#bc i don’t want her to marry someone else

[k-atsukibakugou]

i never saw an issue with it when i was 15 but sometimes i regret not having that stupid teenage love phase

[petrichorium]

The fav I have the most frequent (and most intense) fights with is actually jing yuan btw

[cats-in-the-clouds]

my sister got engaged and we’re all really happy for her but my bitter rain cloud of a dad (who naturally she told last) is giving her a bit of passive aggressive grief about it despite her boyfriend being like the best man of our generation (presumably either because he’s not catholic or because my dad sees them as young dumb unemployed people who aren’t ready for marriage or because he’s mad he barely has any real love with his own wife or something). so like pray for us? i wish i knew what to do

[pedrospatch]

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She’s donning a festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress, and her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[glittertimes]

I’ve been avoiding any talk about marriage even though I love my partner so much and it’s not that I’m afraid of commitment.

My brain kept telling me “I just want to be silly, I want it to stay fun and not be all serious and have to worry about finances and scary things.”

And I don’t think that’s bc I’m being irresponsible, it’s because I didn’t really get to be a kid.

My sister was telling me that she felt similarly the first time she was in a relationship where she was thinking about marriage or being with them for a long time, what she remembered about that relationship was them setting up a tent in the living room and baking cookies, and getting matching pj’s and being silly.

My sister is a public defender with all her fancy degrees, and all she wanted was to just be silly too. 🥺😭

[atopvisenyashill]

Is Lyanna really as terrible as some people portray her as?

no, not even a little bit.

the absolute most important thing about lyanna is that when she dies she is only 16. i am someone who works with kids - i work in a library so i spend most of my days cleaning up after tweens and asking teenagers to please stop doing dumb shit- and the first thing anyone who has ever worked with kids and especially teenagers is that they may look like adults but they are NOT. they don’t understand boundaries, they have next to zero impulse control, and every bad thing that happens feels like the worst thing ever because it very likely IS the worst thing they’ve ever experienced bc they have not been alive that long!

and this goes for every single teen & tween character in this series, not just lyanna! shit, i am someone who feels an immense amount of sympathy for joffrey! on one side he’s got his mother telling him he can do anything he wants with no repercussions and on the other he’s got his father hitting him so hard that stannis thought joffrey was going to die. and then he is given unchecked power and told not to abuse it! EYE cannot even guarantee that i wouldn’t use unchecked power to do shady shit and i am a fully grown adult, not a traumatized, irrationally, and deeply vindictive 13 year old boy.

but honestly the most important thing about lyanna is that we have ZERO CONTEXT for what happens between her and Rhaegar. What we have is

Ned’s sparse & guilt ridden thoughts about Lyanna and one (1) comment about Rhaegar

Robert’s angry, entitled, and grief ridden outbursts about Lyanna and Rhaegar

Barristan’s incredibly romanticized, guilt & grief ridden take on their relationship

Meera’s second hand account of Lyanna, told to her by a father who is likely just as guilt & grief ridden as the others, who likely has his own view of Lyanna

What’s important to note is that our view of her is heavily filtered through the eyes of the men that knew her. Robert loves an idealized version of her that never existed. Barristan never actually knew her. Ned is not only viewing her under 200 layers of guilt and grief, but very obviously does not understand his sister, or why she made the choices she did, and struggles constantly with knowing that he will never know her the way he wishes he could, the way he thought he did. Given the way Meera describes Lyanna, I actually think Howland is our most accurate look at her but even that is buried behind years of grief & a fair amount of hero worship and affection (“that’s my fathers man you’re kicking howled the she-wolf” is a line that makes me WEEP for this exact reason; Howland sees Lyanna as his hero above all else!).

All of that to say - we don't even know what Lyanna did that was so terrible! Even if she was a grown woman capable of making rational decisions, we have no idea what her decisions were. She could have been lied to, misled, kidnapped, threatened, just as surely as she could have walked into the situation with open eyes. Even in the show, with a slightly aged up Lyanna - we get, what, just Sam's opinion on Rhaegar and Lyanna being in love because they got hitched? Completely ignoring the fact that we had several women in this series get married not because they were in love or willing but because someone more powerful decided on it and that was that, so there's still no evidence that Lyanna had enough information about the situation to make any sort of informed, consensual decision.

so no, i do not hold lyanna responsible for anything at all that happened regardless of how it happened because she was not mentally mature enough to understand what the hell was going on. a 15 year old is just not mature enough to think “if i run off with this married man, it’s going to cause a cascade of political issues that could have disastrous consequences.” what she’s probably thinking is “this man says he can help me and i am fucking miserable and no one else will listen.” it’s why we don’t throw 15 year olds who run away to meet up with old dudes they met online in jail when they’re caught (or theoretically why we don’t punish them at any rate). There is one person and one person only who is responsible for the massive fuck up that is the Elia-Rhaenys-Aegon-Lyanna-Jon mess and that is RHAEGAR, the person with the most amount of power who used it in the dumbest way imaginable and got himself, most of his heirs, his wife, and his teenaged mistress killed. The only other people responsible are the Kingsguard who kept Lyanna under lock and key while she lay dying and pleading for her brother to come save her.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 18: Hole in None

Summary: During your bridal shower, Steve takes Javi golfing. When they return, the way Javi is acting has you questioning everything you knew about your relationship.

Word Count: 12.1K (getting back to my roots of a short chapter LMAO)

Warnings: SMUT(18+) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint?), makeup sex and getting caught (The Murphy's will never catch a break) ANGST (I'm so sorry!!), Hurt/comfort, Javi being super insecure, you being confused as hell, Steve being an absolute idiot

A/N: HELLO. IT'S ME! I DO EXSIST! I am genuinely SO sorry that this chapter has taken a million years to happen. December has been so busy and I have had no time to write, so I really, really appreciate all of your patience 🥺 This is a lil different than any other chapter we've had so far in the NTL universe, it's a lil angsty-er than normal but ya girl only believes in happy endings so don't fret!!! Also poorly beta'd bc I have the stomach flu and I am 100% there are mistakes in this chapter that I'm sure I missed 🫠

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“Do I really have to do this? This thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already exhausted.” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I do think that most people do expect the bride to be at her own bridal shower.” Javi laughed, staring into the bathroom mirror as he ran his hands through the dark curls of his hair, fixing them into place as you stood next to him, finishing the rest of your longer than usual makeup routine to prepare for being the center of attention against your will for the next several hours. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that your co-workers wanted to throw you a bridal shower before your wedding, now only a few weeks away- the sentiment of the whole thing was incredibly thoughtful. Your 3rd grade teammates had even found a way to get in touch with your family to make sure that your mom, aunts and cousins felt included in the event, too. You should have been thrilled about the fact that the people who loved you most in the world were coming together to celebrate your upcoming wedding and quite literally showering you with gifts, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything else, it was the social exhaustion that came from having a party planned for no one but you. 

You had really tried to convince Maria, Estelle, Linda, and now, your mom that you didn’t need a bridal shower- your wedding was going to be small, and since you had already been living on your own, there weren’t a lot of things you needed as you started married life together. Unfortunately, neither of those arguments were going to stop those ladies from going all out for you, leaving you feeling like your bridal shower was turning out to be even bigger than your actual wedding. 

“Don’t you think I could just get a cardboard cutout of myself and use that instead? All these ladies love to talk so much that I don’t think they would even know the difference.” You sighed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before putting away the rest of your makeup as Javi snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss into your shoulder as he pressed his chest against your back. 

“I have a feeling that someone would notice.” Javi chuckled, a soft grin spreading across his face as your eyes met in the mirror, his smile and sweet eyes enough to calm your nerves for at least a moment. “I would definitely notice.” 

“Well that’s easy for you to say, you don’t even have to be there.” You huffed, letting a little pout fall from your lips as Javi playfully shook you in his grasp, trying your best not to smile as you tried to keep up your unenthused facade. “It’s not too late to trade. You can go to the bridal shower and I can go golfing with you and Steve.” 

Even though Javi had insisted he was more than happy to stay at the shower with you, Maria had insisted that Javi find another way to spend his time so the spotlight of the day could be on you, and not him being distractingly handsome to everyone else there. Lucky for Javi, that meant extra time to spend with Steve while Connie was at your shower- not so lucky for you that Maria had banished your future husband from attending an event for your own wedding. 

“I honestly may have to take you up on that. Steve must have needed an ego boost when I let him pick what he wanted to do while you and Connie were at the shower because he knows I can’t golf for shit.” Javi’s overdramatic sigh and roll of his eyes was enough to make you break into a little giggle, turning your head enough to press a quick kiss onto his cheek before reaching your hand under his chin, giving his jaw a little jiggle. “It’ll go by fast, Osita, I promise. And then, when we get home,” he paused, pressing another kiss into your shoulder and up towards your neck, digging his fingers a little tighter into your sides as he rasped into your ear, “I’ll take as much time as you want to destress you.” 

“As much time as I want? Bold of you to assume that the dog is gonna give us that long.” You snickered as a happy Bear trotted into your bathroom right on cue, his tail loudly thumping against the bathroom cabinets from his happy wags as he wedged himself between you and Javi. 

The newest furry member of your household had been a well loved addition, but if there was one thing Bear had no concept of, it was privacy. Your dog had become a constant shadow to you and Javi anywhere and everywhere in your house, including your in your bedroom, even when you were, well, not sleeping. It hadn’t helped that Javi had already formed such a soft spot for Bear, and had let him on your bed from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, and now, your dog and his clingy personality had become a new obstacle to try and navigate in your sex life. 

“Someone needs to tell his dad that he’ll survive if he gets left out of the bedroom for a half hour, huh? That he’s adorable, but that he can be a little cockblock, can’t he?” Squatting down next to Bear, you wrapped your hands around his face, scratching behind his ears as you mockingly serenaded him, raising an eyebrow at Javi. 

“He just sounds so sad when he whines and he’s trapped outside the door.” Javi grumbled, kneeling down to join you, patting Bear’s stomach, now much thicker and fuller than it was a few weeks ago after you had first brought him home, skinny and neglected from his lack of care from his previous owners. 

“You say trapped like we're kicking him out to the streets when we close the door on him. He’s adorable and sweet, but he’s a dog, Jav, he’ll be okay.” You smirked, playfully scolding Javi as you peppered Bear’s head with kisses, making his tail thump even harder as it wagged back and forth. “Tell your dad you’ll be just fine, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Javi groaned, knowing damn well you were right, even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he had become an absolute softie for your new dog. “Alright, Hermosa, we gotta get you to this shower before Maria yells at me for making you late.” Pushing his hands against his knees, Javi let out a little grunt as he pushed himself back up to stand, checking the time on the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. 

“Wow, so eager to get rid of me, you must really be excited to go get your ass kicked in golf.” You teased, now following suit and straightening out your dress as you stood, throwing your arms around Javi’s neck, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a little kiss on his lips. “Sure you don’t want me to golf for you?” 

“I’m sure, you dork.” 

After Javi had insisted on giving Bear more than his fair share of treats before the two of you left for the day, you were on the road to Maria’s, Javi insisting that he drop you off, instead of letting you take the treacherous 2 minute drive by yourself. As you drove down Maria’s street, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of walking up to her house for an end of the school year party almost exactly a year ago. A party that had ultimately turned a handsome stranger from the Laredo Sheriff's department into your future husband, now sitting in the driver’s seat on the way to your bridal shower. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony, leaning your head over onto Javi’s broad shoulder as you pulled up to Maria’s house. 

“What’s up, Osita?” Javi asked, a twinge of confusion in his voice at the content and calm of your demeanor as the two of you arrived at the event that you had been seemingly dreading for days. 

“I just- It was probably a year ago to the day the last time that we were at Maria’s house. Crazy to think that a year later we’re getting married and here for my bridal shower. I don’t know, a year ago I never would have thought I would have met someone I love so much, let alone be getting married, building a house, owning a dog, I- I’m just really happy that the department made you come to do that stupid presentation. You’ve made this year the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Jav.” 

A tender silence hung in the air as Javi leaned over the center console, gently bringing his palm to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek, letting his sweet brown eyes lock with yours as a soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Osita.” His words barely left his mouth above a whisper, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you could have stayed like this forever, lost in the moment of your love for each other, but unfortunately, the world had other plans. 

“JAVIER. DIOS MIO. CAN YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER FOR 3 SECONDS?” Maria shouted, banging at the driver’s side window, the aggressive thumps of her hand against the glass making the two of you practically jump out of your skin. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ….” Javi whispered, clutching his hand over his chest, trying to steady his heart rate back to normal, the two of you looking at each other in pure terror. 

“If you’re going to drop her off and make a scene in my driveway, the least you can do is help an old woman out before you leave, Javier!” Maria demanded, still rapping her knuckles against the glass, the two of you trying to keep from dying of embarrassment as you exited out of the car. 

“Sorry Maria…” The two of you grimaced, still trying to avoid direct eye contact with her before she decided to scold you more. 

“Chucho is right, you two are no worse than a pair of teenagers. Come on, we only have an hour before everyone arrives and I need you and that wildly blonde haired boy to help me move chairs.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Maria was already halfway up the driveway and into the house as you and Javi trailed behind her, glancing at each other in confusion as to who she was referring to, until you noticed the Murphy’s car parked on the side of the street, realizing that Steve and Connie must have beaten you there. 

Before you even had a chance to make it a foot into the house, you were greeted by an overbearing swarm of people rushing to say hello and give you a hug, already feeling overwhelmed 30 seconds into the start of your shower, and these were all people you knew. Your mom was the first to make her way through the crowd, squeezing you in a death grip hug, even though you had just seen her last night after picking her up from the airport and dropping her off at her hotel. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the day is almost here! My baby girl is finally getting married! Ugh, you look beautiful sweetheart!” Your mom beamed, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek before making her way over to Javi, squeezing him just as hard. “C’mere, don’t think that you get to escape hugs from me too, Javi.” Javi looked over at you, trying his best not to laugh at everyone’s dramatics, knowing how stressed you already were, and that no one’s overly excited attitude was doing you any favors. 

“Ouch on the finally there, Mom. What do you need help with?” You asked, noticing that your mom had been holding on to Javi for a touch longer than what was probably appropriate while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around Maria’s house. 

“Does he always smell that good? God, I wished your father smelled like that, the man smells like a sweaty sock. Javi, what kind of cologne do you-” 

“Mom! Jesus Christ.” You interjected, burying your hands in your face.

“Sorry, sorry! Honey, you don’t need to help with anything, it’s your shower!” Your mom swatted her hand at you, shaking her head in disbelief that you would ask to help, even though she knew better than anyone it was not in your nature to sit back on the sidelines and let other people do the work for you. 

“Why don’t you come help me set up decorations?” A soft voice replied behind you, making you whip your head around as their hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Connie!” You grinned, throwing her arms around her, relieved to find someone who wasn’t going to drive you absolutely crazy for the next hour of party prep. “It’s so good to see you, thank you so much for coming!” 

“Hey, Sweetheart!” a lower voice grunted from behind a stack of folding chairs making its way to the backyard. 

“Wow, Maria put you to work too, Steve? Yikes, she’s running a tight ship around here.” You and Connie snickered as Steve set down his stack of chairs, revealing his already sweaty and frustrated face, considering Maria had probably made him carry 6 trips worth of seats up and down the stairs since he and Connie had arrived. 

“You’re tellin’ me. Hey, make yourself useful and pick up some of these chairs, lazy ass. Sooner we get this set up, the sooner I kick your butt at golf.” Steve smirked, gesturing over at Javi, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. 

“In that case, I’m taking one chair at a time.” Javi sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple in stride towards Steve, giving him a swift hug and a pat on the back before being interrupted by a shrill and demanding voice. 

“JAVIER. I HEARD THAT. IF I DON’T SEE YOU WITH A STACK OF CHAIRS IN YOUR HANDS THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE, IT’D BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.” Maria shouted from across the house, making everyone’s faces freeze in fear. 

“You heard the woman. Chop, chop, Peña.” Steve chuckled to himself before passing off half of the chairs over to Javi, and walking towards the back of the house as Javi picked up his share, begrudgingly trailing behind Steve. 

“Alright, we should probably get to work on decorations before Maria finds us standing around for too long. I know you’re the bride, but I have a feeling that holds very little value to her until everything is set up.” Connie shrugged, nodding towards the backyard where the shower was being held. 

“You’re definitely right, and I would prefer to live through my bridal shower in order to make it to my actual wedding.” 

With all of the helping hands around the house, and Maria’s commanding dictatorship over shower setup, all of you had finished with time to spare, leaving your mom and co-workers to happily chat and gossip amongst themselves as you and Connie found your way to say goodbye to Steve and Javi, one of whom was looking much more excited about departing for golf than the other. 

“Have fun, ladies. Any last words for your future husband before I absolutely obliterate him on the golf course?” Steve snickered, giving Javi a soft punch on the shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes as he braced himself for the next 3 hours of harassment from his former partner. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, okay Steve? He gets grumpy when he loses, so just a reasonable amount of ass whooping, nothing too drastic.” You teased, now playfully punching on the other side of his arm, you, Steve, and Connie laughing to yourselves at Javi’s fed up frown. 

“Says the one who literally pouted for hours after insisting we play "Sorry" and then she lost.” Javi smugly murmured, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well someone wasn’t very sorry about it, were they… You know what, Steve? I changed my mind, go ahead and kick his ass for me.” A mischievous grin grew across your face, bursting out into giggles as Javi flung his arms around you, giving you a squeeze and shaking you in his grasp. 

“Pendejo. Alright, you need anything else before I go get my ass kicked, Hermosa?” Javi asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. You were about to speak, but stopped yourself for a moment, looking Javi up and down, admiring how handsome he looked in the khakis and navy blue polo he had picked out this morning. You’d been so worried and worked up about the day that you hadn’t really had a chance to get a good look at him until now, and God, part of you wished you hadn’t taken the time to really take it all in as he stood next to you. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it now, but that wasn’t about to stop you from at least getting a little taste. 

“Uh yeah, I uh- actually um, I uh, I scraped my finger earlier on one of the banners I was setting up and I think I got a papercut. I forgot to ask Maria about it earlier, but um, can you show me where the bandaids are upstairs again?” You tried your best to sound as casual as possible, but Javi knew just as well as you that there was no way in hell that you actually needed a bandaid. His brow scrunched in a slight confusion, head cocked to the side as if to say “I think I know where this is going and I’m not really sure it’s going to work” before giving you a little shrug, gesturing up towards the bathroom at the top of the stairwell, trying to keep his smug grin hidden between his lips. 

“Yeah, I uh- here, let me show you where they are and I can get you one before we go.” Before Steve or Connie could even muster a word in protest, Javi was already dragging you halfway up the stairs, barely letting you make it to the top of the stairway before closing the bathroom door behind you. 

“Band Aid, really? That was the best you could come up with?” Javi laughed under his breath, letting his hands roam down your sides and under the hem of your dress as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass, the heat of his breath tickling your skin where his lips met your neck, gently sucking at your pulse point, making a tiny moan escape from your mouth. 

“I needed to come up with something to get you alone for long enough to give you a proper goodbye before you left.” 

“And a Band Aid was the way to do that?” 

“Oh shut up.” You giggled, draping your arms over Javi’s neck, letting your hands roam through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling him in tighter to let his lips crash into yours with an electric intensity, his fingertips gripping deeper into your flesh. 

“I don’t think-” Javi muttered between kisses, “I don’t think a bandaid is gonna buy us enough time to do anything, Hermosa.” 

“I know. I just needed this. Just needed to kiss your stupidly handsome face. I needed something before you left me to fend for myself. Plus,” you paused, pulling back to see the lovestruck grin spread between Javi’s cheeks, “only fair that I get a chance to recreate our first kiss.” You snickered, gesturing to the interior of Maria’s bathroom, where you had found yourself with Javi almost a year ago to the day, your lips meeting for the first time as you sat on the ledge of the sink after Javi had came to your aid when a shattered beer bottle had landed in your leg. 

“Fuck, I forgot our first kiss was in Maria’s bathroom. Real fucking smooth of me, huh?” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes at his past self for letting your first kiss be in the bathroom of his Mom’s best friend’s house. 

“Smooth enough for me to wanna marry you, so I guess it all worked out okay, didn’t it?” You teased, planting one last kiss on his lips before shooting him a wink and slipping out the bathroom, your face warm and tingly from the rush of excitement tucked away with Javi in your impromptu makeout session. Javi ran his hand over his face, taking a moment to try and compose himself, shaking his head to himself in shock and delight at how he found himself falling more and more in love with you every day. 

“Okay, uh- sorry, sorry about that. Just didn’t wanna have to bother Maria for anything.” You sighed, darting your eyes away from Steve and Connie, their arms crossed against their chest with almost comically smug smirks on their faces as they watched you shuffle back down the stairs, Javi reluctantly trailing behind you. 

“Yeah? How’d that bandaid work out for ya?” Steve smiled with a shit eating grin, nodding to your hands, neither of them with a bandaid anywhere in sight. You let out a gulp, trying to quickly tuck your hands behind your back, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “Goddamn, you two gonna make it 3 hours without touching each other, or am I gonna have to bring him back here after hole 4 for a mid-round makeout?” 

“Jesus Christ, Murph, really?.” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Bye, love you. Have fun and I’ll see you soon.” Leaned over, snaking his arm around your waist to plant one last kiss in your hair. 

“Not soon enough, apparently…” 

“Murphy…” 

“Stop makin’ out and I’ll stop givin’ you shit.” 

“Touche…” You muttered under your breath, just loud enough to make the 4 of you burst into laughter, easing the uncomfortable tension that you had brought upon yourself from your antics. “Love you too, have fun getting your ass kicked.” 

“Yes, yes, out, out, out! It’s only 10 minutes until guests arrive and your truck is taking up all the room in the driveway! Out!” Stampeding into the living room, Maria waved her hands at the boys, quite literally shooing them out of the house after overhearing your goodbyes. Giving a quick wave to Javi as Maria kicked him and Steve to the curb, you caught Javi’s head whipping around for one last glance at you before you left, giving you a once over with his eyes and a soft smile on his face as the front door shut behind him. 

Truth be told, your shower ended up being way less painful than you expected it would be. In all honesty, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. The fact that your mom, co-workers, and Connie had put into helping everyone come together to celebrate you filled your heart with so much more joy than you could have predicted- your friends and family had bought you and Javi so many more gifts than you knew what to do with, had so many kind things to say about the two of you, and Connie had even gone out of her way to make sure that there were fun games planned for everyone to keep the need for constant socialization at bay. It really had ended up being a fun afternoon, even if it meant having to answer the same questions about your wedding, house and honeymoon plans more times than you could count. 

Javi, on the other hand, could not have been having a worse time on the golf course, getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Steve hole after hole, wondering to himself how anyone could bring themself to genuinely enjoy the torture that had been the past two and a half hours of hacking his club into chunks of grass and loosing his golf balls in the brush. The only consoling factor was that Javi was grateful to spend time with Steve, even if it meant being berated by endless questions from him on top of his painful performance while he played. 

“You feelin’ ready for the big day?” Steve grunted, after smacking his driver against his ball from the tee box, Javi relieved that the pair were finally on the 9th and final hole. 

“Yeah, I mean- Oh fuck me-” Javi grumbled, hitting his club and watching his ball fly into a patch of trees, the opposite direction of where he was trying to aim for, “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.” 

“You and me both, Jav. I never thought I’d live to see the fuckin’ day, that’s for damn sure. Javier Peña, a married man.” Steve chuckled, slipping his club into his golf bag as Javi followed behind, grabbing what must have been the 57th golf ball from his bag this round. 

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ jab, the two of them hopping into the golf cart together to try and scavenge for Javi’s long lost ball. 

“I’m just given’ you shit, Jav. I’m fuckin’ happy for you man. Really happy. She’s a great girl. Best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass, I’ll tell you that much. Guess you don’t have to worry about really followin’ through this time?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re actually gonna get married this time? You’re not leavin’ her at the altar like Lorraine, huh?” As Steve laughed to himself, Javi could practically feel his stomach drop, his heart beginning to race as a wave of terrible guilt and panic washed over him at his friend’s ironic question. 

To his own shock and surprise, Javi hadn’t thought about his last lack of a wedding once since the two of you had gotten engaged. He had been so head over heels excited to spend the rest of his life with you, that the failures of his past engagement had been tucked far away in the back of his mind. But then again, no one had been so gracious as to bring up the knife to the chest that was leaving Lorraine at the altar, and no one had been so gracious as to bring it up in classic Steve Murphy fashion. 

Javi could audibly hear himself gulp, his heartbeat pounding so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears as the terrible reality of the past he had so glady forgotten about met him in a head on collision, instantly re-opening all of the cuts and wounds he had finally managed to sew together. 

The last time he almost got married, Javier Peña had astronomically fucked up the lives of every last person who cared about him, leaving nothing but chaos and heartbreak in his wake.   

Rationally, Javi could tell himself that his upcoming wedding was the polar opposite of everything that was once planned between him and Lorraine. Javi couldn’t have cared less about Lorraine. From the moment he had wearily accepted his fate, he had dreaded every moment of his future from that point on. But you were not Lorraine. 

Javi loved you. 

Javi cared about you. 

Javi wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you and give you everything in the world you could possibly want. 

But, one mention of that 8 letter name had Javi’s brain flooding with every single doubt, regret, and painful memory of his past that he had fought so hard to forget. It had his mind reeling with every uncomfortable feeling of remembering the man he had been before you had come into his life and changed him for the better. He knew he was a better man. A stronger man. A man who was worthy of the love and compassion you had shown him from the moment you two had met. 

Or was he? 

“Earth to Javi? Hello? Anyone home?” Waving his hand in front of Javi’s face, Steve stared at Javi in confusion as to why it seemed like his friend had suddenly become lost in his own world as they pulled up to the patch of trees where his ball had most likely landed. 

“Uh yeah, uh- what, sorry, um, what did you say?” Javi asked, visibly trying to shake the thoughts from his head, painfully scrunching his face and running his hand through his hair before looking back over at Steve. 

“I asked if you were gonna go get the ball or if you just wanted to add to your +200 score and drop one here instead. Hey, you okay, man?” Steve questioned, pausing for a moment before asking the later half of his statement, seeing the color flushed from Javi’s face. 

“Uh, yeah- Yeah, sorry, I just, I’m good. I’ll um, I’ll just drop a ball.” Javi muttered half to himself as he stepped out of the cart, barely paying attention enough to even remember what in the world he was even looking for in his golf bag. 

If Javi wasn’t already thankful to be on the last hole before Steve’s comment, he sure as hell was now, mindlessly whacking his golf club with no regard as to how his ball made it to the green. Any thoughts about golf, let alone any previous attempts to even try to play well had now flown out the window, creeping thoughts of self doubt and resentment crawling through Javi’s mind. The rest of the round and the entire car ride back to Maria’s were spent in an internal battle ranging in Javi’s brain, the fight between the man he used to be and the man he’d thought he’d become rearing its ugly head with a painful intensity that absolutely felt like it was consuming him whole.  

Steve, who was just as oblivious to his friend’s distraught state as he was to the idiocracy of his sarcastic question, had chalked Javi’s quiet and somber mood up to being an overly sore loser after getting mercilessly crushed at golf. Little did he know that his one silly comment had sent Javi spiraling down a trail of crushing self-doubt. 

As the pair pulled into the driveway and made their way to the backyard where a few straggling party goers still lingered, trying to monopolize their time with you to get the details of your upcoming plans for the future. Being the attentive and patient person that you were, you were trying your hardest to seem enthused and engaged with in the conversation with who you thought was Javi’s Aunt’s Cousin (at this point, you had been introduced to so many new people, you were questioning your own name), but it wasn’t long before your future husband’s big, broad body entering the backyard had you more than distracted, your face instantly lighting up at the sight of him. Peeking over his Aunt’s cousin (or cousin’s aunt, you weren’t really sure) shoulder, you bit down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, letting a little wave shake from your hand in his direction. 

Javi wished that your sweet smile and beautiful self were enough to snap him out of his funk, to see how you beamed in excitement just at the sight of him and shot him that lovestruck look he’d never get sick of- but for some twisted reason, it only made him feel worse. 

You were everything- kind, smart, funny, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. But what was he? Tired? Broken? A shitty guy who had done even shitter things, who had left nothing but destruction in his path for years and years, with no regard for who it hurt, or even worse, left for dead? How was he supposed to give you everything you deserved when he sure as fuck didn’t deserve you? 

Before you had even said a word to him, you could already sense something was off about Javi’s demeanor that was due to more than just losing to Steve in golf. Even from across the backyard, his forced smile and tired brown eyes had a worried pit swirling in the bottom of your stomach, politely excusing yourself from your conversation to make your way over to Javi. 

“Hi! You guys have fun at golf? Steve didn’t kick your ass too bad?” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Javi’s waist, pressing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth barely ghosting over yours in return. 

“Yeah, it was um- yeah, it was fine.” Javi nodded, trying to make a smile appear between his pursed lips. “How was the shower? You uh, you ready for Steve and I to start putting things in the truck to bring over to the new house?” 

You immediately frowned in response, cocking your head in confusion at him. “Yeah, it was great, but hey, are- are you okay? You seem really off, like more than just Steve kicking your ass at golf off. Did something happen?” 

“No, I’m- yeah, I’m good, Hermosa.” Javi’s eyes darted towards the ground, trying his best to stifle his sigh before another fake smile spread across his face, his response making you even more concerned than you were before, seeing he was clearly lying to you. As much as you wanted to problem solve right then and there to figure out what had Javi so distressed, the calls of one of the last groups of party goers wanting to say their goodbyes rang across the backyard, you flashing them a quick smile and a wave to signal you’d be over in a second. Before you could try and get anything else out of Javi, he had already backed himself away from your hands still tangled around his waist, nodding towards the group of women who were not so patiently waiting for you. “Go say goodbye, I’ll start loading stuff up.” 

“Um, I- uh, yeah, o-okay. Thanks.” You murmured, half to yourself, as Javi had already begun to walk away to find Steve to help him start carrying things out to the car, leaving you more anxious and confused with every passing second. 

With goodbyes finished, and decor and party setup cleaned up just as fast as Maria had demanded it to be put up, you and Javi made your way to your now packed car, followed by Connie and Steve, who had asked to see the progress on your new house while they were in town. You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone, inviting them over and having them help to unload gifts in the same trip, but now, given the strangely somber mood that Javi couldn’t seem to shake, you really wished it was just the two of you so you could figure out what the hell was going on. 

You and Javi piled into his truck, Steve and Connie hopping into theirs and following you down Maria’s street towards your new house. A stark silence filled the car, praying to yourself that maybe Javi just wanted to be alone before he said anything about his current state, but 5 minutes down the road without a single word falling from his lips, you had a devastating feeling that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Your leg bounced against the seat, fingers nervously drumming in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh to yourself before looking over at Javi and mustering up the courage to try and interrogate. 

“Sooooo, golf was fun? I love ya, but I think it’s probably safe to assume Steve won?” You quietly snickered, trying your best to stay nonchalant. 

“Yeah, it was good, Steve won, but that’s no surprise because I suck at golf.” Javi mumbled to himself, barely glancing your direction from behind the yellow tinted aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Normally, if either of you had something that self-deprecating to say, it was at least followed by some sort of a joke or laugh, but his comment ended with nothing but a stoic silence as his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel. 

“Hey, babe, it’s okay, you don’t ever golf, so it’s hard to expect yourself to be good at something you rarely ever do.” You reached over to grab his arm to reassure him, that unsettling and anxious pit beginning to grow in your stomach again with the way Javi was acting. All he could muster was a half hearted huff in response, signaling to you that whatever was happening was much bigger than a poor game of golf. 

“Javi… Baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Steve?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It’s clearly not nothing, Jav. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, I told you, it’s fine.” 

“Javi, it obviously isn’t fine if this is the way you’re acting about it. Why won’t you talk to me about it? I just wanna-” 

“I told you, it’s fine, okay!? Jesus, I don’t need you to solve all my problems.”

Oh.  

You and Javi had been in arguments before, hell, you’d been in fights before, but never once in the time that you’d known him, had Javi snapped at you like this. You could practically feel yourself recoiling in your seat from the harsh tone of his voice, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes. You could feel your heart in your throat, choking down a heavy gulp as your lip quivered to try and keep from crying. 

What had gone so wrong that Javi was acting like this? 

You wish you had it in you to dig it out of him, but as you pulled up the driveway of your new home, Steve and Connie right behind you, ready for a tour, the best you could muster was a quiet, “O-okay.” As soon as the car was in park, Javi was unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him, leaving you behind in the car, trying everything in your power to not become a startled, sobbing mess. 

Wiping away the wetness pooling behind your eyelids, you swiped the back of your hand against your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths before following behind, mustering up as much courage as you could to keep your cool for however long Steve and Connie were planning to stick around before heading back to San Antonio. 

You had hoped that Steve and Connie hadn't picked up on the palpable tension brewing between you and Javi, trying your best to put on a brave face as you paraded the Murphy’s through your nearly completed house. To be quite honest, you couldn’t have recalled anything that had happened in the time that they were there, your mind racing in torment as you watched Javi brood around your new home, barely saying a word to you, let alone make any eye contact, or look in your general direction. 

As the four of you made your way upstairs, your attention was finally caught by the low lull of Steve’s laughter as he situated himself between you and Javi, grabbing you both by the shoulders and shaking you in his grasp. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Y’all got enough rooms up here to house half a baseball team! You want that many kids driving ya nuts, huh?” Steve chuckled, making his way down the hallway, peeking into the empty bedrooms of your 2nd story. 

“Steve!” Connie scolded, slapping the back of her hand against Steve’s stomach for his comment. 

“What?! I’m just sayin’! I thought y’all would want like, 2, but there’s enough room for way more than that. I mean, I guess you two are fuckin’ goin’ at it like rabbits all the time, so I can’t really be shocked.” 

“Steven Edward Murphy! Jesus Christ!” Connie snapped, shooting Steve a dangerous glare, aggressively raising an eyebrow at her husband as she gestured towards you and Javi. 

“No, it’s okay, we don’t know for sure how many we want, but we figured if we had the space we’d add the rooms and even if they’re not bedrooms, they’ll still get used.” You had it in you enough to force a half smile across your face, flashing it at Steve and Connie before looking over at Javi. 

While you hadn’t expected much of a response from him given the current situation, what you weren’t expecting was the panic stricken look painting Javi from head to toe. 

If you weren’t already worried out of your mind about what the fuck was going on with Javi, you sure as fuck were now.  

“Uh, I um- yeah.”

Those were the only words Javi was able to choke out through the audible thumps pounding in his chest as his face went ghost white, eyes peeled to the ground. 

“See, Steve? You’re making them uncomfortable! You have absolutely no filter, I swear! I’m so sorry, you guys!” Connie frantically apologized, giving Steve another hardy slap in the stomach, making him wince. 

“I’m just jokin’, Jesus Christ, sorry!” Steve grumbled, holding up his hands in defense from his wife’s accusation, sheepishly looking over at you and Javi with a little shrug. 

“No, it’s uh- no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You had given up on trying to be convincing at this point, your voice quietly shaking as you stared at Javi, now looking like a terrified, ragged shell of himself. 

What the fuck was going on? Did Javi want to wait to have kids? Did he not want to have that many? Was he having second thoughts about kids all together? Fuck, was he having second thoughts about getting married? He’s literally never acted like this before. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You were sure at this point, you probably looked just as much of a mess as Javi did, letting your thoughts race wildly throughout your brain, the silence now lingering between the four of you now seemed to feel deafening, Connie beginning to pick up on the uneasiness festering between you and Javi and knowing she had enough common sense for her and Steve to pick up her cue to see herself out. 

“Well, still, I’m sorry. We should probably get going anyways, we told the sitter we’d be back around 6 so we should probably hit the road. Thank you so much for the tour! The shower was beautiful and I’m so glad I could be there for it. We’ll see you guys for the big day soon! Just let me know if you need any help with wedding stuff between now and then okay?” 

“Uh yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for all your help, Con. I’ll um- I’ll let you know if we need anything.” You stammered as Connie pulled you in for a hug goodbye, followed quickly by Steve, who planted a few pats on your back mid hug. 

“Bye sweetheart, thanks for letting me steal this asshole for golf today. See y’all when you’re gettin’ ready to get hitched! Adios, loser.” Steve chuckled as he pulled away from your hug to tug Javi into another, giving him an even harder pat on the back before letting Connie say her goodbyes as well. 

“Do you want me to walk you guys down to your-” 

“Nah, we’ll find our way out, no worries. Bye lovebirds, see ya soon.” Steve grinned, giving the both of you one last wave farewell before disappearing down the stairs, their hushed bickers about Steve’s unnecessary comments quietly trailing behind them. Before you could even get a word out to Javi now that the two of you were alone, he was already halfway down the stairs behind the Murphy’s, not even bothering to look back at you as he mumbled under his breath. 

“I’m gonna get the gifts out of the car and go sit outside.” 

“Jav, wait, I-” 

You could feel the lump beginning to swell in your throat, your bottom lip trembling with tears welling in your eyes as you watched Javi storm down the stairs without even so much as an attempt to care about what you had to say, leaving you with nothing but yourself and 5 empty bedrooms that now had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your future with Javi. You felt your body begin to collapse like a sad pile of jello as you melted into a sobbing puddle on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest as you cried into the flowy fabric of your dress, leaving wet stains behind from your tears. Your breaths were rapid and shaky with each muffled sob, trying to rationally grasp on to something, anything, as to why Javi was acting this way. But the more the gears frantically turned in your brain, the more irrational and terrifying your thoughts became. 

This all happened so fucking fast. It’s only been a year since I’ve known him. Is he realizing it’s too much? Am I too much? This was all too fucking good to be true, wasn’t it, you fucking idiot. 

Taking a few more minutes to collect yourself enough to at least stop full on sobbing, you wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your palm, inhaling a trembling deep breath as you mustered up every ounce of courage you could find to face whatever fate was waiting for you downstairs with Javi. 

Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, leaving your fingers anxiously drumming against your legs as you saw Javi’s broad body hunched over the side of the unfinished back patio, staring out to the tall grass of your backyard swaying in the warm summer breeze. If it were any other time, you would have rushed up behind him, wrapping your body around his back and attacking him with kisses until the two of you were wound up in a fit of laughter and giggles, happily tangled in each other's bodies. 

Right now, you were terrified to even step too close to him. 

Carefully and quietly sliding open the glass door to the porch, you prayed with every bone in your body you weren’t going to do anything that set Javi off enough to even let you attempt to have a conversation with him about what was going on. The new wood softly creaked under your shoes, making Javi turn his head just enough to acknowledge your presence as you wearily approached him. Taking one more deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but with your jaw hanging open, Javi’s words filled the stark silence before yours could. 

“I don’t know if we should get married.” 

Fuck. 

You could practically feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, like the weight of 1,000 bricks had been dropped on your body all at once, hearing that come out of his mouth. You could have mentally tried to brace yourself for a lot of things, but hearing Javi tell you he didn't want to get married anymore sure as hell wasn't one of them.

“Javi, I- baby, what- I don’t- I don’t-” 

“Why the fuck do you even wanna marry me?” 

Your brows scrunched in pain and confusion at the sharp tone of his words, desperate to try and understand what point he was trying to prove in this gut wrenching game he seemed to be playing. 

“Because I- Javi, I- Javi I love you, that’s why.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sat down next to him on the edge of the porch, leaning over enough to see the tears glistening down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to stifle the sobs rumbling in his chest. He shook his head back and forth before his gaze fell into his lap. 

“You shouldn’t love me.” 

“Javi… what the fuck are you talking about?” you plead, feeling the pain and hurt creeping through your body as you watched the tears he was so desperately trying to fight. With a scornful scoff, Javi shook his head, pressing against his knees to stand, taking a few paces around the porch, burying his hands in his face, his words muffled and muted by his palms covering his mouth. 

“What the fuck am I- I’m not- I’m not what you deserve. I don’t understand how you don’t fucking see that.” 

You followed suit, bringing yourself to stand with your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring at Javi in bewilderment, biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from bursting into tears you thought you were going to make it bleed. You could feel the storm of pain, anger and confusion brewing deep in the pit of your stomach, your body numb and mind blank. 

“Javier. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand why-” 

“Because last time I was gonna get married I fucked up everything. For everyone. I hurt everyone I cared about. I went half way around the world and I spent a decade fucking things up even more. How do you know I’m not gonna fuck everything up again? I love you too much to let it happen to you. The thought of ever hurting you even half as I much as I’ve hurt anyone else because of my choices fucking kills me. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt everyone else. I’d never fucking forgive myself. I love you more than anything, Osita. I love you more than anything in the world. You deserve someone who isn’t going to hurt you. Someone who will do right by you, by your family, your future children, I just- fuck- I don’t think that person can be me.” 

A deafening silence hung in the air as you stared blankly at Javi, tears streaming from his tormented brown eyes, his body trembling with devastation and regret. You had no doubt your body mirrored his as the guilt and heartbreak flooded you from head to toe, wondering how in the world you had ever let the man you loved and cared about more than anything feel like he wasn’t enough for you. 

You wished you could speak- to find the words to tell him that he was your everything, the glue that had put you back together when you were convinced there was nothing else that could mend the broken mess that you had become. You wished you could express to him that there was no one on the face of this earth that you would rather spend the rest of your life with than him- that there was no one else you wanted by your side through every moment of your life, the good, the bad and the ugly, more than him. You wished there was a way to tell him that you loved him more than anything, but in that moment, all you could do was grab him and wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as your body would let you, letting your wet face rest against the familiar warmth of his chest as you whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“Javier Peña, you’re the only person it could be.” 

You could feel his chest begin to rumble with heavy sobs as his arms draped around you, pulling you against his body so closely, it was like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. One arm stayed wrapped around your back as the other slid up the back of your neck, his broad palm cradling your head in his grasp, his fingers practically digging into your skin to keep you close as the two of you let yourselves do nothing but hold each other in your teary silence. 

You let one of your hands reach up towards Javi’s face, cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze back on to you, as your thumb traced back and forth along his cheek, wiping away the wetness that had been welling in his eyes. 

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You asked, waiting until you felt Javi’s head gently nod up and down in understanding in your palm before you continued, “The man you were before doesn’t scare me. If it did, I would have been gone a long time ago. The man you were before has turned you into the man that you’ve become. The man that I want to spend everyday with for the rest of my life. Every good day, every bad day, every painful, hard and shitty day, and every day in between. And I promise that I will spend every last one of those days until the day I die trying my best to convince you that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if I die trying, then so be it. I love you, Javi. Don’t you ever think for a second that there is anyone out there that I want to spend the rest of my life with more than you, and I won’t ever let you forget it.” 

It was only moments before both of Javi’s hands were cradling your face, gently trembling as they cupped your soft, wet skin as you locked eyes with his, watching his face shift from terrified to bewildered, thinking he must have misheard what you had just said to him. 

“Osita, I-” 

“Promise me.” 

“Promise you what?” 

“Promise me that you believe me. Promise me that you know I love you more than anything.”

There was a part of Javi’s brain that wished he could find something to prove that he couldn’t. To prove he wasn’t worthy of keeping the promise you had made to him. To convince himself that he had no reason to believe he was worthy of the love you had given him.

But the truth was, for the first time that he could remember, as he looked down at you, the woman who had taken his life and forever changed it for the better, who had helped to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed, who had cared for him in ways he never thought he deserved, and who had stood by him even as you learned about the ugliest parts of him he never thought he’d forgive himself for, Javier Peña finally realized he had learned what it was like to be worthy of love. 

You had made him realize he was worthy of being loved. 

A small gulp slid down his throat between his shaky breaths, taking a moment to soak in everything about you, before letting his lips ghost across yours as a quiet whisper left his mouth. 

“I promise.” 

And just like that, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocious and tender passion, soaking in every ounce of the sweet flavor of you, a taste he knew he would never tire of, one that he craved like nothing else. 

“I love you, Osita. Fuck, I love you so much.” Javi moaned between your kisses, praying with every bone in his body you knew how much he meant it. 

“I love you too, Javi.” The hot breath of your words danced across his lips before they were crashing together once again, his tongue swiping between your parted mouths as he ran his hand down your back and around your waist, pulling you so close you were convinced your bodies were going to melt into one as you pressed against his broad chest, now needily grasping at fist fulls of his shirt. 

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how much you loved them. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how hopelessly he craved you, too. 

With your bodies still tangled together, your kisses became messier and sloppier as you backed your way towards the door that lead inside, stumbling and trampling over each other’s feet without any regard for where you were headed until you felt your back bump against the kitchen island, the rounded edges of the countertop stopping you in your tracks as Javi caged you between his broad figure and the island. 

Both of your hands were now feverishly roaming across each other’s bodies before Javi had run his hands down your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the countertop, planting hot, wet kisses across your neck and collarbone while his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, his palms sliding up and down your legs, digging his fingers into your flesh. 

“Javi…” You whimpered, letting your eyes close and head fall back as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving you with one hand bracing yourself against the edge of the counter and the other with your fingers wrapped around the navy fabric of Javi’s shirt, clinging on for dear life. 

You eyes opened, and gaze shifted downwards as you felt Javi pull away from your grasp, watching him drop to his knees, slotting himself between your parted legs and kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands tugged at the waistband of your already soaked underwear, hastily shuffling them to fall down your legs and pool at your ankles. His needy kisses up your thighs crept closer and closer to your core as your legs draped over his shoulders, kneeling before you like you were the altar of everything he worshiped as his deep brown eyes looked up at yours, like he was begging for forgiveness for his sins. 

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I love you so much. Let me show me how much I love you. Please, baby. Please let me show you how much I need to be yours.” 

Your response was nothing but a ragged moan as you felt his hot breath hovering over your cunt before letting long, flat licks of his tongue drag through your folds, each swipe pressing firmer than the last, lapping up the arousal dripping from your entrance like a sweet nectar. With one hand still white knuckling the edge of the countertop, the other shot down to bury itself in the dark curls of Javi’s thick locks, tugging at ends to find some place to ease your tension as he began to flick and swirl his tongue relentlessly against your clit, lapping you up like a man starved. 

“Oh fuck Javi- fuck- you feel so good, baby.” You moaned, raking your fingers along Javi’s scalp as you watched his head bob nestled between your legs, feeling the low hum of satisfaction thrumming in his throat as he began to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt. You could already feel the tingle beginning to grow at the base of your spine and spread to your legs as Javi found every sweet spot that he knew made you lose all control, desperate to make you feel how much he needed your love and forgiveness. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go for me baby, I’ve got you.” Javi hummed before diving back between your legs, tightening his grip around your thighs as his tongue danced around your clit relentlessly. It wasn’t long before you could feel your orgasm begin to flood your body, pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, a death grip clutching around the counter and Javi’s dark locks. Javi worked you through your high, drinking up the juices of your slick as you came, feeling your legs tremble as they stayed slung over his broad shoulders, not stopping until your body was shaking and your whimpers and moans had become so wrecked, he had no choice but to stop to relish in the blissed out, dripping mess he had made you. He would have loved to stay like this forever, watching you become more and more wrecked beneath his tongue, the want, no, need, to be buried inside your heat, getting lost in your wetness and warmth, savoring in the way no one else would ever be able to have you like he did, to know that you were his. 

Javi worked in a determined silence, rusting with his belt buckle until the metal clangs of it opening had his pants and boxers in a puddle around his ankles, splaying kisses across your neck as he slid you towards the edge of the counter, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising intensity. He stroked himself a few times as he lined his cock up with your entrance, guiding his tip through the glistening arousal covering your folds, leaving his dick shiny with your slick as you whimpered into his skin. 

“Javi… Please, baby. I need you.” You whimpered, instinctively bucking your hips towards him, desperately craving him to ease the achy emptiness between your legs. 

Resting his forehead against yours, the dark, damp curls of his hair brushed your skin, the hot and heavy heat of each of your shaky breaths melting into one another’s as your lips ghosted his, only fully meeting yours to catch the moan that had escaped your mouth as he pushed himself into your heat, letting himself bottom out, his tip brushing against your cervix. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around the small of his back and drape your arms over his shoulders, desperate to have your bodies needily tangled and intertwined together as you savored in the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness. 

He began to rock his hips, letting his cock drag in and out of your cunt, taking his time with each stroke, the movement making you dig your fingernails into the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscular back, in turn, making the grip he had around your waist even tighter, his fingers buried in the soft flesh of your stomach where his hands had crept under your dress. 

The way he punched up into you, perfectly pounding against your g-spot with each thrust, combined with the way the hairs at his base rubbed along your clit, already had the inevitable coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him. 

Each stroke seemed to become deeper and fuller than the last, Javi’s pace now climbing in speed and intensity as he felt your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing that familiar feeling meant you were coming closer to your end. You could barely muster anything but a whimper, your soft pleads and begs going straight to his dick as he slid and out of your wet heat. 

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.” 

The lewd sounds of skin hitting skin and low, ragged moans echoed against the bare walls of your unfinished kitchen as Javi fucked deeper and deeper into you, singing sweet, soft praises against your skin between locking your lips with yours. 

“Fuck- Dámelo, Hermosa (Give it to me, beautiful). Need to feel you soak my cock before I fuck you full of me. It’s okay mi amor- mierda- té tengo. (my love- shit- I’ve got you.) I’ve always got you. Forever.” 

You could feel your legs lock even tighter around Javi’s waist as heat began to bloom in your belly, only needing a few more thrusts as you rolled your hips against his before your mind went blank and vision went white, your orgasm crashing through your body and flooding every inch of you with pleasure so intense, you could feel yourself going limp in his grasp. 

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-ahhhhhhhh-” You whimpered as Javi fucked you through your high, now desperate to chase his own as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, pounding into you as your walls gripped around his cock like a vice. Your warmth and wetness consumed him, only needing a few more pumps before he could feel himself following suit, hissing through gritted teeth as incoherent babbles spilled from his lips. 

“There it is, baby. Fuck- fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you so much, Osita. Con todo mi corazón. (With my whole heart). Oh fuck- I’m yours forever. Oh shit, I’m gonna cum to, oh fuckkkkkk.” 

With one last thrust, Javi finished buried deep inside you, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as a slick mixture of spend leaked down your thighs, leaving him panting while he slumped into your shoulder, his chest heaving with labored breaths, trying to compose himself. Bracing himself with one palm flat against the counter next to your hip, his other hand reached up to your face, brushing away a piece of stray hair back into place before gently cupping your cheek as he spoke. 

“Osita, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I just- fuck- I’ve never been so sure of anything, but when we were at golf today, Steve brought up Lorraine, and I- I just was so scared I was gonna fuck everything up again, and I-” 

“Oh God, he brought up Lorraine?! Jesus. I knew it. I knew this was Steve’s fucking fault.” You sighed, quietly laughing to yourself as you shook your head. 

“Wait, how did you-” 

“Because it just seemed so strange that you were acting like this all of a sudden. You got back from golfing with him and it was like you were a different person. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was freaked out and panicking wondering what happened because you’ve never acted like that before. That, and because I love Steve, but he’s an idiot.” The two of you were both now laughing, Javi rubbing his hand over his face before rolling his eyes, wondering to himself how he had really let his friend’s stupid comment get the best of him. 

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I should have just ignored it, I just hadn’t thought about it in so long and I was so terrified to mess everything up again. It would kill me to hurt you like that.” His thumb circled around your cheek as he tilted your gaze to meet his, sincerity and remorse swirling in the dark pools of his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Javi, listen, if this is moving too fast, or it’s too much for you, I want you to be able to tell me, I understand if-” Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s lips were planted tenderly against yours, pulling away from your mouth with a goofy grin and satisfied sigh. 

“I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to marry you,” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek, “I can’t wait to live in our new house with you,” he grinned, planting another ticklish kiss on your neck, “I can’t wait until we can finally start filling up these empty rooms with little baby Peñas” Javi chuckled, now peppering kisses all over your body, making you erupt in a fit of laughter and giggles, squirming and flailing in his grasp, playfully swatting at him. “I can’t wait to spend every day for the rest of my life with the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked, tilting his head to let your mouths meet again, this kiss filled with a tender passion and intensity unmatched by his previous playful ones. 

It was the kind of kiss that said all of the things that words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach like the first kiss you had shared in Maria’s bathroom almost a year ago. The kind of kiss that made you fall even deeper in love with him, even when you thought you couldn’t. 

It was also the kind of kiss  where everything else in the world seemed to melt away and make time stand still, a kiss that you could have stayed lost in forever… unless a certain someone hadn’t forgotten his wallet at your house and needed to come back and get it. 

You were so oblivious to anything else happening around you, that neither you or Javi had heard your front door open, followed by the rushed, impatient footsteps of Steve and Connie, arguing about where Steve could have left his wallet, and how on earth he could have left without realizing it was missing from its usual home in his back pocket. 

“Seriously, Steve, I can’t believe we’re gonna waste a whole hour having to turn around and come back here because you couldn’t remember your wallet!” 

“Con, I told you, it’s right on the counter, I know where it is, lemme just go grab it really quick and then we ca- Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve shouted, walking into the kitchen to see you and Javi making out on your island, your dress pushed up well past your legs, and Javi’s bare ass on display from his pants still pooling around his ankles. 

“Ahhhhh!” You and Javi shrieked, practically jumping out of your skin to see Steve’s tall and lanky frame frozen in your kitchen, now scrambling to try and fix your clothes and hair to try and save yourselves at least some dignity. 

“What the hell are you two doin’?!” Steve grimaced, trying not to cackle to himself as Connie rushed up behind him to see what was happening, only to very quickly cover her eyes and turn away from you and Javi. 

“Us?! What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you ever heard of fucking knocking, Murph?!” Javi groaned, shuffling his pants back up and fixing his hair before helping you off the counter, trying your best to hide your beet red, embarrassed face. 

“I forgot my wallet! Forgive me for thinkin’ you two would keep your hands off each other for long enough to let me come pick it up in peace.” Steve frowned, raising up his hands in defense. 

“I’m sorry! I told him to call you to let you know he was coming to pick it up, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” Connie scolded, giving Steve a forceful nudge of her elbow before finally turning back around to face you and Javi, knowing you were at least halfway decent. “God, I love you, but you are an idiot.” 

“You can say that again…” You snickered under your breath, just loud enough to make Javi and Connie join in your laughter, leaving Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Hey, listen. Call me what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be callin’ me an idiot when you need me to come babysit your 47 kids so the two of you can get some…” He paused gesturing to you and Javi’s disheveled state, “... time to yourselves. Like I said earlier, y’all gotta lot of rooms to fill, and I don’t think you’re gonna have any problem doin’ it.” 

And for as much as you wanted to give Steve the ten pounds of shit he deserved, as you looked up at Javi standing next to you, you couldn’t really even bring yourself to be mad. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was him- the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The one who was your future, the one who stood with you through every twist and turn, the one who was your home. What started as a day that had you questioning everything had turned into one that had never made you feel more assured. You knew that Javier Peña loved you more than life itself, and you knew that you were so lucky to spend the rest of your life getting to prove to him over and over that you loved him just as much. 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

[inarizakis-manager]

First of all, thank you for letting me know you have a writing again! 😭✨

Second, can I please request some headcanons on how the MSBY boys would be as boyfriends, considering how professional athletes are a form of celebrity? Would they show off their s/o on social media? Do they talk a lot about their s/o during interviews?

Thanks for the support as always sweet potato 🥺 gosh, the MSBY boys!

Dating the MSBY boys and how they go about their relationship!

includes: Hinata, Bokuto, Atsumu and Sakusa.

She/her pronouns!

Hinata:

He would definitely ask you about how private you’d like your relationship to be.

If it were for him, he’d show you off to everyone always.

It is known on his social media that he has a picture of you as his lock screen

Always holds your hand when you guys are out, so fans obviously know you two are together and often see you around

If you want your relationship to be somewhat private, he’ll still occasionally bring up your name during interviews but usually to reference something you said, he won’t give out any details if you don’t want to.

Like his friends tease him for sometimes speaking in Portuguese out of nowhere and he says stuff like "sometimes when I’m sleepy I’ll start talking in Portuguese and y/n just stares at me"

If you want to keep your relationship private, he’ll only be saying stuff like: I love my gf sm 🥰

Everyone knows he’s in a happy relationship but might not know anything else.

Bokuto:

This man never shuts up about you

You are his EVERYTHING

And he makes sure everyone knows it.

He sees a chance to bring you up into a conversation, he will

He won’t give away every single detail on your relationship but by now everyone knows y how you two met, how long you’ve been together, his favourite things about you

He refers to you as his girlfriend and number 1 fan

He’s always talking about how he’s gonna marry you someday even if he hasn’t actually proposed.

The only time he’s not seen with you is when he’s in the court playing (but you’re still there in every single game)

Atsumu:

Similar to Hinata he’ll ask you how private or how public you want to be

He’ll talk about you constantly, but not so much like Hinata and Bokuto.

He is often seen walking on the streets with you

You’re probably close friends with Osamu and boy the DRAMA

Fans always make a scene when you’re seen hanging out with Osamu trying to start rumours about you two

Atsumu laughs at them publicly on his social media: "y/n obviously has great taste bcs she’s dating me, she’d never leave me for that loser"

Osamu honestly doesn’t care, he just likes to rile his brother up, so he’d tease me like: "we often get together just to complain about you 💞"

Atsumu probably gave you a necklace with his jersey number, and you’re never seen without it.

Sakusa:

Hella private guy, no negotiating

Everyone theorises he might be dating someone but no one is sure

He never answers absolutely anything about his private life

You two have been living together for the longest time and people are still convinced he’s single

Black Jackals fans think you’re someone’s friend because you’re always seen in the games, but the last thing they suspect is you dating Sakusa.

He might not look like it, but he’s hella romantic, okay? And seeing you in the crowd cheering on him, boosts his confidence.

If the public ever finds out, is because one of Sakusa’s friends (most likely Bokuto) accidentally said something like: "oh the other day, Sakusa and his gf…" and everyone is SHOCKED

Now they all begun theorising as to who could Sakusa be dating, but he’s just that good at keeping the relationship secret. He doesn’t want people sticking their nose on something so special to him.

[kjhbsies]

Waiting Room

Ellie Williams x fem!reader (wc: 1,156)

Synopsis: Ellie Williams married you, but her heart is occupied with someone else.

Warnings: angst??? arranged marriage trope bc i like to suffer. this is my first time to write a story, please don't mind the incorrect grammars.

pt. II pt. III

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You should be celebrating. 

Finally, the girl you’ve wanted ever since you were 16 years old married you. Of all people, you really thought you would never get the chance to be with her. After all, everyone used to say that Ellie and Dina were good together, and that they were each other’s soulmate. You can’t really disagree about that. You can see how both of them loved each other, and even if they broke up, you can feel that they cared for each other deeply.

So… why did she marry you?

Ellie and Dina broke up one year ago after a huge fight between them happened. Up until now, no one knows about it. Rumors say that Dina wanted to settle down, far away in Jackson, to start a new life with her and JJ. But Ellie couldn’t leave this town, especially her family, and Joel. Apparently, this caused them to break up eventually. Shortly after the breakup, Dina and JJ went and lived in a small town in Illinois. For months, Ellie tried to remain strong, seemingly fine and unfazed about the breakup with Dina. She went on to continue her life as if nothing really happened. For months, Ellie went on to continue the routine of drowning herself with alcohol, going home with a lot of girls, and throwing them away like trash. That was her life. And you just watched it from far away and you tried to avoid her like a plague. You liked her, but you don’t want to be her sex toy. 

Until Dina came back.

After a year, Dina and JJ moved in with their old house in Jackson when her older sister, Talia, got sick. Since both of their parents died before, no one is there to take care of her. So she came back, and Ellie’s life became worse. 

Her failure of coping healthily about their breakup started to show up when her mood became the worst. Ellie became a ball of rage, bursting into anger even in the smallest little thing. 

“You should take a vacation somewhere else. Breathe fresh air, enjoy other things, just don’t…” Joel tightly shut his eyes, “...don’t turn into a fucking monster, Ellie.”

Ellie lifted her brows before chuckling sarcastically. “So that’s what you think about me now, huh?”

“Everyone does. They’re scared of you. Do you want JJ to also be afraid when he sees you?” Joel’s voice started rising.

Ellie looked at him pointedly. “Don’t bring him into this.”

Joel sighed. “I know you were still a mess, Ellie-”

“I’m not.”

“-But you can’t keep living like this.” He says, eyes softening at her. “Forget Dina and marry someone else.”

Ellie’s brows turned into a straight line. “Are you insane? The fuck?” She coughed out a ridiculous laugh. 

“You should think about it. Y/N’s family is offering up a fortune if you marry their daughter. You knew her, right? Y/N?”

“Yeah… but-”

“Good. We can arrange a family dinner tonight.”

“Are you for real?” 

“It’ll be great. Her dad and I were pretty close and he always brings up that his daughter may have a little crush on you. Apparently, it’s in her grandmother’s will that she will not inherit the money, or have her farms and businesses if she’s single. She needs to be married in order to have those. Her dad offered that you will share a huge amount of money if you married her. Ellie, she’s a pretty young lady. And both of you need each other.”

“Little crush?” Ellie repeated, her ears perking up at those words. 

“Think about it, kid. You’ll like her, she’s a great girl.”

And yes, you are. 

Ellie thought about it for a week. Sure, she heard some great things with you. You're a prissy prim princess and the daughter of one of the richest families in the town. She’s always seen you hanging around the diner sometimes, wearing your dainty skirts and dresses, with bows clipped in your hair. She’s seen you in different spots of Jackson, immersed in your sketchbook, or oftentimes, you’re painting different portraits and landscapes. Ellie was always fascinated by you, because you and her are… contrasting.

The first time you and your family went into their house for dinner, Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes away from you. You noticed it, and it somehow made you uncomfortable. So, the whole night while your parents and her dad were talking about the future wedding, you were just looking at your plate. Sometimes looking up when one of them says something funny, cracking up a small smile or letting out a silent chuckle. But you couldn’t look at Ellie.

Ellie noticed it. The whole night you weren’t even sparing a glance at her and it made her curious as to why you seem to avoid her. Did you know about her history of girls? Did you see her at the diner, drinking her ass off? Why aren’t you looking at her?

When the dinner was done, Joel and your dad stood up and went to the living room to talk further about the said wedding. Your mom politely excused herself as she went to the bathroom to have a quick touch up. And you and Ellie were alone in the dining room.

The one time you looked up at her, Ellie was mesmerized. But of course, she wouldn’t show it, nor would she accept it. You were pretty. Everyone was right. You are pretty like a precious flower; your eyes were soft and gentle as you stared at her. You are a precious gem. And Ellie is a master of destruction.

She couldn’t touch you. She’s afraid that you’ll break. And maybe you might. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, kindly, as you looked straight in her eyes.

Ellie’s brows rose. “Why? You didn’t do anything.” She said, voice raspy.

Your heart beat doubled. “You didn’t have to agree to this wedding, you know. My dad proposed this crazy scheme to Mr. Joel and I feel like it’s all my fault.” You sighed.

“I will marry you.” Ellie says, determined. “Just… don’t expect that I’ll love you. We have to agree that you won’t fall in love with me, and I’ll assure you that I won’t bother you. You will get your grandmother’s money and land, and I will share your money. Both of us need the same thing and I don’t want you to think that there’s a single hope that I will love you eventually. Is that okay?” She asked.

You should be celebrating. 

Finally, the girl you’ve wanted ever since you were 16 years old married you.

But her heart is with someone else. 

“Okay.” You agreed, while staring at the small picture frame at the corner of the dining room.

It was Ellie and Dina kissing each other.

[ilypaigebuckets]

could you write something about Caitlin based on so high school by Taylor?

literally same wavelength bc i was thinking abt writing this last night that’s crazy!!! i hope you like it! as always my reqs are open for you guys :) feel free to request any scenarios, hcs, prompts, etc <3

pairing: cc x reader

plot summary: caitlin gets asked a question about her girlfriend at a post game interview and it takes her back to her high school years with you.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

“So Caitlin,” an interviewer questions, “you were on fire tonight on the court. What gives you that drive and that power to keep pushing through?” Caitlin tightened her ponytail and cocked her head to the side, thinking of an answer.

“I couldn’t have done it without the support of my family, teammates and of course my Coach. But there’s something else, well someone else, that definitely has played a huge part into my success over the years. My beautiful girl Y/N. She’s supported me through everything, ever since I’ve known her. She’s just this ball of sunshine that’s just..just my everything. She’s been my biggest supporter and being around her just makes me feel like so..i don’t know so high school, I guess?” Caitlin chuckles at the end of her sentence, thinking back to get when first fell for you

I. I want to find you in a crowd just to hide from you.

It was your junior year of high school when you started to get close with Caitlin. You were a new student and had sat by her in her chem class. She took a liking to you immediately. You weren’t exactly the science type, your forte being more English and History; Language composition, Aristotle, socratic seminars, those were your thing. You came right as basketball season was starting and Caitlin saw this as a perfect opportunity to get closer with the pretty girl in her chem.

“Hey! Super random but are you a basketball fan?” Caitlin questioned you, “I have a game today if you want come”.

“I mean it’s not really my thing, but I’d love to come support you!” You replied cheerfully.

Fast forward to the game, your schools team won 58-67, thanks to Caitlin and her amazing skills.

Caitlin’s teammates surrounded her, but all she could think about was the pretty girl in her chemistry class that came to watch her. Just her. She searched for you in the crowd until she finally saw you. She was to scared for your eyes to meet, and quickly looked away. She hurried back to the locker room with her cheeks pink underneath the gymnasium’s twinkling lights. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and checked her phone.

Y/N💕

you were great tonight! thanks for the invite ;)

Caitlin buried her head in her hands. You were going to be the death of her.

2. I’ll drink what you think and I’m high

Later that year, Caitlin took you out to a house party. She thought it would be a great way to get you out of your shell and meeting new people. Not in a romantic sense of course, she already had dibs on you and everyone except her knew it.

At the party you both declined any drinks offered to you, wanting to stay clean and level headed for your first official “hangout” together. Despite staying sober, Caitlin was cracking up at every one of your jokes. You continued them just to see her smile.

“Wonder how much Cait’s had to drink.” One of her teammates said. “Not a drop,” another replied.

The latter was right. Caitlin Clark was simply drunk on love.

3. Are you gonna Marry, Kiss, or Kill me?

The end of your junior year, Caitlin took you to another party. You two were crushing and crushing hard, but hadn’t made anything official yet.

One of your mutual friends suggested you play a game of kiss, marry, kill and being bored out of your minds, you all complied. “So Y/N, kiss, marry, kill. Caitlin, Alexis, and Joshua.” You didn’t skip a beat and replied instantaneously.

“Easy peasy. Cait for all three.”

“WHAT?!” Caitlin shrieked, “You wanna kill me?!” looking at you with an expression of mock horror.

“Well, you can’t pick 2 and not the other. So technically I have no other choice.” You looked at her sweetly.

“Actually I think the point of the game is you assign one name to either kiss, marry, or kill.” Your mutual friend started, “But I’ll let it slide for you two lovebirds.”

4. Touch me while your boys play GTA.

It was your high school senior year. Caitlin’s basketball team was having a relaxed hangout at her house, playing video games. You had made your relationship official over the summer, and were excited to see what this school year had in store for you both.

You and Caitlin were snuggled up together under a blanket on her couch, while her teammates sat on the ground below playing Grand Theft Auto, a game you knew nothing about. You and Caitlin stared at each other intensely and suddenly you jumped in your seat. The hand on your thigh had shocked you, Caitlin had always seemed so PG to you. You looked up at her with an “are you crazy?!” look on your face. She used her free hand to put up her pointer finger to her mouth as if to shush you.

You weren’t quick ready to take things further than that, never having had anybody the way you’d had her before. She of course respected you and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and then proceeded to get up. “Okay guys, time for me to show you why Y/N calls me the Grand Theft Auto Annihilator.”

“Dude. I have never in my life thought about calling you that.”

5. I’m hearing voices, like a madman.

Freshman year of college and you both had committed to the University of Iowa. The two of you had, of course, decided to room together, and were happy and content with how everything had worked out for you too.

Living together proved to be somewhat challenging at first, with Caitlin being quite messy with her things. She was usually level-headed and wasn’t one to start fights, but God forbid you mention something about her not keeping her side of your room clean. Her D1 ego would not allow you to.

That day you two had bickered about Caitlin not doing the dishes like she’d promised to. “Caitlin. There’s literally 3 dishes in the sink, and you said you’d do them. C’mon man.” You said to her, half joking in an attempt to get her to listen without arguing. But Caitlin had already had a stressful morning and was not in the mood. “I’ll do them after,” She spoke curtly. “I have practice.” She jumped up, grabbed her bag, and stalked out of the dorm.

During practice, she was a mess. She kept missing shots. “Serves her right,” She thought to herself, “Little Miss ‘Oh I’m Y/N yes I’m so clean and proper lalalala-” Caitlin paused as she realized how absolutely ridiculous she sounded. She reminded herself of you whenever you did impressions of your dad. In an instant she busted into a fit of giggles, sharing her thought with her teammates so they could laugh too.

After practice, she came straight home to your shared dorm and spent the rest of the night making it up to you with a movie night filled with popcorn, candy, and most importantly a clean sink.

Caitlin snapped back into the present as the interviewer finished her thought, “It sure seems like your girlfriend Y/N has played a huge role in not only your life on the court but also off of it. How sweet! Where is she tonight?”

“She’s actually…” Caitlin turned around to look for you, and saw you walking past her to Kate wearing one of her jersey’s. She softly grabbed your arm and pulled you into the camera’s view. “She’s right here! Hi baby!” Caitlin gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before turning her attention back to the interview.

“So Y/N, in your eyes how do you think Caitlin did tonight?” The interviewer now questioned you.

You took a moment to think and then smiled, “Amazing as always. She’s always been amazing. Ever since high school where I met her.”

[its-time-to-write]

I saw you asked for requests a few days ago. I was wondering if you would consider doing another part of the Kent!reader x Jamie fics.

I was thinking they do end up pregnant and its them telling everyone they’re pregnant . I can see everyone being so excited for them. And then Roy is just freaking out.

Since they’ve already discussed wanting to be together forever and have kids I can also see them deciding to get married before the baby is born in a small ceremony like Beard had.

I have quite a few requests about Jamie x reader having a kid, so if that ain’t your jam, maybe don’t read my next few posts😂 It’s totally my jam tho, maybe bc I’m suffering from baby fever again. thanks for requesting and for your patience!!

let’s fall in love for the night  

Jamie’s jiggling his leg up and down so fast that you’re surprised he hasn’t cramped yet. 

“Calm down,” you hiss, hand on his knee. 

“Can’t,” he whispers back. “Roy’s gonna fucking kill me.”  

You have no sympathy for him. “Yeah, and whose fault is that? Yours.”

Jamie shoots you a sideways glance. “Excuse me, this was a team effort.”

“Whatever,” you say. “I still say it’s your fault.”

Molly swoops by to refill your water glasses. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes. Roy and Phoebe have been working very hard,” she says. 

She raises her eyebrows on the word very, and you’re sure that Roy’s patience is being pushed to his limits. He loves cooking and refuses to let anyone help him, but he also loves your niece and can’t deny her anything she wants. 

“Better go check on them,” she says, leaving you and Jamie alone again in the backyard. 

Jamie resumes the previous conversation and says, “Well, I wasn’t the one wearing that blue thing with the flowers.”

“Well obviously,” you shoot back, “it wouldn’t even fit you.”

Jamie’s stopped jiggling his leg and he places his hand on top of yours. “Oi. Has Roy ever actually killed anyone before, or does he just have serial killer eyebrows?”

You wrinkle your nose and ask, “Why the fuck would I know?”

“You’re his sister,” Jamie replies in Phoebe’s patented duh tone. 

“I’m his baby sister,” you say. “I’m even younger than Molly. If he’s killed someone, they’ve both conspired to make sure I’ll never find out. And hey, don’t make fun of the eyebrows. There’s a good chance this baby’s gonna end up with them.”

“Babe you don’t have ‘em,” Jamie points out. 

“I wax,” you say smugly. “Oh, Molly texted. Time to go inside.”

Jamie groans but lets you lead him to the table. 

—

All told, Phoebe didn’t do half bad. 

“Auntie, I did the potatoes all by myself,” she says. 

You look to Roy for confirmation. He grunts and gives a tiny nod. 

“Great job, Phoebs,” you say. 

Molly sets down her fork. “I’ve been thinking of changing my name back to ‘Kent,’” she says. 

“Brill,” says Jamie. 

“Fucking finally,” Roy says as he hands Phoebe some money. “For future words,” he mouths to her as she counts it before depositing what you’re pretty sure is 20 quid into her pocket. 

Molly says, “We’ll all be the Kents again,” and you can feel Jamie go stiff next to you.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy asks, and you turn to see Jamie’s gone completely pale. 

You pinch his thigh and he jumps. “Nothing,” he says hurriedly. “Well, not nothing. But, I dunno, don’t want to overshadow Molls’s good news, ya know? It ain’t important.”

You pinch him again. 

“Ok, it’s actually a little fucking important (sorry Phoebe, take it from Roy). But um, maybe you could help me babe?”

He shoots you a pleading look so you take pity on him. You’ve had more than twenty years dealing with Roy, so you’ll let Jamie slide this once.

“Right, so, we’ve been meaning to tell you- I’m having a baby,” you blurt out. 

Roy’s dinner roll gets crushed in his hand as his face goes bright red. 

“What,” he growls, and you’re not sure if you’re more terrified by the absence of “fuck”s or the fact that it was a statement, not a question. 

“That’s wonderful, love!” Molly says before Roy can say anything else. She’s not looking at him but you can practically feel him take psychic damage from the shut up and be happy you prick, message she’s sure to be telepathically sending him. 

“It’s Jamie’s, right?” she continues, taking a bite of salad. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” you ask indignantly. “Who else’s would it be?”

“You don’t have to pay me for that one,” Phoebe pipes up. “I’ll give you a free tab of one hundred words because of the baby. If it’s a girl, you can have fifty more.”

You grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You’re probably going to owe her the fifty, Phoebs,” Molly says. She points to Jamie with her fork. “I mean, look at him. He practically screams ‘girl dad.’” 

“That’s- fucking- great,” Roy garbles out. “‘Scuse me.”

“We’re having a backyard wedding next Saturday, too,” you call after him. “So we probably won’t all be the Kents again.”

You wince as he slams a door from somewhere in the house. 

“He’ll come ‘round,” Molly says consolingly. “Remember how he was with Phoebe? And I was already married!”

You grip Jamie’s hand. “Molls, why can’t he just emote like a regular person? I mean honestly, did our parents fuck him up that bad?”

Molly raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, babe. Think he’s just like us, really, afraid of loving something so he just pushes it all away. And besides, you’re the baby of the family. We’ve always tried to protect you and keep you safe, and sometimes he feels like you’re out of reach.”

You ask, “He told you that?” and Molly just laughs. 

“Not in so many words,” she replies. “But you know how he is.”

“He’s an arsehole,” you grumble. “I’m going to go talk to him.

—

Roy is, predictably, in the backyard. Not many places for him to go and think properly. 

You find him sitting under the tree. 

“Oi,” you say, “budge over.”

He grunts and moves so you’re not quite in the dirt. 

“Can you be sitting on the ground?” he asks. 

“It’s been like three months,” you reply, “That isn’t long enough for me to get stuck places.”

Roy says, “hmm,” but doesn’t offer up anything else so you just sit in silence next to him, pressing your shoulder to his. 

“Why the fuck did it have to be Tartt?” he asks after a beat. “Could’ve been fucking anyone in the fucking world, and you fucking chose him.”

“You like Jamie,” you say in confusion. 

“I don’t,” Roy replies, “he’s a prick. And a fucking footballer. Why’d you have to go for a fucking good-for-nothing footballer? He can’t even be around for his family when they go through shit because he’s going to be busy scoring fucking meaningless goals or some shit.”

That stings for a moment, but you take a good look at Roy’s face. It’s stoic, but shit if you can’t read it like a book. Blood is blood, and you’re a Kent just like him. 

“This isn’t about him, is it. It’s about you. You think you did a shit job as a brother and an uncle so Jamie’s going to be a shit father.”

“I missed out on a lot,” Roy says hoarsely. “And before you say fucking shit, I’m not fucking crying. So shut the fuck about it.”

You grin and wrap your arms around him. “You’re the best big brother a girl could ask for. Took all my cues from you. And anyway, you’ve been there when it counts. Phoebe fucking adores you, practically attached at the hip you two. And yeah, Molls and I missed you when you were at Sunderland and Chelsea and wherever. But… you came back. We needed you, and you came back. So don’t go projecting your stupid self-image on Jamie, because he’s not like that. And you’re not either, you absolute fucking ape-armed frizzy-haired shit-faced twat.”

Roy huffs out a chuckle. “Ape-arms. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Almost went with ‘camel knees.’ Haven’t used that since I was ten, but I thought it might hit too close to home these days.”

Roy laughs for real this time and tilts his head so it’s resting on yours. “Still fucking weird that my little sister’s having a kid.”

You say, “You’ll get over it. Oh, and don’t wear a goddamn T-shirt on Saturday.”

—

It’s rainy, so the backyard wedding becomes a living room wedding, because who really gives a shit? Richmond have a game tomorrow, but for today they’re in yours and Jamie’s house all dressed up (but still in trainers) laughing and smiling as Dani officiates what you’re sure is your dream wedding. 

It’s not the one you and Molly would’ve giggled about as kids when you sneaked from your bed into hers, but everyone you loves is here. 

For once, Jamie’s house almost seems too small.  

(Dani was the only person you two knew who was ordained or whatever. And hey, could you have picked a happier person for it?)

Molly and Keeley had gone out with you to find a white dress, Sam and Phoebe were the flower-people, and Roy walked you down the stairs to where Jamie was standing with Isaac by his side. 

“I’m not fucking crying,” Roy whispers in your ear. “It’s fucking allergies from being in this prick’s house for too long.”

“It’s my house too,” you remind him. 

Roy just sniffs, pats your hand where it’s tucked into his arm, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

All in all, it was pretty great. 

Gifts range from hair products to restaurant gift cards to designer baby clothes, including a tie-dyed onesie from Phoebe. 

“I have a matching one at home,” she explains. 

But now it’s the evening and everyone is gone except family. 

“Can’t believe my baby’s married,” says a beaming Georgie as she ruffles Jamie’s hair from their place on the couch.

“Can’t believe he attained his childhood goal of marrying into the Kent family,” Molly remarks. 

Jamie grins smugly. “What can I say, I’m a fucking goal-getter.”

You’re snuggled in Jamie’s arms, dress exchanged for a white sweatshirt and sweatpants set, courtesy of Rebecca. 

“I’d’ve had a poster of you on me wall if they made one, babe,” Jamie says. “Better sight than that hairy git.”

Roy just rolls his eyes and says “I’m getting another beer.”

“Can you bring me a piece of cake?” you call after him.

“Me too?” Phoebe asks, looking hopefully at Molly. 

Jamie pats your knee. “Don’t think he heard you, love. I’ll get it for ya. You too, Phoebs.” He shoots a wink in her direction, and she giggles. 

“Oi, grandad,” Jamie says, walking into the kitchen. “Did you hear your sister?”

Roy turns around from the fridge with a menacing look.  

“If she has a single moment of unhappiness, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Jesus, sorry,” Jamie says, hands in the air. “What’s got your knickers all in a twist?”

Fucking Jamie, never able to back down from a good squabble with Roy. 

They’re both keeping their voices down because they know if they got caught, no less than three people would be grabbing them by the ear and yelling. 

They might know this from personal experience. 

Roy says, “She’s my little sister. I’d fucking murder for her, and so would Molly. Always tried to make it easier for her when she missed our parents and shit, but it always fucking got to her anyway. Didn’t help that I fucked off to Sunderland at fucking nine, before she was even fucking born. She’s wanted a family of her own for fucking ages, and if you fuck this up for her they will never. Find. Your body.”

Jamie’s not sure Roy’s ever looked this menacing, which is saying something, because he’s Roy fucking Kent. He always looks menacing. 

So he nods and says quietly, “I ain’t gonna fuck it up, Coach. Had a shit dad too. Always wished he were around, except when he was then he’d get all fuckin’ angry and shit. But… still wanted him, y’know? Weird. Anyway, not gonna be like that with her. I want a family too.”

Roy looks straight into his eyes, looking for the barest hint of insincerity. Jamie’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure of this. He’s sure of you. 

Roy says, “Right,” nods once, then claps Jamie on the shoulder right at his phone dings. 

Jamie pulls out his phone to a text from you that reads, pls stop fangirling over my brother. baby wants cake and so does ur mum

He smiles and tries to figure out how to balance three plates at once. 

[koiiiji]

random windbreaker headcanons

tw : no, kinda cute, x reader not included

⊹ Wooin believe in mbti types, if it says that someones mbti type doesn’t match with his, he will believe it.

⊹ Hyok ultimate stand is pokemon. he wants to be pokemon.

⊹ Harry actually dog enjoyer who prefers animals to people bc they are loud and use doping. and dogs don’t use doping. Noah always argues with him bc actually cats are cooler.

⊹ Mahon was super naive person in some ways. like it was enough to say something with straight, serious face and he will believe it.

⊹ Sangho drink water or strong alcohol like whiskey, vodka, soju or something that have degree higher than 30°. nothing else. it always either water or alcohol. and he hates cocktails. if u guy who drinks cocktails u r gay, his honest opinion, i just asked him!!

⊹ Juhwan actually have a shark. there is an app, where you can “buy” a shark and you can see its location. so Juhwan owns two sharks, their names is Bobby and Sam. he was really upset when Bobbys tracker lost and he can’t see his shark anymore :( Bobby was his favorite one

⊹ deep inside Juwon really lonely person, so partly he actually enjoys that he have Vinny’s company and at some, really rare moments actually think about him as his younger brother (then he have a call from his partners from dark business and everything goes back)

⊹ Juwon actually get tied of people really fast, so he doesn’t really have friends, only business partners like Sangho and some people like Umi, who was with him in university

⊹ TJ have tiktok playlist that contains hard brazilian phonk, the ones from epic anime edits, and he listen it in headphones and imagine himself as an anime hero

⊹ Minu was questionable about his preferences. before he met Mia he always spent biggest part of his time with boys from zephyrus and June, and he wasn’t interested in girls around him. he used to think maybe he had a crush on Vinny or June.

⊹ Aria really enjoys history classes and have best marks at this subject.

⊹ Vinny doesn’t understand concept of dating. like you just met random people and start see each other every day and then maybe marry and have kids? are you insane? you just see random person and think “oh u cool, u r my boyfriend/girlfriend now”. he genuinely think people are weird.

⊹ Shelly 100% high fashion enjoyer and maybe even wanted to be a model, but she is not tall enough, so before coming to Korea she was insecure about her height.

⊹ aside from apples Hajun enjoys cucumbers. they are like apples in vegetables world.

⊹ Kaneshiro hates iqos. same with sangho, either normal cigarettes or pipe with tobacco. no third option.

⊹ Jay Jo enjoy Gordon Ramsay shows. especially old “kitchen nightmares” where he travels across US and mock cafe owners.

[imyourbratzdoll]

hiii

I would love if you could write something like this:

Steve went to the past after putting back the stones bc he wanted to stay with Peggy…so he did, but after 5 hours with her he realised that Peggy is not the love of his life but it’s actually reader.

Like they were engaged and had been together for long long time (since 2012 idk) and reader was gonna tell him she was pregnant after he came back from putting the stone…

But bc of time travelling 5 hours in the past are 5 years for the rest (like reader, Bucky Sam etc.) which means that Steve has been gone for 5 years, so when he comes back he is shocked and confused but then he finds readers house (which is similar to Tony’s and pepper yk cute in the woods near a lake bla bla bla) and he rings the bell and she opens and is whole like tf???

And then her their son come up behind her and ist like “mommy who’s this?”

Also Bucky and Sam and all the others have helped her with the baby and now son.

Idk you can decide if she if a single mom or if she is with in a relationship with Bucky or if she is with someone else yk

I love you and your fics!!!

Besos 💕

hi honey! I hope you like this and thank you, I love you too!

summary - steve left you for peggy, only to realise five hours in that she was no longer the woman he loved. when he came back, five years had passed. will you ever forgive him for the sake of your son? or is your future with him no more?

warning - angst, so much angst, swearing.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Five years ago today, you had watched the love of your life disappear to the past and not return. You had suspected something was going to go wrong that day, and it was also the day you had found out you were pregnant. You could remember when Steve had first gone to the past, and when he came back… He was… Distant. He couldn’t even look at you, wouldn’t hug or kiss you, and those days were the hardest. You had felt so alone and unloved. 

Right now, you’re decorating a bunch of biscuits that have been cooling since they came out of the oven. You find yourself zoned out as you stare out the kitchen window and at the swing tied to a huge tree. You hadn’t thought of Steve for a very long time, sure. There were times that your son reminded you of him. Of course, he would. He was the spitting image of his father, just cuter and tinier. 

“Mumma?” You blink, clearing your throat before you turn and look down at your son. “Can I have a biscuit now?” You smile softly, cupping his cheek, your thumb stroking his face. 

“Sure, baby. Which colour do you want?” He points to the sparkly green one, mentioning that it reminds him of Rex. The dinosaur he’s currently clutching. “Here you go, baby. But that’s the only one, okay? We don’t want to spoil your dinner.” 

“Okay, mumma! Thank you!” He gives you a wide, toothless smile before stuffing the biscuit into his mouth and walking away, probably to continue watching his cartoons.

You sigh, sadly watching him walk away. You had been engaged to Steve and thought he was happy with you. You were ready to marry him, buy a house in the woods and have many kids, but he left you for her. He left, and you were alone to pick up the pieces. Sure, you could’ve gone to Bucky, Sam, or any of the remaining avengers. But they were all grieving themselves, so you packed up. You bought that house in the woods and ended up raising your child alone. You remember during your pregnancy, you didn’t want to live, but you didn’t want to do that to everyone else. When the team found out you were pregnant and trying to do it alone, they nagged you until you let them help.

You could remember clear as day when Bucky and Sam knocked on your door, bringing you food daily, staying up with you, and getting you your cravings. They were there when your son was born, and they were there to change his diaper and feed him whilst you slept. They were there, and yet, he wasn’t. Of course, he wasn’t. The man decided to be selfish when you needed him the most. What hurt most was the fact that he couldn’t be selfish with you. He had to be with another for that. You wish he had told you so that you could say goodbye. 

You were so in your head that you didn’t hear the familiar rumble of a motorbike pull up. It just blended with old memories of Steve. The bell rang throughout the house, followed by some knocking. Your brows furrow as you wonder what asshole is ringing and knocking at your door. Couldn’t they decide which one? You put down the biscuit you were decorating, brushing your hands against your apron before you head over. Your hand wrapped tightly around the handle, and you swung it open.

“What the–” Your eyes widen when they connect with those beautiful blue ones you fell in love with. Your lips curl in a sneer, an angry expression crossing your face. “What do you want? Shouldn’t you be fucking some old whore right now?” 

Steve winces, his eyes dragging up and down your body as he takes you in. He can feel his heart nearly beating out of his chest at the sight of you in front of him. “Listen… I know–”

“No, you listen. You piece of shit!” You whisper-yell, teeth clenched as you don’t want your son to hear. Your finger presses against Steve’s chest as you poke. “You left me. You left us. For someone who had already moved on, for someone who was in your past. You asked me to marry you, we had these plans for our future, and you threw them away for someone else.” You rapidly blink away the tears, not wanting to show him any sign of weakness. “You plunged your hand into my chest and ripped it out, taking it with you. You don’t get to come back here and think all is forgiven. It’s been five fucking years, Steven, five. Why’d you even come back, huh? You get sick of her already?” Your hands rest on your hips as you glare up at him. 

He gulps, feeling tears fill his eyes as he realises the amount of pain you’ve gone through these past years. “I didn’t know it was going to be five years… I was only there for five hours, but I came back for you! I realised you are the one I love, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He stops as your glare hardens.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you telling me you had to leave without a goodbye, leave me for another woman for you to realise I was the one? Is that what your telling me right now?! You’re telling me the many years we spent together weren’t enough for you to know. But possibly sticking your dick in another made you realise?” 

Steve’s mouth opens as he’s about to argue, but a much smaller voice cuts him off. “Mummy? Who’s this?” Your eyes fall down to your son’s, watching as he glares at Steve. Steve’s brows are furrowed as he takes in the child, noticing how similar he looks. His breath hitches as the pieces of the puzzle begin to connect.

He looks at you, tears now rolling down his face. “Is he…” You reluctantly nod, causing sobs to escape Steve. “Oh my god, I have a son? Why didn’t you tell me? I missed so much….” 

You glare, “why didn’t I tell you? Why didn’t I tell you?!” You hear a small whimper and quickly look down at your son. “It’s okay, baby. Why don’t you go and watch more of your cartoons? Mummy will be there soon.” He nods, casting one last glance at Steve before wandering off, hesitating to leave his mum with a man who is obviously upsetting her. “I was going to tell you that day, Steve. But you decided that leaving for someone in the past was more important than staying with the people you had in the present.” 

He takes a shaky breath, staring at you. “What can I do to make it up to you? What can I do to make us a family?” His fingers itch, wanting to reach out and touch you, but he knows you’d rip his limbs off if he did.

“There’s nothing you can do, Steve. I may let you see your son, but anything between us is over. I don’t want to be with someone I can’t trust, but the first sign of you becoming distant, I will ban all interaction with my son. Understood?” He nods, feeling his heartbreak at your decision, wondering if there’s someone else.

“I–Is there someone else?” Steve gulps, watching your jaw clench. “I wouldn’t blame you if you moved on… But.”

“But what? Do you really think you have a say in anything? You left me, Steve. Remember that, before you ask personal questions, you have no right to know.” You move back, and just as you are about to close the door. You look at him. “But, no. There’s no one else because you ruined that for me. So I hope she was worth it.” And with that, you close the door, sliding down it as you try and catch your breath. Your head goes into your hands, trying not to break down because you still have your son to think about. 

“Mummy?” You quickly blink the tears away, lifting your head, your eyes meeting his bright blue ones. He comes closer and crawls into your lap, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck. “I love you, mummy. Will always be here.” 

And with those words, you break down. You have no idea of the man on the other side listening to everything, on the verge of his own tears. You only care about the sweet angel hugging you. You hold him tightly against you as you cry into his hair. “I love you too, baby boy. Mummy will always love you.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[milkpup]

｡⋆ʚ♡ a bitch meant for breeding

›› nsfw 18+ jjk oneshot!

art by the amazing @g00miato !!!!!!! literally my fave artist (uncensored is on her twitter and it's wowza holy moly)

FULL SPICY UNCENSORED VER IS ON @g00miato twitter! i am BEGGING u to look!!!

ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› zenin naoya x y/n ›› 18+ f!reader ›› wc: 3,207

‹𝟹 summary: you’re naoya’s wife, and he’s determined to treat you like the pet he believes you are. he takes your sex life up a notch, showing you how he really feels about you:3

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: petplay, assault / impact play

‹𝟹 tags: au- no powers, spit kink, spitting, breeding, degradation, name calling, pet play, puppy play, light praise, slapping, spanking, choking, rough sex, misogyny, owner / pet dynamic, leash + collar, naoya has a big dick, light biting, light blood, cum swallowing, rough fingering, finger fucking, orgasm denial + delay, throat fucking, mating press, doggy style, missionary

‹𝟹 notes: typically i see naoya more as someone to be subby (bc i wanna put him in his place). but one of my fave artists posted the pic above + the uncensored one, and i went fkn FERAL. like i would be naoya’s dog frfr. i wanna be his pet frfr. this is completely self-indulgent and pure smut. enjoy the ride:3 i made naoya a bit mean, but ultimately i made him a lil nice at the end. my fic and i want nice naoya rn >:(((( (even tho we all know hes a certified misogynist lolol)

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

The Zenin clan was known for its harsh treatment towards the women of the clan. They don’t allow them to educate themselves and they are forced in domestic roles and used to make children. While it gives the woman’s family a good reputation to marry into the Zenin clan, her life usually got worse as a result.

Marrying Naoya Zenin was no exception to this rule; if anything, it was actually worse in comparison. As much as Naoya makes your blood boil, he makes your pussy drip even more. You can’t stand to be around him. His personality is insufferable and he’s a misogynistic asshole, just like everyone else in this hellscape of a family. And despite this, he knows exactly how to pleasure you in ways you never thought you’d be into.

It started out as normal, vanilla sex even before you two were officially married. He never tried anything too crazy, just using your body like he owned you, but never taking it anywhere. Over time, you put up less resistance when he told you to do things for him. While it pissed you off sometimes to be his basically his servant, he always rewarded you in the end and you couldn’t deny how amazing it was every time.

One night, after he had been out late drinking with buddies, he comes home with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You greet him at the door, taking care of his coat and belongings. He’s looking at you like a predator. He scoops you up, trailing kisses from your chin to your lips. Naoya bites your bottom lip slightly, drawing a hint of blood as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. He’s tasting every part of your mouth as he carries you to your room.

Despite his drunkenness, his coordination when tossing you onto the bed was surprisingly swift. He pushed you against the bed with such animosity it was like something had possessed him. He starts nipping at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and spit along your jawline before meeting your lips once more. He twirled his tongue around yours, sucking every part he could. He pulled his lips away from yours, a string of spit connecting you two. “Open,” he commanded. And you did just that. You opened your mouth as he spit into it, telling you to swallow it after.

He watched with satisfaction at your instant submission. You were like his pet. And he wanted you to know that. He kissed you once more before pulling apart and walking over to a drawer, opening it and pulling out a leash and a collar. You were only slightly able to make out his figure, his form quite hazy in the darkness of the room, but you could hear the jingle and clank of the collar.

He walked up to you, a hand offering the collar to you. He had it engraved with your name beforehand, saving this for the right moment. “Will you be a good bitch for me, ____?”

You were looking up at him, eyes wide with a blush creeping across your face. You nod, squeaking out a quiet “Yes sir” in response to his question.

Naoya grinned as he reached to buckle the collar around your neck. “Good girl. Such a good little puppy for me, huh? I’m honestly a little surprised you raised no objections. Such a dumb little puppy, aren’t you?” He buckled the collar and moved his hand to your cheek and caressed you softly right before he pulls his hand away and slaps your face.

You gasp at the impact, looking up at Naoya with a mixture of fear and arousal. His hand snakes its way up the side of your face, before resting on the crown of your head and gripping you by a fistful of hair. He gently tugs your head to meet his, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me and I’ll make it worth it, okay?” He says as he pulls back, hooking the leash to the collar recently buckled around your neck. You only nod up at him, eyes saying everything you can’t with your mouth.

He rubs your head a bit, praising you. “Good pup.” You blush at the pet name, feeling heat spread in your body. “Take my clothes off, sweetheart. Be a good bitch and prep me after too, yeah?” He finishes by tugging your head slightly, just enough to add some pressure.

Your hands meet his waistline first. You tug at the drawstring of his sweats, pulling them off. His briefs follow suit, exposing his thick cock. You never would have guessed when you first met him, but he had a piercing going through the tip of his cock. It always added an extra sensation, and it was interesting to look at. You always wondered how painful it must have been.

Naoya’s cock bounces out of his sweats, precum already leaking from the swollen, angry looking tip.  He’s looking down at you, expectantly. You don’t immediately budge, and so Naoya pulls on the leash attached to your collar, pulling you up to meet his cock. “Suck it, slut.” He commands as he’s tugging your head closer and closer.

You meet the tip of his cock, kissing it lightly, trying to be cute. Naoya grunts, pushing your lips open with his thumb and forcing his cock into your mouth. You barely have time to prepare yourself before Naoya is shoving his thick cock down your throat, still tugging at the leash and bringing you even closer into him. Your hands are trying to push away as his cock is pushed deep into your throat, cutting off your air. You can barely breathe through your nose as you struggle to push against him, but this only makes Naoya snaked a hand through your hair and push your head against his cock even more. “I know you can handle it, whore. I thought you’d be a good girl for me, so why are you resisting?” He taunts as he fucks into your throat causing drool to drip from your lips down your chin.

Tears were forming at your eyes as you look up to see Naoya fully immersed in his pleasure, head thrown back as he throat fucks you. He can see the tears starting to form at your eyes, only serving to turn him on more in a sick, sadistic sense of pride. He releases his grip from you momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath for only a few mere moments before resuming his rough abuse of your throat.

He picks up speed, not allowing you to get used to his erratic rhythm as you feel his cock start to twitch, warning you of what’s to come. You don’t really like swallowing, not that Naoya gives a fuck whether you do or not. Naoya does as he pleases. And right now, he would enjoy watching you swallow his cum. He likes the idea of fucking his cum down your throat, but he wants to watch you swallow it instead. Thus, he warns you before he’s about to cum and pulls out. “Open wide for me, pup. Time for your milk~” He purrs as he strokes his thick cock, shooting thick ropes of cum into your mouth.

The taste is horrible, and there’s so much it’s spilling out your mouth, just how Naoya wants you. “Swallow it, slut. Drink it like the good girl you are.” You swallow everything before opening your mouth and showing Naoya. He praises you, before bending down and spitting into your mouth following it with a sloppy kiss. He pulls away before pushing you onto your back on the bed. He pulls your top off first, watching the way your tits bounce when the shirt comes off. He trails kisses down your abdomen before reaching the waistband your pants. He tugs at it with a finger before completely pulling them off, leaving your panties on.

Naoya pushes your legs apart before positioning himself between them. He spits on one of his fingers as his other hand meets your clothed cunt, before pulling the panties to the side. His other finger rubs your slit, feeling how utterly soaked you are from just being teased and facefucked. His long, slender finger slides over your hole before making its way up to your clit, rubbing small circles around it. Naoya can hear your pathetic attempts at stifling your moans like you’re embarrassed, and he makes it one of his goals to make you louder. He wants everyone to hear what a dirty whore you are.

His finger makes it way back to your tight hole, slipping itself inside the wet and warm entrance. Naoya feels you immediately clench at the intrusion, hearing your cute moans as a result. “Good girl, let me hear how much you love me doing this yeah?” He encourages you as he pushes his finger all the way in, before immediately pulling it out and fucking you with it all over again. He wastes no time in adding another finger, trying to stretch your tight cunt open as much as he could. His fingers are drilling into you, making lewd wet slapping noises that fill the quiet room. Your soft moans betray how aroused you are.

Naoya pulls out to your chagrin, before rolling you over onto your tummy across his lap. He spreads your legs open once again before forcing his fingers back into your needy hole. You yelp out in surprise as his fingers slip inside, scissoring themselves and spreading you open. Naoya uses his other hand to spread your ass open, giving him a close up view of your weeping hole taking only 2 of his fingers and already struggling. “You’re taking it like such a good slut, yeah? You want me to stretch you out after?” He asks, feeling you clench around his fingers the moment he finishes his question. He laughs a bit. “I guess that’s your response, huh pup?”

It's that damn pet name again. You moan he lifts his hand to slap your ass. Naoya does not hold back in the slightest, repeating his slaps until he’s satisfied with the redness spreading across your ass. He pushes in another finger, this time feeling your stretch cunt at its limit. He pulls your body up into a sort of doggy position, you on your knees face down onto the bed. His fingers are slamming into your cunt, your juices dripping onto his hand and wrist then onto the bed.

Naoya bends down beside you, purring into your ear. “You’re such a good whore, aren’t you?” Your cunt clenches in response to his praise-degradation and he chuckles beside you. “I love bitches who make messes so easily, and you’re just like that. I bet you’re already close just from me fucking your tight cunt with my fingers.” He smirks at his taunt. You’re moaning into the bed, drool spilling from the sides of your mouth as his fingers continue their relentless assault on your cunt. He brings his other hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive nub as he brings you one step closer. Naoya was right, you were close, and he could tell just from your body how desperate you were to cum and make a mess right in front of him.

“You gonna cum, baby? Gonna make a mess for me, yeah?” You could only whine into the bedsheets, face pressed against the mattress as you felt Naoya bringing you ever so closer to your release. His thumb pressed harder onto your clit, rubbing it with more intensity as his other three fingers fucked into you with ferocity. You were drooling all over the sheet as you whined, feeling yourself tighten up around Naoya’s fingers as you feel that knot in your stomach start to snap—

And then Naoya pulls away both his hands, right as he felt you about to be pushed over the edge. You lift your head up, whining as you pout and look at him. He has the cheekiest grin plastered on his face as he brings his fingers to his mouth and cleans your juices off them. “Sorry, pup, but you don’t cum until I tell you to. Got that?” Your pitiful whines come out as a response, still squirming under Naoya at the loss of touch.

You softly squeak out, “Yes sir.” In response to Naoya’s question. You would do anything for him in this moment if it meant he would let you cum all over him. Literally anything. You would bark for him if he asked; he probably would like it given the puppy stuff anyways. Fuck, you’d even do tricks for him if he really wanted to, anything if it meant he praised you and helped you cum.

Naoya smiled even wider, setting a hand on your head and petting you. “Good girl,” he coos. You feel your heart melt and your pussy throb at the praise. He’s making it painfully slow for you, taking his time before he’s going to touch you again.  He pushes your face back into the mattress, scooting your ass closer to him in the process.

Naoya parts your thighs ever so slightly, giving him better access to your sloppy cunt. He lines his thick cock against your hole, pushing his pierced head in ever so slightly. Even with his three fingers fucking your cunt and spreading it out, his cock was still a tight fit for you. He grips your hips with his firm hands as he pushes into you in one sadistic push, bottoming out into your tight cunt. You yelp out in pain as he slams his thick cock into you, feeling every ridge, vein, and especially his fucking piercing. You didn’t think it would feel extra good, but it’s an added sensation that you can’t get from anything else, and it feels fucking amazing.

You moan against the bedsheets loud enough for Naoya to hear as he pulls his cock out and slams it back in. “Fuck, ____, your cunt is so tight. It’s like it’s made just for me, yeah? A hole meant for me to breed, isn’t it? You’re just a bitch meant for breeding, aren’t you?” Naoya asks as he roughly spanks your ass in tandem with his thrusts. “Answer me, pup, what are you?” Naoya demands an answer as he hardly tugs at the leash, pulling you up against him.

The collar is pushing against your airway as he tugs at the leash supporting your weight. Because of this, you can barely choke out the words he was expecting to hear from you. “I’m a bitch… meant for breeding...” You sputter out as his thrusts increase in velocity and force. You moan against him as he pulls your body fully against his, fucking into you from behind.

“Good girl,” Naoya coos  as he places a gentle kiss on your neck before biting down hard in the same spot. He draws a bit of blood, licking the area clean and kissing it once more before he lets go of you and pushes you onto the bed again.

Without breaking contact between you two, Naoya expertly flips you onto your back. He never stops his rhythm fucking into your abused cunt while moving your legs. He fucks you a bit in a missionary position, looking down into you as tears are forming at your eyes. “Fuck, Naoya, it feels sho fucking good~!!!” You slur your words out as you look into your eyes, his thick cock never relenting. You reach your arms around his neck as you pull him down to you into a quick kiss.

He pushes away from you, but not before gently biting on your lip first. He pulls his cock out momentarily as he places both your legs onto his shoulders. He pushes his body fully into yours, trying to feel every inch of your body. He slams his cock back into your messy hole as you moan into him. You can feel his warm breath as he trails kisses from your jawline to your neck, biting you in almost the same spot as before. The sharp pain only adds a distinct sensation that enhances your pleasure.

You can feel the knot building in your stomach again, threatening to snap at any moment. “Naoya, m gonna—m gonna cum, soon!!!” You stumble out your words, trying to warn him in advance so this time he can reward you.

Naoya grins and fucks into you harder, drilling his thick cock into your tight cunt. “Good slut, cum for your owner, bitch. I own you and this cunt, don’t I?” He taunts you as his cock hits your g-spot, hitting that bundle of nerves in such a way that has you seeing stars.

“Th-thank you!! Yesh, yesss you own me Naoya!!! I wanna be your dumb pet pleaseee imgonnacum im gonna cum!!!” Your words are stumbling out now, unable to control any of them as you feel the knot in your stomach break and you get not pushed over the edge, but metaphorically kicked into your orgasm. It feels like you’re crashing into the pleasure that is Naoya’s cock as you basically scream, feeling yourself squirt and make a mess around Naoya’s cock and the bed.

He reaches a hand to grip around your throat, cutting off your loud proclamations of pleasure. “Be quiet, bitch” He spits his words out as he rams into your cunt. You can feel his cock twitch and release his thick load, grunting as he fills your womb to the brim with his cum. His grip around your throat releases as he pushes himself off of you, pulling his cock out. Some of the cum overflows from your cunt, dripping out of your hole. He reaches a finger down, lapping up some with his finger and pushing it back inside, placing your panties back in the same position as before.

“Don’t let any spill out. You’re my bitch that’s meant to be knocked up by me. I’m sure you’re so excited to be a mommy, aren’t you?” In your fucked out state, all you can do is nod in a stupor as you try to catch your breath.

Naoya lifts your head and props a small pillow behind it as he climbs to in front of you, cocking staring straight at you. “Be a good girl and clean me up, pup.” You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, still reeling from your mind shattering orgasm mere moments before. Naoya’s thumb opens your mouth as his cock meets your lips. You stick your tongue out, placing kisses on his cock and licking his cock clean.

Once he’s satisfied with your cleanup, he moves beside you and kisses you. He pulls away and looks into your eyes as he caresses your cheek. “I love you, ____. You’re such a good girl for me.” You look into him and grin, as he playfully smacks your cheek. He places a kiss over the slight red mark he leaves before getting up to gather clothes for you.

‹𝟹 notes: how this fic got me feeling:

but frfr this pic got me going crazy im like feral and unhinged. i rly am a monkey. i think geto suguru was on to smthn frfr. i see hot jjk men i start fucking hooting like a monkey, going crazy when i see their bananas frfr

- if u wanna be tagged in my works / updates, pls lmk :3c!

‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo

ʚ join my notifs ɞ

(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

[fiapartridge]

🥥 adam fantilli again bc tay and adam are my 2 fav things!!!!!!

STOP ADAM AND TAY R SUCH A POWERFUL COMBO AND HE IS SOOOOO YOU BELONG WITH ME CODED LIKE IK ITS SO BASIC but it's the cutest song ever and he's the cutest

and this was actually so fucking cute to write UGH I LOVEDDD THIS

His head rested on your lap, your hands raking through his hair as he vented to you about the events that took place earlier that night. “And then she said I didn't care about her. I- I mean, I didn’t mean to make her feel that way. I just–”

“Wait, so just let me get this straight. She told you to buy her a $2,000 dress, and you said no because you couldn’t afford it—understandably—and she got mad at you? I mean, Adam—”

“You’re making her seem like she’s a bad person,” he said, sitting up and taking the spot across from you on your tiny twin sized bed. You two sat in your dorm room, doing your daily talk about what Katerina, Adam’s girlfriend, did this time. And it hurt knowing that the guy you have been in love with your entire life is in love with someone else, but he was your best friend, you had no choice but to stand back and support him.

You met Adam when you were 14 when he joined his brother at Kimball Union Academy in New Hampshire. You were initially friends with Luca having met him in the library at school. He was struggling with math and every time you heard him get an equation wrong on those flimsy little flashcards, you cringed a little. So, taking it upon yourself (you were quite the confident 14-year-old), you sat down next to him, outstretched your hand, introduced yourself as his new tutor, and shooed away the poor kid who desperately thanked you for getting him out of that. 

After a year of tutoring Luca, you two became inseparable, and when you heard that his younger brother was coming to play hockey for the school, you knew you had to meet him. And, most of the time, you were glad that you did, except for nights like these.

You laughed incredulously. “Adam, she got mad at you for not being able to afford an expensive dress. She’s not really the best person.”

“She might not be the best all the time—”

You scoffed, grabbing his hands and holding them in yours as you stared at him intently. “You deserve someone who is the best all the time; someone who genuinely makes you happy; who doesn’t leave you like this every single night.” You deserve me, you wanted to say, but you clamped your lips shut before your true feelings could ever manage to escape.

Huffing and dismissing your words, he pushed you to the side, laying down on the small space beside you. His hands resting behind his head, he stared at the ceiling as you kept your arms secured to your sides. Sometimes you were scared to get too close to him, afraid of what you might do in a fit of spontaneity, scared that you could ruin your entire friendship in one heated moment. 

“This whole girlfriend thing is so complicated,” he murmured absentmindedly before turning to the side, facing you. “Still up for the marriage at 30 rule?”

You shook your head, breathing out a laugh. “You wanna say that when you have a girlfriend right now?”

Adam shrugged. “Just taking extra precautions.”

Rolling your eyes, you spun onto your side, looking at him dead-on. “What if I end up in a relationship and you don’t?”

“Then I’ll ruin his fucking life,” he replied, a small smile dancing on his lips. You knew he was joking, but sometimes you wished he wasn’t. You wished he saw a life where you could be the one he marries, a life where he could be happy with you, not just as an extra precaution, but because he really wanted to. 

“Will Kat be at the game tomorrow?” you asked randomly, as if the question just morphed itself out of thin air. She was never there. She was always busy with something: shopping with the girls, working out with a classmate, practicing cheer drills. You were so convinced that she has never even seen Adam in his hockey gear. 

You were there every game, cheering him on from the student section, pretending not to catch the disappointed expression on his face every time he realized she wasn’t there—again. 

And just like time and time before, Adam with his ever present hopeful spirit, sighed and said, “Hope so.”

—

They were up 4-1. 

The children of Yost screamed so loud, you were sure that the top of the building could fly off at any minute. And just as Rutger Mcgroarty scored the last and final game-winning goal, making the score 5-1, the crowd burst into another set of chants as you watched the boys jump each other on the ice. Everyone looked so happy, and for the first time, that happiness included Adam.

You waited in the lobby, ready to congratulate him and the rest of the team on the win, like you do every game. Truth be told, you loved seeing a freshly showered Adam, high off a well-deserved win. And expecting to have to find his tall figure in the crowd of students, you jumped back as he found you immediately.

The lobby was crowded, excited conversations filing into the room, leaving Adam to shout in your direction. “I saw you out there!”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You see me every time!”

He smiled, his brows furrowing simultaneously as if realizing something. In mere seconds, he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the exit. You wanted to protest, to tell him that you had to congratulate the rest of the boys, especially Luca, but Adam was holding your hand and it felt so perfect. It felt like this was your life. Adam holding your hand, pulling you to secluded spaces, spaces meant just for the two of you. It felt like it was meant to be, like you were made for this; for him.

You guys rounded the side of the building, your arms hugging your body as the snow slowly rained down on you two. The lights outside flickered dimly, but you saw his smile, and you didn’t care about anything but him. In your mind, it was just Adam, Adam, Adam. 

“It’s so easy with you,” is the first thing he said. You pulled your brows together, confused as to what he meant by that. Noticing your expression, he went on. “I mean, tell me the last time you missed one of my games.”

You scoffed. “You are a conceited little shit, aren’t you?”

He shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “C’mon, just tell me.”

You racked your brain, trying to think back to the last time you missed one. And then, as if a lightbulb lit in your brain, you finally remembered. You think he remembered too. “We were 16, you were playing for the Chicago Steel, and I was dying from swine flu because your ass decided to make me a grilled cheese with expired butter.”

“Okay, okay!” He held his hands up in defense. “I did rush to your aid after the game, though.”

“Yeah, and you agreed to get me a wet towel if I watched an hour of your game highlights,” you retorted, the conversation replacing the chills in your body with warm, happy memories.

He stuffed his cold hands in his pockets, shrugging. “Well, my point is!” he said, sending you into a fit of laughter. 

“You are so stupid!”

“And that was so uncalled for!” he chuckled, tilting his head down at you. You looked like some sort of snow princess with the white flakes delicately landing on your hair. Your cute nose was red and he watched you shiver as he slipped his arms around your torso, pulling you to his chest as your arms instinctively wrapped around him. It was foreign for the two of you to be hugging, but this one felt different.

“My point is,” he restarted. “you have been to almost all of my games.”

You nodded in response, wondering where this was going. And you were even more curious when he said, “What’s my favorite color?”

With no hesitation, you responded with, “Blue.”

“Where was I born?”

“Are you really making me do an Adam Fantilli quiz? I mean, I knew your ego was high, but—”

“C’mon,” he laughed, resting his chin on your head.

You smiled. “Nobleton.”

“My real name?”

“Adamo,” you answered before taking a step back from his grasp. “She didn’t know that?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t know anything about me—not like you do.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to do this while he was with Kat. While you didn’t like her, it felt wrong to think about him like this when you felt that, maybe just maybe, he might be thinking about you in the same way. “Adam—”

“I broke up with her last night when I left your dorm.”

Your head raised, meeting his gentle gaze. You were shocked. He liked her so much, I mean, he was defending her the entire night. What happened?

Holding your hands, just as you hand done to him the night before, he took a step closer as you felt the heat radiate off of him and onto you. “You told me I deserve someone who makes me happy. I deserve someone who won’t miss a single game unless I food poisoned her, who knows me—not just surface level me—who doesn’t make me feel bad about anything. I’m convinced I have never felt bad when I’m with you. You belong with me, Y/N, and... I have only ever belonged to you."

[respected-coconut]

How come when Victor realizes the bride he’s making will have her own conscience and might refuse to marry the monster, it’s “he’s sexist bc he doesn’t want an independent and defiant woman to exist and he only sees them as reproductive tools” but then a line later he also hates the idea of them reproducing and it turns into “Victor still hates women because he doesn’t want them to give birth”? Like I’m genuinely kinda confused how so many feminist readings of him destroying the bride say it’s a bad thing bc, honestly, isn’t he right not to make a female creation for the sole purpose of being a bride? Like is he not kind of rebelling against the traditional and misogynistic perception of women by recognizing her autonomy and finding the idea of her complying to the role of a bride/mother for a man reprehensible?

I always kinda saw it as him empathizing with his female creation and offering her a level of respect his mom refused him and Elizabeth, considering they’re all kinda in a similar boat when it comes to being forced into marriages they don’t want/didn’t consent to; especially since he would be doing the same thing as his mom if he did go through with his promise to make a bride out of his basically-daughter (?) for the sole purpose of gifting her to his son.

And please please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - I get that it’s a joke but at the same time - can we stop with the whole “why didn’t he just remove her reproductive organs?” comment bc not only does it fail to address the fact that there’s a chance the bride might not want to marry the monster but it ironically also augments the denial of her autonomy by saying “well the Monster needs a wife but Victor doesn’t want her to reproduce so let’s just omit certain parts of her body before passing her off so those two men can be happy regardless of what she wants”.

Sorry if this came off as kinda hostile and messy; I don’t wanna discredit anybody else’s interpretations. I just kinda get frustrated with how we repeat the same ideas over and over again and they more often than not just constantly view the situation from a perspective of demonizing Victor. But like idk I might be missing something; can someone please explain if I’m just being a bit stupid about this?