#and yes we do all give him shit about it to this day. do you remember when you got a bad vibe from a literal baby. hey do you remember when | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

almostempty · 11 hours ago

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PSA THIS IS JUST ME SCREAMING AFTER EVERY PARAGRAPH BC I'M OBSESSED

That’s not even the issue here,” you counter, a little more defensively than you meant. “It’s just… what do you even wear on a date with someone like Javier?”

LIKE FOR REAL! i believe the correct answer is actually nothing, and you just invite him straight into your pants

“It’s not every day that my friend leaves with a man like that at the end of her shift, only to find out he’s some annoyingly hot coworker she didn’t even bother mentioning—”

Connie so fucking real for that take

She groans, dragging it out for dramatic effect. “No. You wear that thing out all the time.”

I really love her so much

“No idea, which makes the getting ready process even more difficult. I’m putting you down,” you warn her, setting down the receiver on your dresser.

the corded phone giving me a fucking flashback omg

You’ve been doing everything possible not to spiral into overthinking, trying to act normal about this date. Part of you still can’t believe it’s actually happening.

FR I WOULD LOSE MY SHIT HELLO

Yet, he keeps choosing you, showing up with this sincerity that’s completely messed with your head, confessing feelings and sticking around like he’s actually serious.

AND HOW DARE HE

He’s taken over your mind, lingering there like a sexy, infuriating ghost.

he can haunt me

With Javier, it would sting worse if he turned out to be the arrogant womanizer you’d pegged him as after all the shit that’s transpired between the two of you.

in fact, i might crawl into this fic and shoot him with a gun (kidding) if he doesn't get his shit together

You finish getting ready and head into the kitchenette, grabbing a shot glass. You pour yourself a quick splash of Fireball, hoping it’ll help you feel a little more mellow, maybe a little less wound-up. You toss it back, letting the burn calm the nerves that won’t stop buzzing as the minutes drag by.

she's so strong, i woulda taken a pull from the bottle accidentally drank half of it and ruined my own date i stg i'd be FREAKIN

The sight that greets you could knock the air right from your lungs.

TELL ME BB TELL ME

His typical black leather jacket stretches across his broad shoulders, a flushed blue shirt underneath, his neck on full display while the top of his chest teases you beneath the few undone buttons.

MMMM THAT SLUTTY OPEN SHIRT

His jeans fit him perfectly, hugging his narrow waist and leading down to a pair of well-worn leather boots. But what really catches your attention is the single peony he holds delicately in his hand.

BITCH NOT THE SINGLE PEONY FUCK OFF i got my peony tattoo bc of this fic actually, write that down

His gaze roams over you, like he doesn’t know where to look, definitely lingering on your legs then your cleavage before his warm, brown eyes meet yours. “You look good, nena.” He leaves you feeling like he’s undressing you with just that look.

if he did that to me i'd be fuckin' dead y'all LIKE HERE LIES WEDS DEAD BC THAT STUPID MAN JUST LOOKED AT HER

You bite back a smile and raise an eyebrow, opting to tease him. “Thanks, Javi. You look… exactly how you always do.”

fuck yes, be stronger than me, flip him shit

He’s doing the bare minimum, bringing you a fucking flower, and you’re already feeling all warm and mushy.

yeah it WOULD WORK ON ME

“Well now I have to know what you said.” “Maybe one day.”

UM YEAH, I'LL BE REMEMBERING THAT YEP SHE GONN TELL US

It seems like he has an actual plan for this date, which surprises you, but then again he’s been full of fucking surprises since the moment you met him.

a man with a PLAN? the bar may be in hell but that would DO IT FOR MEEEEEEEEE

So he’s not native to this city, which was kind of obvious with the slight twang some of his words seem to have. You wonder where he’s actually from.

me legit thinking wdym gorl we ain't new here, I've got his rap sheet

As you reach the sidewalk, Javier surprises you by sliding his hand into yours, smooth and confident. The gesture catches you off guard, and you can feel heat pooling at your cheeks. He’s annoyingly charming, and he knows it.

A FLOWER, A PLAN, CONFIDENCE. SHUT UPPPPPPP

His hand is so much bigger than yours, rough skin brushing against your softer palm in a way that feels—well, it feels like it fits.

the way you would make me think of that fucking hand gif set again AT A TIME LIKE THIS, HOW DARE YOU

“This okay?” he asks, glancing down with a glint of mischief in his eyes, catching you right in the middle of your little lustful trance.

no, no NO NO NO IT IS NOT OKAY BC I'M DEAD

He gives a soft scoff, looking amused. “That’s not really my style. I’d feel like a total fraud…” he pauses, studying your expression, “unless that’s what you wanted. I could do it if that’s what you’re into.”

LMAO is he me? like fuck that shit...unless, you're into it then uh I'll stfu bb

“Oh wow,” you say, chewing slowly with a hand hovering over your mouth.

shut uppppp now i gotta go get a jamaica and chorizo tacos and i'm already there too many days of the week

And damn, if you don’t notice every bit of him in that damn leather jacket, his dark hair slightly tousled and looking as if he were some walking sex deity.

sex deity not an exaggeration at all

The world sees sex work as some kind of sordid choice, casting assumptions.

their loss

No one has ever gotten under your skin or tangled your senses like he does. With Javier, the tension builds until it’s all-consuming—whether it’s the way his hands map every inch of your skin or his mouth works you over. It’s maddening, how easily he pulls you apart and leaves you craving more.

me referring to reading this fic

And as you share an amused glance, you can’t help but think… yeah, maybe you do.

OPE THERE IT IS

Javier pauses, a thoughtful look in his eyes as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Alright, alright. Probably rap. Used to be all about rock—my pops had me hooked young. But out here? My taste has gotten a little West Coast.”

still imagining javi listening to Too $hort and y'all never gonna take that away from me heheheheheheheh

“A Texan boy gone Cali,” you say, feigning surprise. “You love to see it.”

too good

“R&B. Lauryn Hill and Destiny’s Child have provided the soundtracks to some very pivotal moments in my life.”

yESS

“I gotta ask you something,” he says, his voice dipping just a bit. “And be honest. Why didn’t you like me?”

jesus fuck bb, reading that made my heart and my pussy stop beating like oh shit

“I wasn’t a fan of how you... got around. And the way you’d micromanage every move during shoots, like your way was always best. Or how you’d just use your dick to get whatever you wanted.”

yeah girl! being honest!

“And when we met, you were already trying to charm your way into my pants like I was one of your groupies,” you add, “Made it feel like you were always angling for something. I guess I just didn’t want to be another name on your list.”

REAL

He exhales, scratching at his jaw. “Fair enough,” he declares. “I didn’t always used to be like this. The whole showboating thing, it’s sort of… a front, I guess. When I started, I had to become a different version of myself. This cocky asshole who had his shit together because… fuck, I didn’t know what else to do. After the bullshit back home, I needed the distance. I needed to prove something.”

VULNERABLE JAVI GOT DAYUM

Sympathy blossoms, the kind that grows for someone who’s managed to build walls without even meaning to.

i just like that sentence

As you both turn back towards his truck, he reaches for your hand again, his fingers curling around yours, gentle and reassuring. You lean into him, resting your head on his arm as you walk. It feels natural, like you’re both finally seeing each other, piece by piece, without all the defenses.

SHUT UP WTF

There’s a warmth that reaches from his body to yours, one you can’t help but lean into as your hand finds his, fingers lacing loosely. Resting your head just near his chest, you feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, solid and steady.

it's so romantic i'm gonna emote

“Can’t let this night end without you knowin’ what my intentions are.” He pauses, then adds, “I want to keep seeing you.” His words melt into the night as he dips his head to press a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his face nuzzling softly into your hair.

EVERYONE SHUT UP ARE YOU KIDDING ME

“It’s not about you, or… or the work. I don’t care that you’re in porn.” you say gently. “It’s just the idea of dating someone who—well, you know.”

EXCUSE ME

ARE YOU PUTTING ANGST IN HERE ??? I'M GONNA THROW ROCKS

You’d be fucking stupid to walk away from all this without knowing what it feels like to kiss him, the man who’s wound you up so tight and left you as breathless as he has conflicted.

ACCURATE YES

His hold on your waist tightens as your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging at it, and he lets out a low, guttural grunt that gets your bones vibrating.

i'm gonna vibrate through the fucking ether oh my goddddd the whole kissing scene pls

In one swift movement, Javier maneuvers you, switching positions so that your back is pressed against the hood of his truck.

i'm shedding a tear of sexual, emotional, and romantic yearning

“Gonna make me cum in my pants kissin’ me like that,” he mumbles against your neck..

that'd be hot too idc

He drags his lips back up, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing you into another kiss—this one softer, more controlled, yet no less potent.

i actually can't, like i'm so unwell reading this i don't have anything fun to say about it, i just need him so, so, so, so, so, so, badly

His mouth curls into a smirk against your collarbone, and he lifts his head slightly, his hand sliding over the fabric of your top, shifting it down until your breasts are bared to the cool night air.

i'm passing away

His scent fills your lungs, his taste lingers on your tongue, feeling his perfect fucking body against you, hearing his subtle grunts, your vision glazed over with tears of pleasure from how he’s making you feel.

returned as a ghost and now i'm just shrieking

His mouth descends again, and he looks up at you when he’s reached your breasts. “Not gonna fuck you, since I’m bein’ a gentleman and all,” he murmurs, the words hot against your skin, “but I am gonna get you off just by playin’ with your tits.”

he's so stupid, how do i create him??? i'm never recovering

“Oh fuck that feels so good.” You can’t help but be so vocal and he loves it, the sound of your voice doing just as much to get him off in the same way that his mouth doesn’t let up on your tits.

i have been staring at the wall trying to calm my own body down long enough to keep reading LIKE DAMN DOWN GIRL IT'S NOT HAPPENING LEND ME THE COGNITIVE FUNCTIONING TO KEEP READING HOLY FUCK

You’re soaked, and he can feel it, his cock pressing insistently against the heat of your clothed pussy as your hips grind down onto him, building a rhythm that he matches with his mouth.

no but like, that's it! right there! tits out, against the truck, dry humping like a feral teenager out past curfew i'm fuckin' done forrrrrr somebody scrape my body up with a shovel I've disintegrated

“Baby, just with the way you’re movin’ your hips, I can tell you ride cock like a fuckin’ champ.”

wouldn't you like to know! <- i'd say if i weren't drooling and trembling

He lets out a low groan as he adjusts the angle of your hips, pressing you firmly against his erection. The new angle grinds perfectly against your clit, drawing you deeper into the pleasure until it’s all-consuming, each nerve tuned only to him.

i have nothing useful to say, i'm just in awe, mout gaping like a fucking fish plsssss it's so VIVID

“That's right, baby, just like that,” he murmurs, his praise and gentle kisses softening the overstimulation into something even more intoxicating.

I'm so fucked up over him i need a lobotomy so i can have a chance at continuing on with my life after reading this and i know this chapter isn't even over PLS

“Don’t worry about me, nena.” His gravelly voice reassures you. “Seein’ you like this is enough for me.”

maybe he's proving his point being a real gentleman, i'm choosing to imagine he's gonna cream his jeans and you can't stop me

“So, what now?” you ask, voice sharper than you meant, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “We just… go our separate ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?” He looks down, his jaw tense, and the silence that follows is thick, each second feeling like an eternity. His eyes meet yours and he sighs. “I guess so.”

KAT I AM GONNA THREATEN YOU WITH VIOLENCE DON'T YOU DAREEEEEEEEE

He places his hands on his hips, shifting his weight, exasperation written in every taut line of his body. “Do I need to remind you that I’m a grown-ass man who can make his own decisions? I’m starting to hate this job, and I want you. I don’t care if I have to work a hundred side gigs. If that’s what it takes for you to be mine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

OH MY GODD HOW IS THIS ALMOST WORSE BC NOW I'LL IMAGINE IT FOREVER AND NEVER HAVE IT OMG

“You sound like my agent,” he interrupts with a dry laugh, flexing his jaw. “I’ve thought about it. It’s all I can think about. I can’t even keep my cock hard enough to fuck the girls on set anymore, and like I told you before—I’m not taking pills for that shit.”

I NEED HIM I NEED HiM RGHT AWAY

“So...we’re doing this?” he asks, a crooked smile on his face that makes him look boyish and so damn pretty.

I have to go touch grass, eat dirt, walk into the ocean, lay on the street in the rain, get frostbite, a third degree burn, literally anything pls i can't continue on without having him

“Does that mean I can come inside?” And with the way his lips quirk up into a cocky smile, you know exactly what this motherfucker means.

HE CAN COME IN MEEEEEEEEEE (you know i had to)

“Nope, we’re taking things slow… and I’m not fucking you until you get tested.”

she is the strongest woman in the fictional universe or i am a loose moraled slut, but it's probably the first one

You smirk, pretending to ignore the way his fingers are trailing dangerously close to your panties.

did you write every line of this just for me? like hand crafted, organic, farm to table, JUST. FOR. ME.

Sure, you still haven’t officially slept with him, but that hasn’t stopped either of you from exploring each other. He’s kept his promise to make you feel amazing, finding delicious ways to learn your body without actually crossing that line.

SOBBING, OH MY GODDDD THE BUILD UP

It wasn’t until a few days ago that you finally returned the favor, slipping into the shower with him and blowing his mind in every sense of the word, until he was helplessly spilling down your throat. Your jaw’s still a little sore from how eagerly you’d gone down on him, the memory of his breathless groans seared in your mind.

same

Tonight, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, officially. He’d planned this whole evening at a rooftop restaurant, it was a little too fancy, but he looked at you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

the two of them are EVERYTHING TO ME

Connie’s eyes light up, and your cheeks flush. “Consistent dick is the ultimate antidepressant. Trust me, I’d know,” she says with a wink.

I love Connie she is my supreme leader

“Javier, is that you?” Her voice is low, sultry, every word dripping with familiarity as she slides up beside him, her gaze unmistakably hungry. “Dios mío, mira qué guapo te has puesto, mi amor.”

close your eyes i'm about to commit woman on woman violence

A flush of fury burns through you, and you’re on the verge of standing up, ready to beat her ass for her audacity.

yeah, I TOO WOULD THROW HANDS IDC I'LL CATCH A CHARGE

“I’ll be better about shutting them down,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even if you do look hot when you’re jealous.”

UGH OKAYYYY BUT STILLL

She laughs, nodding at you. “Oh, you want to see her fight? Be here during a major sports event. Last year during March Madness, she gave this guy a black eye ‘cause he called her a cunt when she accidentally changed the channel, then ended up going toe-to-toe with his girlfriend.”

i love her

“Didn’t mean to dump it on you like that,” he says, leaning on the bar, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the counter, his gaze cast downward.

me thinking i'm sharing funny anecdotes, backtracking when i realize i misread the room

“She taught me most of what I know, and we shot a lot of projects together. People liked what they saw, and after a while, I started getting paired with older co-stars. That kinda became my thing. MILFs and cougars,” he says, his gaze tracing your features to gauge your response.

i'd prefer that legacy to the barely legal scene, i said what i said

You can tell from the way his face falls into a scowl that he doesn’t like how you’ve phrased it. “What I have with you is different, cariño. Not something scripted for a camera.”

title reference swoon!

Your heart stirs at the depth in his voice. He lets out a small breath, his thumb brushing the curve of your cheek. “I know you’ve got your hang-ups, and I get it. I’ve been there. It’s… hard to feel like you’re enough when you’re constantly comparing yourself to people who don’t even matter. But I’m tellin’ you, baby, it shouldn’t be like that with us.”

stop ruining my life with him i CANNOT HANDLE IT

He shifts a little closer, his gaze earnest. “I’ll help you feel more confident the way someone once did for me. But the difference? I’m givin’ you everything. Not just sex, not just some half-hearted attempt. I’m here—all in.”

quietly sobbing and nodding mhmm anything for u bb

“Turn around, baby, let me see you.” You turn to face him, nerves quieted by the way he’s looking at you—as if he’s seeing you naked for the first time. He lets out a soft, almost reverent groan, then extends his hands, urging you closer. You step forward, your hands finding his shoulders as you finally straddle his lap, his warmth searing through you.

EVERYTHING, THIS IS EVERYTHING TO MEEEEEEE

“Yes, Javi,” you breathe out, voice thick with need, “I need you so bad.”

me whipsering the same thing to my phone screen like it's a prayer

His grip on your hip tightens. “Stay still,” he commands, using that sexy bedroom voice of his that’s even more gravelly and deeper than his usual cadence.

SIR YES SIR

His stare holds yours, a silent promise that tonight, he’s going to take his time, making sure you feel every single second of it.

torture me pls

But just as you reach that edge, he pulls the toy away and turns it off, leaving you gasping, the sensation dissipating as quickly as it built. Your eyes snap open and you sit up slightly, desperate and hazy, locking onto him. “What the fuck?”

EDGE ME BB

He taps your knee, urging you to spread wider, his gaze fixed on you with unrestrained desire. And the way he looks at you—like you’re all he’s ever wanted—banishes every flicker of self-doubt, every whisper of insecurity.

i'm sooooooo unfortunately serious, how am i supposed to continue after reading this ?? with life ?? THAT IS CRUEL! SICK PUNISHMENT!

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he coos, stroking your cheek as he sets the vibrator to its highest setting, plunging it inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of your pussy crying around it only fuel his hunger as he watches your face.

pls can someone come over and read the rest to me????? my eyes keep rolling back, cross eyed, blurred by tears, i'm so gone

He grins, mocking your pout with one of his own, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Don’t say that, baby. You’re breakin’ my heart.” He brushes one last kiss against your lips, pulling back just as you lean into him, already aching to feel him close again, his warmth a cruel tease.

not the 'you're breakin' my heart' nooooooo i can HEAR IT

He undresses fully, and your mouth literally waters as your gaze traces the sculpted lines of his stomach, following the trail of hair that leads down to his thick, throbbing cock.

MEEEEEEEEE I'm FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

You need to fuck this man.

i feel this sentence in the very core of my being

He groans, the heat in his eyes darkening as he adjusts his hips, hovering right there, just out of reach. “Go ahead, baby, take it. Put it in.”

no words left, just moaning as i read this like a SICKO

Reaching down, your fingers wrap around his length, both of you gasping as you feel the heat and hardness of him pulsing in your hand. You squeeze gently, stroking him slowly, and he hisses, rolling his hips into your grip. You swirl your thumb over the head, spreading the bead of precome across his skin, the silky-slick texture making you dizzy with anticipation. Drunk on him, on everything he evokes in you, you guide the head of his cock to your soaked, swollen entrance, rubbing it slowly against your aching slit.

somebody call me an ambulance (don't) how is every word so perfect

The sensation has you trembling, but when he finally pushes forward, easing himself into you, you let out a loud, breathless whine. The stretch of him is so perfect, so utterly fulfilling that your back arches, your toes curling as your head falls back into the sheets.

10000/10 no notes rereading forever and ever and ever

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and uneven as he thrusts forward, filling you to the hilt. “Nena,” he grunts, voice ragged, “I’m not gonna last—shit.” He sounds as wrecked as you feel, his hips pressing flush against yours as he sinks in deep, your inner walls gripping him as if you’ll never let him go.

I KNOW THAT'S RIGHT

“Fuck—puta madre, nenita—you feel so good—” His voice breaks, and he gives one, two, three hard thrusts, burying himself deep as his release finally takes over, his warm, pulsing release spilling into you as he groans loudly, hips grinding as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm.

YEAH

You’ve never seen him look this wrecked, his breath still uneven and his face flushed—all because of you. Fighting the urge to smirk, you can’t help but revel in the sight of him.

CAN YOU IMAGINE I'D BE A FUCKING MENACE LIKE Y'ALLLLL PUSSY TOO GOOD MY SEX DEITY CAN'T EVEN HANG GOD DAYUMMM

“Pussy’s too damn good, baby. Fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, a grin tugging at his lips, his words breathy and awed.

LMAOOOOOO EXACTLY!!!

Now you let yourself smirk, feeling the flush of satisfaction. He nuzzles his nose against yours, murmuring, “Gotta make up for that.”

i'm actually printing this chapter (the whole fic actually), framing it, hanging it above my bed, and calling it required reading for anyone who wants to smash idc I'll wait all night for u to read it bb

As he finishes devouring you between your thighs, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before he’s thrusting into you again, harder and deeper this time, with a fierce intensity that rips a loud, shameless cry from you. Right, he’s got that pornstar stamina.

I'M FUCKING SCREAMING

But he is that good. Beyond that good. He’s better.

ugly, snotty, crying and repeating 'pornstar javi isn't real, pornstar javi isn't real'

“Got you singin’ like a fuckin’ bird, nenita,” he teases, his laugh tapering off into a low groan. “And to think you didn’t want this. Now look at you—all fucked out and creamin’ on my cock”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It feels like you’ve drifted to the heavens, like he’s drawn out every last ounce of strength from you. You’re dazed, floating, but he’s still there, whispering to you, “Good girl, that’s it. I’ve got you,” his voice a warm balm as he slows his movements, matching the rhythm of your aftershocks, soothing you with each gentle thrust as he holds you close.

pls

“You’re not real,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled but laced with awe. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek, a low, comforting sound that makes you smile even wider.

I KNOW RIGHT

“I’m very real, and very yours, nena,” Javi replies, his hand drifting lazily up and down your back in gentle strokes that make you melt even further. The warmth of his words seeps into you, and your heart flutters.

STFU STFU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOUNG MAN OR SAY IT TO MY FACE

“Catering to my every whim already? I just became your girlfriend,” you tease. “Yeah, and I’m trying to keep it that way for the foreseeable future,” he says, brushing a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose before slipping away from you.

so stupid, i need a thousand of him, I've lost my single brain cell and this fic is the only thing that remains in my consciousness, and it's so fucking GOOD IT HURTS GOD DAYUMMMMMMMMM

I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU WOULD JUST FUCK ME UP LIKE THIS ON A THURSDAY WITH NO REGARD FOR MY WILL TO RECOVER ??

THE DATE

THE SEMI PUBLIC AGAINST THE TRUCK TITS OUT DRY HUMPING BONANZA JUST FOR ME

THE ONLY ACCEPTANCE AND COMMITMENT THERAPY I NEED IS JAVI AT MY DOOR TELLING ME HOW MUCH HE'S THOUGHT ABOUT ME AND HOW HE'S WILLING TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES FOR A SHOT ???

THE UNDER THE BAR TEASE BEFORE THAT JEALOUSY HIT LIKE A FUCKING BRICK !!

THE INSAAAAANE DREAMY TEASING, THE VIBE, THE MOOD, THE TENDERNESS AND ADORATION, THE VIVID REALNESS OF THE ENTIRE SCENEEEEE LIKE BITCH I GOTTA CHANGE MY SHEETS AND SHOWER NOW AND I'M NOT EVEN IN BED HELP

Summary: A lot of firsts with Javi.

Tags: smut, slight angst, nipple play, dry humping, lots of making out, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, jealousy, edging, overstimulation, use of sex toys (vibrator), oral (f receiving), cum eating, unprotected p in v sex (finally), javi is clipped (not mentioned), babe wake up pornstar!javi lore just dropped, no use of y/n, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

A/N: i attempted to make this chapter a little longer, definitely filthier, and above all: satisfying. shoutout to my bestie hermosa @persephone-girl for reading over part of this and quelling all the second thoughts i had in the middle of writing it out 🖤 love you guys, enjoyyyy ✨

You purse your lips at your reflection, tilting your head as if a new angle will make everything click. The phone is wedged between your shoulder and ear, and Connie’s voice crackles over the line, keeping you company.

“Since when do you care so much about getting dolled up?” she teases, picking up on the way you’re fussing.

You tug the hem of the dress down a bit, “That’s not even the issue here,” you counter, a little more defensively than you meant. “It’s just… what do you even wear on a date with someone like Javier?”

Connie lets out a sly laugh. “Well, if I knew more about him, maybe I’d be able to help you out here.”

You huff, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see it, leaning closer to the mirror as you swipe at the mascara wand. “You’re still on that?”

“It’s not every day that my friend leaves with a man like that at the end of her shift, only to find out he’s some annoyingly hot coworker she didn’t even bother mentioning—”

“There was nothing to mention,” you cut in quickly.

“Nothing to mention?” she repeats, scandalized. “He ate you out in an elevator, you talked an orgasm out of him, and you let him slip the tip of his dick inside—”

“Okay!” You cut her off again, voice a bit higher than intended. “Shouldn’t you be out saving lives or something?”

“Currently on day two, hour nine, of my three-twelves.” Her sigh fills your ear. “I’m exhausted. Let me live through your smokin’ sex life so I don’t tear my hair out.”

“Steve not doing it for you anymore?” you tease, rubbing away a bit of lipstick that smudged onto your teeth.

“Oh, he is, but after three overnight shifts? Even the thought of sex is exhausting,” she admits, a laugh edging her words.

You get it; distinctively thinking about the last spring break week where you worked non-stop, running from shoots all day to the bar all night on three hours of sleep.

That was definitely the week you aged five years in one go.

“Now, back to you,” she snaps you out of your memories. “What did you finally decide on?”

“The black dress.” You say it like it’s the only logical choice.

She groans, dragging it out for dramatic effect. “No. You wear that thing out all the time.”

“I bought it for a reason. To wear it.”

“Oh, come on. I think you should switch it up a little. Make it more fun.”

“Fun?” you echo, skeptical, glancing over at your closet.

“Fun,” she confirms, “like that mini skirt with the flowy fabric. Makes your ass look so good and shows just enough cheek to leave him hanging,” she says all playfully, “Just throw on a top that shows the girls off and you’ll be set. It’s flirty and hot… exactly like your little boy toy and way fresher than a black dress.”

You snort, feeling a little flutter at the mention of Javier being your boy toy. “A classic date-night outfit is classic for a reason, you know?”

“Mhmm, so classic I’m falling asleep. Go grab the skirt and thank me later,” she presses.

You grumble out a fine, deciding to humor her. Maybe you will like it better than the dress.

Rummaging through your closet is a little difficult with the corded phone in your hand but you manage, finally spotting the garment under the mountain of clothes that you’ve just thrown in here and pretended weren’t your problem.

“Where’s he taking you, anyways?”

“No idea, which makes the getting ready process even more difficult. I’m putting you down,” you warn her, setting down the receiver on your dresser.

You toss aside a few ‘not quite’ options before finding a top cute enough for this flirty and hot vision she’s painting. The deep color of it has your skin glowing, the cut of the neckline making your tits look enticing.

The snug skirt teases just enough at your thighs and you do a half turn, glancing back at the mirror to check your own ass out—and damn if she wasn’t on the money.

“Okay, I’m back.”

“And?”

You pause, smiling as you take in your reflection. “I look hot.”

There’s a sharp, delighted squeal on her end. “See? I told you! That’s what friends are for—giving you advice you don’t listen to until you’re basically forced to.”

Her laugh makes you grin, but then you hear a muffle as she talks to someone else in the background. She comes back, tone rushed but still playful. “Alright, I’m being called back onto the floor. But seriously, have fun. Don’t put out unless you want to, and please, please, don’t wait months to fill me in, okay?”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, her instructions making you feel like you’re back in high school. “Thanks, Con.”

“Go get him, you vixen,” she teases, and the line goes dead, leaving you with your thoughts.

You’ve been doing everything possible not to spiral into overthinking, trying to act normal about this date. Part of you still can’t believe it’s actually happening.

You’ve fought him, resisted him, silently judged others for falling for his charms—yet somehow still managed to give in.

If someone had told you months ago that you’d be in this position, you would’ve straight up laughed in their face.

The whole trajectory of it feels warped. You can’t help but wonder if this is all some elaborate game, a long con to get you in his bed.

But then, the doubts don’t quite hold up, not with how much effort he’s put into just getting your attention. If it were about sex, he wouldn’t need all this—he could walk outside, flash that lazy, dimpled grin, and probably have someone falling for him within seconds.

Hell, he could call one of his co-stars and make it that much easier on himself.

Yet, he keeps choosing you, showing up with this sincerity that’s completely messed with your head, confessing feelings and sticking around like he’s actually serious. He’s taken over your mind, lingering there like a sexy, infuriating ghost.

At least you’ve given yourself an ultimatum: if this goes south, you’ll walk away and he’ll leave you alone.

You still remember how low you felt after things with Frankie, and that was amicably ended.

With Javier, it would sting worse if he turned out to be the arrogant womanizer you’d pegged him as after all the shit that’s transpired between the two of you.

Then, you hear the familiar creak of the stairs, the soft shuffle of footsteps, followed by a knock at the door. Your heart skips a beat.

With a deep breath, you slip on a light jacket and grab your purse before unlocking the door and swinging it open.

The sight that greets you could knock the air right from your lungs.

His typical black leather jacket stretches across his broad shoulders, a flushed blue shirt underneath, his neck on full display while the top of his chest teases you beneath the few undone buttons.

“Hey,” you greet, trying to keep it casual, as if your heart isn’t pounding just from seeing him stand there. He is so damn handsome, it almost feels unfair.

You bite back a smile and raise an eyebrow, opting to tease him. “Thanks, Javi. You look… exactly how you always do.”

He chuckles, a lazy smile spreading across his face, and you catch a little dimple on his cheek. “Damn. And here I thought I put in more effort tonight.” He licks his lips, then holds out the flower. “This is for you. I might’ve mentioned our night out to my neighbor, and she clipped this from her garden. Thought it was less on the nose than a red rose.”

You take it from him, its soft petals brushing against your fingers, and bring it to your nose. The sweet, fresh scent makes you sigh a little.

He’s doing the bare minimum, bringing you a fucking flower, and you’re already feeling all warm and mushy. You’ll just blame the one shot of whisky for that. “Talking me up already?”

He chuckles, his eyes appreciating the way your makeup highlights each feature.

“Let’s just say I bum cigarettes off her in exchange for a little company. You just happened to come up.”

“Well now I have to know what you said.”

“Maybe one day.”

This moment already feels charged for no reason.

“I’m going to hold you to that” you warn him playfully. “Thank her for me. And tell her she’s got good taste in flowers.”

He gives you a nod, eyes softening. “I will. You ready?”

“Mhm,” you hum, stepping out to lock the door behind you.

As you turn, you realize how close he’s standing, and the scent of mint and cologne hits you in an instant, making your head spin. He smells fucking incredible.

“So,” you start, trying to ignore the fact that you can practically feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Where are we going?”

He falls into step beside you as you both head down the stairs. “To the best food truck in the city.”

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow, both amused and a little charmed by the casual choice.

He nods, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It’s by Lake Hollywood Park, which is convenient ‘cause we’ll end our night around there.”

It seems like he has an actual plan for this date, which surprises you, but then again he’s been full of fucking surprises since the moment you met him. “Sounds like fun. Better not be shit though,” you say, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder, twirling the flower between your fingers.

“I think I’ve lived in L.A. long enough now to know what’s good and what isn’t.”

So he’s not native to this city, which was kind of obvious with the slight twang some of his words seem to have. You wonder where he’s actually from.

His hand is so much bigger than yours, rough skin brushing against your softer palm in a way that feels—well, it feels like it fits.

Your mind doesn’t miss a beat, leaping straight to the memory of his fingers pressed inside you, knuckle deep, his tongue flicking at your clit as you unraveled for him.

You bite the inside of your lip, willing yourself to stay cool, but damn, those hands could do a lot of things.

How you even fit two of his fingers remains a mystery, but it’s one you’re more than willing to solve again.

“This okay?” he asks, glancing down with a glint of mischief in his eyes, catching you right in the middle of your little lustful trance.

“Perfectly fine,” you reply, squeezing his hand, that glint pulling you in deeper, and you let it.

“Okay, I think I have a little more faith in your spot now that we’re here.” You settle across from Javier at the picnic table you managed to snag nearby, eyeing the food as he sets it out between you.

He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “You doubted me?”

“Just a little.” You pinch your thumb and finger together with a playful grin, scrunching your nose as you laugh. His lopsided smile makes an appearance, sending your heart into a flutter.

“Then I’ll let the food do the talking. Let that be my ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh, please, I don’t need to hear that twice in one day.”

As you stick your straw into your cup of hibiscus agua fresca, the sweet flavor hits you instantly, and you let out a delighted little hum without even thinking.

His gaze snaps to you, amusement lighting up his eyes. “Someone’s already beaten me to it?”

“Connie,” you confess, dragging your tray of tacos closer and inhaling the smell that makes your stomach practically growl. “She helped me pick this outfit, you know, since someone here was pretty vague on the details.”

He chuckles, reaching for the salsa verde and giving his tacos a generous drizzle before handing the bottle over. “I told you we’d be outside. I thought that’d be enough.”

You take it from him, fingers brushing together, and damn if your skin doesn’t actually tingle. “Honestly, I was expecting more of a steakhouse vibe.”

Your tongue darts over your lower lip as you take in his thoughtfulness. “Nah. This is...perfect, actually.”

A light sparks in his eyes at your word choice. “Perfect, huh?”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Uh huh, don’t get a big head over it.”

“So, I owe Connie for getting you in that skirt?” His voice is smooth, that teasing lilt unmistakable.

Heat climbs up your neck, pooling at your cheeks. “You like it?”

His eyes narrow slightly, that look dark and appreciative. “I think it’s sexy as hell, yeah. But in an effort to be more...gentlemanly—Te ves hermosa. Like always.”

Normally, you’d roll your eyes at him laying it on thick, but right now? You don’t mind it at all.

The attention feels genuine, his words dipping straight between your legs rather than floating on his usual bravado.

“Sweet talk me all you want,” you say, trying to rein yourself in, “but the real test of this date’s success? It all lies in this meal.”

He chuckles, and you’re grateful for the little shift, picking up a taco and clinking it with his, like a toast. The first bite is practically life-changing—the smoky, spicy flavors somehow better than you’d even anticipated.

“Oh wow,” you say, chewing slowly with a hand hovering over your mouth. “Not bad, Peña. This is actually delicious.”

His grin is smug, triumphant, and as he takes another bite, you’re momentarily distracted by the way his jaw flexes, muscles taut as he chews. And damn, if you don’t notice every bit of him in that damn leather jacket, his dark hair slightly tousled and looking as if he were some walking sex deity.

You mentally curse yourself for already feeling way too into him.

You chat lightly, going over the usual first-date questions. Somehow, even the simple stuff feels easy and natural with him—there’s something in the way he responds that keeps you drawn in, even if the questions themselves aren’t all that thrilling.

What’s your favorite color? When’s your birthday? Where are you from?

“Texas. And you?” he answers, swiping the napkin over his lips before balling it up, tossing it into his now empty tray.

So he’s a southern boy. That detail definitely adds to his charm. You tell him the name of your hometown, and then, after a beat, add, “Bit far from home, huh? Got family here?”

He shakes his head, reaching into his jacket for a pack of gum. He pulls out two pieces, offering you one.

Okay, another bare minimum act that’s got you all fucking blushy.

“Nah,” he says, chewing his own piece of gum. “It’s just me out here.”

“Your family must be thrilled about what you do…wait, do they know?” you ask, unwrapping the stick and glancing at him.

He sighs, scratching at his jaw. “My pops knows. My mom…” He pauses, a shadow of something crosses his face. “She passed when I was in high school.”

Your heart squeezes, a flicker of guilt making you wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t sweat it,” he interrupts gently, waving it off casually. “It gets tiring hearing it. But yeah, my pops and the rest of them…they don’t exactly jump for joy when it comes to my job. Guess it’s a good thing I stopped giving a fuck about what they think.”

The reality of it sinks in as you watch him across the table, his eyes distant for a moment. You’d never really thought about how it all might affect him (or any of the other stars, honestly) outside of sets and studios.

The world sees sex work as some kind of sordid choice, casting assumptions.

Sure, it’s got its problematic aspects just like any other industry, but with the puritan culture that’s plagued society since the beginning of time, really, it’s seen as such a devious thing when in reality; it could be something so beautiful. A celebration of the human body, of the unity between two people.

Whether you’re a woman or a man—you bear the weight of every stereotype, every judgment, and, especially, the stigma that comes with it.

You hesitate, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “Are you close with them?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he absently smooths his mustache with his thumb and forefinger, eyes thoughtful. “Yes and no.”

Something in his tone tells you this isn’t a thread to pull on right now. So, you pivot the conversation, deciding to leave that part of him for another night.

You glance at your tray, grinning. “This might actually be the best meal I’ve had in a long time. And I’m not bullshitting you.”

His eyes light up, that charming, lazy smile sliding back into place. “I’ll refrain from saying I told you so.”

You laugh, throwing a crumpled napkin at him, which he catches without missing a beat.

He leans in, his voice low. “So, now that I’ve won your approval in the food department, I’ve gotta finish on a strong note so I don’t mess it all up, right?”

You feel your pulse quicken “Sure do. Got anything up your sleeve, or is this where the gentlemanly plan ends?”

“I’ve got plans.” His voice dips, his eyes tracing over you, wetting his lips and that thudding begins to thrum faintly between your thighs. “Thought we’d take a walk, keep getting to know each other…” The suggestive way in which he’s speaking definitely gives his words a double meaning, “Then head to my favorite lookout spot. Best view in the city, hands down.Whatever happens to feel right can unfold after that.”

“Sounds like you’re anticipating something unfolding.”

“Can you blame me? You’re walkin’ around lookin’ good enough to eat.”

You feel a thrill dancing up your spine at his bluntness, “Boundaries still stand, Javi. I’m not sleeping with you.”

He chuckles, a low, knowing sound that sends your stomach into a twist. “That’s fine. I think I’ve shown we can have plenty of fun without crossing that line.”

Every electrifying sexual encounter hits you all at once, and as much as you’d hate to admit it, he’s right.

“And If I remember correctly, I wasn’t the one begging for more.”

A hot flash sweeps through you. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

He grins, not missing a beat. “Admit it, you like it.”

And as you share an amused glance, you can’t help but think… yeah, maybe you do.

The two of you walk side by side under the soft glow of the street lights lining the park. He flicks open his lighter, cigarette wedged between his lips, and you watch the quick flame as it lights up his face for a second before fading out.

You would usually mind the smoke, but somehow, with him, it’s just… fitting. A small indulgence that somehow suits his edges.

“Favorite music genre?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

“Would it be a cop-out to say a little bit of everything?”

“Oh absolutely.”

“A Texan boy gone Cali,” you say, feigning surprise. “You love to see it.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as he glances at you, then flips the question back. “What about you?”

“R&B. Lauryn Hill and Destiny’s Child have provided the soundtracks to some very pivotal moments in my life.”

He nods, and for a while, the conversation flows smoothly from one topic to another—favorite childhood memories, the dumb stuff you did as teenagers, and random things you never imagined you’d share with him.

Javi raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I bet you were a teacher’s pet.”

“Teacher’s pet? No way. I was a bit of a know-it-all, but I had this rebellious streak,” you admit, “Got in trouble more than once for talking back. I just couldn’t help it.”

“Figures. You’ve got that fire.”

Eventually, he flicks his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out before looking at you with a curious glint in his eye. “I gotta ask you something,” he says, his voice dipping just a bit. “And be honest. Why didn’t you like me?”

It’s not the first time he’s asked you this, but now that you’re seeing him in a different light, the answer comes easily, less defensive. “Okay,” you start, meeting his gaze. “I wasn’t a fan of how you... got around. And the way you’d micromanage every move during shoots, like your way was always best. Or how you’d just use your dick to get whatever you wanted.”

His silence stretches, and he takes out another piece of gum, nodding slowly as he listens. “And when we met, you were already trying to charm your way into my pants like I was one of your groupies,” you add, “Made it feel like you were always angling for something. I guess I just didn’t want to be another name on your list.”

There’s something in his tone that pulls at you, but you don’t press. You’re surprised he’s even sharing this much.

“The women, the confidence—all of it. Figured that’s who I had to be to make it. And it worked up until you left… when I realized just how fucked things had gotten for me. After walkin’ out on Robbie, I’ve been trying to be more careful with the jobs I take but fuck, it’s hard.”

This man—this smooth, confident guy you thought you had all figured out—carries more than his rugged allure and that killer smile.

Sympathy blossoms, the kind that grows for someone who’s managed to build walls without even meaning to.

The details remain unsaid, and though curiosity simmers, you let the silence hang.

“You’ll figure it out, Javi. Life has a funny way of kicking you when you’re down, but somehow, things start falling into place eventually. Might sound like a bad fortune cookie, but it’s true.”

His gaze intense and warm under the park lights, brown eyes looking softer, shadows dancing across his face. The way he looks at you makes your legs shake.

You can’t help the small, vulnerable smile that plays at your lips as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, this moment is worth disregarding your own rules for.

His eyes flicker down to your mouth almost on instinct, and you’re caught in a breath, almost tempted to close the space and feel those lips on yours.

But instead, you let the moment breathe between you, keeping the tension electric, and he’s the one who finally breaks the silence. “Thanks nena. Here’s to hopin’ I don’t have to make a trip down to the unemployment office.” He jokes with a laugh that pulls one out of you too, “Let’s head back. Got one more thing to show you.”

A gentle breeze passes through as you lean against the hood of Javier’s truck, taking in the iconic view.

The twinkling city lights are sprawled out in front of you, while the Hollywood sign looms large and proud in the background. You’ve avoided tourist traps since you moved to LA. Dealing with the general public and pornstars on sets on a daily basis already felt like a big enough dose of Hollywood.

Tonight, though, there’s some kind of magic in being here and you can see why people find themselves drawn to it. Maybe it has something to do with the handsome man beside you.

“You bring all your dates here?” you ask, teasingly.

Javier rubs his lips together, a quiet smile flickering at the edges. “I don’t go on many dates, believe it or not.” He inches a little closer, draping his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh wow, Peña. So smooth.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the steady, intoxicating scent of him, the one that’s been teasing you all night, and how it engulfs you entirely.

There’s a warmth that reaches from his body to yours, one you can’t help but lean into as your hand finds his, fingers lacing loosely.

Resting your head just near his chest, you feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, solid and steady.

Your breath catches for just a moment, and he feels it too, the faint hesitation creeping in.

Because the truth is, you’re not sure exactly what you want from this. A relationship? A fling? Could you handle being with someone whose job meant fucking other people—even if emotions are fully detatched?

You draw away slightly, positioning yourself to stand between his legs now as he leans against the truck, watching you, a question in his eyes.

“Tonight was wonderful. Better than a lot of first dates I’ve been on…” you trail off, and he quirks an eyebrow, a hint of concern already flashing in his eyes.

“But…?” he prompts, his voice soft but wary.

“Look, I have the utmost respect for what you do. I know what it takes, if anyone can understand what you actors go through, it’s me and all the other crews out there. I’ve seen shit hit the fan more times than I can count.” You twist your fingers, feeling the tension between wanting him and feeling hesitant. “But dating someone in the industry… I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”

His shoulders drop a little, and he sighs. “Yeah… I figured.” He lets out a rough laugh, though it’s clear he’s disappointed. “Not the first time this has happened, or the last, probably. I just… I guess I was hopin’ this would be different.”

“It’s not about you, or… or the work. I don’t care that you’re in porn.” you say gently. “It’s just the idea of dating someone who—well, you know.”

He lets out a sigh, a heavy, defeated sound, and his eyes meet yours. “I know, nena, trust me. It’s a lot. I’m not holding it against you.” His hand runs over his face, frustration tightening his jaw. “It’s just…disappointing as fuck, but I get it.”

Before he can sink too deeply into the regret, of thinking he’s wasted a night taking you out, you reach out, catching his wrists and gently pulling his hands down. You’re close enough now to feel his breath brush across your cheek, and you hold his gaze, fierce and a little daring.

You’d be fucking stupid to walk away from all this without knowing what it feels like to kiss him, the man who’s wound you up so tight and left you as breathless as he has conflicted.

Slowly, you place his hands on your waist, leaning in until your lips barely touch his, your breath mingling together. You can practically feel his heart beating against his chest.

“Kiss me, Javi,” you murmur.

There’s no hesitation. His mouth meets yours, warm and certain, sending a spark through every nerve. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you lose yourself in him.

Javier’s mouth moves against yours like he’s savoring every second, his lips plush and gentle, taking his time.

It’s all so new, so beautifully unhurried.

You meet his pace, moving your lips softly, feeling the slight press and release. When he parts from you slightly, you’re already missing the taste of his mouth, chasing after him.

Then he tilts his head and leans in again, deepening the kiss, his lips fitting against yours with more purpose. He presses closer, his body warm and solid, and you feel his tongue swipe slowly across your lower lip.

A shiver runs through you as you part your lips for him, and the moment his tongue dips into your mouth, a soft moan escapes you, helpless against the sensation.

The sound seems to set something off inside him. Suddenly, the kiss grows hot and urgent, his hands gripping your hips as if he’s afraid to let go, kneading the flesh there while his mouth moves against yours with a new hunger.

Your own hands find their way to his jaw, your fingers sliding up to frame his face, desperate to bring him closer, needing the taste of him to linger.

The feel of his mustache brushes against your sensitive skin adds an edge that only heightens every sensation he’s bestowing on you.

Your tongue meets his, every glide and stroke of it fueling an ache that spreads through you, heat pooling as your teeth clash slightly, both of you pouring months of pent-up desire and frustration into this kiss.

His hold on your waist tightens as your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, tugging at it, and he lets out a low, guttural grunt that gets your bones vibrating.

In one swift movement, Javier maneuvers you, switching positions so that your back is pressed against the hood of his truck.

The cool metal beneath you contrasts with the heat of his body, and one of his hands slides from your waist, strong and possessive, until it grips the plushness of your thigh, hitching it over his hip and pulling your core against his.

The friction, the way his body aligns so perfectly with yours, ignites every nerve in your body.

You gasp against his mouth when his hard length presses against your clothed cunt, right where you need him most. The pressure sends a surge of arousal pooling low in your belly, and you arch into him, craving his intensity.

Your own hands roam, sliding to his jaw, feeling the scratch of his stubble against your palm, then his back, his shoulders, reveling in the feel of him. His mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, tracing a slow, wet line down to your neck, where he leaves a trail of heated kisses that have you gasping for air.

The burn in your lungs is nothing compared to the ache building between your legs, an ache that only grows sharper every time he ruts his hips against yours.

“Gonna make me cum in my pants kissin’ me like that,” he mumbles against your neck..

He drags his lips back up, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing you into another kiss—this one softer, more controlled, yet no less potent.

You’re breathless when you part again, but it’s as though your body doesn’t care, desperate to keep feeling him against you.

When he reaches the curve of your breasts, he pauses, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses over the swells, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth just enough to make you shiver.

“Please, Javi,” you murmur, though you’re not even sure what you’re asking for. All you know is that you’re floating in this thick haze of desire, utterly lost in him, the feel of his lips, the intoxicating drag of his teeth against your skin.

You gasp, eyes widening, instinctively sitting up straighter, a half-laugh, half-nervous glance flicking around your surroundings, instinctively pulling him closer to shield you.

His dark eyes meet your gaze, a flicker of mischief swirling with the lust there.

“Here? What if someone sees us?” you breathe, heart thudding in your chest as the chill hardens your nipples to sensitive peaks.

“No one’s gonna bother us, nena, te lo prometo.” Before you can respond, his mouth is on your neck, placing a soft, slow kiss there, licking a stripe and tasting your perfume.

His hands find your breasts, fingers curling around the supple skin, his thumbs brushing your nipples in languid circles that have you melting against him, your breath catching with each teasing stroke.

It’s impossible to focus on anything when Javier’s so in tune with every inch of your body, instinctively reading each gasp and shiver.

His hands are so skilled, cupping, squeezing, until one trails along your waist, playing with your pretty skirt with a firm, claiming touch.

It's the perfect push and pull that floods your senses with him, until you’re completely lost.

He watches your reactions, eyes dark and filled with a simmering hunger as you lean flat against the hood of the truck, giving him access.

The whimper you let out is animalistic, your legs wrapping around his waist, pressing him closer.

Javier’s mouth is unrelenting, lips wrapping around your nipple with a hot, wet pressure that sends electric jolts straight to your cunt.

His tongue swirls over the sensitive peak, teasing it, as his teeth scrape the aching bud ever so lightly, making you gasp. Then he shifts, sinking his mouth lower to nip, to suck harder, his fingers coming up to twist your other nipple roughly, pinching and tugging at it, making you cry and writhe beneath him.

His other hand is no less demanding, gripping your thigh and ass with rough squeezes, the heat of his touch spreading through the thin barrier of your skirt. When he smacks your flesh, the jolt arches your back off the hood of the truck, pulling a breathy moan from your lips that has him smirking against your chest.

You’re soaked, and he can feel it, his cock pressing insistently against the heat of your clothed pussy as your hips grind down onto him, building a rhythm that he matches with his mouth.

His tongue circles, flicks, and finally he pulls at the hard peak with his teeth, sending another shockwave through your body that has you rolling your hips, more wildly against him.

He pulls back just enough, a string of saliva still connecting him to you as he murmurs, “Baby, just with the way you’re movin’ your hips, I can tell you ride cock like a fuckin’ champ.”

His praise lights you up, fueling your need. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you pull him back to your chest.

He groans, his mouth latching onto your other breast with fervor, tongue flicking over your nipple rapidly before he pulls it into his mouth, the wet sounds of his lips smacking against your flesh, working your sensitive and pert nipples is filthy and obscene in the best way possible.

“So good, Javi… I’m so close,” you manage, the words spilling out unbidden.

“Oh, god… Javi,” you gasp, feeling the familiar coil of pleasure tighten, your orgasm creeping closer with every pull, every flick, every grind.

Your body is on fire, trembling as you near the edge, your breaths coming in gasps as you hump him, completely lost to the intensity building.

Javier’s mouth alternates between your breasts, each suck and bite tugging moans out of you until you feel like you might lose it.

When his lips finally find yours again, his fingers replace his mouth on your chest, rough and insistent as they pinch and twist your sensitive nipples.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, deepening the kiss while your body trembles, your jaw slack as you melt into him, moaning his name into his mouth as your orgasm breaks over you in a helpless wave of bliss.

Your body locks up, head canting back and hitting the material beneath you with a gentle thump as you wail his name out into the night.

“That's right, baby, just like that,” he murmurs, his praise and gentle kisses softening the overstimulation into something even more intoxicating.

His mouth trails over your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, every kiss pressing into your flushed skin while spots of pleasure blur your vision.

As you go limp against the cool hood, Javier’s touch softens on your chest, his fingers now gently kneading the sensitive flesh while he eases you back down, his lips trailing tender kisses over each swell before pulling your top back into place.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his deep inhale followed by warm, nipping kisses, his mustache scratching your skin just enough to bring out a fresh shiver from you.

“Javi,” you whimper, barely catching your breath, utterly wrecked and starstruck, amazed that he brought you so much pleasure by just teasing your breasts and rutting against you.

“Yeah?” His voice is a husky rasp, a hint of satisfaction at his lips.

You giggle, breathless, “I… don’t even know…” You laugh again, and he joins in, that low laugh rumbling in his chest as he cups your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You enjoy that?” He tilts his head to the side, smugly grinning down at you.

“What do you think?” you tease back, still panting, eyes half-lidded.

You can’t help but admire how sexy he looks with his swollen lips and mussed hair.

“Wait you didn't finish—” You murmur, beginning to reach down to toy with his belt, but he catches your hand gently.

“Don’t worry about me, nena.” His gravelly voice reassures you. “Seein’ you like this is enough for me.”

You frown, feeling like you should do something for him, but before you can argue, he’s leaning down to kiss you again, over and over, until you’re both sinking into another slow, heated makeout session under the open sky, everything else fading away.

You’re standing in front of your door, the glow of your porch light casting soft shadows over the two of you. “Thanks for tonight; I had a great time,” you say, though your legs still feel shaky from what happened earlier.

Javier’s eyes linger on you, “Thank you for letting me take you out,” he says, his tone soft. “Even if… things aren’t ending the way I’d hoped.”

A frown flickers on your face, but you keep your tone light, forcing a gentle laugh.“We can still be friends, you know? That’s one hell of an improvement from where we started.”

But your attempt to ease the tension doesn’t reach him; his expression remains fixed, serious.

“I don’t think I can just be friends with you.”

Then he goes and says something stupid like that.

“So, what now?” you ask, voice sharper than you meant, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “We just… go our separate ways? Pretend none of this ever happened?”

He looks down, his jaw tense, and the silence that follows is thick, each second feeling like an eternity. His eyes meet yours and he sighs.

“I guess so.”

You release a bitter huff, shaking your head as you turn away, rummaging in your purse for your keys.

Fine. Fine. If that’s the way he wants it, you’ll let it be.

He calls your name, his voice slipping through your defenses like a last-ditch plea, making your shoulders tense. You ignore him, wrestling down the tide of frustration and vulnerability clawing its way back up.

You’d told yourself you didn’t want to get involved with him from the start, and now it feels like you should have stuck to your guns. Would have been easier to just tell him to kiss your ass that day he came into the bar, seducing you in your apartment, then asking you out on a date that ultimately meant nothing.

You find your keys and jam them into the lock, refusing to look back.

The second time he says your name, it’s firmer, and you whirl around to face him.

“Javier, listen—before tonight, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell I’d ever be into you. But I gave you a shot, and turns out, you’re not that bad. You’re actually pretty fucking sweet,” you confess, half-laughing, but it’s tinged with the bitterness that you feel. “And maybe if things were different, I could see us together. But things aren’t different. They’re the same as they always have been, and I won’t make you choose between me and your job.”

“I could quit—”

You let out a laugh, loud and unfiltered. “And do what? You’re damn good at what you do, Javi. I’ve seen it firsthand, and yeah, most of the time it’s some pretty raunchy shit, but there’s something almost… artistic in it, and I’d feel selfish as hell if I was the reason you gave that up.”

The weight of his confession makes your grip on the doorknob tighten, his words sinking deeper than you want them to.

“Javi, please, think this through—”

He steps closer, and you feel a pang in your chest as his hand brushes yours, his gaze desperate, pleading with you to see him the way he sees you.

But it’s messy and it’s hard, and even if it’s everything you didn’t know you wanted, you’re terrified it might be everything you don’t know how to hold onto.

His hands slide up, fingers splaying gently over your cheeks, holding you as if he’s anchoring himself. “Please stop fighting me on this,” he murmurs insistently. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”

The intensity in his eyes roots you in place, brown and warm and so damn certain it’s almost overwhelming. You’re taken aback by the softness in his touch, by how steady his hands feel against your face.

He’s usually much braver in action than in words, and yet here he is, unwavering.

“And you’re sure?” you whisper, not sure you can even trust yourself to hold up your guard.

“Si, nena.” There’s no hesitation, no doubt, just a rock-solid conviction that somehow soothes your racing heart.

“You’re not gonna regret this down the line? Not even a little?”

“Absolutely not.” His answer is quick and firm, like he’s spent every minute leading up to this one, getting ready to say it.

Oh, fuck. With him looking at you like that, you know you don’t really have any other choice but to give Javier Peña a shot at being your boyfriend.

“Okay… okay, Javi, fine. We’ll see where this goes, but if you start having even one doubt—”

He doesn’t let you finish, cutting you off with his mouth on yours, pulling you close in a kiss that’s somehow even more intense than you were expecting.

It’s deep and consuming, worlds away from anything you’ve ever felt, like he’s pouring everything he has into it, and you can’t help but lose yourself in him like you have been since the moment things shifted in your dynamic.

When you finally come up for air, foreheads resting against each other, you’re both a little breathless, eyes shining with adoration.

“So...we’re doing this?” he asks, a crooked smile on his face that makes him look boyish and so damn pretty.

“I guess we are.”

“Does that mean I can come inside?” And with the way his lips quirk up into a cocky smile, you know exactly what this motherfucker means.

“Nope, we’re taking things slow… and I’m not fucking you until you get tested.”

He shrugs nonchalantly, “Fair enough. I can work with that.”

You kiss again, his mouth soft and so damn inviting that it takes all your willpower to pull yourself back before you’re tempted to give in right here, in the doorway. “Alright, Javi,” you murmur, feeling his breath linger against your lips as he bites playfully at your lower lip before letting you go. “Goodnight.”

He’s grinning, and it’s that smile that has a way of melting everything inside you. “Goodnight, nena. I’ll call you, set up our second date. Soon.”

The giddiness hits you hard—like back when Frankie was all about pursuing you, only it’s different this time and you don’t know why.

‘“I’ll be waiting.”

He quirks a brow. “I won’t make you wait too long.”

One last, lingering kiss and he’s gone, leaving you at the door, flushed, breathless, and completely jumbled in the best way possible.

“It feels weird being on this side of the bar,” you say, settling onto a barstool across from Connie. Javier slides into the stool next to you, immediately pulling you closer, his hand warm and possessive on your thigh.

“If you’re here to flaunt your relationship, you should start charging for it—I know I’d pay to see it,” Connie teases with a wink, already preparing your usual drink and turning to Javier. “And what about you?”

“Whiskey. Neat,” he answers, then leans into you, his voice a murmur by your ear, his hand slipping higher up your thigh, sneaking under the hem of your dress. “She does have a point, though.”

You smirk, pretending to ignore the way his fingers are trailing dangerously close to your panties. “Not sure I’d be any good on camera. Not like you, anyway.”

He chuckles and you can feel the heat between you two, that ever-present hum of lust you’ve been riding since the night he first kissed you.

It’s been blissful a month of dating Javier, and being with him is like no relationship you’ve had before.

You’ve found so much joy in the simplest moments with him—like when he fixes the little issues around your apartment that your landlord could care less about, or, the lively debates you have in the grocery store aisles, passionately debating which brand of coffee is better.

It has only made everything feel deeper, sweeter. The way you make out like teenagers, unraveling each other in all the ways that matter, has been more than enough.

The restaurant itself was overpriced and borderline ridiculous, but you two had made a game of it, teasing and laughing over the small portions and the pretentious plating.

He even surprised you with a beautiful pair of earrings that you immediately put on, and he looked so damn proud when you showed them off.

Now you’re here at Lucky’s, both of you a bit overdressed, not ready to call it a night yet.

You can feel Javier’s gaze on you, intense and unwavering. “Baby, you’d be a fucking sight,” he says, teeth grazing your earlobe before he bites down gently, his warm breath tickling your skin and sending a shiver through you. You can’t help but giggle, feeling breathless and flushed as he plants a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Why are you two all dressed up?” Connie asks, setting your drinks down with a raised brow.

“Went out for dinner at the most overpriced spot I’ve ever set foot in. Easily spent my entire Friday night’s tips, and I’m still hungry.”

“Not only does that sound like a waste of time, but it’s definitely not your style.”

Javier leans back, one arm draped over your barstool. “To clarify: she didn’t spend a damn dime,” he interjects, “I had to take her somewhere special to ask her to be my girl,” he says, voice dripping with smooth confidence as he raises his glass for a sip.

Connie’s eyes light up, and your cheeks flush. “Consistent dick is the ultimate antidepressant. Trust me, I’d know,” she says with a wink.

You laugh at her bluntness, and fall into an easy rhythm of conversation, her giving updates on things with Steve, then gushing over the earrings Javier had gifted you earlier.

Just as you’re leaning in to admire them together, you notice a figure approaching. A woman, older and stunningly beautiful, glides up to the bar—her gaze fixed squarely on Javier.

Your head snaps up, conversation with Connie dissolving as Javier stands, greeting her with a hug that makes you do a double take.

You share a look with Connie, her expression mirroring the curious frown you feel. She raises her brows, silently mouthing, Who is that?

I don’t know, you mouth back, jealousy twisting in your stomach as you glance back at them.

They part, but her hands linger a moment too long on his chest, her manicured fingers trailing down. Javier very politely but firmly moves them away, a small frown creeping onto her face.

“Judy, long time no see.” His tone is courteous but distant. “This is my girlfriend,” he says, his voice warm as he makes the introduction, stepping back to your side, positioning you squarely in her line of sight.

You’re about to revel in the term girlfriend rolling so easily off his tongue, but her eyes lock onto you with a chill that runs down your spine. Standing your ground, you straighten, meeting her gaze head-on.

She’s stunning, her hair tastefully graying in elegant streaks against her rich brunette, her makeup precise and expensive. The smile lines around her mouth only enhance her aging beauty and if it weren’t for the absolute diabolical vibes you’re getting from her, you would have complimented how good she looks.

The tailored outfit, chunky gold bracelets, diamond-studded earrings and matching necklace leave no question—she has money.

What she’s doing at a dive bar like Lucky’s is beyond you, but maybe LA has its fill of pretentious types everywhere.

“Encantada,” she purrs, a fake smile flashing across her face before her focus shifts back to Javier. “¿Tienes novia? No lo puedo creer, Javiercito. Nunca me lo imaginé de ti.¿Sigues actuando?”

Her words drip with disbelief, her eyes giving you a nasty once over, and you catch enough Spanish to know she’s making a point to speak only to him. It’s like you’re just a side note, something to size up and dismiss.

Javier shifts, catching the tension in your posture, but she’s unrelenting. He responds curtly, “No, not with others. More solo work now.”

She scoffs, a haughty tsk of disapproval as she tilts her head.“No me digas que tu noviecita no te deja.” A mocking pout twists her lips. “Mija, if you’re going to date a pornstar, you’re going to have to deal with the baggage that comes with it. You don’t just get to benefit from him, from what I taught him.”

A flush of fury burns through you, and you’re on the verge of standing up, ready to beat her ass for her audacity. But Javier senses it and steps in, fingers pressing gently but firmly against your thigh, silently calming you down before you do something that’ll make him have to bail you out.

“It was my choice. Gig isn’t fun anymore,” he says firmly, a hint of irritation finally creeping into his tone. “We’re actually in the middle of a date, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving us to it…”

She glances between the two of you, clearly displeased at being dismissed but not quite willing to push her luck. Her smile turns syrupy, and you roll your eyes, signaling Connie for another drink. She’s failing miserably at pretending like she’s not listening in.

“Of course,” she says in a sugary tone, eyes lingering on him.“Provecho. Si cambias tu mente, sabes donde encontrarme, Javi. We used to have so much fun together.” Her fingers trace down his arm a little too slowly, and she practically purrs, “Enjoy your date, sweetheart,” as she struts off, hips swinging with exaggerated flair.

But his eyes don’t follow, they turn to you.

Once she’s out of earshot, you raise a brow, waiting for some explanation. “So… who was that?” you ask as he sits back beside you, tossing back the last of his drink.

“An old colleague,” he says flatly.

You feel another surge of jealousy, and the second your drink arrives, you’re downing it in one go.

“Woah, nena, take it easy—”

“Is that normal for you?” you ask, unable to hide the irritation bubbling up. “Having fans… ‘colleagues’ just approach you out of nowhere, all of them ready to fuck?” You know your tone’s more annoyed than you intended, but the image of her hands all over him pisses you off.

He studies you, cautious, as if measuring his words. “Honestly? Yes. I’m very popular, baby,” he says with a crooked smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought you knew that.”

You let out a sigh, guilt creeping in for directing your irritation at him. “I know… I do. There’s just a difference between knowing and actually experiencing it.” You try to keep the bite out of your tone. “It’s not like she was being subtle either. Looked like she was two seconds away from spreading herself out for you right here.”

There’s definitely an adjustment that still needs to be made in terms of dating a pornstar.

“I’ll be better about shutting them down,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even if you do look hot when you’re jealous.”

You try to suppress a smile, rolling your eyes as he leans closer, brushing his lips along your bare shoulder, then trailing up to your neck, melting your frustration just a bit. He’s too good at this.

“I wasn’t jealous,” you lie, glancing sideways at him. “Also didn’t peg you as an ‘older women’ guy. I’ve only ever seen you with the younger girls.” Saying it even makes you cringe.

As if on cue, Connie, ever the observant bartender, swoops in with replacement drinks, eyebrows raised knowingly. “Everything good over here? I don’t need to call an ambulance or anything, right?”

You snort out a laugh, shaking your head. “No, Con, we’re fine.”

“Even though I wouldn’t mind seeing her kick some ass.” Javier teases.

Javier raises his brows at you. “Seriously?”

You shrug, unfazed. “They asked for it.”

As Connie gets pulled away by some patrons at the other end of the bar, Javier turns to you, his expression shadowed and a bit more serious than before.

“When I first started, my confidence was shot. I’m talkin’ nonexistent,” he admits, his voice low.

You arch a brow, struggling to picture a less-than-assured Javier Peña. “Really? I’m having a hard time imagining that.”

“Yeah, well…” He lets out a rough sigh, “When your fiancée gets knocked up and leaves you at the altar for the guy she’s been cheating on you with, that tends to happen.”

You choke on your drink, and your hand flies to your chest, eyes wide. He glances at you, his concern slipping past his own discomfort for a second. You wave him off as you try to get it together, the words still rattling around in your mind.

“Sorry—what?” you finally manage, hardly believing what you just heard.

“Didn’t mean to dump it on you like that,” he says, leaning on the bar, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the counter, his gaze cast downward.

“Hold up. You were engaged?” You can’t help but lean in, your curiosity clawing to the surface. “And she left you?” You’re struggling to piece it all together, mind spinning through images of the man sitting next to you, younger and heartbroken.

“Yeah,” his jaw twitches. “Her name was Lorraine. We were high school sweethearts—whole ‘marry your first love’ thing.” There’s a hard edge in his voice now, his fingers gripping the glass a bit tighter. “Thought I’d have the life, fill a house with kids, do the whole all-American family bullshit.” His words are bitter, the resentment so clear you almost feel it yourself.

He takes a breath, rubbing the back of his neck before continuing. “Wedding day comes around and she’s gone. Left some half-assed note saying she ‘couldn’t do it,’ and her sister finally broke down and told me what was really going on. She’d been screwing her boss. He got her pregnant.”

There’s a crash behind the bar as a glass shatters. You glance over to see Connie, her face red, scrambling to clean it up with an embarrassed apology. You can’t blame her for listening in—you’re feeling a similar gut punch.

You knew there was something that happened that made him jump the gun and move to California, now, you know what it is. An ain’t shit ex.

“Javi, that’s fucked. I can’t even begin to imagine how much that must have hurt.”

He gives a small nod, lifting his glass and taking a slow sip.

From where you’re sitting, you can see his profile in the low light—his strong nose, the gentle curve of his cheekbones, those lips that naturally form a pout when he’s deep in thought.

"I tried to keep it together, but that town became… suffocating. The looks I got…” Javier’s voice trails off as he shakes his head. “So I packed my shit, said goodbye to my pops, and just started driving. Stopped in all sorts of places, did some sightseeing, trying to figure things out.” A hint of a smile plays on his lips. “Ended up here, and Steve was the first friend I made. That asshole’s the one who got me into porn.”

Your brows shoot up, surprised yet again by his story’s unexpected turns. “Steve? Oh god, don’t tell me he used to do it too.”

Javier smirks, amusement dancing in his eyes. “He did a few flicks. Nothing groundbreaking like me.” He says all cheekily, and you can’t help but nudge him. “So, yeah, I started out for a few bucks. Wasn’t so hot in the beginning—and then I met Judy.”

At the mention of her, your face twists involuntarily, and he notices but ignores your reaction.

You’re still reeling from everything he’s told you so far, marveling at the many lives this man has lived before finding his way to you. “That explains a lot, actually,” you say, your thoughts slipping out with your words.

It now makes sense why he’s so damn good at foreplay. Skills like his? They’re honed under women who know exactly what the fuck they’re talking about, who aren’t shy to take what they need.

Suddenly, your own insecurities begin to simmer and you wonder if you’ll ever amount to the women before you.

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Yeah? Like what?”

You glance up, unflinching. “Like the fact that you can fuck.” Your bluntness pulls a laugh out of both of you—his full of mischief, yours tinged with nerves.

“Not a problem, is it?” he asks, that signature smirk softened, yet curious.

It’s a loaded question, so you take a sip, buying a little time before answering. “What, that you can fuck?”

He laughs again, more genuine this time, a sound that melts some of the tension inside you.

“No, nena,” he replies, still grinning. “Everything else.”

The laughter fades, and for a moment, you sit in the quiet, watching tiny droplets slide down the condensation on your glass.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for honesty. “It’s not a problem, Javi. But… if I’m being real with you, I don’t feel up to par with what you’re used to.”

You can tell from the way his face falls into a scowl that he doesn’t like how you’ve phrased it. “What I have with you is different, cariño. Not something scripted for a camera.”

“I know that, but still. You’re used to professionals—people who know exactly what to do, how to look, how to please. Me?” You let out a shaky laugh, grimacing at your self deprecation, and your gaze falls to the drink in your hand. “You’re lucky if I even get on top.”

As the last word falls, your cheeks flush with embarrassment, feeling raw and exposed at a fucking dive bar.

Before you can turn further away, Javier leans in close, gently catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His expression is nothing but tender, his dark eyes soft.

“Hey, stop that,” he murmurs, his voice so gentle it’s almost a whisper. “You’re more than enough. Trust me.” His fingers stroke softly along your jaw, lingering. “I wasn’t looking for a waxed-up, camera-ready professional. I wanted something real and I found you.”

You swallow the mix of emotions he’s just poured into you—gratitude, desire, and a newfound trust that fills the spaces where your insecurities had settled.

Your eyes search his, words catching in your throat as you try to express everything you’re feeling. But instead of speaking, you reach for the hand at your face, your stare steady as you quietly murmur, “Let’s go upstairs.”

You stumble through the door, bodies pressed close as you and Javier crash into the walls of your apartment, lips never parting for more than a heartbeat.

Your hands roam each other’s bodies, his fingers tracing down your spine, your own tugging eagerly at his shirt, popping buttons until it falls open, greedily feeling up on his warm and toned chest.

His belt follows, clinking to the floor, and as you kick off your heels, you barely register the sound of them hitting the ground—lost in the heavy rhythm of your pulse, the taste of his mouth, the roughness of his scruff.

He sinks down onto the edge of your bed, and you move to straddle him, but he catches you just in time, leaning back a bit with a smirk. “Take your dress off…” he orders, his voice gravelly as his eyes travel hungrily over you, biting his lower lip.

Your heart races as you take a few steps back, antsy fingers reaching for the zipper at your side.

“Slowly,” he adds, and you slow down, teasing him as you draw the zipper down until your dress is loose against your skin.

Holding it to your chest with one hand, you turn around, letting it slip and fall in a gentle whisper to the floor, leaving you standing in just your underwear.

His satisfied hum makes you shiver, and you feel his gaze burn down your back, over the curve of your hips, your thighs.

Looking over your shoulder with a flirty smile, you catch his eye, and he grins in return.

“Turn around, baby, let me see you.”

You turn to face him, nerves quieted by the way he’s looking at you—as if he’s seeing you naked for the first time.

He lets out a soft, almost reverent groan, then extends his hands, urging you closer. You step forward, your hands finding his shoulders as you finally straddle his lap, his warmth searing through you.

His mouth captures yours, rough hands sliding up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples until you’re trembling, gasping against his lips as you remember what happened the last time he toyed with you like this.

“Javi…” you whisper his name, your voice barely a breath as you pull away just enough to speak, eyes meeting his. “I want you. All of you.” You lean in to kiss him again, fervent, moving to trail your lips along his jaw, nipping lightly.

“I want you to fuck me.” You say it firmly, leaving no room for doubt, wanting him to understand exactly what you need.

He groans deeply, his hands dropping to grip your ass and pull you closer. “Are you sure?” his nose brushes along your neck, his breath hot against your skin as you continue kissing along his jaw.

“Yes, Javi,” you breathe out, voice thick with need, “I need you so bad.”

With practiced ease, Javier shifts you onto your back, stretching out beneath him as he hovers close, his touch claiming every inch of exposed skin. His hands trail over you, hot and lingering, and you feel like you’re melting beneath him, completely under his control.

When he finally pulls away to slip out of his remaining clothes, you see his gaze wander, fixated on something by your bedside table.

Following his line of sight, you realize he’s locked onto the purple vibrator you’d left out after using it the other night when he wasn’t around, leaving you to fend for yourself.

A sly smile tugs at his lips as he reaches over, picking it up and turning it over in his hand. “This little thing gets you off?” he teases, holding it up as though he’s sizing up the competition.

You roll your eyes, wrapping your legs around him to pull him closer, but he resists, firmly planted just out of reach.“When I’m in a pinch, yes. Haven’t exactly needed it much lately, thanks to you.”

A thoughtful hum escapes him as he glances between you and the toy, as if weighing his options. Then, moving back over you, he kneels between your thighs, one hand gripping your hip possessively, teasing the band of your panties, while the other holds the vibrator with a wicked gleam. “I think we could put this to good use tonight.”

The spark of excitement floods through you, making your thighs tense instinctively, hips lifting slightly in response. Javier notices, his smirk widening as he lets the band of your panties snap back against your skin, making you gasp.

His eyes darken as he watches you writhe, clearly savoring your every little movement.

“Oh, yeah?” you manage to ask, your voice breathy with anticipation. “How?”

Instead of answering, he switches the toy on, and the low, steady hum fills the room. His eyes never leave you as he drags it lightly over your pelvis, nowhere close to where you ache for him, but enough to make your breath hitch, a soft moan slipping out as you arch into his touch.

His grip on your hip tightens. “Stay still,” he commands, using that sexy bedroom voice of his that’s even more gravelly and deeper than his usual cadence.

Obediently, you settle back, watching him with bated breath. He keeps the toy hovering just above your soaked panties, tantalizingly close to where you need him most.

When he finally presses it down on your clothed pussy, just enough to tease, you let out a low, pleading whimper, your hands gripping the sheets as he works you over in slow, cruel strokes.

His stare holds yours, a silent promise that tonight, he’s going to take his time, making sure you feel every single second of it.

Your breaths come out heavy and uneven, your whole body tensing as you fight the urge to grind up against it, trying to maintain some composure while he has you pinned down beneath that slow, teasing rhythm.

Javier moves the toy in tight, deliberate circles, dragging it excruciatingly slow over your needy clit, the first setting absolute torture.

He’s in no hurry, watching with intense focus as you tremble, his eyes tracing every twitch, every bead of arousal that weeps from your cunt, dampening the thin fabric even more.

He keeps that maddening pace, and as the vibrations ripple through you, you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, an orgasm coiling dangerously tight, ready to snap.

Your nails dig into the duvet, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. “Oh, fuck, Javi—I’m… I’m gonna come—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, though there’s no denying the look of satisfaction on his face. Javi brushes his lips over the corner of your mouth, calming you with a soft, feather-light kiss. “Just trust me, okay? You know I always take care of you.”

You do know. This man has pulled so many orgasms right out of your body without even fucking you with his dick. That reassurance melts away your frustration from being pulled back from the precipice. You nod, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

Your lips meet in a kiss that’s so intoxicating, tongues sliding against each other, his hand skipping down your side to the band of your panties.

Slowly, he drags the fabric down, his fingers gliding over your skin, leaving a blazing trail as they go.

When he finally discards your underwear, you’re left bare beneath him, exposed and aching, while he still wears that unbuttoned dress shirt, his slacks riding low on his hips, half undone.

It’s annoying how good he looks—just dressed enough to drive you wild with impatience.

You let yourself open up to him completely, your sticky, swollen pussy on full display, pulsing in anticipation, needing him more than words can say.

His eyes rake over you with reverence, dark and smoldering as he drinks in every inch of yourself that you’re offering to him, his chest rising and falling a little heavier.

“Always so fuckin’ pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your knee before settling back between your legs.

The vibrator flicks on again, and he traces it up your inner thighs, letting you tremble beneath his touch. You bite down hard on your lip, trying to hold back the urge to shout at him to stop playing around, to just give it to you.

Javier trails the toy along your slick lips, his gaze dark and hungry as your arousal drips out of your cunt, every inch of your body clenching with need. When he finally presses the vibrator to your clit, a shudder ripples through you, your back arching off the bed.

He groans low and deep, clearly savoring your reaction.

“Javi,” you moan, hips already grinding against the pressure as he keeps the vibrator in place, turning up the intensity to make you gasp, your body moving to meet it, demanding more.

“Feel good, baby?” he murmurs, his voice like smoke.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out, nodding feverishly, your eyes squeezed shut as you let the pleasure wash over you, helplessly rocking against him.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls it away.

Over and over, he teases, edging you with that relentless, maddening rhythm, each denial more tortuous than the last.

He alternates between fucking the toy inside you, pressing it against the fleshy cleft of your clit, and peppering soft, almost loving kisses down your body: your neck, your jaw, the valley between your breasts. His tongue traces your nipple in slow circles, flicking it just enough to drive you wild, until you’re a trembling, teary mess beneath him, desperate for release.

You feel his fingers cup your jaw, firm and unyielding, his eyes blazing into yours as you cling to his touch, mascara running down your cheeks, feeling so utterly wrecked.

“Please, Javi… please let me come,” you beg, your voice ragged. But he just tightens his hold, fingers digging into the skin of your cheeks, pressing the toy in deep as his thumb circles your clit, leaving you breathless.

“Just when you think you can let go… it’s snatched from you,” he whispers, ignoring your pleas, dragging you to the brink only to pull the vibrator away once again, leaving you a shaking, furious mess.

A strangled sound escapes your throat, torn between anger and need, barely feeling like yourself.

Javier chuckles, bending down to nip at your chin, his teeth grazing your skin before his tongue traces a line up your jaw. “That’s how you’ve been making me feel for months now, nena,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy. It’s only fair that I make you feel even a fraction of it.”

“Y-You’re an asshole,” you try to retort, but your voice comes out barely above a whisper, your tone more a helpless whine than any real protest.

He undresses fully, and your mouth literally waters as your gaze traces the sculpted lines of his stomach, following the trail of hair that leads down to his thick, throbbing cock.

The head is swollen and red, already dripping with precome, and you can’t help the moan that slips from your lips, your hips shifting instinctively, every nerve ending primed and desperate for him. You’ve been dreaming about this moment for so long, craving it with every fiber of your being.

You need to fuck this man.

As he climbs back over you, his hands reach to pull you closer, your legs wrapping around his waist as if they belong there, your hands clutching at the solid warmth of his shoulders.

You pull him down to you, your bare breasts pressed to the hard plane of his chest, as he balances himself with both hands planted beside your head, his eyes burning into yours.

“You okay?” he asks, voice soft, and you nod, kissing the corner of his mouth before tangling your fingers in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Mhm,” you breathe, staring up at him, completely wrecked and totally ready. “I’m just ready to take you, Javi. Need it so bad.”

He groans, the heat in his eyes darkening as he adjusts his hips, hovering right there, just out of reach. “Go ahead, baby, take it. Put it in.”

His words are like gasoline to a fire, and a shiver runs through you at the sheer, visceral need in his command.

You swirl your thumb over the head, spreading the bead of precome across his skin, the silky-slick texture making you dizzy with anticipation.

Drunk on him, on everything he evokes in you, you guide the head of his cock to your soaked, swollen entrance, rubbing it slowly against your aching slit.

“Oh, fuck—Javier, you feel so good,” you gasp, your walls clenching around him, holding him deep as your body adjusts to every thick, pulsing inch. It’s even better than you ever imagined.

“Please,” you whimper, grinding your hips up to meet him, urging him on. He sinks his teeth into the delicate skin of your neck, sucking until he’s left a mark, his mouth hot and relentless as he peppers kisses and bites along your throat.

He’s holding himself back, giving you a second to catch up, but every inch of you craves him.

“Give me, fuck, gimme a second,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and controlled, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss, your bodies locked together as he builds a rhythm, deeper and more intense with every movement.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as he grinds just right, the coarse hairs of his cock rubbing against your swollen clit, making you babble helplessly against his parted lips, your own pleasure climbing higher with each thrust. “Right there, Javi, right there—I’m so close, please…”

He speeds up, his strokes hard and unrestrained, driving you to the edge. But even as he tries to keep his control, you feel him faltering, his body tensing as the pleasure becomes too much.

Your chest heaves with every breath, your body still humming with tension. As much as you’re flattered by his performance, you’re left tingling, unfinished, after all the edging and teasing he put you through.

“Javi…” You murmur softly, your hands sliding from his tousled hair down his shoulders, the heat radiating off his skin.

He responds with a low grunt, still draped over you, his weight grounding you.

“Javier,” you say again, a bit more insistently this time, and he lifts his head, eyes heavy and glazed, looking at you as if you’ve just broken him in the best way possible.

You’ve never seen him look this wrecked, his breath still uneven and his face flushed—all because of you. Fighting the urge to smirk, you can’t help but revel in the sight of him.

Men can be sensitive about finishing quickly, but he looks nothing but smug.

“Pussy’s too damn good, baby. Fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, a grin tugging at his lips, his words breathy and awed.

Now you let yourself smirk, feeling the flush of satisfaction. He nuzzles his nose against yours, murmuring, “Gotta make up for that.”

You raise a brow, intrigued. And then he’s moving, slowly pulling out of you, making you hum as the absence of him sends a small flutter through your sensitive cunt, his warm, milky cum trickling out and coating your thighs.

With determination in his gaze, he begins his descent, his mouth trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, his breath a delicious tease against your skin until he’s nestled between your legs.

His broad shoulders press your thighs open, and then he throws them over his shoulders, eyes locked on yours, his look nothing short of ravenous.

Javi nips and kisses along your inner thighs, each bite and lick sending sparks straight to your core. When he finally reaches your swollen, aching pussy, his thumbs slide over your folds, parting them to reveal the slick mess he left behind.

Then, you feel the first swipe of his tongue, warm and slow, tasting you both. His groan is deep and low, the sound vibrating against you as he begins to devour you, licking and slurping at your mixed arousal with a hunger that’s overwhelming.

You can’t hold back—you’re too wound up, too sensitive, and you grab at his hair, your fingers twisting and tugging as your release crashes through you, every wave building on all the ones denied before.

You’re left gasping, body arched and taut, thighs clamping around his head as you scream his name, mindlessly babbling through the pleasure.

“Javi! Fuck—fuck, yes, oh god—”

He growls against you, mouth working as he drinks in every pulse, his tongue relentless as he wrings every last aftershock from your shaking body.

It’s beyond anything you’ve felt before, overwhelming and intense, leaving you utterly spent as you finally start to come down, your body melting beneath him, weak and utterly satisfied.

Right, he’s got that pornstar stamina.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you up with him as he sits up, his brows knitted in concentration, his tongue peeking out as he watches you completely unravel around him.

“That’s right, baby,” he growls, “Gonna give me one more on my cock, show me how bad you wanted it.”

You used to roll your eyes at the exaggerated moans you’d hear on set, doubting anyone could actually be that good.

But he is that good. Beyond that good. He’s better.

Now here you are, body trembling, head thrown back, moaning his name so loudly it might echo through the whole building. Every hard thrust feels like it’s driving into the core of you, filling you so perfectly that the room spins.

His grip tightens, hands splayed across your hips as he finds a rhythm that sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. The thick drag of his cock hits every spot, and he knows just how to read every gasp, every shudder, adjusting his pace and angle to push you higher and higher.

He pulls your legs up, folding them against your chest, his hips angled to grind against that one perfect spot that has stars dancing across your vision. You’re lost to him, mimicking those moans you used to scoff at, now higher and even more desperate as he laughs, deep and husky.

Your bed creaks with every hard thrust, the scent of sex thick in the air, but all you can focus on is him—his rough hands, the way he looks down at you, utterly in control.

He’s all you can feel, all you can breathe, and as he digs his nails into the plush skin of your thighs, you know you’re on the edge, your pussy clenching tightly around him.

Your gaze meets his, and somehow you manage a blissful, shaky smile, a small act of defiance just before he pushes you over.

“There she is,” he murmurs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Come on, baby—let me feel it.”

“Javi… oh my fuck, I’m coming!” The words are a gasp, strangled and desperate, as your body locks around him, your orgasm crashing through you in waves that leave you breathless, gushing around his cock as every muscle in your body clenches tight.

It feels like you’ve drifted to the heavens, like he’s drawn out every last ounce of strength from you.

You’re dazed, floating, but he’s still there, whispering to you, “Good girl, that’s it. I’ve got you,” his voice a warm balm as he slows his movements, matching the rhythm of your aftershocks, soothing you with each gentle thrust as he holds you close.

Your body shudders, tiny jolts of overstimulation sparking through you as he stays with you, coaxing you back down from the edge, until you’re nothing but a soft, sated mess in his arms.

He gently eases your legs down, pulling out of you with a slow, tender touch before settling by your side.

His arms wrap around you, drawing you in close as you both lie there, utterly spent, skin warm and sticky from sweat and the lingering traces of your wild fucking.

His lips press a soft kiss to your forehead, and you let out a contented sigh, burrowing into his chest. You crave the solid weight of his body, the grounding warmth of him as you slowly come back to reality.

“You’re not real,” you mumble into his chest, your voice muffled but laced with awe. His chuckle vibrates against your cheek, a low, comforting sound that makes you smile even wider.

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest, and take a moment to really admire him: the deep brown of his eyes, the dark sweep of his lashes, the fullness of his mustache, and that defined jaw you love tracing your fingers along.

Your hands wander, tracing faint shapes on his shoulders, running over the hard lines of his triceps, relishing the feel of him beneath your fingers.

“I need a shower. And to change these sheets,” you murmur, glancing around at the disheveled bed.

“Yeah, someone made quite the mess,” he teases, pinching your ass, which makes you yelp and swat his chest with a playful smack.

“Asshole,” you grumble, but he just laughs, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss that’s softer, and you melt into him all over again.

“I’ll go start the shower for you, then change the sheets while you’re in there.”

“Catering to my every whim already? I just became your girlfriend,” you tease.

“Yeah, and I’m trying to keep it that way for the foreseeable future,” he says, brushing a quick, sweet kiss on the tip of your nose before slipping away from you.

You can’t help the little pout that forms as he sits up, rolling his shoulders back, his muscles jolting, which makes you weak in the knees.

You watch him as he moves throughout your room then into your bathroom, your eyes trailing over every muscle, every line of his body, unable to resist biting your lip.

He really is gorgeous—so damn hot—and he’s all yours.

🏷️ : @almostempty . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @auteurdelabre . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @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 . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

@pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch . @xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @guelyury . @doblasftcisco . @ashhlsstuff . @kluvspedro . @goodvibesonly421 . @maladptivedaydreaming .

#mostly incoherent and mostly just me saying SHUT UP after every sentence but this is the hottest thing i'm fucking dead???#javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier pena smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #narcos fanfiction

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damn-stark · 16 hours ago

Text

Chapter 29 A dot Targ. A dot Vel. (REPRISE)

Chapter 29 of Moonlight

A/N- Its good! I’m so proud!

Warning- talks of pregnancy, ANGST, fluff? violence, blood, swearing, and death. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 515-520

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK*

“There. We drop from the top of this cliff and fall right into the water. There’s no rocks below, there’s no way to get hurt. It’s a straightforward jump that’s not high whatsoever.”

Perhaps it was easier for you to say it, you have jumped from the cliff multiple times already, but to your brothers, Daeron, and Helaena? For them, the jump from the small cliff is like being high in the sky and jumping off your dragon's backs. The big body of water that glimmers like gems against the sun's reign is dull and grey in their eyes, and the target is small and an unattainable feat.

“You can walk back down,” Aemond interjects and directs at his little brother. “That’s what Jacaerys and Lucerys are doing. You don’t have to jump if you don’t want to.”

Daeron steps forward an inch to drop his brown eyes on the body of water below and gulp with fear.

“We can hold hands and jump together,” Helaena offers her little brother. “That’s how her…” Helaena pauses and points at you and then points her eyes at Aemond standing beside you. “…and Aemond do it.”

Said boy looks away out of embarrassment but doesn’t argue because it’s true. Every time you come to the top to jump down you do it hand in hand. Never have you done it without each other—yet maybe today might be the day considering Aemond might want to show off to Aegon.

“Yes,” Daeron says shakily and peers over his shoulder before he lifts his hand off his side and starts to reach out for his older sister.

However, it’s in his attempt to seek support that suddenly Aegon sprints forward. “Don’t be such a coward!” Aegon exclaims. “You’re a man with balls not a girl with a cunt!”

Before you can stop him, he shoves past Aemond and you to throw his hands out and shove Daeron off the cliff.

“Aegon!” You snap and run to the edge, whilst Helaena lets out a shocked gasp, and Aemond trails after you.

“Why would you do that?” Aemond remarks to his brother as you all watch Daeron screaming from the top of his lungs before he hits the water with a big splash!

“What’s wrong with you?!” You exclaim and snap your eyes to Aegon, but he just flashes you a cocky smile before he walks back a few paces and then runs forward to jump off the cliff himself and land beside his brother.

“Jacaerys!” You call out as you keep your eyes on where Daeron hit the water. “Check on Daeron!”

Your brother shoots you a thumbs up and walks in the water to do as you asked, and luckily he doesn’t need to assist. Daeron resurfaces with a big gasp of air as he wipes his face.

“Daeron! Are you okay?!” Helaena asks loudly, but she gets ignored as Daeron spins around and begins to splash Aegon out of spite. However, as expected, Aegon only finds his brother's reaction humorous.

“I told you not to invite him,” you quip at Aemond with a side glare. “Of course, he was going to do some shit like this.”

“I thought he’d behave,” Aemond mutters. “Besides, I didn’t invite him. He found out and invited himself.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “Whatever, do you want to go next?” You ask and throw your hand out to offer it to him. And at first, he looks at your extended invitation and hesitates for a few seconds, so you think today will be the day he refuses your assistance, but alas, he thankfully doesn’t give in to his self-consciousness about being judged by Aegon and puts his hand over yours and make you smile at him.

“Ready?” You make sure to ask as you secure your hold around his hand.

Aemond nods and you proceed to walk back a couple of steps before you both run forward at the same time and jump off the cliff together hand in hand just like you always do. When you hit the water with a big splash and sink in the depths of the deep body of water, you let go of Aemond’s hand and open your eyes, catching him struggling to find his composure for a moment.

Only for a moment though because he’s quick to calm down and stop flailing his limbs around, letting his heartbeat come to a calm beat, and finding the moment to open his eyes and come face to face with you and your close-mouthed smile as you’re the center of each other's attention.

He tries to mirror your sweet gesture, but his smile is not as grand or excited as yours. There’s a warmth in his smile as sees you being so giddy, but he can not reflect that joy you carry because this, the depths of these waters aren’t his favorite; he feels like he’s playing with death by being down under for so long, but for you? This is basically your natural habitat. You were given the name the Siren of Driftmark for your singing ability, but what no one knows is that you’re basically a siren when you’re in the water.

You can hold your breath a long time and that’s something that was self-taught just to be able to dive down and collect stuff off the surface, and be able to mingle with the sea creatures that call these waters their home. Honestly, if it were up to you you would live here if you could, but alas you need air, so after you swim around him you resurface and take a breath of air without failing to grin brighter than the sun shining above.

“Come on, Helaena!” You encourage her whilst you see Aemond resurface and take a large gasp of air from the corner of your eye.

“Maybe I should go push her,” Aegon taunts, but you quickly snap around.

“Don’t you dare you ass!” You remark and push him, but alas he just laughs it off.

You respond to his maniacal laugh with a scoff as you turn away from him and look up again. However, Helaena is not in sight anymore.

“Helaena?!” You call out with worry.

Albeit only a few seconds later she shows up again as she runs toward the edge and jumps off with her fingers pinching her nose.

When she hits the water you swim toward her right away, but she resurfaces quickly and looks at you with relief to be alive. “I’m okay,” she reassures you as she breathes heavily.

You grin at her and nod. “Great. Would you do it again?”

She shakes her head and scoffs. “No.”

You giggle at her response and grab her hand to swim to shore together. Once your feet hit the sandy ground you find Daeron sitting on a rock with his eyes on the water before him.

“Are you okay?” You make sure to ask as you break away from Helaena and crouch down beside him.

“Yes,” he sighs and blinks as he turns his head to look at you. “It was not so bad. It just looked further when I was up there.”

You smile softly and nod in comprehension before you raise a quizzical brow. “Would you do it again?”

Daeron scoffs and nods softly. “Yes. It was fun.”

You beam at him and nudge him playfully. “See, I told you it was not so bad!”

Daeron smiles shyly and rolls his head down as he averts his gaze. “Yes I suppose you were right,” he echoes you before he meets your eyes with that sweet smile. “Just don’t let Aegon push me this time.”

You shake your head and pat his shoulder to reassure him. “No, never. I won’t let him come close. Swear.”

——

*NOW. TUMBLETON*

The stars in the night sky are dancing and mingling with the moon. The breeze is cool, colder than any that’s been felt yet, keeping the warm bodies in their tents to preserve heat and also sleep off the nighttime activities that have been transcending for the past week.

Overall the night is at last calm, giving the army of men a peaceful night. However, it’s in that silence and peace that they are easily able to feel the ground beneath them starting to tremble. And even if they can’t mistake it for anything absurd like all the men getting piss drunk, they don’t question the earth, yet.

With not a moment to spare, more and more men start to wake up when they hear the sound of faint rumbling echoing in the distance. They try to play it off as some distant storm coming their way, but that rumbling grows louder, going from rumbling to it sounding like a thousand storms of thunder clapping on the ground, making the ground shake even more violently and once and for all luring them out of their tents.

Albeit it’s a good and bad thing that they did. It’s a bad thing because they’re met face to face with death, but it's also a good thing because they can alert everyone of death rolling in on them in the shape of two large dragons that dive from the sky unleashing waves of fire upon their tent grounds that engulf the once darkened campsite in a raging firelight and drown out the soft and bright light of the moon and the stars.

From there on it's impossible for anyone to mind their business and ignore the sound of chaos outside, the firestorm falling upon them, and the wave upon wave of screaming men all charging toward them. Now they have to get up and dress for a fight, or get up and walk out whilst they’re dressing to grab any weapon they can or grab their horses to have some fighting chance.

And some men do have a fighting chance—Those men far from the initial line of fire can quickly dress and grab what they need to meet their attackers. However, those men caught under the dragon's shadows are nothing more than ash and bones, especially as you and Astraea make a sharp turn and fly low, descending a fiery death as you fly directly toward the main tents because that’s where you’ll find him; Daeron Targaryen.

Many would call you a Kinslayer for directly killing your uncle Daeron. You’ll forever be marked as one in the history books. All your great achievements will be watered down to that single fact especially because you’re a woman, but here’s the thing, you don’t give a single fuck what people in a hundred years think of you. All you care about is killing one man at this very moment, and you notice him just as you’re flying directly toward the main tents.

Daeron is standing outside, half-dressed with his silver-blond hair standing out like a sore thumb against the wild flames feeding on the bodies, the tents, and the ground around him. He stands there with his dark eyes on you and your dragon charging directly at him. He’s there and as his figure reflects in your eyes all the deaths you’ve endured; Lucerys, your grandmother, Jacaerys, Viserys, Joffrey, and even Aemond—Even his own brother's death flashes behind your eyes as if he was the sole cause of their deaths. As if he himself killed them with his bare hands.

And in some messed up way your mind does see him as the sole cause of their deaths because there’s no one else to blame; Aegon is dead or lost somewhere, you can never truly blame Aemond, and anyone else can never compare to the man standing before you. The Hightower and Targaryen boy whose family took away everything good. It’s because of his family that all of your own family is gone, and all that you knew is dead along with them. So yes, you blame him. You want him dead. You want to see his flesh melt off his bones. You want to give his mother his head so she may feel your mother's pain and the pain you have endured as well.

It would satisfy your thirst for revenge just enough to get off the field and watch from a distance to not make Cregan, Ser Cane, and Addam worry. Daeron is all your anger wants. He’s all your desire locks on. Daeron.

Daeron.

“Dracarys,” you growl as you lean forward and grab onto the handle with a vice grip.

Astraea clicks from the back of her throat as she builds up fire before she blasts her burning flames on Daeron and the path behind him.

Nevertheless, just before the flames can hit Daeron and the ground, the boy jumps out of Astraea’s aim.

You immediately snap your head around as Astraea flies forward, and soon thereafter catch him pushing himself to his feet to be able to run away and hide in between the crowd all running from the dragon's wrath.

“RAHHH!” You cry out enraged and hit the handles of your saddle. “<Turn Astraea!>” You command in Valyrian as you nudge the handles to the side. And without needing to be told twice Astraea makes a quick turn, whipping her tail and thrashing men to the side whilst also destroying tents and clutter in the way of her swinging tail.

When you’re facing the way Daeron ran you have Astraea unleash more waves of fire, catching irrelevant men in the way of your wrath until your uncle is all that you see ahead of you now that he’s not able to hide in the sea of bodies.

Yet before you can give your command to Astraea with your words or through your connection, you unhook all your restraints and push yourself off your seat to swing your leg over the saddle and reach the ladder hanging off Astraea’s side. After that, without needing to be told, your dragon comes to a stop and hovers over the ground of burning bodies to let you descend the ladders and land on an empty spot on the ground.

Daeron notices what you're doing and doesn’t stop running. You look at his path ahead and assume he’s attempting to reach Tessarion, so, considering Astraea knows your deepest desire, she swoops around him, unleashing a line of fire around him to cut him off in his attempts and bring him to an immediate stop before the wall of fire.

You then proceed to watch him, but don’t call out his name. You narrow your glare and start trudging toward him with heavy footsteps and Blackfyre in one hand. And perhaps that sight of you is much more terrifying than being called out because silence is much more threatening. It's tense and deadly because he knows, he feels it on the hairs on the back of his neck and the goosebumps crawling down his spine that you’re coming.

It’s only once Daeron hears you come to a stop that he turns around while he fixes his grip on his own sword, and confronts your piercing glare spewing hatred and a ferocity that he has only heard of until now.

Yet it doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t tense or try to find a way to escape, he stands there with you in a small clear spot surrounded by dead bodies and a wall of fire that stays alive by feeding off some of those dead bodies.

“Goodsister,” he greets warmly, but you don’t even attempt to return a feigned friendly greeting. You breathe out heavily through your nose and tighten your grip around your Valyrian sword.

“It’s been a while. You’re glowing,” he finds some way to be funny, but again, you don’t mirror him. You do respond though.

“I’m not your Goodsister anymore. Aemond is dead.”

Daeron blinks and nods stiffly. “Yes, I know. My condolences, you were married and you were best friends from what I remember. He really loved you.”

You blink repeatedly as one of your heartstrings is pulled at by his words.

“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss and throw your hand out to point the tip of your sword at him. “Fight.”

Daeron swallows back nervously and remains still for a second before he shakes his head. “No, I won’t fight you. You’re my niece and you’re with child. It would not be fair.”

“You have until my Astraea reaches us to swing your sword,” you ignore him and then lift your hand to point your sword at Astraea circling around to return this way. “If you refuse she will unfurl her fire and catch us both with her flames, but,” you suck your teeth and begin to smile a menacing smile. “Only one of us can withstand the fire's fury. You…will burn and Tessarion won’t be able to reach you in time to save you. So choose. You can fight me and have a chance to survive, or die a fiery death.”

Daeron glances at Astraea getting closer and then glances at the army of men you came with before he slowly lets his eyes fall back on you. “And if I fight you and survive, how long until your army of men comes after me?”

You scoff. “Not long. Lord Stark is lurking nearby, and my sworn protector is also close, so,” you pause and hum as you come up with an estimate. “About ten to fifteen minutes, but that’s enough to get close to your dragon. That is if my dragon doesn’t eat you first.”

He hums and nods in comprehension before he chooses to glance at his options again and debate whether he really wants to fight you at a disadvantage, or give up and die.

It is a hard choice given he doesn’t hate you or hold any ill will. It was always your brothers that he was taught to dislike, but his mother never really taught them to hate you. She did bad mouth you and was rude, but she never told her kids to hate you, so he can’t find it in himself to flip a switch and all of a sudden want to kill you.

Yet…he also doesn’t want to die. He can’t die when his men and his own mother need him. He owes it to the siblings he’s lost and their cause to fight. So with a deep breath, he tightens his grip, fixes his stance, and chooses.

“Alright if it’s what you want.” He mutters, making that menacing smile turn to a grin, and without saying a word, causing Astraea to drift and now circle you and him rather than setting you both on fire.

“It’s what I want and it’s what I need,” you grumble and fix your stance before you slowly let out a deep breath.

~~~~~

There’s a breath you take in your lungs, but rather than being filled with relief as the breath of air runs through your lungs something grainy travels into your lungs before you’re overcome with a pressure over your chest.

A darkness also accompanies the pressure as you open your eyes, and all you can do is panic rather than staying calm and thinking about what’s going on or where you are.

You throw your hands out and fling them around to try and remove the heavy grain that’s burying you without thinking about taking steady breaths. You pant, taking in more and more grains of sand bit by bit until a beam of light breaks through the darkness, bringing hope to the desperation and letting you break through the barrier that was on top of you to let you see an endless blue sky.

Yet even as you face the horizon and the freedom it brings, the panic still unsettles your heart as you face an endless sea that you weren’t near mere moments ago and violently cough out the grains that you now know are sand.

It’s all so sudden, the sand, the sea, the blue sky, and the shining sun. You were just…

You don’t remember…

You can’t remember where you were. You don’t—you can’t.

“Hey, hey, breathe. Breathe,” a familiar voice tries to instruct you before their hand falls on your shoulder, but you just bolt to your feet and spin around to swat their hand away in your panic.

Only, it’s when you face the person comforting you that you recognize…your father.

“Father?” You ask breathlessly and step back out of fear.

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes. It’s me. You’re okay. It’s me.”

You shake your head and close your eyes to try and wake up back where you had been, but when you rip your eyes open you still see him and the beach standing behind you.

“No, no,” you keep denying what you see even if you don’t know what’s going on. You just know seeing your father isn’t right. “You’re not supposed to be here,” you say between pants and step back again whilst you reach for your belly for some support. Albeit your hands don’t come in contact with your swollen belly, your hands hit your torso, but there's no bump. It’s gone. The twins…

“What,” you gasp and feel your heart racing in your chest as your panic heightens, making everything around you spin, and making your head hurt. “Where are my children?!”

“Breathe!” Your father yells out over your panic and grabs your arms to yank you toward him so he can repeat himself louder. “Breathe.”

You look him in the eyes and don’t see a stranger or any trick or sorcery. You see the same brown eyes you saw when he was still alive. You see him, the man you loved, and the man you lost. He’s there in front of you. It’s no trick, no dream, no vision. It’s him.

“Father?” You question and blink repeatedly before you stare at him for a lingering minute and then avert your gaze to think back to what you remember last and what brought you to this moment. And even if you assume that you won’t remember, you do. You remember what led you to where you currently are.

“Father,” you breathe out and lift your hands to grab his arms and huff out with relief. “Father!”

“My girl,” he coos and finally offers you a smile as you’re calm now. “Hello.”

You offer him a smile but don’t redirect his greeting. Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “My twins?” You ask and he sighs before he offers you an assuring smile.

“They’re fine. You on the other hand…” he trails off and his face falls with pity and heavy concern. “My girl, do you know where you are?”

You blink repeatedly and come up with a quick idea. “I think so. I think,” you pant out and face him with worry. “Maybe I’m dead?”

He breathes out and neither nods nor shakes his head, he parts his lips and gives you a response instead. “Not yet, but you can choose to.”

“Choose to?” You echo and shake your head before probing in more confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought I died.”

He shakes his head. “Not yet, that’s why you can choose. You can pass on and stay here, or you can leave this place. You can also choose to live. That’s the difference between me and you. You just have to know what you want.”

You slowly let go of him and think over his words as if it were some great mystery when what he said and what it meant is clear as day.

“Do you know what you want?” He asks and looks deep into your averted gaze.

“I,” you mouth and breathe out before you drag your eyes up and face him with a sense of confusion on how to answer his question because why would you want to go back?

You did have some great plans you went over with Cregan, but as you’re here, in this great limbo with your father on the beach without any pain or worry, why would you want to leave to suffer?

You don’t want to cry anymore. You don’t want to live through more loss. You don’t want to suffer any more pain. You want to stay here where you can be by the sea, breathing in the salty air, and being with a man you love.

“I don’t know,” you mutter under your breath and look away shamefully as if waiting for him to scold you and try to argue with you. Albeit he just pats your arms before he strokes your cheeks.

“That’s okay, take your time.”

You meet his dark eyes and offer him a thankful smile before you once again look around at where you are.

Your father follows your line of gaze and takes a step away from you to finally probe. “Why did you choose the beach?”

You turn around to face the endless blue sea and answer without having to think about it. “Because it’s where I was always the happiest. It’s where I would come with my brothers and the others. It’s where you taught me to fish and how to read the stars. It’s where you taught me to sing sailor shanties.” You share and giggle breathlessly before you look over at him and finally wonder why he’s here when he should be long gone with the man he never stopped loving.

“Why are you here, father? Shouldn’t you be with your partner Joffrey?” You ask, making him scoff and look out at the peaceful waters that you stand in front of.

“No,” he then answers quietly. “I’m where I’m meant to be.”

You meet his gaze and try to dig deep for the real answer, but you can’t find it in his eyes or find any clue in between his body language, so you accept his answer as it is.

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” He interjects and steals all your divided attention. “You…have come so far,” he muses. “My little siren.” He laughs breathlessly and steps forward to once again grab your face. “You have grown into such a strong and beautiful young woman.”

“Father,” you mouth as your eyes start to fill with tears, making the sight of him turn blurry.

“You are a good mother, and you are a good daughter. Despite all your doubts, you are a good daughter, your mother knows that. I know that. You are just young, you will make mistakes, but the important thing is you admit them and learn from them, but never shame yourself because of those mistakes.”

More tears overfill your eyes, causing them to break out and roll down your cheeks.

“I love you, my girl,” he continues in the same soft and affectionate way as if he didn’t have all the time in the world despite being dead—“you are my greatest achievement. You are what I’m most proud of and I’m,” his voice breaks and tears fill his own eyes. “…I’m sorry for leaving. I hurt you and I’m sorry. You needed me and I left. I tried to come back. I was on my way back to see you, but I…” he trails off and his tears roll down. “…that’s when I died. You believe me right?”

You lift your hands to grab his jaw and offer him a wobbly smile before you nod. “I do. I believe you because I saw it in a vision from a good witch.”

He scoffs in amusement and you giggle before you slide your hands down and proceed to throw them around his neck to pull him in for an embrace.

“I forgive you, Father,” you assure him and unknowingly offer him everything he had been waiting for.

You finally give him the forgiveness that he was waiting for to move on to peace.

“I love you, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” his voice cracks as he hugs you back with a tight force. “And I love you more than anything.”

You weep on his shoulder and grip onto him as if your life depended on it. “Father,” you cry and unleash a very shaky and heavy breath that feels like you shed off a weight you did not know you had been carrying on your shoulders.

“It’s okay to be selfish,” he whispers. “No one will shame you for it if it’s what you want.”

You pull away slowly and wipe your tears before you look him in the eyes and continue with a quiver as you talk through your pain. “I don’t want—”

Albeit before you can finish, there’s other people that catch your eye. There in the distance, along the shoreline are your three brothers; Joffrey, Lucerys, and Jacaerys. They’re here too and the sight of them makes you forget the pain you were about to share and the choice you didn’t know if you wanted to make. You were going to debate it, but now as you see your brothers all you can think about is going to them.

“Go,” your father tells you as he sees what you focus on. “They’re waiting for you.”

You quickly look back at him and query. “Are you sure?”

He holds your gaze and stares at you for a lingering second before he nods softly. “I’m sure. Go.”

You offer him one last giddy smile before you peel away and face your beloved brothers. “Joffrey! Luke! Jace!”

All three boys turn to look at you and you throw your hand in the air and wave.

Lucerys is the first to respond with a sweet smile before Joffrey waves you over.

You then don’t debate your choice or look back at your father, you move your foot forward and go to them.

~~~~~~~

*NOW*

A breath unfurls from your lungs and escapes past your lips. Your once deadly grip on your blade's handle loosens, and your feet shift into a fighting stance as you lock eyes with Daeron.

“I am sorry—”

“Shut up,” you grimace and lunge forward to swing Blackfyre at his neck, but Daeron is quick to block your attempts and then push you back, causing you to grunt and then proceed to thrust violently.

However, Daeron then throws his body to the side to avert your action, but you don’t let him collect himself and come up with some alternative. You overwhelm him by swinging your blade again.

Albeit Daeron meets your blade with his once more, causing a sharp clinging to ring out against the sound of men fighting and dying, dragon wings clapping as they flap in the sky, fire blasting out of their mouths, and crying as you hear them fighting.

Nevertheless, it’s while your swords are pressed against each other, and your eyes are locked on one another that you slip one hand off your blade handle and curl your fist to throw him an uppercut that makes him stumble back. After that, you probably would have followed with a kick, but with your belly weighing you down you can’t, so instead, you opt to rush him and throw your blade down. Albeit Daeron follows up by throwing his own blade up to meet your actions before he manages to drop one hand to grab your wrist and try to shove you back.

“I don’t want to fight you. It’s not fair!” He cries out to try and make you listen. “And above all else, you’re my niece. We grew up together, doesn’t that count for something?”

Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes narrow to a nasty glare. “Aegon grew up with my mother and he still took her throne. He was a man capable of thinking for himself. He could’ve fought back, but he didn’t, he still took my mother's throne,” you growl and use your strength to try and push him off you, but his grip only tightens and he pushes back against you, causing you to drop one hand to grab onto his forearm and try to rip his grip off your wrist that holds you captive.

“And you still chose to fight against her. She would have given you a spot beside her!” You cry in anger. “But you still betrayed her and for what? A mother that hardly cares about you? Brothers that forget you exist?” You scoff and shoot him a smirk to try and piss him off, but he’s more emotionally mature. Daeron slides his hand off your wrist instead and then presses it against your chest to shove you back with a strength that’s enough to make you lose contact and stumble back.

You try to quickly find your balance to counter, but Daeron then kicks dirt and ash in your eyes, causing a roaring cry to rip out from your throat and break through all the barriers of noise that surround you, while your sword falls from your hands as you fling yourself around and fall to your knees to try and wipe the trash out of your stinging eyes.

“What the hell?!” You hiss and groan as you frantically rub your eyes.

“Is that what you want?!” Daeron remarks and steps forward, but you manage to crawl away and throw your hand back.

“Don’t you dare,” you snap back and go back to rubbing your eyes.

“You really think this is what Aemond would want?” He throws out as if he knew the man Aemond grew up to be. He only knew a child, he didn’t know the man he was.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss and drop your hand to blink hard and repeatedly, whilst also feeling your eyes overflow with tears that try to wash out all the trash in your eyes—“don’t talk about him like you know him,” you remark and finally manage to see the ground. It’s cloudy, but you can still see it nonetheless so you continue to crawl away in search of a weapon.

“You didn’t know him,” your voice cracks. “Your mother didn’t know him. Aegon didn’t. Only I did…he was mine and he’s gone now because of your family. Because of you! So shut up.”

“What happened to you?” He asks boldly as he stays where he is and watches you aimlessly move away from him and your sword—“You used to be kind-hearted. You were good and now…”

“I’m everything you and your family made me,” you finish his sentence and feel your breath catch in your throat when you see an intact bow and scattered arrows just beneath a burnt corpse.

“No, no I don’t believe that,” he says as he doesn’t seem to notice the way you’re starting to pull at something.

“The girl I knew is still there. You were the Realm’s Golden Girl,” he goes on rambling. “I don’t believe you could have fallen this far.”

You manage to get the bow out so you test your luck with one arrow so as to not risk raising suspicion by reaching for the other arrow scattered further away from you.

“Believe what you want. I do not care,” you grumble and align your arrow with the bow before you throw yourself around and garner his attention.

Daeron sees your intentions and tries to quickly react, but without thinking too much about your aim because of your blurry eyesight, you let the arrow go, and in that flash of a second after the arrow flies through the air, you manage to pierce Daeron through his eye.

And as soon the arrow hits his face you gasp with surprise while he freezes in place as he’s overcome with disbelief over what just happened.

Yet it’s while he’s caught in his paralyzing shock that you drop the bow and hastily push yourself to your feet to be able to run toward Blackfyre abandoned on the ground, giving Daeron the push to snap out of his stupor and finally realize he’s in agonizing pain and also targeted for another attack.

Although the arrow pierced through his eye makes him slow, he’s still dealing with his paralyzing shock which doesn’t let him be as fast as he wants to be. Thus he does what he can and throws his hand out as you stride toward him with your hands reeling your sword back, and he stammers, “Wait—”

However, you don’t let him finish his sentence before you swing your sword with every ounce of strength you can muster, managing to cut through his neck and slice his head clean off his shoulders with a loud cry of determination.

When the head hits the ground a loud and solemn cry pierces through the sky in the distance, but you ignore it and instead let out a heavy breath and follow your body forward toward the wall of fire as you stumble due to the strength you used, letting the flames consume you as you stand there in your disbelief.

Killing Daeron didn’t affect you. You don’t feel a twinge of grief or remorse. You’re just surprised it happened. You killed Daeron.

What does that make you feel? Deep inside.

You blink as hard as you can to keep trying to remove the dirt still stuck in your eyes and think about it.

There’s no grief. No guilt or remorse. Do you feel relieved?

No.

Do you feel proud?

You tilt your head up toward the sky and blink repeatedly a few more times to finally rid your eyes of all the gunk Daeron kicked at you to blind you and finally see clearly, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

You make out the screen of smoke that pollutes the air and completely covers the starry sky and its illuminating light. You see the thick ash that falls down to the earth like snowflakes fall, and in between all that ugly pollution you find your answer to your question, and it’s a no. You don’t feel proud, you only feel a hunger for more. You still feel…unsatisfied. Like you’re missing something.

How funny, killing Daeron was supposed to satisfy your thirst for blood for a while, just until you reached Kings Landing and sought revenge for what the Smallfolk did to your mother and the dragons. Albeit not an ounce of that thirst is satisfied.

So it’s true what they say? Killing out of revenge won’t satisfy someone?

Well…it has to. It has to mean something!

Thus you bring your head down and walk out of the fire with your chainmail burning red because of the heat, and your fur cloak burning behind you as you walk over and collect Daeron’s head off the ground.

“Goodbye uncle, it was nice knowing you,” you mutter to his bleeding head without meaning a word as you lift it to look at him in his lifeless brown eye. “They’ll remember you because of me,” you add before you drop your arm and roll your shoulders back as you let out a deep breath. You then walk away from the small empty space and walk over dead body after dead body littered on the battlefield ground and reach a boulder that stands at the center of all the chaos.

Before you climb on the large boulder though, you look down at the head you carry and force pride upon yourself. You think about the wave of encouragement and hope all your men will feel upon seeing Daeron’s head, and that fills you with excitement and more pride that you couldn’t muster before.

And it’s only once those emotions now rush through you that you start to climb the boulder without caring if you’re dragging Blackfyre against the stone, or that blood is staining your hand. You climb the boulder and reach the top, seeing multiple banners spread throughout the thick of the battlefield all waving the same red three-headed dragon against a black background, and you think of her, your mother, and your Queen.

She won’t have to worry about Daeron or his dragon anymore. It’s not the guarantee she needs to end this war, but it’s one less piece of the board. You can win and she will ascend her throne.

You believe it with your whole heart and it’s that belief that overflows your running heart with enthusiasm and malice.

“The Daring is dead!” You make your voice boom, catching the attention of your men and your enemies before you throw your hand up to show off the head like a trophy, causing an eruption of cheers and gasps alike.

“BLOOD DRAGON!”

“BLOOD DRAGON!” The cheers of your alias scatter around the field, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin and a smile to spread on your lips.

“FOR—” you cut yourself off as a large shadow casts over you, making you roll your head back and catch Daeron’s cobalt dragon, Tessarion torpedoing toward you with its mouth open.

Yet even if you do see the potential danger, you don’t turn to run or shield yourself because you know and feel Astraea behind you, flying directly toward the threat to protect you. Besides, Tessarion can’t burn you with her flames like she thinks she can, so you welcome the rain of fire with a wicked smile

Even then as the fire barrels over you, you basically just get scraped because Astraea rams into Tessarion and shoves her to the ground with a loud boom that shakes the ground and makes a crater.

“<Good girl,>” you praise your dragon even if she can’t hear you before you rip your attention away and search for Addam and Seasmoke.

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily you spot him in the distance caught in a dance between Seasmoke and Vermithor.

You look out for Silverwing, but you don’t catch her anywhere, it’s just Vermithor against Seasmoke, but is that really relieving?

Not in the slightest because Vermithor is the largest dragon. He has more battle experience than Seasmoke, and much more power in his fire and whatever hits he throws. He could find a way to kill Seasmoke if his rider is smart enough.

All while Tessarion is now riderless and smaller. Without a rider, she’s aimless in this fight, so you need to help Addam and Seasmoke first. You can then worry about Silverwing and Tessarion if they turn out to be a threat.

Therefore, you descend the boulder with haste and turn in your dragon's direction, seeing at that moment as if having read your thoughts, Astraea leaving Tessarion stranded and struggling on the ground so you can meet each other halfway, and hastily climb her after sheathing your sword.

“<Let's go help Seasmoke and Addam,>” you tell her while you shove Daeron’s decapitated head into a saddlebag. Albeit was there really a need to tell her what you wanted? Astraea had already met up with you without needing to be told, and she knows what it is you want and your desperate desire because she feels it too.

~~~~~~~

“Jace! Luke! Joffrey!”

There’s nothing that can stop you. No obstacle, no force, or divine intervention. There’s only them at the other end of that sandy beach as if they’re encouraging you to the big finish line. They call out your name with excitement and big smiles, only further exciting your already racing heart, and fueling your encouragement already running at high speed in order to let you reach them out of fear that they are a figment of your imagination.

“Jace!” You call out again with tears running off your face and joining the windy breeze. “Joffrey! Luke!” You say with a wobbly grin illuminating your once gloomy face.

Once you finally break through all the barriers that stood in between and cross that finish line to reach them, they can’t hold their excitement either, they run to you as you run to them and throw your arms around each other while you all laugh a quivering laugh and grin as you’re overfilled with joy.

“You're all here,” you say with a whimper and cling onto them tighter. “I missed you.”

“We missed you too,” Joffrey offers you some consolation before you all pull away, letting you crouch to grab your youngest brother's shoulders and look at him with pity.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to save you, Joffrey.”

Said boy offers you a half smile and shrugs. “It's okay, I had a great death.”

You frown and he sighs before he closes the gap to wrap you in an embrace that just involves him and you.

“Don’t forget me,” he says with a quiver. “And tell Mother I am sorry. If you decide to return that is. Will you?” He doesn’t let you give him a response to his previous comments before he bombards you with a heavy question and pulls away to look at you with an impatient stare.

“Joffrey lay off her,” Jacaerys warns your brother, making you stand up and slowly drag your eyes up to face him. “Don't start crying on us. We know,” he breathes out. “We know all the guilt, the shame, and the longing, so just don’t repeat it.”

You laugh softly and nod before snapping your attention to Lucerys. “Luke,” you greet him softly, making him offer you a sweet and childlike smile.

“I missed you,” he tells you and steals a small breath from your chest.

“I,” you breathe out. “I missed you too.”

Lucerys smile widens before he walks over to wrap his arm around your waist, letting you wrap your arm around his shoulders.

“Are you here to stay?” Lucerys now presses, causing you to sigh and drop your head whilst you all begin walking forward along the shoreline, unbeknownst to the fact that your father is no longer behind you or waiting for that matter. He’s passed because it was your forgiveness that he was waiting for and now that he has it he can know peace. He would help you find the answer to what you want, but that’s something he can’t assist with, that’s an answer only you can come up with.

“I don’t…know…” you trail off and lift your head to look at the blue sky with wonder and confusion.

“I…am so sick and tired of just feeling agony, of losing people, and losing parts of me in this war that staying is more tempting than I care to admit. But on the other hand, I have people depending on me to continue fighting. So,” you pause and swallow back the lump that forms in your throat. “I don’t know.”

Jacaerys hums and you stop walking, causing your arm to slip off Lucerys shoulder whilst his arm also slides off you as you linger behind with your head down and your eyes full of tears.

“Would you,” you pause and hear them come to a stop and shift around against the sand to look at you and wait for the rest of what you were building up to say.

“…would you be mad if I chose to stay here with you all?” You ask and draw in a shaky breath before you slowly face them with tears running down your cheeks. “Would it be selfish of me to trade my pain for an eternity of happiness here on this beach with you? Because I want to…I want to stay. I want to be happy and laugh again. I want to be with you, I don’t want to go back and live on without you!”

Jacaerys and Lucerys share the same pitiful look before Jacaerys steps forward to speak his peace. “I would drag you back because you have the chance we didn’t, but,” he sighs deeply. “If staying is what you want. If that’s what will make you happy, who am I to keep you from happiness? Besides, life here would be a little less boring with you.” He says and offers you that ever-so-heartwarming smile that brightens this moment just a little more.

“I,” you part your lips as your heart yearns to be with them, but before you can give them your answer, water splashes over the side of your face and that of your brothers. When you look over at where the water came from you see that Joffrey was the mischievous culprit.

“Of course it was you,” you remark lightheartedly and push aside the choice you were going to make to run over and grab Joffrey and throw him over your shoulder.

“No, let me go!” He exclaims between laughs, but you run deeper in the water to drop him and make a big splash that makes him burst out laughing even harder.

Lucerys and Jacaerys then join in on the harmless fun in the water as they see you and Joffrey getting carried away; choosing to splash water on each other and or shove each other in the water like you would on those hot summer days when you were young.

For a while you get everything you just said you wanted; you laugh like you haven’t laughed in months. You flash a beaming smile and forget all about the chaos that is your life outside of this limbo. For a moment as you’re having fun with your brothers in the water, it's almost like your heart is set on a decision.

You want to stay. You want to live in this happiness under the sun. You don’t want to wake up under a cloudy sky without your brothers. You want to stay with them for as long as you can. And almost as if to solidify your choice, there in the distance shining in your eyes like the bright sun is your beloved, your Aemond…

~~~~~

*NOW*

Beneath your most desperate desire lies another need. A wicked need just fueled by anger and hate.

A rather unnecessary need to see through because your fight is outside the walls and all the fighting men that are inside Tumbleton’s walls are coming out to join the fight, or are already affected by the chaos the surprise attack caused.

Yet as unnecessary as the need is, the need is still a rather burning desire to rain fire on the entire town as if they’re single-handedly at fault for being taken and sacked by the enemy.

The need makes you itch to follow through with it. The need screams at your mind to tell Astraea to make a sharp turn and fly toward the town. You feel a pressure building within to unleash all that you have balled up inside you, but…you have more control than easily giving into that specific desire, besides, Addam needs your help and that takes priority. So, you continue to fly toward him at a quick speed while also thanking the fact that this fight is taking place at night because Astraea can take cover through the shadows that the wildfires and scattered firelight leave untouched.

Albeit you also grow to resent that night because it makes it harder to see Vermithor and Seasmoke fighting. You can see them tangled on the ground, and you can hear them snapping at each other while they also growl and cry, but this cover makes it difficult to make out their figures so you can know where to hit. And it’s not like you can unleash a blast of fire because Addam could get hurt in the process. You have to rely on Astraea, and you have to strain your eyes.

Much to your conflicted mind though, when you get close enough, you see that Vermithor’s saddle is empty. Ser Hugh is not strapped on his dragon, and you can’t say that he’s crushed, burnt, or eaten because there would be evidence on the saddle or lack thereof, but the saddle is intact. So does that mean…Vermithor is fighting out of his own will? He has to be. And is Ser Hugh dead?

That’s a question you don’t ponder or care to learn the answer to now. Right now you scan the scene as much as the visibility allows you to, finding an opening on Vermithor’s belly.

An attack there would give Seasmoke wiggle room to get out of the entanglement.

Hence you nudge the handles on your saddle down to try and guide Astraea in that direction, but it seems she was already thinking the same thing because she tucks her wings and completely head butts Vermithor’s belly, bringing both male dragons to an abrupt stop, and then forcing Vermithor to unlock his jaw off Seasmoke’s wing to snap back and try to throw his jaw down on Astraea.

Alas, your dragon bites down hard and swings her head to the side, creating a deep gash on Vermithor’s belly that makes him bellow out in pain.

Seasmoke then sees his opening and slips away from Vermithor. You look over and see him try to rise, but his wing is too battered to use, he can’t pick himself off the ground.

“Addam!” You call out as loud as you can so your voice can be carried out. “Addam!”

Said man catches wind of his name traveling through the breeze and his attention falls on you.

“Jump off the dragon!” You try to tell him as Astraea and Vermithor are fighting. “Jump off!” You shout at the top of your lungs as you also try to motion with your hands so you can get your point across and so he can continue to have some fighting chance.

“Addam! Jump! Please!” You continue to plead before you throw your hand out to offer to him and let him know that you will help him. You can get out of this together.

Alas, Addam holds your pleading gaze and shakes his head as he understands well what it is you’re trying to say. He doesn’t try to yell out his response, he just hits his chest with his fist the same way you tap each other's chest with your own fists.

“No,” you mewl and clutch onto your handles to try and nudge Astraea toward Addam and Seasmoke. However, just as Astraea pulls her jaw away from Vermithor’s belly, from the cover of night falls a blast of fire that unfurls over Astraea and you.

It’s a good thing that you don’t burn or else this is where you would have met your end. The only thing that happened was that you were caught by surprise so much that your heart leaped. Besides that and the rest of your fur cloak burning off, Astraea and you come out unscathed.

Actually, your dragon just comes out more enraged, so as Seasmoke is aiming for her neck, she snaps around as the fire is dying out to be able to whip her tail and throw him off his intended path.

“Addam!” You yell out without paying any mind to what happened or Tessarion’s possible retaliation. You turn your body against your saddle to search and find Vermithor shifting his focus back to Seasmoke.

“Addam!” You call out desperately, hurting every possible muscle aligning your throat to get your voice across, and actually manage to catch his attention.

Addam snaps his head to the side and his eyes fall on you. You can see his dark brown eyes through the cloud of debris that floats in the air and the scattered light that finds room in between you both, and you have the need to continue trying to get your plea across, but you know he’ll just ignore you, so you just narrow your gaze to a more determined look and offer him a small smile.

Addam returns your smile and holds your gaze for a second longer before Astraea throws herself in the air to tackle Tessarion while she tries to regain her balance, and shoves her to the ground.

You trust Astraea to fight so you turn your head to focus back on Addam, catching at that moment Seasmoke biting down on Vermithor’s neck with so much force that the bronze dragon begins to gush out blood.

Your eyes brighten with glee, and your first thought is to search for Addam.

Nevertheless, as you’re searching, Vermithor then counters the attack and clamps his jaw hard on Seasmoke’s throat before, with one forceful yank, rips Seasmoke’s head clean off his neck.

Your eyes peel back with shock and horror at that moment, but you still try to call out for Addam. You still continue to search for him, but you can’t find him. Once again your attention is pulled away, and this time it’s by Tessarion tangling her body around Astraea and rolling her on the ground.

You quickly bend over your saddle to avoid being thrashed around in the midst of the dragons rolling on the ground, whilst Astraea lets out a sharp cry as she swings her claws on any part of Tessarion she can reach, causing the cobalt dragon to stop in her actions and unleash Astraea from her hold.

Once your dragon has her feet on the ground you sit up and notice Tessarion struggling to get up so you look away and frantically search for Addam.

This time though you don’t find his face. You don’t meet his eyes. You see the headless corpse of Seasmoke bleeding out on the ground but no sign of Addam trying to find a way out, so you panic. You shouldn’t, there’s a high chance he was unharmed, but you still panic, so without caring about Vermithor dragging himself away, or Tessarion and Astraea still at each other's throats, you unbuckle yourself and hastily unmount your dragon to run through the blood-soaked ground.

You trip and fall on your hands and knees, staining your skin and your chainmail gown of dragon blood that lets out steam due to how hot it is, but you don’t stop to linger, your mind and your heart don’t let you stop. You run and run as fast as your body can let you, feeling your chest rise and fall quickly with heavy pants, and feeling your heartbeat quicken bit by bit as you approach Seasmoke’s saddle and fail to see Addam walk out unscathed or minimally injured.

“Addam!” You call out in hopes he’ll assure you he’s fine as he hears you approach him, but you don’t receive a response. Besides, all the calamity already surrounding you, his voice doesn’t rise over the clamoring.

Which is why you go again. “Addam?!”

You wait for a response but once again you fail to get one, so instead of quickening your pace, you slow down and focus on your pounding heart rather than ignoring the panic that makes it race with so much haste.

“Addam?” You call out weakly and press your hand on Seasmoke’s corpse to run it over his scales as you approach the saddle.

You don’t want to expect the worst due to Addam’s lack of response but you have already lost so much. You’ve been the butt of death's joke so many times that you prepare yourself mentally to face tragedy.

“Addam?” You whisper as you start to round the corner and stay connected to Seasmoke to try and spare your poor heart from what may await you.

Yet you can’t avoid the truth forever because if Addam is injured he might need your help. So with a few heavy breaths, you slip your hand off Seasmoke and finish turning that corner to finally come face to face with the saddle, and see Addam lying on the ground. You don’t pay attention if his back is moving with every breath, your eyes go wide as you gasp and a heightened sense of panic shoots through your heart, causing you to break into a sprint.

“Addam!” You call out with that sense of panic laced in your voice.

When you reach him you continue to not listen for his breaths. You don’t take note of his neck bent at an odd angle, you just see blood leaking out from a gash on his head and work to unstrap him from his saddle.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “You’ll be okay. I will put pressure on the wound. I know how to do that. I can do it until we reach a healer.”

Once again the response is silence, but you don’t care, you manage to unhook him from his saddle and hook your arms under his arms to drag him back onto the stable ground.

“You did great, you know that?” You continue as you use all your strength to drag his heavy body back with you. “I killed Daeron, I took his head and I want to,“ you pause to groan. “…give it to his mother. Which sounds cruel, but alas I do not care. She deserves it for what she caused, don’t you think?” You ask and lay him down on his back, catching the way his eyes are half-lidded and the blood running out of his gash is no longer bright crimson, but dark.

“Addam?” You call out and lose every ounce of warmth that was building up in your voice as you wanted to be oblivious. “Addam?” Your voice cracks and your heart slowly sinks down to your stomach, but you don’t come to any conclusion yet. First, you turn his head so it’s not bent at a concerning angle, and then, rip a long piece of fabric from your gown's skirt to wrap it around his head and apply pressure on his wound.

“You’re all patched up,” you strain to say as he remains motionless and with his eyes half-lidded. “Addam? Did you hear me?”

You bring your hands down from his head and press them on his chest to shake him gently so he can wake up, but he doesn’t even twitch. Thus you press your palm over his heart and wait.

Wait. And wait.

You even hold your breath as if that was in the way of letting you feel a single beat of his heart, but even in the silence that surrounds you and him, you fail to feel his heart thump under your palm. There’s not even a weak and soft thump, his heart is still. Lifeless…

“Addam?” Your voice quivers and you proceed to drag your hands up to grab his shoulders and shake him gently. “Addam?!” You croak, but there’s not even a groan or a pained gasp. He lies there breathless with his eyes lifeless and dull.

“A…Addam,” you keep calling out in hopes something will change when you know the truth. You had known it since the moment he failed to respond to your call the first time because even though there was a chance he was just unconscious then, you knew deep inside that life wouldn't treat you that kindly and death wouldn’t spare someone you loved just for you to suffer less. Yet you still tried to cling onto some fragment of hope. You wished desperately for there to be a positive outcome, but…there isn’t. Addam is dead…that's what all his wounds mean. He’s dead.

“Addam!” You cry and shake him again, but like before there’s no response so you let go of his shoulders and lift your hands to stroke his face still kept warm. “Please,” you plead, but not to Addam, to life, to destiny, the gods, or death. You pleaded to any divinity that existed so they could provide you with a miracle and not steal the life of yet someone else you loved.

Alas, they also ignore you and you're left on your knees having to cradle Addam’s body in your arms and continue to be ignorant of the fact that lies before you. “Please. Please!” You bellow out and tilt your head up, causing your glossy eyes and tear-pampered face to glisten under the light of the scattered fires on the battlefield.

“Cregan?! Cregan!” You call out and strain your throat as you do so, but he doesn’t come. There’s not even a glimpse, so you drop your head and face Addam’s lifeless face feeling powerless and useless.

“I’m sorry,” you weep and press your forehead on his. “I’m so sorry, Addam…why did you have to leave me too?”

You draw in a shaky breath and close your eyes as you rock his body back and forth with you.

You would cry harder, you would plead with every fiber of your being. You would be mad, and try to curse life, but you have already lost so much. You faced death so much that this time you feel so worn out. You can’t keep pleading for some miracle or for life to be just. You accept death even as your heart aches, even as your throat hurts with how much you’re crying, and even through the way your chest tightens and tightens to the point it feels like you can’t breathe.

When you let him go you do so without your usual fight because you don’t have the energy to keep falling apart every time you lose someone. You can’t do it again, so you press a kiss on his forehead, wipe your bloody hands over his face to close his eyes, and leave him next to Seasmoke.

“Astraea,” you call out with a shaky breath and walk away from Seasmoke and Addam to try and search for your dragon since you hear her moving on the ground nearby and hear Tessarion mewling out like an injured cat. You don’t care to look for Vermithor, you just have one dragon in mind so you can fly off the battlefield.

Alas, when you walk past Seasmoke’s corpse the first thing you notice is Cregan in the distance. He steals your attention, and you steal his too, but unlike you, he’s hit with fear when he sees the blood that covers your body because from where he stands he doesn’t know if it belongs to you or not. All he sees is blood and it seems like all he’s filled with is panic because you catch his lips part while his brown eyebrows knit together.

Now you should somehow show that you aren’t the one wounded, but the moment your eyes fall on him and you see that he’s looking right at you, you point your eyes behind you with a sorrowful look before you face him again and break into a more heartbroken sob whilst the agony you’re under heightens.

Yet you’re not paralyzed. You take a forward to try and meet him halfway, but the moment you do you catch the glimpse of something glistening against the firelight in the distance, so you look. You don’t know why, but you do, you stop in your tracks and look over. That’s when your breath catches when you notice an archer aiming his arrow at you.

There’s no mistaking it. His arrow is way too small to hurt Astraea or any of the other dragons, and due to all the beasts nearby, no one dares to be close. No one except him, so there’s no mistaking it. The archer is aiming at you, you meet his hardened gaze under the orange-yellow light of the flickering fire and make out his determination clearly because you have reflected those emotions in your own eyes many times before.

It’s why you know that it’s dangerous and impossible to break, and it’s why you try to throw yourself on the ground to hide and be able to throw off his aim, but the man quickly lets the arrow go. And just as you turn away to throw yourself on the ground, the tip of the arrow scrapes along the side of your head, making panic and shock hold you in place. All the while Cregan feels his breath catch and a paralyzing fear wash over him.

He wants to yell out your name and warn you to duck, but the archer is faster than he is at catching his breath and pulling himself back together after seeing the love of his life being hit on the side of the head. The archer actually manages to send off another arrow before the great fearless Lord of Winterfell, and you could react, managing to pierce the arrow right above your left breast, just inches from hitting your heart.

This time Cregan bellows out your name when you hit the ground as if startled out of his paralyzing shock and sprints over to throw himself on the first horse he finds to ride it towards you at full speed, fearing that the archer will go after you and finish the job he started. Yet perhaps his fear is now misplaced because your wounded dragon finally seems to be hit with the knowledge that you’re hurt and snaps her neck around, finding the archer responsible right away, and piercing her glare into him before blasting a ball of fire in his direction without needing to be told.

Astraea acts on her own will a moment too late to spare you from being hit, but she does counter out of anger, and pain that she doesn’t physically feel but feels through your tethered connection, managing to catch the archer on fire as he accepts his fate.

Once the archer is dead and no longer a threat, Astraea walks over to you and sniffs your unconscious body before she mewls out as if calling out your name. When she doesn’t get a response she nudges you to turn you on your back and then nudges you again as if pressing for a response, for a sign you’re okay, but your eyes remain closed and you continue to not move a muscle.

However, just like you, Astraea remains defiant on accepting a tragic reality and instead tilts her head to watch you closely. When she catches your chest moving with the breaths you take she backs away, and then flaps her wings to push herself off the ground and fly toward you to scoop you off the ground with her claws before Cregan can reach you.

He was right there, he was about to jump off his horse, but Astraea scooped you off the ground first.

“Astraea!” He calls out desperately. “Put her down! I can help her!” He tells your dragon and walks toward her, but as he gets close Astraea snaps at him as a warning before she turns away and flies off without caring that her wounds are bleeding or that the man she knew you trusted was there. She just thinks about you getting better and flies away to some place she knows you’ll be safe.

Or so she thinks…

~~~~~~

Even though you saw your father and your brothers in this limbo as you lie between a state of life and death, no one shines brighter than him, Aemond.

Many people would shame you for feeling such joy and putting him on such a high pedestal after the pain he has caused you, but how can you play the victim when you’ve hurt him too?

Besides, they wouldn’t understand how deeply you love him, and how much you miss him despite loving someone else and securing your future with your other lover.

No one will ever understand that he is the love and loss of your life and that’s okay because no one but one another needs to understand your intertwined souls.

“I will be back,” you tell your brothers breathlessly over your shoulder and don’t wait for their response. Your heart and every muscle in your body drive you to Aemond’s waiting embrace.

“<My love,>” he coos in Valyrian as he entangles his arms around you and holds you against him, letting you find solace in the sound of his beating heart that truly beats like no other.

“Aemond,” you whisper and nuzzle your face against his chest to breathe in his scent lost to your memory over the months he’s been dead, and time you’ve had away from anything that could smell like him.

“Aemond,” you say again, but this time your voice trembles as you grin and cry.

“I’m here,” he whispers against the top of your head before he presses a kiss on it and nuzzles his nose against your head.

Neither of you proceed to move away. You stay in each other's embrace until your hearts and your breaths are in sync, and you’re familiar with each other's warmth once again.

“Is this really how you see yourself?” You ask as you cup Aemond’s face and stroke his cheek with your fingers.

Aemond grabs your hand and drops his head, causing you to cover his eye and scar for a brief moment. When he lifts his head back up the scar that was left over his eye is gone, and the sapphire is replaced with his eye.

“I never minded the sapphire though,” you assure him as you move your hand back to his cheek. “I thought you looked sexy with it.”

Aemond scoffs and smiles timidly at the ground.

“But I know you never liked it,” you add and regain his attention.

“I missed you,” he says as he presses a kiss on your palm. “It’s not the same without you by my side…but even then…I was cruel to you…I hurt you even though you were the one that I loved the most.”

You sigh and take in his words before you interject. “I hurt you too. I’m not innocent.”

Aemond holds your gaze and doesn’t respond. He swallows thickly before he continues. “Perhaps, but I never should have done anything to hurt you or drive you away. I’m sorry. I wish…I could take it all back.”

Tears well in his eyes, making your heart ache. He was not one to cry so when he does it feels like a knife to your heart.

“I’m sorry too,” you don’t let him take all the blame even though he was avoiding yours. “Will you forgive me?”

His eyes narrow for a brief second before he nods gently and then presses you. “Will you forgive me?”

You smile at him and nod. “Of course.”

His lips twitch to a smile before he drops his forehead on yours and simply basks in your presence.

“We’re together now,” you whisper against him. “And we’ll never—” you cut yourself off as the sound of a girl laughing behind you cuts you off.

You want to ignore it. You’re going to ignore it, but then there’s a manly yet soft voice speaking that steals your attention, making you pull away from Aemond. When you peer over your shoulder you see two beautiful young women with white-silver hair and a tall and slim young man with them with the same colored hair.

Now they shouldn’t be familiar, you have never seen them in your life, but when you study their faces and their colored eyes, you recognize them. From head to toe, you know that they are your children; Aerion, Daenerys, and Daenys.

They’re not dead or in any state of in-between. You know that. You know they’re here by the sheer power of your mind and it’s need to keep you fighting.

Your mind wants to keep you away from making a choice that will seal your fate, and how better to spark your motivation than to show you a glimpse of your children?

The children you love the most, the children you are willing to give your own life for just to keep them alive. It’s true you have been selfish lately, you have put them last, but you want to get to know them. You want to watch them grow up. You don’t want to lose them, but they’re getting away. They’re walking away!

“Wait!” You shout and throw your hand out to try and stop them, but they don’t stop, they keep walking so you try to go after them.

Yet before you can get far, Aemond grabs your hand and stops you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, making you turn around to face him with panic that slowly falls as your face softens.

“I,” you breathe out and pause to look back at your children.

“What do you want?” Aemond queries.

You watch your children, you see them smiling and talking amongst themselves as they get further away and there’s no debate on what you want. Not anymore. Your choice is clear because of them.

“I want to meet the twins,” you say as you slowly start to slip your hand away from Aemond’s grasp. “I want to raise my children. I…I want to live!”

A/N-No break next week is a good one!

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