades offered with a smile before standing up.

She liked this. Hades had always been fond of guests in her palace, but she'd never had the possibility of hosting some holidays for her family as the other Mediterranian gods that entered that category usually avoided her realm. Since she and Anders had become an item, both true gods, she had made the concession of allowing the members of Anders' family to visit if they wished once they had left their mortal bodies behind. Time moved slowly but in the end, they died, one by one, as they should. Every decade, Anders opened the doors of the palace to his brothers, his sisters-in-law, his grandfather, his friends, his nephews and nieces, and the children of those nephews and nieces. Hades loved the smothering chaos that they usually brought with them, as they filled the palace with noise, jokes, and laughter.

However, what she loved the most about that display, was seeing Anders showing off his accomplishments. Anders, who loved working for Hades in the netherworld and really enjoyed wearing his deep blue clothes and silver crown, fit in her palace as he had always been the missing piece of a puzzle. He loved to prove to his family that he was in love, that he was not a prisoner, that he wasn't bored nor was he regretting his decision, and he rejoiced every time Mike felt a certain jealousy when comparing his own eternal rest with Anders'.

Zeb, Axl's best friend that always insisted on following them, was being hunted by the puppies which stirred her thoughts away. She laughed lightly as the poor soul tried to climb a column.

"Careful with that, it's older than you think!" Anders pointed out sharing a mischievous look with his wife. She winked at him and with a subtle move of his hands, Anders made the column creak, which sent Zeb to the floor with a squeaky sound. "Told you."

Eternity wasn't so bad in the end.

The End.

[fangirl-writes]

Nightmares

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of physical abuse, nightmares, and blood.

Requested by @abiseifried : heyy i have a fic idea! so i thought you could do a secret relationship jj x reader (john bs sis) and jj shows up at her window beaten up and she cleans him up and they go to bed; then he has a nightmare and wakes up screaming and JB sees how good they are for each other? idk if that makes sense hahaha!

Notes: It totally makes sense! I love it and I hope you enjoy what I've written! The ending sucks, but I like what I’ve written.

JJ Maybank was a loveable goofball.

He smoked weed, made dick jokes, and got into trouble. He played pranks, wore snapbacks, and could make light of almost any situation. He surfed any wave he could catch, drank until it wasn’t fun anymore, and had a permanent place on the couch at the château.

Y/N Routledge was loving soul.

She stocked the cooler, picked the music, and threw red solo cups at John B’s head. She liked PB and J’s, wore flip flops, and was always up for a hug. She cooked meals for fun, cut the boys’ hair when it got too long, and was an expert in nursing a summer morning hangover.

Really, it was only natural they would fall in love.

That classic tale of the brother’s best friend and the little sister, but it wasn’t just that. What Y/N and JJ had was deeper than some shitty romcom.

“Hey,” JJ said.

“Hey,” Y/N replied, smiling at him.

She was standing in the chateau's kitchen, unpacking the cooler after a long day on the water. 

The sun was just starting to dip into the horizon and John B., Kiara, and Pope were out lounging on the hammocks, feeling lethargic and sleepy from the warm day.

JJ seemed similarly tired as he threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders lazily and kissing her on the cheek before burying his face into her neck.

She chuckled softly, forgetting the cooler for a minute and wrapping her arms around his warm body.

She kneaded her fingers through his hair and whispered. “Do you have to go home tonight? You could just stay here and...”

JJ picked his head up, looking at her sadly. “You know I can’t.”

He could see the worry in her eyes and caressed her cheek softly. “I’ll be okay. He’ll probably be passed out when I get back anyway and I’ll just head straight to bed. No issues.”

She knew that wasn’t going to be true. There were always issues when it came to JJ’s dad.

She pulled him into a hug again. “You know you can always come back here if things get bad. You can sleep with me and if John B. says anything I’ll punch him.”

JJ laughed lightly. “As much as I’d like to see that, we can’t...”

Y/N sighed, pulling back from him.

It hadn’t been an easy decision, hiding it from everyone, but they both decided it was for the best. Ever since Big John had gone missing, things had been a wreck.

John B. had practically gone off the deep end trying to keep the two of them out of the system and together. But it resulted in bigger parties, worse grades, and him being very overprotective of Y/N.

Not that JJ could blame him; she was the only family he had left.

So, they both decided to keep what they had their own little secret...for now.

“Just...come in through the window?” Y/N said, looking at him with her beautiful (e/c) eyes.

He kissed her on the forehead softly, his lips lingering there as he whispered, “Always.”

The loud screech of the screen door echoed through the house and caused the two of them to jump apart to opposite ends of the kitchen.

John B. walked in just as JJ grabbed a water to make it look like that had been what he came in for and Y/N had returned to her job of unstocking the cooler.

“Hey, guys,” John B. said, slightly groggy. “Pope and Kie just headed home. JJ you staying?”

“Nah,” JJ said with a shrug. “I’d like to sleep in a bed that doesn’t have springs digging into my back.”

“Sorry we can’t afford a sleep number, J,” John B. replied, nudging his friend good-naturedly. “But you’d better get going. There’s only a little daylight left.”

He was right. The sun’s orange glow had begun to filter out of the small kitchen, replacing it with a dark gray hue that signaled the start of night.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” JJ replied, wrapping an arm around John B.’s shoulder and squeezing it. Their version of a goodbye hug.

Y/N wouldn’t be having any of that so she stood up, closed the fridge, and walked over to hug JJ goodbye.

She knew he needed it.

And, really, she needed it, too.

“Be safe,” She whispered, hugging him tighter for a minute before pulling away with a smile. “Night, J,”

JJ smiled softly at her, a look that only she got, and waved to the Routledges before disappearing out of the room, the slam of the screen door and the revving of his motorbike the remaining signals that he was leaving. 

“So,” John B. started. “You and JJ...?”

Y/N looked at him with a raised eyebrow, like she had no idea what he was talking about and dared him to assume anything.

“This is going to sound harsh, but I don’t want you to get involved with him.” He said. “I love the guy, but I know how he is with girls and I don’t want him to be like that to you.”

He’s not, she almost said, but stopped herself.

“JJ’s a good guy,” Y/N said with a shrug, seemingly indifferent.

“To you, maybe,” John B. replied, wrapping an around around her neck. “But that’s because you’re my stinking little sister.”

Y/N pushed his arm away with a frown and punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He said with a big grin.

“Go to bed, you big wimp,” She replied, shoving him out of the kitchen.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He laughed.

The two of them split off into their separate bedrooms, throwing quick “night”s at each other before closing their doors and preparing for bed.

Y/N discarded her tank top and board shorts, as well as the swimsuit she’d worn underneath them. She put on a pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt she’d bought to sleep in over the summer.

She flopped onto her bed and the tiredness she’d not been feeling before came crashing down on her. 

She fell asleep quickly.

***

Y/N woke up with a start, a crash against her floor alerting her. She turned on her lamp and when she looked to the source of the noise-

"JJ, oh my god!" She exclaimed, throwing herself out of bed and onto the floor next to him.

It was bad this time. He had a split lip, a bruise on his eye that was slowly darkening, a few small cuts on his face that she knew was from a glass bottle, and god knows what else that she couldn't see.

JJ hissed as she gripped his side a little too hard.

"Sorry, sorry!" She squeaked, as quietly as she could. "Oh my god, JJ."

"Yeah," He replied, softly. "He was feeling especially pissed off tonight. Came in while I was asleep..."

She could see his eyes getting glassy and felt her own tears pricking at her eyes. 

She hugged him softly, trying to miss his bruises. If she hit any he didn’t say anything, just wrapped his arms around her waist and tried not to cry.

Y/N could feel a few tears wetting her shirt, but didn’t care. She just raked her fingers through his hair, soothingly, and eased him over to the bed.

“Sit down, baby. I’ll go get the first-aid kit.”

JJ did as he was told and watched as Y/N went into the bathroom to find the first-aid kit she kept on hand for instances like this.

It made his stomach turn when he thought about it. Her having to have a first-aid kit just for him, having to nurse him back to health when something happened, having to hide it all from her brother, the only family she had left.

She came back in holding the red box she’d always kept underneath the sink in the bathroom.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” She asked.

If he’d have been in better spirits he’d have joked about her wanting to get in his pants, but he didn’t have it in him.

He pulled the gray shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed next to him.

It almost hurt Y/N to see the bruises littering his chest and his sides.

She pulled over her desk chair and sat in front of him, pouring peroxide on a cotton ball. “You’re lucky John B.’s a heavy sleeper of he’d have come flying in here when you fell through the window.”

JJ couldn’t help but laugh and then hiss as she pressed the cotton ball to his lip.

“Sorry,”

He met her eyes for the first time. He could see the sadness and the worry swirling in them.

“I wish I would’ve made you stay,” She whispered, tossing the first cotton ball and cleaning up his cuts with another one.

“It would have been worse the next time,” He replied. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know that low-life, son of a-”

“Y/N.” JJ said, a little sharply, then sadly, “he’s my dad.”

Y/N sighed. “I know, it’s just...”

She didn’t have to say, JJ knew. He’d gotten her lecture before, from everyone. From all the pogues, Sheriff Peterkin, the people his dad worked for. They all told him he should just run away.

But he couldn’t. Because it was still his dad.

Y/N closed up the first aid kit after covering some of the bloodier cuts with band-aids. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

JJ nodded, laying down in her bed as she left the room to put the kit back. He pulled the sheets up to his chin and rolled on his side.

She came back with a small smile, shutting off the lamp and sliding into bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Thank you,” JJ whispered, he could see the sparkles in her eyes as his adjusted to the dark.

“You don’t have to thank me.” She replied, running her fingers softly over his arm. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You take care of them.”

JJ felt his breath catch at her words. That was the first time either of them had used the ‘L’ word.

“JJ?” She said, squeezing his arm. “You know I love you, right?”

He was silent for a minute and Y/N thought he might try to bolt, but he didn’t. He just let out a quiet sob and buried his face in her neck.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing,” he said with a sniff. “I just- I really love you too. And I can’t believe it took me this long to realize just how in love with you I am and you shouldn’t have to deal with all my shit-”

“Hey.” Y/N lifted his head off her neck and made him look at her. “Your shit is my shit, okay? We’re in this together. Just like I said, when you love someone you take care of them. Let me take care of you, J,”

JJ blinked back more tears and nodded. “As long as you let me take care of you, too.”

She allowed him to snuggle back into her. “Always,”

JJ fell asleep with many emotions, but he could deal with those when the sun came up. As long as Y/N was there with him, he could deal with anything.

*****

John B. wasn’t sure why he was awake. Usually he slept right through the night with no disturbances. Maybe being out all day messed with him or something.

So, he got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. That usually helped him when he couldn’t sleep.

The turned on the facet, filling up a glass and taking a large gulp from it before leaning against the counter and staring out the window. 

The sky was barely starting to return to its daily blue and the moon was still most of the light out over the water. It was probably four or five am if he had to guess.

He let out a groan. He hated being awake this early.

John B. dropped his cup as screams started coming from Y/N’s bedroom. He bolted out of the kitchen towards her room, his mind not even registering that those shouts were male.

He just about made it to the room when he heard Y/N call out, “JJ!”

But it was too late, he’d already burst through the door. He startled Y/N, but she couldn’t be bothered by him.

“JJ, wake up, your having a nightmare. It’s just a dream, wake up.”

Her voice was soft, trying to coax JJ out of the nightmare without scaring him any more.

John B. was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the way Y/N was able to calm JJ down. His screams lessening into whimpers.

John B. had a vague recollection of their dad doing something similar when they were kids.

When JJ finally woke up, he sat straight up and was sweating profusely. He was still obviously distraught from the dream.

Y/N gripped his shoulders and made him look at her. John B. could see the way JJ’s shoulders relaxed as he began to recognize his environment.

“It’s okay,” She said. “You’re safe. You’re with me and John B. and everything is okay.”

JJ choked out a soft sob and a mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. It was just a dream.”

JJ nodded and Y/N pulled him into a hug.

The siblings shared a look, conveying that they had the same suspicions on what the dream was about.

John B. reached out a touched his friend’s shoulder, a silent way of telling him that he was also there.

JJ turned his head and looked at John B., never breaking from Y/N’s embrace. “Hey, JB,”

“Hey, man. You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Good.”

John B. looked from JJ to Y/N who was looking at him with curious eyes. As if asking him how he felt about this.

It was then he realized exactly what was going on. JJ was sleeping in Y/N’s bed, wrapped in her hug. And suddenly everything started to make sense.

Why JJ was suddenly more protective of Y/N, why he always helped her out of the boat, and always disappeared when she disappeared. Why they had begun to grow closer, why their touches lingered and their hugs went on a hair too long.

Y/N and JJ were dating. And they didn’t want to tell him.

John B. looked down and then back up at his sister. He simply nodded.

Yeah. Yeah, this is okay. I don’t mind.

Y/N smiled and looked down at JJ.

They’re good together, John B. thought.

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] I Love You 115 (8/115)

Rating: G Characters: Osborn/Reader Word Count: 1003

Summary: It's said that eyes are the windows to the soul.

On this hot summer day, you and Osborn decide to avoid the heat by staying indoors in his air-conditioned apartment. It's an ideal, leisurely day with you lying on the couch, surfing the internet on your phone, and Osborn sitting at the other end of the couch, reviewing a video of his last racing team practice on the big-screen TV. There are all sorts of snacks on the living room table and Little Xiao One to Four are snoozing beside the couch or in a prime, sunny location.

Chewing on a piece of chilled watermelon, you come across a post that makes your eyebrows rise with interest. You lean off the couch to set your fork on the plate of watermelons before you settle back into the couch and stretch your leg out to nudge Osborn with your foot.

"Hm?"

Your boyfriend makes a distracted noise of acknowledgment and scoops your foot into his hands, digging his fingers into the arch of your foot and massaging it without taking his eyes off the TV.

You can't help but curl your foot in pleasure as he uses the perfect amount of pressure and the warmth of his palm seeps into your skin. But you keep your objective in mind and stick out your other foot to nudge him again.

"No, no, look over here."

Osborn turns his head to glance at you and does a double take when he sees how seriously you're staring at him. He pauses the video replay and focuses his attention on you. "What's wrong?"

You simply continue to stare at him though and it's only when his brows start to furrow with concern that you give up and explain, "It's a relationship test. You should be able to read what my eyes are saying."

He laughs, "Did you read something strange on the internet again?"

"Just play along." You jab him with your foot and pout. Osborn grabs that foot and wraps both of your troublemaking feet in his hands.

"Alright, let me take a look," he leans towards you while keeping your feet in his lap still, "I think Little Xiao Five is saying... that she's hungry?"

Owing to his tall stature, he easily reaches the plate of watermelons that's set closer to your end of the table, spears a slice on your fork, and brings it to your lips.

You cast him a sidelong glance as you haughtily take a bite. "Are you implying something?"

He pulls his hand back and finishes off the rest of the slice, responding with his mouth full, "I don't dare."

You harrumph and, despite his watermelon offering, judge his answer. "Wrong, try again."

"You've changed your mind and you want to go on morning runs with me?" There's a mischievous curl to the corners of his mouth as he places the empty fork back onto the plate.

"... Are you even trying?"

"OK, OK, I'll be serious." He clears his throat at your flat stare and then shoots you a look, eyes half-lidded. "You... want me?"

Osborn's hands slide up from your feet to circle your ankles loosely and one of his thumbs rubs slowly against the dip behind your ankle bone. You can't control the shiver that runs through you before you yank your feet out of his hold, tucking them underneath you while you grab a couch pillow to throw at him. "Wrong again, and don't project your thoughts onto other people!"

His peal of laughter as he catches the pillow thrown at him with one hand makes Little Xiao Two's ear twitch. Osborn brings the pillow to his chest, wrapping his arms around it, and places his chin on it to look up at you pitifully. "Can I get a hint?"

You glare at him for a second, letting him know you see through his innocent act, before you reluctantly give him a hint. "Your last guess was very close."

"Close, huh." He mulls over this and says slowly, "Are you trying to say you..."

And then, much to your surprise, you see the tips of his ears start to flush.

"I...?" You encourage him, curiosity rising at his uncharacteristic hesitance.

"You... like me?"

"Bingo!" You raise your hands and cheer. "To be more precise, I really, really, really, really like you."

Then, in a shocking turn of events, Osborn lifts a hand to cover his face, but you can see that his ears are completely red. Bright red.

"Wait, why are you embarrassed?" It's like his reaction is infectious because you feel your cheeks heat up in response.

"Who wouldn't be embarrassed when you make them confirm it for themselves like this?" He mumbles behind his hand as he turns his head away, trying to regain his composure.

"Oho! Are you feeling shy?" As if you'd let this rare chance to tease Boss Osborn escape though, and so you clamber over to his side of the couch and try to get a peek at his blush. "I like you, I like you, I like—"

Your words get cut off when he suddenly spins around and pins you down on the couch. Osborn's body blocks the sunlight pouring in through the windows and casts a shadow over his face, but you can still make out the redness in his cheeks and those bright, grey-green eyes that reflect only you.

Silence spreads between you two and, as if in tacit understanding, both of you seem to take slower and deeper breaths as you stare at each other.

"Your turn. Can you read what my eyes are saying?" Osborn asks, his voice low and hoarse.

You swallow past a dry throat. "You like me too?"

"Wrong. I want you." He picks you up in a bridal carry and starts to head towards the bedroom, ordering the dogs to stay when they lift their heads up at your movements. "As you know, I prefer actions to words."

He likes you too, and he'll show that to you directly with his body.

[creativeashproductions]

Lost Time // Luke Patterson

Summary: Things changed since Sunset Curve fell apart literally as three out of four members died before a gig. Leaving a sad girl behind Luke by chance runs into the reader with someone else. Death tore the couple apart, and time can’t fix this.

Warning: Talk of death, depression, angst and fluff

Words: 2.2k

Might as well join the Julie and the Phantoms fan club!

*For the sake of the story the time frame has been altered, it takes place in the mid-2000s. Also! I tried to make the reader as generalized as I could to make sure that everyone can relate. The reader is Alex’s sister, for inclusion that can be biological, adopted, half or stepsiblings. I want to make sure all people can be the reader.

Masterlist

THIS IS FROM MY SECONDARY BLOG! REPOST!!

The 1990s was definitely some of the best years of your life watching your brother grow more comfortable in his identity. Alex had kept his sexuality secret, taking the frustration of the secret by learning how to play the drums. You would often be found curled on the chair listening to his growing talent; Alex was a great brother.

Alex found friends in three local boys Reggie, Bobby and Luke, even a little more than friends with Luke briefly. By 1991 the boys had formed a band Sunset Curve with each other and a loyal fan in you. By mid-1994 the band had a fanbase and some gigs, but playing The Orpheum was the goal.

Luke had admitted to Alex, he had feelings for you, and with a lot of encouragement from Alex, he approached you. Luke had been focused on music since his parents gave him his first guitar, so relationships weren’t even on the backburner.

“Hey.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to your cheek backstage, “Missed you.”

His hair tickled your skin, bringing a bright smile from the teenage boy and a deep blush from you, private time wasn’t as often as it once had been. After Luke’s fallout with his parents a few months back, he had couch surfed between Reggie and Alex’s rooms; he wasn’t allowed in yours.

“You saw me last night.”

“A monumental time.” Luke bent his bend to place a lingering kiss on your bare shoulder, his jacket having fallen down, “Three years together and a bright future ahead.”

Last night had been the third anniversary of your relationship and hopefully the previous night worrying on parents walking in, cheap dates Luke often felt guilty about. Luke knew in his bones playing The Orpheum tonight would open the door to a legendary future. A future where money wasn’t tight and he could you on dates he deemed acceptable for the love of his life.

Bobby voiced brought Sunset Curve’s lead singer back to that moment, you dropped from the stage to settle in the empty audience to watch the soundcheck. With a wink from Alex, he started making the beat to Now or Never, you beamed as they poured their souls into the song. The four were talented and made to be in a band together even if you didn’t really like Bobby.

Cringing at the awkward wink Bobby sent you turned on your converse to head to the bar for a glass of water. Thanking the bartender, you tuned out the conversation with the waitress and the band only jumping when arms wrapped around your waist.

“We’re getting street dogs.” Luke spoke, bringing your body to rest on his chest, “Do you want one?”

The thought of those street dogs honestly horrifying given they were cooked in some random guys car. The one time you tried, it had permanently tattooed the taste in your memories forever, and just remembering was vomit-inducing.

 “I’ll pass.” You wrinkled your nose, turning to wrap your arms around his neck, “I don’t know how you guys like those.”

“Tradition.” Luke shrugged caressing your cheekbone with the pad of this thumb. Gazing at features he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life, “Still down with the plan?”

“The minute I’m eighteen, we go to the nearest chapel.” You grinned playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I’ll be waiting Rockstar.”

Luke pressed a long passionate kiss on your lips, pulling away to jog over to Alex and Reggie waiting at the door. Bobby having declined the street dog invitation to flirt with the waitress Rose. Alex waved before the door closed. Little did you know that would be the last time you saw them alive.

1995 was the worst year of your life. 1996 was the hardest, especially with the forever reminder of your love. You wouldn’t trade 1996 for the world however, only wishing for one change.

Los Angeles, 2004

Alex, Reggie and Luke had learnt a mere few days away from that life had drastically changed forever. Firstly, the three boys had died from eating the street dogs mere hours before performing on the stage of The Orpheum. Secondly, it was no longer 1995 but instead nearly ten years had past bringing the three ghosts into 2004.

The most jarring wasn’t being able to be heard playing music with a random girl named Julie but that the most constant part of the band no longer was there. You hadn’t died that night, and Alex was pretty sure you were still alive. Luke felt lost waking up without you beside him and the deep regret of not reconciling with his parents.

It would be a week before Luke would swallow his pride enough to orb himself into his unchanged childhood home. Emily, Luke’s mom, was in the well-worn chair knitting a scarf Luke recognized as his favourite colours. Mitch was in the kitchen, putting the groceries away. It was heartbreaking being invisible to his aged parents.

“Hey, Mom.” Luke sniffled sitting on the couch nearby staring at his silent mother, “Sorry for not visiting sooner.”

Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes feeling hopeless, not being able to ease his parents’ pain, the regret and guilt bubbling to the surface.

“How is Y/N? I bet she’s living in New York of London now. We promised to travel the world together. Part of me is guilty of wishing she had eaten a street dog that night so we could be together.” Luke sobbed, wrapping his arms around his midsection reminiscing on the beautiful girl he had unwillingly left.

“Hey.” Mitch spoke, kissing his wife’s forehead. Her eyes closing in contentment.

“I wonder if you know where Reg and Alex’s parents are. Reggie’s neighbourhood was torn down who knows when. It makes me scared to see if Alex and Y/N’s parents still have their place. I don’t think so. They lost their son.”

“Hey Luke.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder to see Alex at the door, reluctant to impose of Luke’s privacy.

“Yeah.”

“We’re rehearsing.” Alex spoke, smiling as the other teenager took one more wistful look at his parents before orbing out of his house to the Molina family’s garage. Minutes later, the front door opening and feet thudding brought the noise to the Patterson home.

“Grandma!”

A four-foot blue of green and black blur covered the room in seconds nearly sprawling Mitch to the floor. Why was that 1996 year difficult? Well, ’95 was when Sunset Curve tragically died, and a stick changed your life. ’96 was spent going through the last five months of pregnancy without Luke.

October 1995

You kept your lips pressed tightly together, unable to look at the smooth, shiny mahogany rectangle surrounded by flowers. Looking up meant the reality kicking in. Funerals sucked. Especially the third funeral in the last handful of days. It was surreal thinking that one week ago you had kissed your boyfriend and hugged your brother and now they were dead. Gone. Not even a goodbye.

“Are you okay?” The broke voice asked, gaining your attention. Swollen red eyes matching yours held unimaginable pain. While the last few months had been icy with your parents, it didn’t mean losing one of their kids didn’t sting.

“I will be.” You whispered clasping your hands over the scratchy black velvet dress, one you had worn three times too many.

The sobs broke out seeing the best picture Alex had taken in his life, it encapsulated his best features; his beaming smile and kind, caring eyes. Alex was gone. Your brother was gone because he ate a bad hot dog with his friends. You would never see your boys again. Never feel Luke’s skin or share a laugh with Alex or complain about things with Reggie. You wouldn’t get to meet in the chapel with Luke wearing second hand ‘fancy’ clothing. In one night, your life changed.

It changed further seeing the two lines on the test later that night. The heartache growing. The baby you carried would never meet his uncles and his Dad. Would never hear them play or learn to play. ’95 and ’96 sucked ass.

You sighed, closing the door to follow the rambunctious ball of energy into the living room where he entertained Mitch and Emily. Some days it was difficult to stare into the green eyes he inherited from his father.

“Benjamin Lucas.” You spoke crossing your arms, meeting the gaze of the eight-year-old boy, “What did I say?”

“To not runoff.” Ben quietly replied, playing with his hands. His messy brown hair, in need of a trim, falling into his eyes, “Sorry Mom.”

“Please don’t do it again.” You gently told the little boy elated as he quickly found the toy box in the corner of the room.

Ben was loved deeply by Mitch and Emily, who had stepped up when your parents made the decision to sell your childhood home. Wanting Ben to know his paternal grandparents, you had struggled to find an apartment and job to say in the neighbourhood. Since the baby was the last part of their son, the Patterson parents’ had welcomed you into the home where you stayed until Ben was two.

“Do you want us to come around for Luke’s birthday?” You questioned sitting on the love seat, the same love seat you had made out on with Luke many times during movies.

The room turned sad at the question and reminded that for the ninth year, you would celebrate Luke’s birthday without him. A day where Ben wouldn’t fully understand. Emily simply nodded her head.

 “Have you met anyone?” Mitch asked, leaning over to clasp his hands together. For the last few years, they had been pushing you to date. They wanted your happiness and for Ben to have a father even if Luke couldn’t be it.

“Mama can we stay here tonight?” Ben’s innocent voice cut the tension, saving you from answering the question again. Mitch and Emily each nodded their heads at the question, unable to tell the young boy no.

“Have you ate?” Emily asked, turning to look at you in concern. The chuckle left your mouth at the question she frequently requested, she missed cooking for more than two.

“We had pasta before we came.” You replied, turning to gaze out the window to the dark sky, “I should put Ben to bed.”

The soft whine from your son and denial was a nightly routine and very much a mirror image to Luke’s character as well. With a smile, Emily held out her hand to her grandchild, she was notoriously the only one able to get Ben to sleep fast.

 “Come on Bug.”

It seemed the universe was keeping Luke from seeing you and discovering Ben, but when that night came, he was shocked. Emily was curled up on the patio couch, watching Ben in the newly bought sandbox. The patio doors opened. Inside, Mitch had invited a stranger who knew his son into the house.

 “I think I heard the doorbell. I’ll be right back.” Emily called out to you. You had found shade under the tree reading a new book.

The soft cry had you up and running to Ben before you even realized, on his knee was a bleeding wound. You had already scooped the boy into your arms to quickly get into the kitchen. The moment your foot stepped into the home, the sound of a familiar voice and song filled the house.

Gently placing Ben on his feet, you followed the sound to the living room. Across the room behind a young girl stood a boy.

“Luke.” You breathed floored at the sight of the teenager who looked exactly like he did back in ’95. The ghost singing widened his eyes at yours, taking in the mature features and change of fashion.

He continued to sing the song Unsaid Emily he had written as an apology to his mom following the last big fight. The song he never got to show her. His voice faded as the ending of the song came around.

“Mama!” Your attention broke from Luke’s when a tiny hand reached for yours. The pain in his voice bringing you back to the most important part of your life, “It hurts Mama.”

Despite being sad, Mitch was the one to cross the room to lift the little boy into his arms. Placing the little boy on the counter, the man gently wet a paper towel to wash the area.

“I think he needs stitches.” Mitch sighed, furrowing his brows.

“Who is that?” Luke asked the Molina girl. The girl shrugged taking in the features she could recognize. Julie asked Emily.

“That’s Ben.” Emily beamed, looking over her shoulder at the little boy that filled the void of Luke’s death. It didn’t fix the wound or erase the pain, but Ben’s existence helped with the loss as he was a precious gift, “When Luke passed away his girlfriend Y/N found out she was pregnant with Luke’s baby.”

The choked sob fell from Luke’s mouth echoed by the thud of his knees, hitting the floor in the pure shock. The heartbreak painted so clear Julie was sure she could feel Luke’s agony.

God, why did Luke have to eat that fucking street dog. Fuck his band dreams. Nothing hurt as bad as finding out about Ben and Y/N having to be a single parent.

“I have a son?” Luke cried, orbing himself as far as he could from the Patterson home and his most tremendous loss.

Part Two

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[fragilevixenfic]

The Darker Side of Love

Rating: M

Category: Angst/Post En Ami/Smut/Angry Sex

Summary: Mulder does not want to talk but he does not want Scully to leave, either.

“Betrayal stings in a bitter way but regret leaves an even bigger hole in a heart.” – Unknown

Edited/expanded from a piece written during Vicky’s (@frangipanidownunder on Tumblr) workshop focusing on specific words, tone, and mood to create a scene. Thank you for the fabulous beta work, Monika (@monikafilefan) and Kasey (@slippinmickeys). I’m eternally grateful for your insights.

I cannot let you burn me up,

Nor can I resist you.

No mere human can stand in a fire

And not be consumed.

-A.S. Byatt (Possession)

10:00 PM

Mulder had ignored Scully in the drive back from the empty offices, steadfast in keeping his eyes forward as she stared out the window. The expectation of an argument had gone flying by like so many drops of rain in the wind and renewed the dull ache in her heart as he drove right past her exit, opting for his own. Despite the anger written on his face, he wanted her next to him. He squeezed her hand only once before going upstairs and it felt more like pity than love. She pushed the emotions a little further down and stood in the doorway, watching him as he paced. Watching him as the pieces of his psyche finally began to crumble before her like a castle in the sand as the surf finally came to wash it away.

What have I done?

Scully held her palm to her lips as she stared at the physical representation of her failure; the manila folder Mulder onto the table and let every piece of paper fly across the lacquer top. They scattered onto the floor like so many hopes and dreams. They were now nothing more than nightmares manifested as Mulder tossed the disk onto the center of the mess, the glints of light reflecting darts of light across the ceiling, and heaved a heavy sigh as he sank against the cushions. She didn’t need the reminder of her self-inflicted catastrophe but he was providing it for her in the form of a massive printout of empty promises. There was already an ache in her belly and a lump up in her throat, and she swallowed the last of her nerves as she held a breath in. She wanted to be numb and run, but every nerve seared and tingled, pushing her to stay.

The leather squeaked and his eyes found hers but words wouldn’t come, like a punishment. His fingers twitched and knuckles went white as he squeezed air; it sent a chill down her back as she imagined who he was picturing on the other end of his fists. Something was burning behind those flecks of jagged gold and green that Scully didn’t want to decipher. Her tongue clicked the roof of her mouth as her eyes zoned out on the low, erratic bubbling of the fish tank. It was worse than any lecture and the wretchedness had already been doing the trick to her pneuma as she stared at the carnage of paperwork in front of him.

“Just say something,” Scully bit down hard enough on the corner of her lip that the taste went tinny and the first tear betrayed any hope of calm, coaxing a breathy sigh from Mulder.

Request not met. He’d set up camp in another non-committal night of no communication and anxiety; enough to make her blood pressure spike and make her cheeks go hot. Stalemate. Scully’s white flag went up as she felt the door staring at her back, willing her to just walk away and surrender. She teetered in her heels and grasped the molding as she heard the snap and skitter of his belt before her eyes could register the motion. Her gasp rivaled any sound Scully had ever made but it didn’t persuade more than a tilt of the head from Mulder. He leaned back as the sweat gathered along his brow. She recognized the distinct ember of change brewing beneath his lashes as he stared up at her.

“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think,” Mulder tossed the belt onto the finished surface with a resounding thud and pushed his fingers into the cushions, desperation in his eyes. “Not tonight.”

“Then what do you want?” Scully held her breath and took a step closer, letting his eyes set fire to her soul as he tilted his head to look at her. “Do you want me to leave? Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know,” Mulder shook his head and stood, moving past her like a tornado with his fingers wound through his hair. “No.”

The disappointment in his voice was killing her as she backed up until the curve of her spine touched the wall, watching his jaw clench and his eyes narrow toward the floor. He paced for a long, agonizing moment. The silence was deafening, maddening, claustrophobic, and the pressure against Scully’s back only added to the suffocation as the oxygen refused to leave her lungs. Her exhale came out in a rasp and a whimper, tugging his focus until he was peering into her embodiment, bulldozing the remainder of the barrier she had built to keep the emotions in check. Composure evaporated as she let her tears fall; the unmentioned ardor sweeping down her cheeks as she bit down on the edge of her lip.

Scully ran her palm along her chin, capturing the stray droplets as the word came out despite every effort not to say it. “Please…”

Mulder diminished the distance, enfolding Scully’s frame in his arms, he pressed his fingers against the small of her back and dragged the fabric of her long-sleeved, high neck top up. Scully breathed toward the ceiling as Mulder freed her from the confines of her top, pulling it up and over her head before discarding it in the direction of the couch. Mulder knelt, guiding her out of her shoes and undoing the button and zipper on her slacks, exposing the pale curvature of her hips and legs along with a matched set of pale blue undergarments. He looked up at her from her waistline as he leaned in and set his teeth against her skin until she twitched under his grip. A moan pushed her lips apart.

“I can’t…” Mulder manhandled her, gripped her backside as he stood and thrust his pelvis against her as her arms wrapped around his neck. “I need…”

“I know,” Scully couldn’t have been more aware of Mulder’s magnetism as she hiked her knee around his hip and felt the sting of the mahogany trim as it struck her shoulder blades.

Scully didn’t want soft and slow and she knew neither did he, as his erection uncomfortably pressed against the remaining layers of clothing between them, inviting her warmth as her inner thighs quivered just enough to make his eyes roll back. Mulder thrust again and the punctuated cry was marked by the involuntary tightening of her fingers through his hair. The swirling of energy nearly toppled him over. Mulder let her feet touch the floor and looked down at her small, capable hands as they undid his jeans and pushed them down toward his knees before sweeping the soft material of his sweater up and away from his torso. He stopped to gaze at her and sighed into the drafty apartment at the delicate beauty that he had become so enamored with; exasperation, however, had become a prevalent frame of mind.

The pause was short lived as Mulder let his motions become frenetic and haphazard. He shed the last layers of cotton blends away from alabaster and blush before wrapping his arms around her waist. Scully held onto the wall as his thighs pushed against her, slowly sliding his cock past her slick folds until he had filled her completely. Mulder craved her proximity as he guided her legs a little higher, reveling in the electric heat as his unrelenting thrusts picked up speed. The intensity continued to build until it finally vibrated both framed pieces of artwork off the wall. On an ordinary day, the thudding of their frames hitting the floor might’ve been enough to stop every thrust that Mulder had made…but not tonight.

“Do you even understand…” Mulder’s voice came out in a growl, the sweat dripping down his temples as he locked gazes with hers and pinned her wrists above her head, bottom lip trembling with every syllable. “At all?”

“I had to try,” Scully’s fingernails were wreaking havoc on his shoulders, leaving blistering marks as she held onto him and felt the weight of his anger, his frustration, his unyielding passion as it bruised her backside with every grind of his pelvis into hers. “I couldn’t…not…try.”

“I don’t know what I would’ve done,” Mulder had tears down his face, betraying the gruffness he was desperate to convey as he moved a little slower, bucking his hips just enough to coax a throaty moan from her. “If anything bad…had happened.”

“I know…Goddammit, I know,” Scully’s fingers moved to his cheek, reclaiming his tenderness as he drove into her again, impulsively, and hopelessly sought possession of her affection, despite never losing it to start with. “I know.”

He didn’t want an apology or a semblance of redemption. He tipped the metaphorical glass and heard his name called to the rafters; he wanted to go back to the moment before the clandestine invaded under the veil of a continuously lit cigarette and a shroud of smoke.

Thanking anyone who cares to peek at this. Tagging @baronessblixen @today-in-fic @reasonandfaithinharmony @dreamingofscully @wtfmulder for the extra love love.

[pankowfruitsnacks]

Shattered JJ Maybank Chapter Thirteen

master list | series master list

warning: depression, weird relationship with food

word count: 1104

———————-

Ava roamed around the main house in a zombie like state. Nothing felt real. Not the tears or the pain.

She hasn't seen any of the pogues since coming home. JJ and her talked that one night, but he's never come back. Only a few text here and there. She let those message play in her head.

"If you need me, you know where to reach me, love ya -JJ"

Her only response was a simple "sorry".

"It's okay. Sometimes people just need space and I respect that." He was still so kind after everything. That was the last message between them and it hurt.

She finally did it. She pushed everyone away. Just like she wanted. So why did it hurt so bad?

Ava sat in front of the large window, look at the ocean. Always coming and going, always changing, but still constant. Just like her. Ava was there until she wasn't. Except instead of water, it was the loneliness that was constant.

A knock at the main door tore her from her thoughts. No one else was home, Macy was with friends and Uncle Matt and Mae were at work. The girl pondered on Macy. She missed her company. Always so bright and bubbly, but now nothing brought the joy that was so easy to find in the beginning.

As Ava opened the door, she saw Kie, Sarah, Pope, and John B. Smiles plastered on all their faces. "We come baring gifts." Sarah held a fairly large basket and John B held a bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers. There were pinks and purples, even some dark reds.

"They are beautiful." She grabbed them from him and turned to look for a vase. "Please come in."

Kie gave the rest of the group cautious looks. The girl looked like a mess with her bloodshot eyes and ashened skin. "Guys." Her voice lowered as they stepped in.

Pope hugged the girl, pulling her close. "I know." They we're all pretty shocked by the blonde who stood before them at the door.

"The flowers look great in the sun light. Definetly gonna brighten up my room for sure." Ava's smile was broken as she walked back and took a seat on the couches. "So what are you guys up to today?" Her heart wanted to ask why JJ wasn't there with them, but those words wouldn't form.

Kie took a seat on a separate couch inbetween Sarah and Pope.  "We wanted to see you. We miss you."

"Yea. I believe a girls day was mentioned." Sarah chimes in.

"Spending time with the family. You know how it is." Ava was waiting for the foot to drop.

"Let's go out today. We can eat at the wreck, surf, and just hang at the chateau. It's been almost three weeks since we last saw you." John B tried to hold back any emotion other than joy. Truth is he was worried for her and more so worried for JJ.

JJ kept telling the group he wanted to give her space and that she would come around when she was ready, but both of them knew Ava well enough to know she was trying to push them all away. She was isolating herself off from any connection.

JJ didn't want to come today, so he told everyone he was working on his cousins car. It wasn't a total lie, but truly he just wanted an escape. John be knew his best friend.

Ava shifted through the basket she was given. It had some face masks, nail polish, m&m's, a few animal documentaries, and a bumble bee pillow pet. No doubt, JJ had his say what when in here. Her heart ached. "This was very thoughtful, guys. I love it."

"So how does lunch at the wreck sound?" Ava wanted to say no, but after all they did, coming to her house, giving gifts, being kind, she couldn't.

"Fine. But give me ten minutes." They all smiles.

"Take as much time as you need, we're just happy your back." Pope spoke.

They all walked over to her apartment and the whole time Ava had a grin on her face. They didn't treat her much different.  They didn't bring up the trial. They showed that they cared in countless ways.

But that still didn't replace the numbness and voices deep within her soul.

You're going to hurt them.

It's just an act.

Runaway from this feeling, it's not going to last.

Ava did all she could to ignore it. If it was only for the day, she didn't mind. She would pretend it was all okay.

Ava quickly changed into a grey crew neck and biker shorts, throwing her hair into a messy ponytail. She noticed how the clothes fit differently, Ava would be lying to say it was anything but her loss of appetite. She hasn't had much energy to do anything other than walk house to house. Her emotions drained her.

The car ride there was full of laughter and fun. Ava missed this. No amount of books or animal planet could distract her like these people. But JJ still wasn't here, and that void wouldn't be filled with anything else.

"Hello dad." Kie walked in with us trailing behind.

"Hello Kiara and friends." We all chuckled. "Ava, my favorite. It's been a minute since my best client has been around. What have you all been up to."

"You know the Abbott's, work and good old family time." She lied. Everyone stayed in thier rooms when they were home. Ava barely left her living area if they were. It was a weird dynamic at the moment.

"Well it's good to have one of you back. What can I make for you? On the house."

Ava wasn't sure she really was that hungry but decided on a Caesar salad. "Easy. Coming right up. The rest of you, I already know, but you gotta cough up the change. I can't keep feeding bottomless garbage cans." The table when up in a roar.

They made small chit chat until the food came. Ava poked at it most of the afternoon, taking half home for left overs.

"Thank you so much for today. I enjoyed it." She waved.

"I wish you would join us for surfing, but I get it. See you tomorrow, Aves." Sarah waved back and they left.

Stepping into the main house, she saw uncle Matt wrapped in Aunt Mae's arms, tears streaming down both their faces. The next words that escaped his mouth sucked all the air in living room right out.

"Your father died this morning."