#for a much longer time than if i did not cook for the whole week

[quatregats]

I have managed to create a palak paneer so salty that I think by the end of the week my insides will be fully withered and dried. How, you ask? Well, you see, the recipe said to put in two tablespoons of salt, and I, like a fool, obliged

[teaboot]

I feel like if you're using a lot of disposable plastic bags in your day to day life, you've gotta do something sustainable to make up for it. Like using bamboo toilet paper or eco friendly cat litter or something, yknow

Honestly I exaggerate for comedic effect, while I DO routinely use ziplock bags to hold spaghetti I cook maybe once a month and the bag itself is usually for freezer storage. I actually throw out maybe one bag a week? I DO hate washing plates and tupperware and junk but that usually just means I eat sandwiches without a plate.

I agree though that needless waste should be avoided, and I do avoid it- biodegradable bags and recyclables, empty butter tubs used to store leftovers, etc.

This said, though, not applicable necessarily for myself but for a lot of others- I feel that it's importat to remember that there are many people who legitimately NEED things like plastic straws, or catheters, or pre-packaged foods

And the idea that that's a moral failing that individuals need to personally make up for when a single billionaire blows out more CO2 in a long weekend than I will in my whole life on a superjet meet-cute in the Bolivian rainforest between humvee drag races funded by the river-polluting textiles plants they planted in a third world country to avoid EPA laws and give an entire village stillbirths and stomach cancer is an idea that those very same bigwigs have spent a LOT of time and money investing in planting in the public psyche.

Like- Glass bottles are infinitely recyclable, so why are so many drinks in plastic now? Loads of drinks manufacturers used to buy them back and clean them for re-use, so why did they stop? If they chose to make something out of a limited and environmentally irresponsible material, why is it my failing to track down a correct process of disposal for them? What if there are none in my area? Do I lobby for more recycling plants in my area? Do I set aside some of my limited time outside the pain factory of my job- which I have more than one of, thanks to rising costs of things just like that drink I just emptied- to properly dispose of this company's waste FOR them?

Say coca-cola just rolled up to your town and started dumping millions of empty plastic bottles in the street, going, "wow, you should really think about building and staffing a recycling depot, it would be really shameful of you to just put these in the trash." When companies purposefully use materials with limited lifespans- because yes, even plastic can only be reused so many times- and tell you it's your own fault if it harms the environment- that's essentially what they're doing, just with more steps.

Yes, its important to be as environmentally concious as we can in our day to day life, but responsible sustainability is not catholicism. We don't get good boy points from our lord and savior Captain Planet every time the average low-income household gathers together to hold hands and repent for a single-use plastic that allows them to access something they need.

Entire families could eat trees and shit dead lithium batteries for years and still not do as much damage to the planet as an average dye plant or braindead celebrity does in a week just for fun, and I'm mad about it

...this went on longer than intended.

TL/DR: DO recycle and minimize waste, but don't beat yourself up over the little waste you can't avoid, and follow the money.

EDIT: Part 2

[absurdthirst]

Online Love {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.3k

Warnings: Online dating, feelings of inadequacy, anger, upset, mentions of past bullying, Javi having restraint, oral sex (male and female receiving), tiny bit of body worship, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Comments: Coming home after Cali, Javi finds that his dad has moved into modern times. There's a computer in the house. Unsatisfied with his reputation proceeding him, he decides to go online to find out if he can be the man he wants to be. Except the one he connects with, you, has a very complicated past together.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The last thing that Javi expected to find at the Peña ranch upon his return, was a computer. He wasn’t even sure that his father had known what one was, let alone how to turn one on. But there it was. A great hulking machine that is set up in the dining room, taking up half the damn table. He had frowned at his pop, hands on his hips as he asked him what the hell he did with the damn thing. “Talk to people.” Chucho laughs at his son’s confused ire and slaps him on the back. “I got that dial up package added to the phone line. Even my accountant told me I needed one.” 

Javier avoids the computer for weeks, eying it like it's going to turn on and take over the world. At least, that's what every Sci-Fi movie is about lately. He watches his pa try to cook scrambled eggs and snorts at the curses coming from his father's mouth while he flips through the paper. ‘Free Online Dating Membership. Join Match.com today!’ The ad in the corner catches his eye and he snorts again, wondering who the hell goes on the internet to find a date. He can go to any bar and pick up a woman. Well, he can get a one night stand. Every woman within fifty miles knows about the infamous Javier Peña and his reputation precedes him. The doorbell rings and Javier huffs, folding the paper to get the door. "I got it, pa." He tells his father who is still cursing the now burnt scrambled eggs. 

"Oh, uh, hi. Javier." You clear your throat and Javier's eyes widen. He says your name and you are surprised he remembers you. "I have papers for Chucho." You hold up the folder and Javier steps aside. You walk into the kitchen to find Chucho rinsing out a frying pan, the smell of burnt eggs in the air, and you smile at the older Peña. "Just dropping off the quarterly report." You set the folder down.

“You’re his accountant?” Javi asks, following you into the kitchen and he can’t help that his eyes have fallen down to your ass as you walk in front of him. It is a habit when he is around a beautiful woman and you have become that. No longer the awkward and gangly girl he had remembered before he had left for Columbia, you have matured into a graceful woman. It isn’t quite fair because you weren’t too much younger than him. 

“Yes.” You turn and give him a confused smile and tilt your head in curiosity at what he was meaning. You had always been good at math, enjoying numbers more than socializing. 

“So that-” he points to the computer in the dining room, “is your fault?” 

You chuckle a little, "don't you want to join us in the 20th century, Javier? It's nearly the 21st. A computer is the future." You take a step closer to Javier, lowering your voice, "besides, your dad can join forums. Speak to other ranchers. Other widows. There's a whole world out there and that computer brings it to him." You had noticed how lonely Chucho was and he is far too proud to say anything so you suggested the computer.

“What’s wrong with the annual rancher’s association meetings?” Javi snorts, rolling his eyes at the idea of his father courting widows through a computer. His mother was the love of his life, and he had honestly never even suggested moving on. He was still wearing his wedding ring that his mother placed on his finger nearly fifty years ago. “Going to town to the tack and feed store? Meeting people in person?” 

You shake your head, "your dad is a proud man. He's loyal to your mother, even after all these years. You can't be honest about how you feel with people you've known for years. On the computer, you can be anonymous, you can tell someone how you truly feel without seeing the judgment on their face. You can be who you really are when you're behind a screen." You confess, knowing you have your own experience with that anonymity. "You wouldn't understand it. You've never had a problem with saying what you think."

That’s not true, and Javi opens his mouth to tell you that, but he stops. You said that one could be the person they wanted to be. Who they really are. Javi glances back at the computer again, contemplating that in a different light. Everyone knew Javier Peña, by his reputation, by the stories that had been written while he was in Colombia. They judged him, or treated him how they expected him to act. Every woman he had met recently just wanted to ‘see if the rumors were true’. He hadn’t taken many of them home. Looking back at you, he shrugs slightly, as if it’s not anything to him. “They are a pain in the ass when they act up.” He grunts. 

You chuckle, pointing to the big book on the dining room table next to the computer. "Good thing you have the instruction manual." You quip and walk back over to Chucho who thanks you for bringing the report. "We need to work on the W2's next month." You tell Chucho who nods, "thanks, chiquita." He winks at you and grabs the egg carton. "Any chance you can cook scrambled eggs?" He asks and you giggle, "I would show you but I have to go meet Maria to explain why her new RV is not a tax write off." You chuckle and Chucho winks at you, "luego." You turn to look at Javier, "see you around, Peña." You show yourself out, exhaling deeply as you recognize that you couldn't avoid Javier forever.

Over the next few days, Javi eyes the computer. Debating with himself as he smokes out on the front porch. His dad still won’t allow smoking in the house even though his mother’s oxygen tanks were long gone. Looking at the outline of the large monitor through the screen door and contemplating your comment. He could be someone other than Javier Peña, manwhore or DEA disgrace. He wouldn’t be grumpy or sarcastic, not unless he wanted to appear that way. The person he could be online wouldn’t be burdened with the sorrows and mistakes that seemingly weigh him down. He blows out a breath and crushes out the butt before he yanks the door open and steps back into the house. His father is out for a few hours and he can at least turn it on to see what all the fuss is about. 

You bite your lip as you log onto the website. You never imagined you'd join an online dating website. You had seen the video tapes from dating agencies and you never allowed yourself to get so lonely that you resorted to that but the internet brought a new option. You like that there's no photos. Only an initial and a location. It's anonymous and you chat, then decide if you like each other. Sure, you've had some bad matches in person. Some not at all like they described themselves, some total assholes. You keep trying though. You want to find your person.

“Goddamnit.” Javi scowls at the computer and bangs the enter button several times. “Why won’t you do it?” He hisses, seeing the little arrow over the area he wants to go, but it’s not doing anything. “Fuck.” He rolls his eyes at himself and grabs the stupid thing called a mouse. Why it was a mouse, he will never know, but he clicks buttons until the page starts to load, leaning back with an annoyed sigh while he waits.

You have a sip of wine as you wait for the website to load. You sigh, watching the screen flicker as the website is displayed pixel by pixel. When it's loaded, you type in your email address and password. Grabbing the mouse, you click the 'log in' button and lean back, waiting again for the website to load.

It’s been nothing but a pain in the ass to set up this page. Debating on what to put, he had gotten annoyed at himself several times and almost walked away. Now he’s ready to browse available women, but knowing his luck, there won’t be anyone for hundreds of miles.

You set your wine glass down, surprised to see there's a new person online. "J" is the name and his tagline says "here to be myself." That intrigues you. You bite your lip, contemplating clicking on the profile until you select it and wait for it to load. "Name is J. Looking to be myself, find someone to talk to who wants to get to know who I truly am. Texas born and raised. Work in law enforcement so not a creep." You chuckle at the bio and decide to click on the 'chat now' button. You take another gulp of wine and select his profile, typing out a simple "hi".

A box pops up with a loud ding, making Javi sit up. Someone is messaging him already. He tries to suppress the surge of pleasure in his stomach as he remembers to click the line so he can peck at the keyboard. “Hi.” He hits enter and then frowns slightly because it seems so impersonal. “How are you?” He notices the initial and adds that before sending the next message. Frowning as he waits for a response.

You are surprised he responded so fast and your stomach clenches with nerves as you type out “I��m good. Just having a glass of wine. How are you?” You type, glad for those hours you spent on typewriters back when you were a teenager trying to write a novel. It sucked but your typing skills are excellent.

“Well shit.” Javier huffs, slightly amazed at the speed of the reply. He’s used a computer, he had to in those final years with the DEA. Hated it, preferred the typewriter, but he had never really talked to someone online like this before. “What do I say now?” He asks himself, wishing he could light up a cigarette. Hunching over the keyboard, he begins a two finger pecked response. “Wine sounds good right about now, although a glass of whiskey and a cigarette is more my speed.”

You have another sip of wine, waiting for his response. It takes a while and you wonder if he’s walked away from the computer but it soon pings through the speakers and you read his reply. A chuckle escapes your lips, “typical man.” You snort to yourself and reply quickly, hitting enter to send the message. “I don’t smoke. Never have. I don’t care if someone does smoke. So what brings you to this website?” You chew on the skin of your thumb as you wait for his response. It’s nice to talk to someone different. Someone you haven’t known your whole life growing up in Laredo.

Javi feels slightly guilty about smoking as he reads your reply. He will have to air the house out before his pa gets home. Wondering why he’s actually here. “Want someone to get to know me and not what they think they know about me.” Javi types out slowly. “Like I’m trying to quit smoking again, and everyone tells me that I shouldn’t try.”

Your heart clenches at his honest reply. You glance over at the photo of you and your parents when you were younger, remembering how you’d get made fun of for being too geeky. For liking numbers instead of boys. “If you want to quit smoking, you should try. Do it for you. Not anyone else.” You hit send, and then type out “everyone tells me I need to get laid but I don’t want meaningless sex. I want a real relationship. Someone I can talk to and be real myself with.” You hit send before you can think too hard about your reply.

Javi snorts to himself. “Meaningless sex doesn’t help.” He types out. “Not in the long run. I know. Sometimes it just makes you feel worse.” He’s had plenty of time for self reflection and regret. “So who is the real you?”

You sigh and type out “I guess that’s what I’m wanting to figure out. I have been so sensible my entire life. I want to let loose a little. Enjoy life. I struggle to trust anyone and it’s led to me to isolating. Hence why I’m on here.” You hit send and take another gulp of wine, feeling vulnerable.

Javi understands that. “People always call me an asshole, not understanding that I’ve seen shit that would make grown men cry. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I’ve cried.” He tells you and continues the message. “Letting loose sounds like something I need to do too.”

“Were you in the armed forces?” You type out and he replies, “something like that.” You hum, typing again, “well at least you know yourself. You should be able to cry. Doesn’t make you any less of a man because you cry. As for letting loose, maybe we could help each other out with that.” You hit send and take another sip of wine, glancing over at the clock. It’s getting late.

“We could do that.” Javi hums to himself as he starts to type out his response. “What’s your idea of fun?” He asks. “Or the theory of fun.” His idea of fun is so far removed he doesn’t remember anymore. “I like watching movies.”

“Watching movies is good. I love bowling. I haven’t been since I was a kid.” You confess when you type, “or just a day out in the sun. I work so much. It’s hard to relax. I want to succeed. Stand on my own two feet.” You hit send and exhale, realizing how long you’ve been holding this inside of you.

“Do you like the beach?” Javi asks in return, smirking to himself about going to the bowling alley a few towns over. “Or more of a swimming pool kind of girl? You are a girl, right?”

You giggle, imagining J furrowing his brow. “I’m a girl. It says so in the bio.” You hit enter and continue typing, “you’re a boy?” You ask him to confirm and he responds, “yes.” It said so in his bio but you can’t trust anything on the internet. “I love the beach. And the swimming pool. Pool is better for sex. The beach…sand gets in places you don’t want to imagine.” You shudder, remembering when you went to the beach with your first boyfriend and got sand in too many crevices.

Javi’s brows shoot up when you admit that. He chuckles to himself and decides to be completely honest. “Never had sex in a pool or at the beach.” He types. “Fucked in a swimming hole, does that count?” He asks, remembering the time him and Lorraine went down to the local swimming hangout.

You giggle, typing back, “it kinda does. So, what is the true J? A man of mystery. Perhaps you’re a spy and that’s why you haven’t let anyone close to you.” You smirk as you hit send.

Javi chuckles as he reads that and shakes his head like he is in the room with the other person. “Hardly. No one could ever accuse me of being Bond. I don’t have the patience for it.” He pauses, considering your question. “I’m secretly a romantic. Wishing that I had someone to share a future with. I want to love someone, have them love me. I want laughter and fun, quiet nights reading books, early morning cups of coffee with someone.”

You smile softly at the way he says he wants romance. You want the same thing. You want someone to be happy with, to make happy. You quickly type back “that’s exactly what I want. A partner. I want someone to laugh with, to share my day with.” You hit send before you can think too hard about it.

Smiling as he reads the message, he feels like someone is listening to him for the first time. Really listening to him. He licks his lips and feels like he’s crazy for feeling connected through a computer screen. “Until you find that partner, maybe we can share our days?” He offers, biting his lip and wishing he could unsend it just as soon as it’s posted.

“Absolutely.” You type back and hit send before you think twice. You have a good feel for J and you want to get to know him more, be that person he can talk to. It’s nice to have someone want to talk to you that doesn’t even know what you look like. You yawn, the wine and the long day getting to you, and you type out “I’m exhausted. Long day today. Chat tomorrow?”

Javi looks at the clock and is surprised by how long he’s spent online. Soon, his father will be back. “Sounds good. Sweet dreams.” He types out, sending it and wondering if whoever the other person is will sleep soundly or toss and turn like he normally does. He hopes that it’s the former.

You log off, getting ready for bed and you fall asleep to dreams of a partner who loves you and makes you happy and you make them happy. 

****

The entire day you spend thinking about logging back onto the website. You try to concentrate on the numbers in front of you but it’s almost impossible to calculate when you think about what J might look like. His bio said brown eyes and brown hair. You wonder if he’s tall or short. You don’t care, you like talking to him. When you arrive home, you eat dinner and disconnect your phone so you can connect to the internet. The shrill tone of the dial up is a familiar sound to you but still makes you wince until you can log back on the website, tapping your fingers as you wait for any sign that J is online.

“Pa! Don’t pick up the phone, I’m going to be online!” Javi calls out from the dining room to the living room where his dad is laid back in the recliner in front of a soccer game. “I thought it was stupid?” The rough laugh of the older man feels like teasing but Javi rolls his eyes and huffs slightly. His reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he had a headache from staring at the screen last night. “Just don’t pick up the phone!” He demands again and starts to connect the computer so he can see how his online friend is doing this evening.

You smile when the speakers chirp with a new message alert. “Hi. How was your day?” He asks and you type out a quick response. “Long. Boring. But it’s looking up right now. How was your day?” You respond, wondering if he had a good day or if he found it as laborious as you did.

Javi has been looking forward  to this all day, if he’s honest with himself. It was what had gotten him through another day of repairing fences and trying to fix everything on the ranch that his pop hadn’t been able to get to. “Seemed like it would never end.” He grins to himself when he thinks that you might have been looking forward to talking to him. “But I’m settled down with a beer, how about you? Got a glass of wine?”

You smile at his response, quickly typing “of course. Cheers, J.” You hit send and type another message. “I was thinking about you today. Wondered what kind of movies you like. What kind of music you like.” You know these questions are juvenile but you like chatting to him and getting to know him without any pressure.

Javi hums to himself. Intrigued that his mystery friend was thinking of him. He taps his chin, wishing for a cigarette, but he had put on a patch this morning, and starts to list them out. “Grew up watching westerns, but I think I like dramas.” He types out. “Action is alright, but they always depict shit wrong. Shooing a car’s gas tanks isn’t going to make it blow up.” He goes on. “Music, I’m still an easy listening, 70’s kind of guy. What about you? What’s your taste in movies and music?”

You snort at his answer about action not being accurate. You type back, “I love dramas. And romance. Westerns…my dad used to watch them so I’ve seen almost every western out there. John Wayne was a big hit in my house growing up. As for music, 70s, 80s. I’m not sure about the 90s. Music is changing. I miss the ballads and classic rock.” You hit send and take a sip of wine, the dial up crackling in the background.

Javi snorts and shrugs slightly, like he’s talking to someone in person. “80s music is a little too peppy for me.” He admits with a grin as he types it out. “Power ballads are amazing.”

You nod as if he’s in the damn room with you and you fluster as you catch yourself. “I can’t imagine you as a Huey Lewis listener.” You type out and he types back, “how do you imagine me?” You bite your lip, “well, your bio says you have brown eyes and brown hair. So I’m guessing your eyes are a little jaded from shit you’ve gone through but also soulful, like the key to your emotions is in your eyes. Most men are guarded but their eyes tell their story.” You hit send, hoping he doesn’t think you’ve overstepped.

Suddenly, he feels like this person is in the room with him and has stripped him naked. Not of his clothes, but of his armor. “I rarely look in the mirror. Except when I’m shaving.” He admits. “But my momma used to say she could tell everything I was feeling through my eyes.”

Your heart aches for the man, clearly he’s been beaten up by life and you want to hold him, tell him it’s all okay. You type back, “wise woman your momma. I understand how you feel. I’m not haunted by demons but I was bullied as a kid until I left school. Too nerdy, not pretty enough. Not thin enough. It still affects me to this day.” You hit send and take a large gulp of wine.

Javi frowns when he sees your words and hates how that could be possible when you are a sweet person. “Size doesn’t matter. Every body type is beautiful in some way.” He types out. “I love women of all shapes and sizes. Pretty only lasts as long as age. It’s the soul that makes a person beautiful.”

His words melt your heart, a man who doesn't just want the pretty Playboy bunny girl to fuck. He seems genuine, unlike most men you meet. "Exactly. That's how I feel. You are attracted to their aura, their personality...looks are a bonus." You hit send and smile into your wine glass, wondering if you should suggest meeting up. His bio shows that he is within 20 miles of you.

“Exactly.” Javi types back immediately. “I want someone who will build a future with me, but also be willing to jump into the truck with a cooler of sodas, a full tank of gas, a map and no destination in mind.” He had imagined taking a road trip once, with Lorraine and she had immediately vetoed it. It might be one of the things that caused him to start rethinking their upcoming marriage so many years ago.

Your stomach twists at how perfect he seems, how he seems to completely understand you. "Well, if you ever need a road trip buddy. I'm your gal.” You type back, a grin on your face and you know you look ridiculous. His chat goes offline after that and you frown, confused and wondering if you did something to upset him. 

"Pa! Get off the phone!" Javi yells at his father who picked up the landline, forgetting that Javi is online. "Sorry mijo. I forgot." He admits, slamming the phone down.

“Damnit.” Javi hisses, hoping that you weren’t insulted by his internet dropping out. He listens to the modem dialing and it seems like it’s taking forever. “Hurry up, hurry up!” He growls, his stomach flipping unpleasantly at the idea of you thinking that he’s just done with the conversation. It takes forever in his mind, even if it’s just a few minutes and he’s relieved when the chat reconnects. “Fuck, I’m sorry. My dad picked up the phone.” He types out quickly.

You’re surprised that he lives with his dad but you can’t judge, you lived with your parents until you finished university. His bio says he’s over 40. “It’s fine! Shit happens.” You hit send and giggle slightly, wondering if he was frustrated that the connection dropped. “Thought you didn’t want a road trip buddy.” You tease, watching the message go through for a few seconds until it says delivered.

“Get me out of here!” Javi types back quickly, chuckling to himself. “I never thought living with my dad again would be so frustrating.” He admits. “I moved back to help him and it doesn’t make sense to live somewhere else. He’s stubborn and doesn’t want to admit he’s getting older.”

You like that he is living with his dad to help him. You like that he seems to be a family man. “One day you’ll miss him when he’s gone.” You type, hitting send. “Do you want kids? Marriage?” You ask, curious if he’s interested in that.

Javi frowns as he contemplates that question. It had been one that Lorraine had sort of asked him, in a way, when she asked him if he had imagined their life together. He had. He would have never had kids while he was DEA, but he’s done with that part of his life now. He could have that if he wanted, so does he? He flexes his fingers and starts to type. “Never really thought it was going to happen for me.” He replies. “But I could see it. Now. Had a dangerous job for a long time and I wouldn’t have ever thought about it then. But yeah, I would want that. You?”

You ponder his answer, appreciating his honesty and you aren’t rushing him down the aisle but you like to know if you’re on the same page because you like him. You type back “I want kids someday. If it happens. I’m a big believer that things that are meant to be, happen.”

Javi leans back, running a hand through his hair as he thinks about that. There’s been plenty of times he probably should have become a father, by accident, but it had never happened. He had made sure not to leave any kids behind for the mothers to take care of while he had moved on. He notices that your profile says you are in your 30s. So there’s still time. “One? Two?” He types out. “Boy? Girl? Both?”

You are surprised he’s not running a mile at this conversation. Most men would. “Two. One of each ideally but I’d take healthy babies any day.” You hover to hit send before you add, “what about you? Any ideas on kids?” You hit send and rub your cheek, hating how much you like this guy. Someone whose name you don’t even know. You have no photo, no additional information.

Javi never really thought about it before, not sure if it would matter. He shrugs slightly. “Happy, healthy, safe.” He replies. “Not sure if you really have any options. You’re gonna get what you get. Least that’s how I look at it.”

You chuckle, replying back, “very true. Healthy. Happy. Safe. That’s what everyone wants.” You like that he didn’t say “boy” like every other man would. You chat for another hour, turning the conversation to the best movies of all time until you look at the clock. “I could spend all night talking but I have to get up earlier to get to work. Goodnight J.” You hit send, deciding to wait for his response before you log off.

****

Javi is happy that he installed a second line to the house for the internet. Now he doesn’t have to worry about his pa picking up the phone and kicking him offline. He’s been talking to the woman online for weeks, deciding to call her ‘sweetheart’ instead of just by her initial. It’s funny, because he’s received messages from other women, but he isn’t even interested in responding. Despite his playboy ways before, he had no desire in getting to know anyone else. Grinning as your chat pops up, his typing improves, he quickly greets you. “Hey sweetheart, how was your day? That client’s son still being an asshole?”

You scoff to yourself as you type, “hey handsome. Yeah, he is. God, he thinks he knows better and he’s always been that way. He was best friends with my brother when we were growing up and he was a dick back then.” You hit send, glad you can vent about Javier Peña. He questioned the amount of write offs his dad was submitting with his quarterly filing.

“Just ignore him, he’s probably unhappy.” Lord knows he’s fully aware some people are just unhappy with being questioned. He had tangled with his dad’s accountant again today, frustrated because he knew that the assholes he used to work with wouldn’t stoop to hit his dad to get back at him. Of course, Miss Priss had looked like she was sucking a lemon talking to him about everything. Like he was just trying to make her job harder. He didn’t want his dad to get audited. “Wine or something stronger tonight?” He asks.

“Stronger. Whiskey.” You confess, “he really annoyed me. He thinks he knows best and I wish you could go head to head with him. I think you’d come out on top.” You hit send and take a sip of whiskey. You sigh, rubbing your eyes as you look down at your nails, you really need to get a manicure soon.

Javi chuckles to himself, grinning at the screen and feeling oddly proud to have the confidence of his sweetheart. “I’ll talk to him, see if I can’t get him to back off.” He volunteers. “Can’t let someone upset my sweetheart.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at the way he calls you his sweetheart. You have talked every night for weeks. You know that he struggles with the things he’s seen. “You’re too sweet, handsome. He wouldn’t know how to handle you.” You giggle as you hit send and take another sip of whiskey, feeling brave. “I know we have been talking for a few weeks. Would you like to meet up?” You hit the backspace, changing your wording, “would you like to meet me sometime?” You hit send and exhale shakily, nervous of his response.

Swallowing harshly, Javi’s eyes must run over your worse half a dozen times before he can grasp that you want to meet him. He types “Yes” before he thinks about it and changes it to “Yes, absolutely.” He doesn’t know when you want to meet but as soon as he sends it, he’s immediately typing again. “You said you haven’t been bowling in forever. Why don’t we do that?”

You are shocked that he remembered what you said from one of your first conversations together online. You immediately type back, “yes, absolutely! I would love that. Are you free on Friday? 7 pm?” You hit send before you think twice about it and you feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting the mystery man you’ve been talking to for weeks on the computer. Hope that you can meet his expectations of you and that he is some kind of creep. Normally you would never meet someone off of the Internet without knowing their full name but you do like the aspect of mystery of him and also you trust him. As insane as that sounds, you trust your mystery man.

Javi hasn’t grinned so widely since he was a teenager, feeling his stomach flutter and twist in pleasure. He types out the name of the bowling alley that is in the next town over, he’s heard that one is better. “Is that one close enough for you? I’ve heard there aren’t as many bowling leagues there, taking up all the lanes. We can bowl and have a few drinks, nothing too fancy.” He sends that and then chuckles. “I’ll even get some nachos and hamburgers.”

Your face hurts from grinning and you type back, “you are spoiling me, handsome. That works for me. I’ll see you there on Friday at 7pm. I’ll wear red lipstick so you know it’s me.” You hit send, reaching up to touch your lips. J had said he loves when a woman wears red lipstick.

Javi can’t even stop nodding at the computer screen. It’s a dumb habit, but he always feels like he is talking to his sweetheart face to face instead of through a screen. “I’ll get there early to make sure we’ve got a lane.” He promises. “I’ll be in a red shirt to match your lips.”

****

Friday comes around and you are nervous all day. Exhaling shakily, you check your red lipstick in the mirror of your car before you lock it up and head into the bowling alley. You’re here to meet J and you are nervous as shit. What if he doesn’t like how you look? What if you don’t live up to expectations? You enter the bowling alley and glance around, not seeing a red shirt so you make your way over to the front desk, hovering as you wait for your mystery man.

He’s got the lane and for some damn reason, Javi had decided to have too much coffee. Now paying for it with having to piss right as he sat down to wait. Trying to hurry as he washes his hands and rushes out of the bathroom. Scanning the people eagerly for the sight of red lips. His sweetheart will be early, he can tell from getting to know her over the past few weeks.

You glance around and see the one and only Javier Peña come out of the bathroom. You huff, "fancy seeing you here, Peña. Did not take you as the type for bowling." Your eyes drift down to his red shirt and your eyes widen, "J?" You choke, realizing he's the only person wearing a red shirt. This has to be a joke. Surely your online companion isn't here yet.

Javi’s eyes widen and he glances down at your lips. “Sweetheart?” He frowns slightly and wonders if this is some kind of sick joke. You hate him, think that you’re better than him because you deal with numbers all day. He could tell you things about numbers that would have your stomach churning. “What are you-“ he can’t even finish the question.

Your eyes widen at the nickname until you shake your head and let out a sarcastic laugh, "is this some kind of joke? Someone hiding with a camera? Did you - did you set up an account to mess with me? Manwhore Peña making out like he wanted something real? Please, you gotta be dreaming. I - oh God. You did this to mess with me. Well, fuck you handsome." You spit the nickname that once held affection for you and you spin on your heel, making your way out of the bowling alley, cheeks burning with mortification and tears stinging in your eyes.

Embarrassed at the people who are staring, Javi rushes out of the bowling alley, abandoning the lane he had already paid for. Spotting you as you hurry to your car, he admires the dress you are wearing even as he calls your name, breaking out into a jog to catch you. “Will you stop, goddamnit?”

You spin as you fumble to unlock your car. Your hands shake as you try to get the key in the lock. "What?" You hiss, knowing that you'll be a funny story he tells his friends tomorrow. The way it's always been. Javier used to make fun of you when you were in high school, your brother his best friend. Hell, your brother was supposed to be his best man until the wedding never happened.

He’s breathing harder as he comes to a stop in front of you, not panting but almost there. “Don’t- don’t leave.” He tells you, not reaching out but the anger on your face cuts deep. You loathe him, but there had to have been something you liked when you were talking to him online. “Look, if you’re - you go in and bowl.” He offers, holding out the slip to claim the shoes from the counter. “I paid for two games, there’s a pitcher of beer and nachos that should already be waiting.” He explains. “I’ll leave, okay?” His eyes slide away from yours, unable to continue staring at you when you despise him so much.

You shake your head, your heart clenching. You really thought you had something special with J. You don’t take the slip from his hand, your eyes stinging with unused tears. “I’ll go. You go bowl, enjoy the beer.” You spit and growl as you try to open your door, managing to yank it open after a while. “I don’t want to be the butt of your jokes ever again.” You hiss as you get into your car and slam the door, turning on the engine.

Javi frowns as you throw your car into gear and pull out of the parking spot, swallowing harshly. His jokes? Yeah, he teased you when you were both younger, but you still take that to heart? He steps back and shoves the claim ticket into his pocket, turning to walk to his truck. The date is ruined and he feels like shit even though he doesn’t know why.

You make it home and when you enter your apartment, you start to sob. Embarrassed that your entire online relationship has been a big joke. You know Javier is probably laughing about leading you on. You collapse on the sofa, burying your face in your hands, and you spend the first night in a long time not on the computer.

Javi comes into a dark house, his pop already in bed and he sits down in front of the computer. Staring at the dark screen and wishing he had never agreed to meet. Now that he knows that it’s you, he doesn’t regret that he created the profile, but he hates the image of your distraught face. Sighing, he turns the computer on, deciding to send you one last message.

You sniff as you log onto your computer after dialing up, wanting to send an email to your mom to vent about what happened when your email pops up with “message from ‘J’ waiting.” You huff and log into the website. You open the message and rub your cheek, hating that the mascara you so excitedly put on is now smudged all over your face.

“Sweetheart….I want to apologize for ruining your night, and your life it seems. I’m sorry that the night was ruined and I wasn’t the man you had been looking for. Your dress was very pretty. I want you to know that I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over the past few weeks and you are wonderful. I hope that you don’t give up looking for that special person that you can explore and share with. Javier.” The message is simple and straightforward, but Javi worries that he might have overstepped by contacting you again at all.

You read his message a few times. Your heart pounding in your chest and you bite your lip as you ponder what to say to him. You thought about what happened during your drive home. You try to reconcile the Javier you know in the daylight to the man you’ve been speaking to for weeks. You clear your throat and type your response, “Javier. I didn’t know it was you when I was messaging you. I guess I was shocked because you used to make fun of me when we were teenagers. You joining my brother to make fun of his geeky sister. I thought you weren’t interested in anything but sex - I heard the rumors about you in Colombia. I can’t figure out how the man who fucked his way through Texas is the same man who told me he wanted romance. All I can think is that this is a big joke at my expense.” You sniff, hating that your eyes sting again. “I really like J and if you are that man, not the man who rolls his eyes when I point out some issues with his  dad’s receipts, then I would like to try again. Talk in person.” You hit send before you can regret it.

Javi reads your message and it hurts. The magic of talking to you is now gone and he feels a heavy weight of guilt settling back down on his shoulders and he wishes he had a fucking cigarette. He sighs and starts to type. “Yeah, I made fun of you with your brother when we were teenagers. I was an asshole and it was wrong. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t address the manwhore comments, and decides to address the issue with his father. “I will stay out of your business.” He continues on. “I used to work with men who would dig and have others dig until they had leverage on you. I was just trying to make sure my pop didn’t suffer from me pissing them off.” He sighs and rolls his head around before continuing on. “For what it’s worth, I really was looking forward to that bowling date.”

You read his message, leaning back against your chair, and you swallow down the guilt that swirls in your stomach. Maybe you jumped to judging Javier. He was an asshole, but the guy who has been messaging you for three weeks has made your heart flutter. You bite your lip and type back, “I was really looking forward to it too. I’m sorry I'm defensive. I guess I have a complex from high school. Never being the girl that got asked to the dance and it’s given me some issues. I would never let your dad be dragged into something. I want to make sure he’s protected and doing things above board. Maybe we could try again? I really like J. I’m sure I’d like Javier if I gave him an actual chance.” You hit send and sigh, knowing that you have to accept what he says when he responds.

Javi sighs softly, aware this could be some kind of payback, but he doesn’t think so. “I guess it’s too late tonight.” He would go out, but you might not be able to do it tonight. “How about this? I’m free tomorrow night. If you want to do something, we absolutely can.”

You smile softly, typing out your reply. “Miguel’s? Tomorrow at 8?” You hit send and you know that this could be a massive mistake but you want to try. The man you’ve gotten to know has to be inside of the asshole you grew up with.

The bar in town is much more his speed and Javi quickly types out an agreement. “That sounds good. I’ll see you then.” He bites his lip. “Have a glass of wine and soak in a bath, sweetheart, you deserve it.”

You reread his words a few times, loving and hating the smile on your face. You log off the computer and follow his advice, soaking in the bath with a glass of wine. 

****

You glance up at the shitty sign that Miguel’s has had since your papa used to come here and drink after work sometimes. You brush down your dress, walking into the bar and classic rock is playing as you look around for Javi. He’s sitting at the bar, glass of whiskey in front of him, and his eyes widen when he sees you. You walk over to him, a little unsure. “Hi. I guess we should reintroduce ourselves after yesterday.” You tell him, wanting him to know that this is you trying again.

Javi smirks slightly and nods, noticing that you are wearing that red lipstick again. “Red lips.” He hums, wanting to reach out and see if they are as soft as they look. “Guess that makes you sweetheart?” He asks, standing up and pulling out the barstool beside him for you to sit down. “Javier.”

You sit down on the stool beside him, “handsome.” You murmur, taking in the sight of him in a red shirt and you like how he’s trimmed his mustache. He offers you a smile and the bartender comes over. You order a glass of wine and you turn your gaze back to Javier. “I’m sorry I ran off yesterday. I was - it was a shock to see you standing there.” You confess, thanking the bartender when he sets your drink down.

“I could tell.” He doesn’t smile or make light of it, nodding to the bartender himself. “I was surprised that it was you standing there.” Javier admits as well. “Although I guess I should have recognized the asshole son you had to deal with.” He snorts, having gone back through the archived conversations now that he knows it’s you and it’s almost silly that he didn’t figure it out before.

You fluster slightly, knowing you said some mean things about him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was venting. It’s not easy dealing with numbers all day and then you come along and argue it all.” You raise your eyebrows, “I understand that you’re trying to protect your dad but you really are a pain in my ass.” You nudge him and he chuckles, shrugging a shoulder, “I won’t apologize for being protective.” You nod and pick up your drink to have a sip. “Cheers, J.” You reach out to clink your glass against his.

He chuckles again, nodding at sentiment and taking a sip as you do. “We could have used you in Colombia.” Javi compliments you. “Being so good with numbers, you could have spotted things that took us months to figure out with Escobar.” He snorts. “When he was in “jail”-“ Javi uses air quotes. “That asshole would truck in live lobsters. I would have paid money to see you go through his money trail.”

You set your drink down, “I highly doubt that his accountant was tracking his hard earned cash.” You snort and shake your head, “the things you’ve seen down there…I couldn’t even imagine it.” You confess, knowing that he went through a lot during his time in Colombia. “Thank you for the compliment though.” You offer him a smile, “could’ve used your interrogation skills when old man Garcia refused to pay for his filing.”

Javi snorts, imagining putting the screws to that old coot. “That’s when you threaten to tell Mrs. Garcia about his drinking.” He tells you with a wink. Old man Garcia’s wife is heavily religious and has a strict no alcohol rule in her house. You laugh and he taps the bar self consciously. “I wasn’t lying. Online.” He adds. “You know what people think of me. Hell, what you think of me.” He looks at you softly. “Our conversations have been the best parts of my day.”

You soften at the sincerity in his eyes, “me too. I loved talking to you.” You sigh and shake your head, “I think I have misjudged you. I just remembered you when we were younger and then the rumors I heard about Colombia. And leaving Lorraine at the altar. Didn’t exactly paint a pretty picture but I shouldn’t have judged you like that. I think J is the real you, right? If it is, then I want to start again because I like you, Javier. I liked J a lot so if you are the same man, I want to see where this goes.”

Javi smirks at you slightly and leans in. “I thought this was starting again, sweetheart?” He teases playfully. “I don’t mind you misjudging me.” Not exactly the truth, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Not as long as you give me a fair chance now.” He leans back. “Are you hungry? You always complain about waiting too long to eat. I don’t want you to do that tonight.”

You soften even more at the way he remembers how bad you are at eating and you nod a little too fast. “I’m starving.” You admit, “are you hungry? I wouldn’t mind getting some food after this drink.” You gesture to the bar top and you let your eyes take him in now that you aren’t fighting. His eyes are crinkled when he smiles and his dark hair has grays scattered throughout but he’s as gorgeous as ever. No wonder he fucked around so much. He could have any woman he wants.

“That sounds good.” He admits. “If you don’t want bar food, we could go somewhere else?” He knows you prefer casual over formal, which he really appreciates, but sometimes bar food isn’t what someone wants.

You shake your head, “I like the food here. They have amazing burgers.” You say and he nods, “the fucking best.” You relax a little more, taking another sip of your drink, and you let your eyes wander a little more, taking in the golden skin beneath his shirt, peeking through from the buttons he’s left undone. He notices your appraising eyes and smirks. You fluster and set your glass down, “you know how women see you.” You scoff softly, trying to cover your embarrassment at being caught.

Javi chuckles softly. “Like a notch in their bedpost.” He admits, shrugging slightly. “Last woman that hit on me told me she wanted to see if the rumors were true.” It’s not been a bad thing, but it’s not what he wants now.

His words make you frown and you feel a little guilty for eying him. "For the record, I don't think you could fuck all night long. At least that's what I heard in the grocery store a few weeks ago." You nudge him to show you're joking, "you are more than that. More than what people see." You add with a murmur, recalling the things he said to you. "You're handsome but you're smart, loyal, and funny." You say about the man you know online.

He’s grateful you don’t buy into the rumors and you are willing to judge him on what you’ve talked about. “I’m not eighteen anymore.” He huffs. “Three good rounds is about all I’ve got in me these days.” He admits, smirking slightly. “Four if you’re counting the next morning.”

Your throat goes a little dry and you pick up your wine to take a gulp. “Three is…more than I’ve had.” You confess, “one…sometimes half.” You snort and Javier chuckles, “one and a half.” You shake your head, “no. Half. He came before I did and he didn’t -” You sigh and chuckle softly.

Javi grimaces and shakes his head. “Fuck.” He snorts. “Every man has had a time where he’s too excited or worked up. But you have to make sure your girl squeals in pleasure.” He sends you a small sigh. “Sounds like you slept with some real assholes.”

You snort and nod, “absolutely. Some real assholes.” You echo his words and sigh, “I just want someone who wants me and I want them. To make them happy.” You echo your typed words, knowing he feels the same way.

Javi nods, listening rather than jumping in and offering to make you feel good. He wants to take this slow and show you - and himself - that things can be different. The bartender comes over and he asks for two menus before giving you his attention again. “When was your last relationship?” He asks. “I find it hard to believe that it’s been long. You’re too pretty to be single.”

You thought that Javier would have offered to take you to bed but the fact that he didn’t is refreshing. “Uh, you remember Frankie from the auto shop? I went out with him about two years ago. I’ve been trying to build my business and I haven’t really had time to date. I’m not a one night stand kind of girl.”

He cannot say the same, but he nods, understanding what you mean. “You have to have an emotional connect, right?” He asks, wanting to know more about you. He's still reconciling the woman online with his ex-best friend’s little sister.

You glance down at the menu, his dark eyes burning into you, but you love how his attention is solely on you. “Emotional and primal. I think that the chemistry has to be there from the beginning otherwise you’re possibly waiting for something that could never happen. I thought you were a dick for so many years but I’ve always been attracted to you. Our chemistry was bickering but it was still there from the beginning.”

Javi smirks proudly, his eyes heating up at your confession and he lifts a brow. “I won’t lie and say I’ve always wanted you.” He tells you honestly. “There was a time when you were too young for me. But now…..” he winks. “I can tell you that it’s not just innocent thoughts.”

You bite your lip at his own confession and you lean a little closer to him, “glad we are on the same page now.” You reach out to touch his hand just as the bartender comes over to ask you what you want to order. You lean back from Javier as he gestures for you to go first and you order the burger and fries. Javier orders the same and you hand the menus over. “Best fucking burgers.” He says when he takes a bite into the burger after it arrives. “Damn right.” You groan in agreement after you swallow your bite.

“So.” Javi wipes his mustache with a bar napkin and looks over at you. “If there’s one thing that you’ve never done but always wanted to, what would it be?” He asks, grinning when you lift your brows in surprise at his question.

You hum, tapping your chin after you push your empty plate away. “I want to ride a mechanical bull.” You admit, giggling at the way his brows immediately shoot up. “Seriously?” He asks and you nod, a smirk on your face. “I’ve never had the guts to get up and do it. Always figured I’d look like an idiot and fall within seconds.”

“Everyone looks like an idiot and falls within seconds.” Javi snorts. “You’ll look like everyone else.” You huff and pout slightly, making him tap his chin. “There’s a bull a town over. Hole in the wall place. We could drive over and give it a whirl.”

You grin, “let’s go, Peña.” You reach for your purse and he tuts, “my momma would whoop me for letting a lady pay. It’s our first date.” He reminds you and pulls out his wallet, throwing enough cash down to cover the bill. You thank him, unused to such gentlemanly behavior from him and his gender. You take the hand he extends you and he guides you out of the bar to his truck. “You wanna follow me or I can bring you back here?” He asks and you are hyper focused on the feel of his calloused hand in yours. “Let’s ride together.” You decide and he nods, escorting you around the truck to open the passenger door for you, helping you up.

Javi rounds the front of the truck and climbs in beside you. “It’s only about a twenty minute drive.” He promises as he turns the engine over. “We have another drink, check something off that bucket list of yours and maybe even dance a time or two.”

His truck rumbles as he pulls out of the parking lot and the radio plays a country song. You admire the way his arms flex as he navigates the road, knowing that he realizes he’s attractive but maybe not aware of how much.

“Did you always want to be an accountant?” Javi asks, glancing over at you before looking back at the road. You’re so damn pretty sitting in his passenger seat and he wonders if you will bristle at the question. “I know you’re a math whiz, but was it a goal? Or something you fell into?”

“Kinda?” You answer, “went to college for math and I wanted to work for NASA. Then - then my mom got sick after I graduated and I couldn’t go to Houston. I had an internship there and I turned it down to stay at home. Became an accountant to stay local. She’s better now, thank God, but I always wonder what could’ve been.”

“Holy shit.” He’s impressed. NASA would have been an incredible career and he wonders what kind of life you would have had if you had been able to go for that. “I understand.” He nods, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Mom having cancer while I was in college really changed things for me. Honestly? I don’t know if I would have joined the DEA or not married Lorraine if she hadn’t passed.” He still misses her everyday, not regretting taking care of her one bit, but he had wondered what would have happened if she had lived. Or even lived longer than she did.

You were there the day he left Lorraine at the altar. The whole town was there. “I’m sorry. I remember your mom. She always made me feel so warm. She was kind and always made the best empanadas. I know you were a sheriff. What made you want to join the DEA?” You ask, curious what made him sign up, “was it to get away from Lorraine? From town?”

“Partly.” Javi snorts, remembering how the family he had once been almost welcomed into, had smeared his name through the streets. “She - or her family - told everyone I was fucking her best friend. Never even looked twice at her. But there were a lot of drugs running through town when I was a sheriff's deputy. Wanted to cut it off before it got here.”

You remember the rumor and you weren’t sure if you believed it. Javier was not a womanizer when he was with Lorraine. He seemed to only have eyes for her. “Yeah. It’s still bad. Those assholes will always win. You get rid of Escobar, someone else will take his place.” You sigh, “Lorraine did railroad you down the aisle.”

Javi shrugs slightly. "I loved her, but not enough." He admits. "I had some growing up to do and I don't regret it. Not really. She wouldn't have been happy in Colombia, and I wouldn't have let her stay."

You nod in understanding, “then she dated my brother. He was her rebound and I guess he didn’t really care about his best friend being her ex.” You scoff, remembering how your brother moved in on Lorraine as soon as Javier left town. “I’m sorry he was such an asshole and didn’t respect you.”

He huffs slightly and glances back over at you with an amused look before turning his attention back to the road. "Not a great look." He tells you. "Always wondered if they were fucking around before I left." He admits, revealing something that had been rolling around in his mind for a long time, but never voiced. "Doesn't matter anymore, though. We are all different people than we were back then." 

“My brother is an asshole. He lives in Dallas now with his pretty wife and two kids. I haven’t seen him for a while. When Mom was sick, he stayed away. Didn’t even come to see her.” You shake your head and lean back in your seat, “he’s always been an asshole. Used to say I was a nerd who would never have a boyfriend.” You chuckle, “guess he was kind of right.” You look up as Javier pulls into the parking lot of the bar.

“I was an asshole too.” At the time, Javi had thought it was pretty funny. He took part in the teasing thinking that it was all in good sibling fun between you and his best friend. He had been an only child and had been too immature at the time to realize the hurt that it caused you. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs as he shifts the truck into Park and looks over at you. “For everything I did back then. For the hurt I caused. I’m sorry I didn’t stop him.”

You appreciate his apology and you know it’s ridiculous to be hung up on the teasing you got as a teenager but words hurt and they have always stuck with you. You reach out to squeeze his hand, “I appreciate you saying that, Javi. Now…let’s go ride a mechanical bull.” You grin, letting go of his hand so you can unbuckle your seatbelt.

He chuckles as he follows your lead. Sensing that you want to move past that, he climbs out of the truck and comes to your door to help you out. His perusal in your outfit is both to admire you and make sure you will be safe on the bull. “Good thing you wore jeans instead of a dress this time.” He hums.

You snort, “yeah. Don’t want to be flashing my ass to everyone in the bar.” You chuckle and Javier takes your hand to escort you inside the bar after locking his truck. The bar is busy but not slammed and you walk up to the bar to take a seat. Javier gestures for you to say what you want when the bartender comes over and you order a glass of wine while he orders a whiskey. “Liquid courage.” He declares and you giggle, “maybe wine isn’t strong enough.” You hum but don’t change your order.

He smirks slightly and turns to watch the bull in the corner of the room. The floor is covered in mats around it and he leans in, his elbows braced back on the bar. “There she is.” He talks into your ear since it’s loud with conversation and music. “You nervous?”

You shiver at the way his breath fans over you and you turn your head, bringing your face closer to his, “I’m ready. Nervous, but ready.” You promise, knowing that you could look like a fool but you desperately want to try this. It has always looked fun.

“Squeeze your knees tight.” He advises you, his voice dropping slightly on instinct. “Move your hips like you’re riding a man. You’ll do just fine, sweetheart.” The bartender brings your drinks over and he leans back to grab your wine and hand it to you before he takes his whiskey.

You take a gulp of wine, stomach twisting at the way he advises you, his voice lowering. You set your glass down, “you ready Peña?” You ask and he nods, calling the bartender over to say you want to ride the bull. “Sure man. We can get it revved up.” The bartender nods, calling his coworker over to get the bull up and running.

“Now, when you fall, just tuck your body into a ball.” Javi tells you. “People hurt themselves when they try to catch themselves.”

You nod, walking over to the bull. You’re nervous and a little scared but you are excited to try this. You eye the bull, taking Javier’s hand as he helps you up onto the bull. You grip the handles, preparing yourself and you squeeze your thighs like Javier suggested. The machine whirls to life and you squeal, eyes widening as it starts to move.

The bull starts slowly, turning as the front of the machine dips down before it bucks up. Javi watches as your hand flies up, like you’ve seen Bull riders do. Your thighs clench tight around it and you make the first full turn on it. You are damn good, his brow shoots up and his cock twitches in his pants. Making him wonder if you would ride his cock like you are riding the bull, your hips swerving and rolling with the movement of the ride.

You grin, giggling as you ride the bull. It flings around but you remain on top, you rock with the motion, squealing when it swings you around again, and you rock back, feeling invincible as you conquer something on your bucket list.

The speed of the bull increases and Javi can tell you are starting to lose your seat. Knowing you are about to lose your grip on the bull’s sides, he’s still impressed. Putting two fingers in his mouth, he whistles proudly.

Loving his enthusiasm, you try to hold on for as long as you can but eventually, you fall off. You curl in on yourself like Javier recommended and you hit the mat and the bull stops. “Shit.” You hiss, stumbling a little as you stand up.

“Holy shit.” Javi rushes over and takes hold of your waist, grinning proudly. “That was great!” He tells you. “You’re lying. You have to have ridden a bull before.” He doesn’t think you actually lied, but he loves the breathless exhilaration on your face.

You shake your head, letting him guide you out of the ring. “Never. I - holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that.” You grin and your heart pounds in your chest as you lean against him. “I just did that.” You exhale breathlessly and he nods, a grin on his face. You can’t help it, you cup his cheeks and surge forward to press your lips to his.

Javi is shocked you are kissing him, but he doesn’t push you away. Letting you wrap your arm around him while your tongue slides into his mouth boldly. Groaning, he squeezes your waist and reminds himself that it’s just the adrenaline. Enjoying the fact that you are pressed up against him before you break away.

You pull back and grin at him, still riding your high, and you grab his hand, “let’s go get our drinks. I’m thirsty after that.” You guide him over to the bar again and pick up your glass of wine to have a sip. “You gonna have a ride?” You ask him, wondering if he will attempt to ride the bull.

Javi chuckles as he takes a drink of his whiskey. “Why the hell not?” He asks, pushing the empty glass towards the bartender. “It’s only been at least ten years since I’ve been on a mechanical bull.” He shrugs. “Like riding a bike, right?”

He strides over to the bull and your mouth goes dry as he swings his leg over it to straddle it. You bite your lip as you watch him adjust himself and the bull starts to move.

Javi grew up on the back of a horse and when he was younger, him and his cousins all rodeoed a little. Plus the hell raising younger years where he would come here simply to see how long he could hang on. He's older and isn’t used to it anymore, but he still hangs on and throws you a wink while the bull twists him around for the first rotation.

Your stomach twists with arousal as you watch him swivel his hips and stay on the bull. You lean against the soft barrier and take in the sight of Javier Peña riding the bull. He is sexy and you can feel yourself getting wet from the display he’s putting on.

The operator turns up the speed faster than he did with you and soon enough, Javi is flying off the bull and tucking his body like he had advised you to do. Grunting as he climbs to his feet, he smirks when you rush up to him again. “You lasted longer.” He teases. “Just like a woman.”

You snort, reaching up to brush his hair back that had fallen into his face. “You were amazing. Very sexy to watch.” You confess and he smirks, “yeah?” You nod, “amazing.” You haven��t felt this good in so long, carefree and happy.

“Do you want to try it again later on?” Javi asks, watching you grin at him. “You were really sexy riding it too.” He had a semi from watching you, even though he had no intentions of taking you to bed tonight. This was going to be different.

You love that he thought you looked sexy and you nod, “yes. I’d love that. For now, another drink?” You suggest and he smiles, taking your hand to guide you over to the bar again. You enjoy your drinks, squeal over another round on the bull, and now, your arms are wrapped around his neck as you dance to the music playing. “I really didn’t expect you’d be a dancer.” You confess, enjoying the way his fingers grip your waist.

“Too much of an asshole?” He grins at you, making fun of the unrealistic views you each had of each other. “I like dancing. It’s a good way to be close without being naked.” He hums playfully. “There were a lot of times that it was a good cover for watching sicarios. I would get a trusted asset to come with me. It wouldn’t be fair to make her sit there and just look pretty all night.”

You hum, rocking to the beat. You know about Javier's adventures in Colombia but you know he did that to find Escobar. You dance for a while longer until last orders are called. "One more or shall we head out?" He asks and you are reluctant to go home but you can't have another drink. "Let's go. I need to run errands tomorrow and I don't want to sleep in too late." He nods and pays the bill before escorting you to his truck once again. "I had a really good time tonight." You confess when he is driving back to where your car is parked.

“I did too.” Javi admits easily, probably the most relaxed he has been in a long time. You are easy to talk to now that you aren’t butting heads and Javi doesn’t just look at you like his old friend’s little sister. “Maybe we can do it again soon?” He doesn’t want to assume, you said you were extremely busy with your business at times.

“Absolutely. I’d love to do this again. I’m free on Tuesday if you want to do something?” You ask, knowing it’s crazy to like him this much already but you’ve been getting to know him online for weeks.

“I think I can make that work.” He thinks about the work he has scheduled with his dad and nods. “I’m sure we’ll talk online?” He asks. “If something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan, Peña.” You hum, looking out of the window at the passing streetlights until you turn your head to look at him, admiring his profile highlighted by the dashboard and the dim light outside. When you arrive back at your car, he opens the door for you and you reach into your purse for your keys, unlocking your door and before you can open it, Javier cups your cheek, bringing your face to his. His kiss is sweet, tilting your head so he can deepen it a little and you moan softly into his mouth. He’s a good kisser. He pulls back before he goes further and you smile, “goodnight Javier. See you soon.” You slide into the car and buckle your seatbelt then turn the engine, offering him a wave before you put your car in drive and make your way home. Javier stands there for a few moments, watching your car disappear in the distance and he sighs, “holy shit.” He shakes his head and gets into his truck, heading home to his bed. Alone.

**** 

“You missed!” Javi pumps his fist as he crows playfully, watching you spin around and stick your tongue out at him. He wants to show you what you can do with that tongue, but he just smirks as he gets to his feet after marking out your last set. It’s the third game you’ve played tonight and both of you are almost equally bad at bowling. Making it fun as you joke and play around on the lane. “Watch a professional.” He jokes, blowing on his fingers before he picks up the red and blue swirled ball he had picked out.

You roll your eyes, “sure thing, babe.” You watch him as he makes a show of positioning his feet, rolling his shoulders, before he throws the ball down the lane. It rolls into the gutter and you smother your giggle with your hand until you mark the sheet. “Professional, huh?” You tease, walking over to grab your ball. “How about a bet?” You suggest and he nods, “sure. What’s the bet?” You smirk, “first person to get a strike…gets a kiss.” You proposition and Javier smirks, “you’re on.” 

You make a show of positioning yourself to throw the ball, concentrating on the middle line, and you bowl it, holding your breath as you watch it go straight down the middle, all the pins flying as you get a strike. “Hey, that’s cheating!” Javier accuses halfheartedly and you grin, dusting off your hands as you walk over to him. “Now…my prize, Peña?”

Javi leans back in the hard plastic chairs and reaches for your waist, dragging you down into his lap. It’s been a long goddamn time since he’s felt this lighthearted and it’s all because of you. You giggle and throw your arm around his neck as he pulls you closer. “Your prize,” he teases, brushing his nose against yours. “You cheater.” Before you can protest, he lunges forward and presses his lips to yours.

You melt into the kiss, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. His tongue slides against your lower lip and you allow him access, moaning softly into the kiss. His hands slide along your back and you feel giddy, heart pounding as he kisses you. You pull back after several moments, pecking his lips. “What a prize.” You murmur, your lips burning from his kiss. “And for the record, I didn’t cheat. It was luck.”

He chuckles, knowing you haven’t pretended to suck at bowling for three games to suddenly become good. “I know.” He pecks your lips again and pats your hip. “Lucky ass strike. I’m not complaining at all. I reaped the benefits of it too.”

**** 

You watch Javier shove a handful of popcorn into his mouth and giggle, “slow down. We can get a refill, baby.” You nudge him then take a sip of the large soda. “I heard this is a good movie. I always liked Russell Crowe.” You say as the trailers start. 

“It’s Gladiators, hermosa. It’s gonna be epic.” Javier says, channeling the teenage boy who would’ve loved this movie. He used to watch Westerns and Sci-Fi with his dad. They had to go to the movies to watch Star Wars at the midnight showing when it came out. You settle in beside him, leaning closer as the movie starts.

Javi throws his arm around your shoulders and watches you while he watches the movie. Wanting to make sure that you aren’t bored with the movie, but it’s soon apparent that you are just as thrilled with the action as he is. “They used to sleep together.” Javi predicts, talking about the Emperor’s sister.

Javier rubs your arm when you shiver but it’s not from the AC, it’s from him being so close. “I feel like he’s going to die.” You whisper, having a feeling that Maximus isn’t going to make it. You lean over to grab the soda, having a sip, and Javier leans in so you tilt the straw towards him so he can take a sip.

He feels like you are right, sucking down some of the soda and looking over at you and his eyes slide down to your lips. He leans in hums, "I think so too." He admits and leans back, reaching over and taking your hand when you put the soda down.

You feel like a teenager when he squeezes your hand and you watch the rest of the movie. When it’s over, Javier drives you home. His hand in yours as the radio plays and the wind is in your hair from the open windows. When he pulls up outside of your place, he cuts the engine and walks around the truck to open your door. He takes your hand and escorts you to your door. When you get there, you smile at him, “next time, I pick the movie.” You tease and he chuckles, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. 

“Rom com.” Javier guesses and you chuckle, reaching up to grip his shirt, dragging him closer. 

“You love them really.” You joke and he presses his lips to yours. His tongue slides against yours and he backs you up against the door. You whimper into his mouth and he kisses you thoroughly. He pulls back and your lips tingle when you say “do you want to come in?” You ask and he sighs, “not tonight. I gotta get up early to help Pa with the cows.” 

You nod, stomach twisting as you wonder why he hasn’t wanted to sleep with you. “Sure. I’ll see you soon.” You offer him a smile even though it’s a little tight. “Bye, cariño.” He murmurs and you turn to open your door. He stands there until you close it, waving at him until the door is shut. You sigh when you drop your purse down, confused as to why Javier hasn’t slept with you yet. You’ve been dating for 2 months, talking for 3 and you don’t understand why he hasn’t touched you when his reputation displays his willingness to fall into bed. You ponder it all night long until you come up with a plan. You’re going to invite Javier over for dinner and seduce him.

**** 

Another cold shower. Javi hisses as he shivers under the icy spray of water, closing his eyes and willing his erection to go down. Every day he is hard, especially when he is around you. He’s tried very hard to make sure he doesn’t rush this, he doesn’t rush you into bed. Wanting there to be a solid foundation of trust and respect between you both. He just has to wait until the time is right to move things forward. “Fuck.” He twitches despite the cold temperature and reaches down to wrap his hand around his cock. You are so fucking sexy and he is more attracted to you as the days pass. He’ll have to jerk off, he closes his eyes and thinks about you, reaching out with his other hand to turn the hot water on.

**** 

You check the chicken is cooked and cover it with foil just as the doorbell rings and you walk over to the door to open it after adjusting your dress. It’s tight and black and you hope he likes it. “Hey baby.” You greet him with a smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"Hey." His eyes widen slightly and he wonders if he had misread the situation and undressed. He's glad he stopped to get flowers and a bottle of that wine you like. "You look nice. Very nice."

“Thanks, baby.” You wink and take the flowers from his hand. “These are gorgeous. Thank you.” You carry them into the kitchen and grab a vase to put them in. “Would you mind opening the wine? Dinner is nearly ready.” You tell him and fill the vase to put the flowers in.

“Sure.” You’ve got the wine glasses out as well as a bottle opener, so Javi brings the bottle over to the table to pour out some drinks. “It smells great!” He calls out to the kitchen, listening to you hustle around. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. We could have gone out to dinner.”

You look at him over your shoulder after you put the vase down on the side. You smile at him, “I wanted to treat you. I know you and your Pa don’t cook a lot so I figured you’d enjoy a homemade meal. Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, asparagus and red wine jus.” You tell him about tonight’s menu as he pours the wine out.

His brows lift in surprise at how elaborate the dinner is and he is impressed. “Are we celebrating something that I wasn’t aware of?” He asks with a slight smile, watching as you give him another one in return. It makes his heart flutter and he can’t help but think how beautiful you are. “Just a nice night together.” Your answer makes Javi hums in approval.

You work fast to put dinner together, setting it down in front of him, and you sit down in the seat beside him at your small kitchen table. “Enjoy.” You tell him and you pick up your knife and fork so you can dig in.

“It looks delicious.” Javi compliments as he looks down at the meal you’ve put in front of him. “Thank you, sweetheart.” You smile at him and again that fluttering in his heart makes him feel young and he wonders if this is that complete love his pa would always claim would one day find him and knock him on his ass.

You talk about your days while you eat. You still message online on nights you can’t see each other, complemented by phone calls, and after you finish eating, you clear the plates and grab the dessert you bought. “Still like pie?” You ask, placing a piece of apple pie and ice cream in front of him.

“You’re spoiling me.” Javi groans, watching the steam from the still hot pie rise and the ice cream start to melt over it. “I will have to plan something special for our next date.” He picks up his spoon and cuts into the pie for a large bite.

You like that he likes the dinner, making you feel special that you can look after him like this. You sit down and watch him devour the dessert. You eat your own plate and after the plates are cleared away, you find yourself on the sofa with your glasses of wine. Your radio plays in the background and you sit beside Javier, your legs tucked beneath you. “You’re so damn handsome.” You reach up to caress his cheek, “and smart. And funny. And I am so happy that we met online.”

“And you are blind.” He chuckles, leaning into your touch. “You are the one who is beautiful, kind and hilarious, you should be running from the disaster that I am. But for some reason you like spending time with me and I’m happy you do.”

“Me too. You’re not a disaster. You’re incredible.” You murmur, leaning in to press your lips to his. He tilts his head and you deepen the kiss, tangling your tongue with his. You kiss for a few moments until you break the kiss, kissing along his neck, and you shift to straddle him, your dress riding up your thighs.

Javi groans, his hands sliding up and down your thighs and he wonders what you are doing. He’s been good at not letting things go too far. “Sweetheart….” He pants, closing his eyes as he can’t believe he’s about to push you away. “Sweetheart, stop.” He murmurs.

You lean back and frown at him, “what’s wrong?” You ask, confused about why he’s pushing you away. “I don’t - not tonight.” He says and you shift off of him, “I don’t know - I’m confused. Am I - are you not attracted to me?” You question him, confused and hurt at him pushing you away.

“What?” He frowns at the question, looking at you like you are crazy. “No- no of course not. I am attracted to you.” He promises, but you shake your head, not believing him. “I am, sweetheart, I just- I’m trying to behave.” He tells you, shoving his hand through his hair and wishing you don’t look like he’s just broken up with you.

You shift to stand up, your stomach twisting, and you stare at him, “you’re trying to behave? I don’t want you to behave.” You look down at him, “I want you to fuck me. It’s been 2 months of dating. I never imagined you would go bowling, go to the movies like a teenager. I love that, don’t get me wrong, I loved all of our dates but God, Peña, I just want you to fuck me.” You exclaim, chest heaving.

Javi swallows harshly, watching you stand in front of him, practically begging him to fuck you. His mouth is dry and he rubs his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “Show me your bedroom, hermosa.” He demands. “You want me to fuck you, that’s where I’ll do it.”

His dark eyes are almost black and you see something in them that makes your stomach twist with arousal. “Baby, I want you.” You take his hand and guide him towards your bedroom, opening the door and you are nervous. Javier has had a lot of lovers. What if you don’t match up?

He’s groaning when he sees your bed and imagines spreading you out on it. You’ll look so pretty thoroughly fucked and exhausted. “I had a physical when I got back home.” Javi murmurs quietly. “And I haven’t slept with anyone, but I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control and I haven’t slept with anyone for a while.” You tell him and you reach for the tie of your wrap dress. You slowly untie it and let your dress fall open to expose the lingerie you picked out in hopes that Javier would touch you tonight.

“Fuck.” He exhales roughly, cock twitching in his pants as he takes in your curves, showcased in lace. “So fucking sexy.” He starts to unbutton his shirt as he strides closer, feeling cocky and yet also nervous because you are so important to him. “What were you thinking about when you got dressed? Me fucking you? I think about that a lot.”

“I was thinking about you. Fucking me. Touching me. I think about that a lot too.” You tell him and reach out to run your hands down his chest. “You’re so gorgeous, Javi.” You murmur, caressing his skin and you slide your hands up to push the shirt from his shoulders.

Javi hums, not used to really accepting compliments. Women would flatter him, in Colombia to earn a bit more, or to get him to fuck them. You, you have nothing but honesty and desire in your eyes and it’s thrilling. “Thought about it a lot too.” He admits with a smirk. “Too many cold showers lately.”

You giggle, “no more cold showers.” You promise and slide your hands lower to unbuckle his belt. You pull it from the loops and let it drop to the floor. You unbutton his jeans, reaching in to squeeze his hard cock and you are shocked to find he doesn’t wear underwear. “Oh God.” You gasp at the girth of him and you pull him out of his underwear.

Javi groans as your fingers wrap around him, twitching in your palm and glancing down at your hand engulfing him. “Fuck.” He hisses, eyes closing when you give him an experimental pump. “You seem surprised, hermosa.” He pants. “Rarely wear underwear. Too hot.”

“I didn’t know.” You admit, “God, didn’t know you had such a gorgeous cock. No wonder every woman from Texas to Colombia wanted you.” You pump him again, shifting down into your knees as you admire his girth and you lean in to wrap your lips around him.

“Shiiiiit.” He hisses, jaw clenching as he looks down at you on your knees in front of him. He’s imagined it, but this looks ever sexier than what he had thought. “Fuck baby, you thought about sucking my cock?” He asks, cupping your cheek. “You like doing it? I want to tongue fuck you. See how you like being licked.”

You moan around his cock at his filthy words, loving the way he talks dirty and it has you soaking your panties. You take him deeper, keeping your eyes on his, and you wrap your fingers around the back of his cock, starting to pump him.

“You’re good at this. Tell me you don’t love sucking cock, you could be a pro.” He grunts, caressing the hinge of your jaw and pushing slightly deeper. “Gonna be thinking about this when I’m working. My cock down your throat while you bat your eyes at me.”

You relax your jaw, letting him push deeper, and his words have you moaning around his cock. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous standing above you. His stomach is slightly soft but you love that. You are proud that he’s enjoying this when he’s had so much experience. You choke around him as you try to take him deeper. You exhale through your nose and try again, taking him deeper into your throat.

“Fuck, don’t hurt yourself, hermosa.” Javi groans, pulling you off of him slightly as he pulls his hips back. “Are you wet? Dripping from having my cock in your mouth? Why don’t you sit on my face while you do it? Let me eat your cunt.”

You nod, dripping wet from him and the idea of him eating you out while you suck him off. Pushing his jeans down, he kicks them off and is bare before you. You stand up on shaky legs and he steadies you. You lean in to kiss him, your tongue tangling with his and he pushes your dress from your shoulders.

He has a lot of experience with undressing a woman. His hands are skilled in stripping someone down and he does it with an eagerness that is more than just hungry for sex. He wants a connection, a bond that cannot be broken even when he pulls away.

You let him reach behind you to unclasp your bra, dragging the straps down your arms until it drops to the floor and your tits are exposed to his hungry gaze. "Javi!" You gasp when he grabs your back, pulling you close so he can duck down and take your nipple into his mouth.

He’s always been a greedy man. Sex is addictive. It's honestly just as addictive as the cocaine he had chased down and tried to prevent people from snorting up their noses. The feeling of losing himself, pleasure both given and received lets him forget about the problems or guilt that weighed him down. Now he gets to just feel you, learn what makes you cry in pleasure.

You moan as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass while he bites and sucks on your nipple until he switches to the other. His fingers hook into your panties and he pushes them down as he kisses along the swell of your breast. “Fuck, need more.” You whine, lightly pushing him away so you can kick your panties aside, patting the bed. “Lay down, baby.”

He chuckles at how eager you are. Following your orders and laying down, giving himself plenty of room away from the headboard. Watching as you peruse his body, your own eyes just as hungry as he knows his are.

You shift to kneel on the bed, shuffling up the bed until you face away from him and straddle his chest. His hands immediately go to your hips to drag you backwards to hover over his face and you bend down to take his cock into your hand.

Javi groans as he takes in the sight of your soaked folds. They are perfect and puffy, soaking wet because of your want of him. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you back more so he can flatten his tongue against your folds.

You cry out when he slides his tongue through your folds, making you grind back onto him. “Fuck baby. That’s good.” You whimper and lean down so you can take his cock into your mouth with a moan, wanting him to feel just as good.

Javi groans happily, enjoying the tang of your juices on his tongue. Licking into your cunt eagerly and making it messy. Groaning again when your mouth wraps around his cock again.

You love how he moans into your flesh and you grip his cock, sloppily sucking his cock as you want him to enjoy this as much as you are. You love how enthusiastic he is, sucking your clit into his mouth and you moan around his cock again.

He continues to lick into you, rocking your hips back and burying his tongue deep inside your soaked walls. Twitching in your mouth and groaning when a dribble of precum is spurted into your mouth as you suck.

You moan, hollowing your cheeks around his cock as you take him deeper, rocking back on his face as he sucks on your clit a little harder. It’s so good. You moan and pull off of his cock, continuing to pump him in your hand.

Javi moans into your folds, pulling back slightly. “I don’t want to cum yet.” He grunts before he is diving back in to make you cum.

You huff but loosen your grip on his cock, not taking him back into your mouth but he ducks harder on your clit. You rest your cheek on his thigh as he slides his tongue inside of you. You pant, “God baby. You’re gonna make me cum.” You moan, so close to your orgasm as he pushes his tongue deeper.

That’s the point. He doesn’t stop, speeding up his tongue as it flicks through your walls and pulls you back more firmly on his face. Willing you to cum for him, wanting to hear you and taste you.

You rock back onto his face, unashamed of your need and lust for him, and you moan his name when you fall over the edge. Your thighs gripping his face as he works you through it. “Javi. Oh shit. Baby, I - oh God.” You ramble against his thigh.

Javi loves it. The slick of your release covering his mouth and jaw as he works you through it. Keeping ahold of your hips and your cunt firm to his mouth until you are whimpering his name as a little protest.

He pushes you over the edge and keeps pushing, making you hiss as you get overstimulated. "Javi." You whine his name again, needing him to pull back and he relents, leaning away from your cunt with a groan. You sigh, closing your eyes, "God, so good." You murmur, taking a moment to ride your high.

Javi pants, licking his lips as he strokes your ass. He knows that feeling, riding the wave. He would need a cigarette if he hadn’t been using the patches and he still hasn’t even cum. Shoving his arm under his head, he watches you shift off of him a few minutes later. His cock is throbbing but he doesn’t mind.

You shift to lay beside him, leaning in to kiss him, and he turns his head so you can slide your tongue against his. You moan into the kiss, uncaring about your tangy cum on his lips, and you slide your hand down to grip his cock, squeezing him before you pump him slowly. "You're too good, Javi. How do you want me?" You ask, wanting him to enjoy this in case you don't cum again. You've already gotten more than you would have from other lovers.

Javi groans into your mouth. “I like to kiss and be close.” He admits. “But sometimes I change positions.” He rolls onto you and slides his hand down to bring your thigh up to his hip. “Start this way and end up however we do?”

You nod, sliding your hands along his back, loving the way his muscles flex under your touch. "Sounds perfect." You murmur and he reaches between you to position his cock at your entrance. You close your eyes as he pushes inside of you, your head tilting back while you silently moan at the stretch.

He watches you closely, loving how expressive you are. How you don’t care about how you look. You care about how you feel, how he is making you feel. It looks like you are feeling good and he wants to make you always feel this way. “So pretty.” He moans quietly. “So goddamn pretty and all mine. My pretty girl.”

You slide your hands up into his hair, "yours. All yours." You promise, lifting your legs so you can wrap them around his hips. He sinks deeper inside of you and you whimper, "God, you feel so good inside of me. Move, please." You beg, "don't care if you cum too fast. You already made me cum."

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “Fuck no.” He grunts, pulling his hips back to surge forward again. “Not going to do that to you.” He hisses out, eyes rolling back when you clench down around him. His lips find your skin and he starts to kiss, everywhere he can reach as he starts to move.

His lips on your skin have you on fire, rocking your hips up to meet his thrusts, and you caress his back, loving the way he feels covering your body. You tilt your head back so he can kiss down your neck until you grab his cheeks, bringing his mouth back to yours and you moan into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his as he rocks into you.

Every thrust of his hip makes both of you pant in pleasure, breath exchanged and mingled together as the two of you move. Javi slides his arms around your body and pulls you up close, sinking deeper as he pushes into you again and again.

He drops his hips and he grinds against your clit, making you gasp in pleasure, and he smirks, focusing on that spot again. “Good girl.” He murmurs and the praise makes you push your heels into his ass to press him deeper inside of you. “Shit. Feels so good. I - never felt like this before.” You admit breathlessly, getting closer and closer.

“Good.” It’s not good that you’ve never been fucked properly, but he’s glad you are making sure that you get the attention you deserve. “You feel so good. Tight little pussy squeezing my cock.” He praises roughly. “Could spend all night right here.”

His words make you gush around him and he caresses your thigh as he rocks into you, making you moan when he hits something just right. “Yes. Yes. Javier. Fuck, right there. That - oh God!” You squeal as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him, and his name echoes on your bedroom walls as you cum around him for the first time.

“Fuuuuuck.” He growls, slowly thrusting into you as you fall apart on his cock. Loving how tight you get, how wet. Bracing his knees on the bed, he pulls you up until you are in his lap.

You gasp, feeling him sink deeper and press against your cervix in this position. Your hands grip his waist and you scramble to brace your feet on the bed. “God, Javi.” You cry out when he starts to rock his hips again. “Yes. Love - love this.” You choke out, tilting your head back.

He groans as he rolls his hips up, using his thighs as he works in and out of you. “Fuck, you’re-“ he chokes out, gasping your name when you squeeze him inside your walls again. “Fuck, hermosa.” He hisses, lunging forward and biting down on your jaw as the thrusts become sharper, snapping his hips up.

You love the way he bites as he nips and kisses down your neck until he’s taking your nipple into his mouth. You tangle one hand in his hair, tugging on it to bring his mouth back to yours. Your tongues slide against each other while he thrusts into you and you use your feet to grind down onto him. “Shit. You got me worked up. Might cum again.” You pant against his chin.

“Do it.” He huffs, his hands sliding up and down your back, gripping your ass as he grinds into you. “Cum all over me again. Wanna feel it. So good.” He babbles slightly, hoping you are enjoying this as much as you seem to be. It’s been awhile since he’s had sex but he’s holding out. Jerking off before the date had been a good idea.

You pant, rocking down onto him and it doesn’t take long but it does take you by surprise when you cum again, clamping down on his cock and soaking him for the second him. Your chest heaves as you tilt your head back, moaning his name as you experience bliss once more.

Javi takes that opportunity to kiss along your throat, licking and biting your skin as he rocks up into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Starting to move a little faster as he chases his own pleasure, while the grunts and groans get louder.

You try to rock down onto him, wanting him to cum, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging his face to yours. "Cum for me, Javi." You plead, leaning in to kiss him while he grunts into your mouth.

It doesn’t take many more thrusts, stiffening and moaning your name into your mouth, his cock pulsing deep inside you. Flooding your cunt with ropes of his sticky seed while he pants in pleasure. “Fuck.”

You smile against his chin as he relaxes beneath you, shifting you to lay you down on your pillows. You feel like you're floating as he leans in to gently nip your chin. "So fucking good." You murmur, "rumors were not wrong."

He chuckles quietly. “Glad I could live up to the hype.” He teases. “Fuck- I wish I had a cigarette.” He groans. “Nothing better than a cigarette after amazing sex.”

You sigh, caressing his cheek, "I don't have any cigarettes, baby." You murmur, "sorry." You lean in to kiss his cheek and he nods, "it's okay. I'm trying to quit." You shift to lay down and he pulls out of you, shuffling off the bed to head into your bathroom for a rag so he can clean you up.

Javi cleans up quickly and brings the rag back, damp and soapy to make sure you are wiped clean before he tosses it back into the sink. Not sure if you want him to lay with you, he stands in the doorway and looks at you laying in your bed like a warm puddle, boneless and content. It makes him smile, watching you almost glow in the aftereffects.

“Come here.” You pat the bed and he nods, slipping back into the bed with you after he pulls the comforter from under you. You curl into his chest, swinging your leg over his hip, “are you going to stay the night? I’ve been told I make great pancakes.”

“If you want me to.” Javi settles back against the pillows and holds you close, his fingers tracing the lines of your back as you cuddle close. The fan spins lazily above you and he feels completely relaxed. “I’ll do whatever you want me to.” He chuckles. “Had no other plans, except maybe logging online and talking to this girl I’ve been seeing.”

You grin against his peck, “is she nice?” You ask and Javier smirks and shrugs one shoulder, “she’s alright.” You playfully slap his chest but he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the back of it. “I want you to stay.” You murmur, turning your head to kiss his chest.

Javi hums happily and agrees. “Then I’ll stay.” He promises. “But your pancakes better be worth it.” He teases, happy that he had found someone that it was so natural to be with, in and out of bed.

You snort, “just you wait, Peña.” You promise and snuggle into his side again, enjoying the closeness between you.

**** 

Javier groans as he walks into the kitchen, his jeans on and unbuttoned after he cleaned up in the bathroom. He rubs his eyes and you turn around to look at him, dressed in his shirt. “Pancakes are ready.” You declare, setting a plate down on the table for him but you grab the can of whipped cream to squirt a smiley face on the top cake for him.

​​He huffs in amusement as he looks down at the smiley face on his pancakes. “Did I do that good fucking you last night?” He teases as he reaches around and pats your ass. “I get the special pancakes?” The last time he had seen this was on a kids menu in some pancake diner. It’s cute and he pulls you down for a kiss.

You giggle against his lips, pecking them a few times, "you did real good, baby. Wanted to show you my appreciation. You said you've been hungrier since you quit smoking so I figured you'd want a big breakfast. Bacon and eggs are nearly done."

“I could have helped you.” He had slept longer than he meant to, intending to wake up with you this morning. However, when he opened his eyes, he was all alone in the bed. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do this. I could have taken you out.”

You shake your head, “I woke up early and didn’t want to wake you up. You looked peaceful. I know you’ve been up early with your dad so you needed the sleep. I like cooking, I like taking care of you.” You confess, biting your lip as you plate up the eggs and bacon and set the plate on the table.

Javi softens and smiles at you. “I’m not complaining at all, sweetheart.” He promises. “I really appreciate it.” He gets up to grab the two mugs of coffee you have poured. “Let’s eat while your hard work is hot.” He tells you, pulling out your chair for you to sit.

You sit down, picking up your knife and fork to dig in to eat and your eyes meet Javier’s as he groans when he takes a bite of your pancakes. “Good?” You ask and he hums, swallowing his bite. “So fucking good.” You grin, proud that he likes them. You watch him eat, enjoying the product of your labor and you notice him staring at you. “Do I have something on my face?” You ask, reaching for the napkin.

“No.” Javi shakes his head and forks up another bite of eggs. “Just admiring how pretty you are without makeup on.” He admits. “You are pretty with it, but I think you’re even more beautiful without it.”

You fluster, cheeks warming at his compliment. Something soft that you never really expected from Javier Peña, especially the one you knew from childhood. “Thank you. I like the five o clock shadow on you.” You gesture to his unshaved face.

“Yeah.” He rubs his face with his hand, feeling the raspiness of the hair growing in. “Can’t grow a beard for shit though.” He snorts. “Comes in all patchy.”

You lean closer, resting your elbow on the table, “sexy no matter what.” You promise and he offers you a bashful smile, making your heart flutter. 

**** 

You wrap your arms around his neck, swaying to the music. Javier decided to take you to the fair that’s happening a town over and you are currently on the makeshift dance floor, swaying to the music played by the teenage band.

“Are you having a good time?” Javi asks, pulling you a little closer and leaning his cheek against yours as the band plays. Tonight has been wonderful, but he can’t remember a time that he’s not had a good time around you. You’ve played some games and ridden some rides, had plenty of fair food, and now he gets to hold you close.

"Always with you, baby." You promise, breathing him in. He's become your home, your person to vent to, to cry with, to laugh with. You've never experienced anything like this. 

He leans back to look at you and you lean forward to nudge your nose against him. "I love you." He blurts out and you pull back in surprise. Neither of you have mentioned your feelings yet but you are shocked that he was the first one to say anything. He looks surprised with himself then he gets nervous and you cup his cheek, "I love you too." You declare, leaning forward to brush your lips with his.

Javi smiles against your lips, his fingers digging into your waist as he deepens the kiss. He is home, in mind, body and spirit. Healing every day while sharing himself with you. Your accounts are both canceled, no need to chat online, now that you have each other.

  ​​

[tojipie]

Off of your realistic headcanons, specifically the one with his wife, do you think he could ever fall inlove with reader? Genuinely. How patient would the reader be? Maybe he’d just end up running away again, but still.

read this first !

(im no gege :p take this with a grain of salt, all headcannons!)

honestly? I do think toji would have the capacity to fall in love again after his wife. losing any loved one is hard but what needs to be pointed out first and foremost is that when toji lost his wife he lost the genesis of what was essentially his chosen family. that's got to be an unimaginable obstacle to overcome.

we all know that his heavenly restriction robbed him of the familial love most children get from their families. knowing the zenins, that "love" was entirely transactional and based on what toji could contribute to the family as a sorcerer.

to go your whole life being told your mere existence is a fluke, and then waking up one day and realizing you not only have a wife but a beautiful son that love you unconditionally despite your perceived "flaws" would had been something he never though possible.

so to have your wife taken from this earth as a young adult, leaving you to raise your infant son alone after you thought your life was set is something that will stick with you forever. I do think toji would move on, but I don't think it'd be linear.

he'd probably spend the first few years dedicating himself to his work rather than a relationship. he'd probably graduate to couch surfing next, never staying with any women for longer than a month or two. then, when enough time had passed, he'd maybe pursue a couple relationships relationships that last a year or so.

and then reader comes along, and there's a constant uneasiness in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite get over.

toji doesn't know how he feels about you. he likes sleeping on your couch, sometimes your bed if he's good. he likes the meals you cook him and the shows you two watch together. he likes the feeling of your hand down his pants and your lips on his. y'know since we're being honest.

he's worrying himself sick wondering what it is you're doing to him. is it a curse? are you slowly poisoning him? eventually he figures maybe he just doesn't like you as much as he thought. and that's fine. he went years swearing off women after the death of his wife, and he has no problem dodging another for the sake of putting his money first.

but then he's in your living room nursing a beer, feeling your soft hands caress his face as you come up behind him and press a kiss to the back of his head. and he cries. he cries big, fat, hot tears that he wipes away with the sleeve of his carharrt jacket after you've gone to bed because for once in his life he sees a glimpse of the life that he once had, and he wants that life back so bad.

toji doesn't come back for a while. he buys a burner phone and skips town, working odd jobs for shiu until he figures out what the fuck he wants to do with the handful of decades he has left. he doesn't frequent any bars, doesn't warm anyones bed. he just exists. he exists like he did those couple of years after his wife passed, and he realizes that he's never been so miserable.

toji can't live without you. and he felt guilty for so long admitting that to himself, but it's the truth. you are everything he loves about the world and more. they say men never forget their first love, and that may be true. but when he imagines a life worth living he can only imagine waking up to your face in his neck each morning.

admittedly you're upset when he shows up at your doorstep 2 weeks later, sheepishly rattling off an explanation that sounds like its going in 5 different directions. you get things sorted out after a long uncomfortable talk. you knew what you were getting into when you got involved with the man, you get it for the most part. which he's surprised to hear. you end the night passed out on top of each other after demolishing 2 large pizzas and 3 horror movies, happy to finally be where you both belong.

˚ ✧ ──────

[imshymorph]

Okay so, after a few months, i’m back with something that was supposed to be a blurb and ended up being almost 2.9k words (added a full 100 words when editing, oh well).

It’s Situationship!Ghost, specifically angsty situationship ghost. (i have a full bullet point list with headcanons for this ghost and i’ll probably write more at some point) . Anyway, enjoy!

- - - - -

You had seen him quite a few times before, although you barely knew him. He lived across from you, the door on the other side of the hallway. Hardly had known anything about him, that his name was Simon –something you only had discovered when his mail had been left in your mailbox by accident– and he was military.

However, somehow since that day, the fateful day that you had taken what seemed to be a letter from the bank, the two of you had started to talk more often. It didn’t start as anything crazy, but at least now he would say “hello” when you both were in the hallway, coincidentally leaving or going back to your respective flats at the same time.

It had slowly evolved over time, happening over the expanse of full months with how little he seemed to be home. From just a greeting to some small talk, be it a comment about the weather when the mancunian skies delivered nothing but rain day after day here; or perhaps a remark on how expensive everything seemed to be lately when you walked back home with a bag of groceries there.

What really made all of it change though, was when Simon got sent home for a medical leave after a close call in a mission, a bullet almost lodged in his lungs. He didn’t know why, but having to stay out of the field was much harder than any other time, he was much more restless. The feeling was only made more obvious when he started to go in and out much more, busying himself with little tasks or just taking walks. It meant that your meetings in the hallway happened more and more often.

When you had discovered why he seemed to be home for so much longer than usual you had insisted on helping him out, getting things from the store for him, bringing him home cooked meals and mainly keeping him company. By the time he had gone back to the field, you spent more nights a week on his side of the hallway than your own.

That’s when he realised, when he really noticed the way a smile would pull at his lips when he noticed something you had left back at his place. The way his heart would flutter when you’d smile at him and offer some biscuits you had just baked. Or the way he’d stare a hole through the helicopter wall while the whole task force was on their way to a mission, earning himself some teasing from Johnny and Gaz and a discreet knowing look from Price.

He realised that he had started to count the days until his next leave and that he didn’t think of going to his own place, but going back to you. That’s when he decided this was needed.

He opened the door as you were walking out of your place, carrying dinner to his place like you did every Friday when he was on leave, a smile pulling at your lips as you greeted him with a kiss to the corner of his lips before walking in. He had been home for a while now, chastising himself every day that went by, letting you come into his space again and again when he knew what he really had to do.

He closed the door, taking the container from your hands and taking it to the kitchen. You were about to follow him, meaning to keep him company and have a chat –although most of the time it was you talking and telling him stuff about your day while he hummed and grunted in acknowledgement, happy to get lost in your soft voice–. Instead he guided you back to the living room, signalling for you to take a seat on the couch. “Simon…?” you began to say, confusion evident in your voice and the slight furrow of your brows.

“We need to talk,” he said before you could finish your question. His voice gruff and low, eyes cold and distant. He sat across from you, all the way on the other corner of the couch, his expression unreadable.

And that’s when you knew, when those four little words left his lips. You weren’t stupid, you had definitely noticed. They way he’d be more distant, more short with you. How the small conversations in the hallway had got shorter until they had gone back to just greetings, or just a nod of the head. The way he had stopped lingering when he was at yours until you offered for him to stay, instead rushing through dinner before leaving with whatever excuse came to mind. Or how he seemed to find excuses to make you leave his place sooner and sooner each day.

What you hadn’t noticed but were definitely seeing now was the difference in his eyes. The warm glow that had been there for the last bunch of months completely gone. Instead there was a cold and distant look, a wall that you hadn't seen since you had first moved into the building, now placed between you once more.

Silence sits between the two of you and it only breaks when he says the words you had been bracing yourself for, “we can’t do this anymore.” You barely give a light nod, your eyes lowering to the coffee table that sat not too far away.

You didn’t know what else to do but to give in, deep down you knew you had been waiting for this, doing everything you could to push the moment back even if it was for a little longer. But if you were honest with yourself, you had known this would happen all along, this whatever it was meant to be, was bound to end sooner or later.

His eyes boring into you didn’t make any of this easier. But he couldn’t help himself, because a part of him had hoped that you’d get angry and finally say what he had known all along. That you would get up and call him out for thinking he ever deserved to be with you, for even daring to think he deserved any of your tenderness and care, or your attention.

Instead of anger, all he saw in your eyes was defeat and hurt, and it only made his chest feel more tight and heavy with guilt. He couldn’t deal with it, with how much it hurt to be the one to make you look so hurt and defeated. So he just doubled down. A light huff leaves him and he runs a hand over his face, his tone a little more gruff and demanding when he talks again, “why aren’t you saying anything?”, his eyes boring into you once more as he waits for your answer.

It takes a moment, but you finally push out the words that are constantly cycling through your head, “because I knew this was going to happen,” you admit quietly. “Noticed the distance”, you add as your eyes lower to the coffee table once more and your fingers start to play with a loose thread on your clothes, “guessed you’d get tired of me, sooner or later.”

Simon was used to handling pain, he thought he could manage any kind after all the suffering he had gone through already. But something about the light crack on your voice, the defeated tone and self-deprecating words. The way you were convinced he could ever grow tired of you when he was the one undeserving of your time. It made his heart break and a hatred for no one but himself filled him.

He clenched his fists on his sides, having to hold back. Hold back from the way he wanted to grab you in his arms and hold you close. Hold back from pulling you into his lap and kiss you time and time again until you forgot his stupid words. He wanted to hold you all night long, worship you and prove that he could never get tired of you, that he would never leave you, that he didn’t mean any of it. That he loved you.

But instead, once more, he doubled down. “I think it’s for the best…” he barely makes the effort to justify. Your only answer is another small nod, your eyes that had braved enough to look up at him, lowering back to your lap. You focus on the way your fingers fidget with the loose thread and swallow thickly, doing your best to keep at bay the knot that closed up your throat, fighting back the tears that so badly wanted to form.

If his heart hadn’t shattered before, it definitely had now. The sight of you across from him, the distance on the couch between you both as you refused to look at him. He hated this, hated to see you in this state and hated even more that he was the one to cause all of this. He wanted to take all of it back, to apologise and beg for you to forget all of this and just have dinner with him like you did every friday. But he couldn’t.

“I guess I'll pack my things then,” you say, barely audible with how the tears strain your voice. You don’t wait for an answer, getting up from the couch and moving through the quiet flat. You get the toothbrush you had left in his bathroom, the few staple skincare items he had insisted would be easier to have a duplicate off.

His eyes followed you, the hollow on his chest only growing with every item you plucked up and added to the totebag you had forgotten on his couch just a couple days ago. He wanted to go to you, to hold your hands and get on his knees. To beg you to stay and spare his sinful soul from having to live another day without you.

Still, he stayed seated on the couch. His soul bleeding and body numb as he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but follow your movements with his eyes. He saw all of it, how you kept yourself from crying, taking the few sleep shorts and extra shirts you had left behind. How the tears had been too much to hold back when you’d come back from the kitchen, a pile of empty food containers in your hands.

When you got all of it and went to the door he finally managed to get up, just taking a couple steps closer but still staying far, distant. He had to, he had to keep the distance. Because he knew that he got closer his selfishness would win, and he’d pull you into his arms and never let you go.

You take in a deep, shaky breath. Your hand reaches out for the knob, but before you twist it open you look at him. Your cheeks and nose are rosy and the teartracks are more than evident. “Can I ask you something?” you risk, even if you know that whatever the answer maybe would only make it worse.

He gives a light nod almost instantly, taking a deep breath as he prepares himself. He probably was as fragile and unready as you were for the answer, but he owed you this –this and much more, because he had just taken and taken this whole time–. So his tone is honest when he answers with a gruff “anything.”

You take a moment, needing to take in another shaky breath, trying to find his eyes through the tears that blur out the vision of yours. And before you could regret even thinking about it, you talk again. “...Did I do something wrong?”

If Simon thought he knew what guilt and pain felt like, he had been proven wrong right this instance. His stomach churning and his chest feeling tight and hollow as he hears the way you blame yourself, the way you sound so uncertain and fragile. “No.” he states, firm.

You barely nod, lips trembling as you press them together to hold back a sob. Silence sits between the both of you once more, you try to blink the tears away but it only makes them fall faster. “T-then what happened?” you muttered, barely able to get the words out, swallowing thickly when your voice cracks.

He feels like he’s drowning, his chest burning with guilt as he sees the way you’re trying to stay strong and hold the tears back yet failing. He’s about to say it, about to tell you the whole truth. About to say how he’s fallen for you, how your soft smiles and soft touches make him feel like a new man. How your care and attention make him feel like he’s alive, how he’s Simon and not Ghost. He’s about to confess how much he loves you.

He’s so close to saying that what happened was him. That he was a bastard and a murderer, that he wasn’t who you thought he was –who he had tricked you into thinking he was– and he didn’t deserve anything from you. That he had been selfish this whole time and had been taking advantage of you. What happened was that you deserve much better than the ghost of a man he really was.

Instead he doesn’t say any of it, only the vaguest excuse starting to leave his lips, “it’s not you…” His words cut off when he sees your eyes close, your lips closing tightly and your shoulders shaking with a silent sob. Your head lowering to uselessly trying to hide it, the way his words sound –and are– a shit excuse, the way it just makes you feel that much more heartbroken.

He doesn’t dare try to come up with more excuses, instead ripping his eyes away from you, not able to handle the way you’re falling apart in front of him. He instead busies himself with looking around the room, checking if there’s anything you may be forgetting behind. “You have everything?” he asks, forcing himself to look at you again.

And you take a shaky breath, ignoring the way your chest tightens and your heart bleeds at the softer and more caring tone in his voice. You force yourself to ignore the way he sounds just like he did barely a few weeks ago, holding back the plea for him to rethink all of this that burns the back of your throat. Instead, “Should be… And if there’s something else, you can just throw it out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes instead focused on the blurry sight of his black combat boots and the hardwood floors beneath you. And he hates it, he hates how quiet and weak your voice is, hates that you can’t hold his gaze. But most of all hates that he’s the one to cause all of this. In what he was trying to convince himself was an effort to spare the both of you, he delivers the last blow, “you should go.”

You don’t say anything, biting down on your lip probably hard enough to break the skin in a last ditch effort to hold back the sob that so desperately wants to leave you. You turn around, adjusting the pile of things you had retrieved from all around the flat in your arms to be able to reach for the handle.

Despite knowing it will break you, you look over your shoulder, red-rimmed and tear-filled eyes meeting his for the first time since the conversation started –and for what Simon knows will probably be the last time ever–. “Take care,” you murmur quietly, adjusting all the stuff crowding your hands once more. Without another word or another look back you pull the door open, closing it behind you just a moment later, leaving him alone in the silent flat.

Simon stays frozen for a moment, he feels like he’s outside of his own body when he sees all of it play out, eyes boring into the dark wood of his door once it’s closed. Your words seem to echo in his head, the way you still talk to him with so much softness and care after he had stomped your heart. He only manages to move when he hears the quiet click from across the hallway that signifies that you’re back in your place, away from him like you should’ve always been.

He takes his phone out, sending a message to one of the few numbers saved there, telling Price he needs to be back in the field. After, he goes to the kitchen, desperate for a glass of whiskey that could never be as bitter as he feels right now. His phone pings with Price’s reply, but he doesn’t look at it, nor does he get a glass or the bottle of whiskey.

Because instead, he stands frozen, seeing the dinner you had brought over, still sitting on his counter. And that’s when it really dawns on him, this is it, it’s over. You were out of his life, and all because he had been too much of a coward to admit the truth. Too much of a coward to admit that he loves you.

[marieracingteam]

Lancey and his Lilybug – ls.18

stepdad!Lance Stroll | series

word count: 2990

summary: The day Lance realised he will never be dad to his baby.

Lance knew Lily wasn’t his. He knew. He reminded himself of it every day to see if, by force of repetition, he would memorize it.

But nothing seemed to work when he came back home to her steps running down the stairs.

So he forgot. Or maybe he ignored the truth.

He forgot while he was playing dolls with her. He forgot during bathtime when the whole bathroom was covered in bubbles and marks of the Bathroom Crayons they had just bought. He forgot when the food her mother had cooked for them was her least favorite –even if it was her favorite last week– and they had to play flights with it so she would eat it. He forgot while he was driving and could only think about home. And he forgot when she would wake them up at night time so she could sleep between them, even if he had an early morning waiting for him.

He forgot most of the time.

However, he couldn’t forget it this time. At that moment, Lance couldn’t pretend to ignore the truth any longer.

Lily wasn’t his daughter, she would never be.

Even with his ring on her mom’s finger and their names in the housing registry he bought.

Even if he was the one she called when she was sick.

Lance wasn’t her real dad. His name wasn’t on the list. And nothing will change it. Not even his father's last name.

“I am really sorry Mr. Stroll, but only the immediate family can enter the intensive care unit. I understand your frustration, but there is nothing I can about about it” said the nurse again.

“Listen, if this is about money…” his father kept going but Lance was no longer listening.

The corridor that separated them, which became increasingly endless, was now his only breathing space. As he walked through it he could only think that Lily was not his. Which was curious when he thought about how much time he had spent ignoring that detail.

Lily was in there and he could only be out there.

When only a door separated them, Lance stood in front of the small glass. Through it, he could only see another white hallway and a doctor passing by, but he still didn't dare to look away.

He knew if father was calling him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the crystal. The nurse had allowed him to stand them as long as he didn’t try trespassing and he was going to take advantage of that piece of mercy as much as he could.

“Son”, his father tried again.

And that word made Lance want to fall to the ground and stay there till it all stopped.

Son. He was someone’s one. Just like Lily was someone's daughter.

But not his. Never his.

She was the daughter of someone who wasn’t even going to come see her. And he was the son of someone who would have to live with the knowledge that his granddaughter would never have his last name.

“She will be alright. You heard your fiancée. She will be fine.”

But his father hadn’t seen the state the car was in.

He had not had to drive faster than the legal speed to reach a car that was destroyed and from which his family was being taken.

He had not been separated from his family at the door of a hospital because they were nothing of his.

His father had always been there with him. He had always been at the foot of his children's beds. He had always held their hands when they needed him most. Even when it was just a chipped tooth.

Lance couldn’t even see her through a window.

He could just stare at an empty hallway and wait.

And wait he did. He waited for hours standing there. Just moving once to let a doctor open the door and enter the area he could never pass into. He waited until his father had to sit and he waited until the nurse clocked out and a new one came by. He waited while his father tried again without any result. He waited while his cell phone didn't ring.

And when he thought he couldn’t wait any more a door opened in the hallway and a nurse appeared pushing a bed.

A bed too big for such a small body.

And he knew like he supposed any father would. He knew that was his baby.

His fiancée was the first to see him as she walked out of the room. Her head and one of her arms had been bandaged and a slight limp made him realize that one of her legs must have also been injured, but she had not been the one who had received the biggest blow from the drunk driver.

She slightly smiled at him with a sorry expression and she silently turned to the nurse, who also gave him a look before turning the bed and directing it towards the door so that he could see the little girl.

He tried calling his father, but nothing came out of him when he saw her there.

She had a few scratches on her face and arms –the only parts of her that weren’t covered by the sheet– but she seemed to be healthy despite everything.

The ambulance had taken her directly to the intensive care unit of the emergency room after removing her from the back of the car, which had been completely destroyed. Everything had happened so fast that he hadn't been able to see her for even a moment when he arrived. Afterward, Lance had only had a second to talk to his fiancée before she could come in to see her daughter.

When Lily saw him, Lance could have sworn his heart stopped completely. He damned the door when he couldn’t hear her little voice saying his name or reach her and touch her like he had been praying to.

She waved her small hands as she hadn’t expected him to be there. And he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

His fiancée grabbed her phone –which was cracked and didn’t function completely fine– and he copied her almost knocking it to the ground.

“Lancey!” shouted Lily as soon as the call connected. The video didn't work, but he didn’t need it to see them through a screen when he had them in the flesh before his eyes.

“Baby!” he cried back almost colliding with the glass.

“Lancey! I missed you!”.

“So did I baby, so did I. Are you ok? Does anything hurt?” he asked her without taking his eyes off the small window.

“A little. They are going to put a bandaid on, but they don’t have the dinosaurs ones” she explained like nothing had really happened, as if a car driving at more than 100km on a conventional road had not crashed into her door at a red light.

“They said she is fine. The car seat you bought her stopped most of the blow. She only has some injuries from the flying glass. They still have to do an MRI, but they believe that everything will be fine. Now they are going to do the test and if everything goes well they will move us to a room to spend the night under surveillance.” His fiancée explained with tears in her eyes, still in shock from the crash.

Lance could only nod at that while trying to process everything. He didn’t even feel his father's presence behind him.

“You may not be in here but you saved her” she whispered while her daughter threw kisses at him from her bed. He nodded again, remembering the car seat he always made them carry when they visited him. It was crazy expensive and a hulk to carry, but a traffic safety expert had told him it was the best on the market and Lance had refused to drive any car with Lily that didn't have it. He had even bought one for his father’s and sister’s car and another one for Lily's biological father for a car she had never been in Still, he would have preferred never to need it.

His father pressed his head to his son's so he could see the little girl through the window, who immediately began calling him on the phone.

While they spoke, Lance's fiancée moved closer to the window and put her hand in the crystal. Her ring crashed in the process, making the glass vibrate. Lance quickly followed her.

“I’m sorry. I love you” she muttered the words making him repeat them instantly.

Before this, they knew how things worked. Of course they did. It took a while for Lance to be able to pick up Lily from daycare because of the paperwork both parents had to sign. They knew that the relationship they had did not magically make Lance a legal guardian of the little girl. Even so, the hospital's refusal to let Lance in despite the couple's requests had been like a bucket of cold water for both of them.

“We love you” she repeated and he just nodded in tears watching them leave again.

However, this time the wait seemed shorter.

Even though his fiancée's phone had completely died, Lance knew that they were both safe and well and that he would soon be able to see them and hold them in his arms when they were taken to one of the hospital rooms.

So he tried not to focus too much on what had happened. He tried again to ignore the fact that he was still behind a door and think about how soon everything would return to normal.

He tried hard enough, but the door was still there and when the nurse told him he could visit them in their room, she referred to him as a visitor and not a family member.

His father didn’t seem to mind, but he knew he did. Of course, he did. He was just trying to keep his composure for the sake of his son.

But how could he not mind? How could he be okay with his son having to see his family secretly while the girl's real father hadn't even bothered to call?

How could he be okay when his son had called him desperate because his fiancée and his little girl had had an accident on the way to the paddock? No matter what last name they had, they were his family.

When Lance arrived at the room he felt like he was going to pass out. The wait had been long and exasperating. The not knowing had been almost worse than receiving the news in the first place.

But now nothing mattered anymore. Now he was there and so were they.

“Lancey!” the girl shouted from the bed when she saw the driver at the door.

His fiancée turned around immediately and when she smiled letting him know that everything was fine they both breathed for the first time since the accident.

He almost felt dizzy when he started to breathe normally and his muscles relaxed for the first time in the last two hours. But he walked anyway to the bed, almost running, and to the little girl in there.

He didn’t mind he was still in the team wear, he didn’t care about anything else as he held Lily in his arms.

“Are you ok, baby girl?” he whispered in her hair “Are you ok?” he said as he checked her again and again without letting go of her as he had done with his fiancée before.

“Yeah! They gave me candy because they said I was very brave. But look! They did hurt a lot before” Lily explained while showing Lance the scratches the doctor had already disinfected.

“I am sure you were, baby. That was scary, right?”

“A little. But mommy was with me and she said you were coming to save us”

At that, Lance’s fiancée finally approached them again, letting Lance have his moment with the little girl.

“And he was,” she confirmed while stroking Lance’s back “Lancey was there the whole time”.

But Lily wasn’t happy with that answer. Even if she was well-behaved for an almost six-year-old, she still was a child who didn’t fully understand the grown-up's problems.

“The doctor said you couldn't be with me because you are not my daddy. Is it because I don't call you dad?” Lily asked while she hugged him tighter.

Lance pulled away a little to see her face while they were talking and, from the corner of his eye, he saw how his father moved away from the foot of the bed to let them talk more privately.

“No baby, this isn't your fault. At all.” Lance let her know, firm but loving “You are my good girl, aren’t you?”.

They had already spoken about the “dad” thing before. Her biological father had told her that only he could be dad the last time he saw her a year ago when the girl innocently told him that her mother was going to marry the driver. And Lance hadn't pushed her when his fiancée told him what had happened.

He wanted to, obviously. He dreamed about it most nights. But he understood. And then he forgot he wasn't really her dad. Even when she called him Lancey and he heard her call dad someone she only spoke to once a month over the phone if she was lucky.

Lily left his embrace completely and immediately started crying “I lied” she confessed between tears and whines “I told the doctor I would call you dad but I don't want you to be my dad. I just wanted you with me”.

She cried so hard that a nurse had to come in. Not even her mother could calm him as she cried the same again and again. “Please don't be my dad. Please”.

Lance felt stuck there. He felt like he was again before that door. Useless. Unable to do anything to change the situation over which he had no control.

Lily was high on meds. He could see some still being pumped into her through an IV. That's what he said again and again to himself as he heard his girl begging him to not be her dad.

Lily loved him deeply, almost as much as he did. He knew, he felt her love every day. He knew her love was real even if he didn’t see her some weekends because he was working. He knew she trusted him enough to wake him up when she had a nightmare. He knew she would sleep with them every night if her mom let her. He knew.

However, her cries were there, rejecting him again and again, almost knocking him down with each tear.

“I won't be your dad, Lily. I promise, baby” he said as tears also streamed down his cheeks.

She was holding his hand tightly and used it to wipe her face before speaking again. “I don't want you to be my dad. I want Lancey!” she cried stronger if that was possible.

Her mom got into bed with her as her last effort to calm her down. She was looking at him as he imagined he was looking at her.

However, this was not the time to think about himself. Nothing about that day had anything to do with him. Now he had to think about Lily and her fiancée. He would have time to lick his wounds later.

When the nurse came back again he knew he had to leave before they showed him the door. He may not know how, but he was the cause of her distress. Which was a little bit funny considering he always was her protector before.

“Everything will be alright, Lily. I will let you rest now, baby. I love you” he said kissing her temple and letting go of her hand.

Nevertheless, that didn’t work as he hoped.

“Lancey!” she screamed as she watched him leave.

Even though her mother was holding her, Lily tried to get out of her arms to get out of bed, pulling on the IV and causing the nurse to have to hold it to prevent her from accidentally tearing it out.

“You are not my daddy!” she cried one last time. A scream so heartbreaking that Lance was holding her before he was even aware was going to do it. “Please, don't leave like my dad. I want you to be Lancey forever. My Lancey.”

With that, his fiancée silently cried as she made space for him in the small hospital bed, finally understanding everything. So did Lance’s father, who always knew she was his granddaughter without needing a last name or a title.

Lance didn’t say a word as he lay in bed holding Lily in his chest minding the IV and grabbing his fiancée's hand.

“I will always be your Lancey, Lilybug” he whispered as she finally relaxed in his arms.

“We are going to be alright, love” his fiancée said as she caressed his hand “We don’t need titles to be perfect”.

He just nodded, forgetting everything that didn’t really matter. He forgot the door and the wait too when Lily fell asleep in his chest, safe and sound.

He only let go of them when he remembered the thing he always carried in his wallet close to the picture of the three of them they had taken last year.

Without waking her up, Lance put the dinosaur bandaid on her arm on the tape that held the IV.

His fiancee hugged tighter as he did and he forgot the rest of the day and the fact that Lily wasn't his daughter.

Because he was her Lancey and she will always be her baby. And that was more than many fathers could say.

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[sunfairiess]

Request for John b: reader finds out she is pregnant and is scared to tell John b because they are still teenagers

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐛 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞

pairing: john b routledge x fem!reader

tropes: 3rd person narration I accidental pregnancy | fluff

synopsis: based on that request.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, teenage pregnancy

wc: 1k

it's my first time writing based on a request, so i really hope i did well! i’m so sorry it took longer than expected, but i just had the worst stomach bug of my life and couldn’t do much <3

song rec: next thing you know - jordan davis ♡

it always starts like this. two lines, one pink stick or three in her case.

pregnant. she was pregnant. she didn’t plan for this to happen, who did anyway? getting pregnant while still being a teenager. when you’re a teenager you can’t even take care of yourself, how can you take care of another human being?

oh, she was so screwed. her parents were going to get a stroke at the news, not to mention her boyf- shit. her boyfriend. how was she going to tell him? was he going to be happy? was he going to leave her? she felt like the floor was swallowing her.

she breathed deeply, trying to clear out her head, but all she could think about were those positive pink sticks. she loved babies and obviously she wanted them in her future, but having one so early in her life felt almost like a mistake. she only had that thought for a second, but hell she felt so guilty.

“babe you done in there? dinner’s ready!” she heard him shout from the kitchen. “coming!” she quickly took the tests and put them in her pocket. looking at her reflection in the mirror before going out, she decided that everything was going to be okay, or at least she hoped, and that she’d tell him in a week. she firstly wanted to take some time to think about it on her own, and to also talk to her parents.

the night she decided to finally break out the news to him, he had just came back from a day with jj and pope. she had cooked dinner, in hopes to relax herself a little bit, but the whole time she was cooking, she was thinking about what to say to him, which made her even more stressed than before.

now, she was pacing back and forth in the living room of the château, while her boyfriend was mimicking and recreating some jokes and obviously stupid things jj made during the day.

“john b.” nothing. he kept going on and on about his fishing trip with the boys. not that she didn’t like listening to him, it just wasn’t the right time to talk about fishing. “john b.” nothing. absolutely nothing. did he became deaf in an afternoon? “john b! i really need to talk to you.” his head snapped back at her, silencing the second he heard her shout.

“okay- yeah, okay, let’s sit down.” she smiled thankfully at his words. he took her hands, as they both sat on the couch, turning their bodies so they could face one another.

they stood silent for a couple of minutes, him not wanting to rush her and her trying not to freak out for the thousandth time. she then took a deep breath and gave him a soft smile, rubbing her thumbs on the back of his hands. “i- uhm, i-, i’m pregnant.”

a strangled whine left his throat as his eyes widened out, like he had just seen a ghost. “you- you’re pregnant.”

she nodded along. “i’m pregnant.”

“and you’re a hundred percent sure? like totally and completely sure.”

“yeah, i took three tests just to be sure.”

“alright, and how are we feeling about this?” his tone was low, and uncertain. he didn’t want to rush anything. he wanted her to know that she was his priority and he was going to do anything to support her.

“i- i don’t know. i mean of course i’m happy, a baby is a blessing, but we’re so young. we have nothing figured out, or nothing at all anyway. i was so scared to tell you because what if you don’t want it? what if you leave me? i can’t bring up a child on my own. and what if you get bored of me? what if i’m not a good mom? or if you-“

“woah, breath, baby. take a deep breath with me, yeah?”

he inhaled and exhaled slowly, making her follow his rhythm. he placed both of his hands on her belly, like he was trying to create some sort of contact with the little one. he knew it was way too early to fully addressing it as a baby, but either way that was his child. it sounded so strange to say that. being a parent while still being so young was certainly not in his plans, but that was going to be his son, or daughter. he would have part of his blood in them, maybe they would have his hair or eyes, even though he hoped they would take after his mother. he would’ve loved a little copy of his girlfriend running and laughing around the house.

“listen to me, baby. i would love nothing more than having a family with you. you are it for me. i wanna marry you, and have a bunch of baby us makin’ a mess ‘round the house. i would never, ever, leave you or our child. he, or she, is my flesh and blood, and baby, you are the person i love the most in the world. if you wanna go on with the pregnancy, you’ll be a wonderful mother, because you’re kind, and gentle and so loving. i know i can’t offer you much, but i promise, i’ll try to be the best father this baby could ever have.” he took a small pause, looking at her in the eyes, this time even more serious than before. “you’re gonna carry them for nine months, so you tell me what we’re gonna do, and i whatever you choose to do, i will support you every step of the way.”

her eyes started to fill up with tears, feeling fortunate to have him by her side. how did she get so lucky, she had no idea. there was no doubt john b was going to be the most wonderful and caring father.

“honestly, i’d like to keep it. i wouldn’t mind having a little john b blabbering about surfing.” they both shared a laugh at her words.

“very well, mama. we’re gonna figure everything out, don’t worry. i got you. both, of you.”

john b wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. it was going to be hard, and frightening, but they were together, and they were going to figure it out. they always did.

[cherryrikis]

SUMMER ISNT OVER

PAIRING s2l park sunghoon x fem reader

WARNINGS eric makes a kinda offensive joke

GENRE strangers to lovers, romance/drama, summer love

SYNOPSIS driving to anaheim with your cousins was meant to be a fun trip away from the rest of the family. but when you knocked on the door of the wrong hotel room, the whole course of your trip would change.. and you’d find yourself missing a certain someone when its time to go home.

authors note - definitely longer than my standard fics (bc @hannicorpse wrote this with me !! ) but it’s only 4k ish😊

growing up in a big family meant your aunties and uncles had kids generally close to you in age. but more than anyone else, you always stuck with the same 3 of your cousins. danielle, eric, and karina. so now, you’d be stuck together for the next week as you drove through la.

“i don’t get why the drive is sooo long. like, it’s barely 40 miles from here.” eric complained as he saw the route on google maps. it was nearly 2 hours from his house in pasadena to the hotel in anaheim.

“how do you think we feel? we pretty much drove the same distance in the opposite direction just to pick you up!” danielle scoffed.

“maybe if you didn’t pop a tire and just slept at auntie’s house like we did, we could’ve been in anaheim by now.” karina. snickered.

“it wasn’t my fault! who just leaves a bunch of broken glass in MY driveway? and besides. i am not driving to long beach in this traffic.”

“you’re the one who decided to move up and out when we all stayed.” karina commented yet again.

“not my fault i didn’t wanna stay coastal. or in the hills.” “kinda is.”

with all the back and forth arguing coming from your cousins, it was getting harder and harder for you to focus on the road. you tried to ignore it, until you couldn’t anymore.

“can you guys just stop bickering? i can barely hear myself think, i literally just missed that last exit to the freeway. if anything, eric should be driving since he’s the second oldest, he’s the only boy, and he made us go out of the way to get him!” you announced in frustration.

hesitantly, eric reached out to tap your shoulder. “what now?” you sighed. “can you go to that gas station over there? i forgot to use the bathroom..” “eric sohn!” you groaned in annoyance, before reluctantly doing so.

despite taking an unusual amount of time to use the bathroom, eric did make up for his incompetence by driving the rest of the way like you suggested early on.

one minute, you’re closing your eyes to take a nap. and before you knew it, you were in anaheim, arriving at the marriott hotel.

the amount of luggage between you three girls was ungodly, especially since you’d be here for so long. yet somehow, eric probably packed more than then the three of you combined.

after finally checking in and hauling all the bags into the hotel elevator (since karina refused to get a luggage cart because she didn’t want to have to put it back), you were able to enter your rooms and relax.

you got two connected rooms instead of one big one, because it had a better deal. eric and karina shared the first room, 2343, while you and danielle shared the second room, 2345.

the singular hotel rooms alone weren’t really big, but it would still suffice. not a full kitchen, or a ‘real’ living room. on the other hand, both bedrooms were roomy and the bathroom was nice. so that was a plus.

during those first few hours after you had arrived, it was mainly spent going around grocery markets to get food and snacks to stock up the room.

but you all were starting to get hungry, craving some korean barbecue or hotpot. so, you were sat in some korean barbecue restaurant in buena park, cooking the meat before karina began to talk.

“you know, the pool is pretty nice and big. we should go check it out later.” she suggested, slightly looking up from the grill. you and danielle hummed in response.

when you got back to the hotel, turns out there were no towels at the pool. you had to ask for them at the front desk. so being the youngest, (and also being the one who accidentally burnt half of the brisket), you were forced to go and retrieve the towels.

“how many?” the receptionist asked. “uhh.. 5 pool towels please. actually.. sorry, i meant 4.” “sure thing, just let me go grab them from the storage room.”

you silently thanked the employee as she handed you the towels, before taking the elevator back up.

as the lights flashed floor 23, you walked to your room, smiling at any stranger who walked past you.

realizing you forgot the room key, you knocked loudly on the door as you waited for danielle to open up.

but when the door opened, it was in fact, not danielle. yet a handsome boy, around your age, with a charming accent. australian, maybe?

you slightly froze as the australian boy, along with three others behind him, stared at you.

“i- i am so sorry. i thought this was 2345.” you apologized, your cheeks flushing pink in embarrassment.

“ah yeah. this is 2347. i guess your room is next door. but uh, no worries. im jake, by the way.” he smiled at your shy figure. “so, what are you doing with all those towels? gonna go swim?” “oh, yeah. me and the people i’m with are gonna go see the pool later tonight.”

you awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck, scanning his room through the door frame. it was bigger than yours, but similar for the most part. two bedrooms, a full kitchen and living room. clearly, they paid for the suite. you noticed a pale boy sitting on the couch, staring at you. he was pretty cute. maybe even gorgeous. few moles, nice hair. practically porcelain skin.

you zoned out onto his face, pausing for a moment before returning your gaze back to the aussie who you now knew as jake.

“oh, you can come in if you want? you seem a little out of it.. uhh..” he stopped, waiting for you to say your name.

his words immediately brought you back to reality. “huh? oh. it’s uh, y/n. it’s okay i’ll just go back to my room. sorry again.” you mumble another apology, before leaving to go back to the correct room.

jake closed the door just as you left, letting out a laugh he didn’t was holding back. “she was so funny. she looked so scared.”

“who was that?” sunghoon asked. “some girl next door. her name was y/n or something.” jake answered.

“she’s kinda hot.” jay chuckled, nudging sunghoon with his elbow. jake and heeseung agreed, quickly discussing you and wondering if you had any friends with you. sunghoon quietly nodded in agreement. but, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. the thoughts in his head were practically louder than the voices around him. and he just hoped he didn’t accidentally mention it out loud.

however, the one thing he did say out loud, was suggesting to go to the pool. (in hopes of seeing you).

when you got to your room, you distributed the pool towels to each of them, then keeping one for yourself. you talked about how you went to the wrong room and laughed it off, but you left out the fact that all you could think about when jake spoke to you, was his cute friend with those moles.

eric scolded you for ‘disturbing the neighbors and their peace’ but honestly, you couldn’t care less. karina defended you anyway. it was kinda her and eric’s thing to just always bicker. they were more like brother and sister than your other cousins who were actually siblings.

later that night, you made your way to the pool. around 7:30pm. much to your surprise, jake and his friends were already there. “hey beautiful.” he teased, coming up to you from the pool, while his friends remained in the water.

“oh hey, i know you. were you waiting for me? didn’t take you for the flirtatious type.” you joked. “who’re your friends?” asked eric, not noticing the way heeseung had his eyes set on karina.

“right,” jake nodded. “oh, boyfriend?” he paused and asked you, interrupting himself. “older cousin..” eric grimaced.

“oohh.. um. sorry.. anyway, the one with the dark red hair is heeseung. the one with the dark blue trunks is jay. and the one with the moles is sunghoon.”

“do heeseung and sunghoon speak english?” eric halfheartedly joked.

“dude.” karina scoffed, slapping his bare chest.

“yeah..? we were all born here, in la.” jake raised an eyebrow. “so i assume you’re all cousins then?” he continued awkwardly.

“yeah.” you nodded. “that’s eric. the one next to me is karina, and the one next to her is danielle.” karina and danielle waved at jake after the introductions, but eric refused.

“don’t get any ideas.” eric crossed his arms, finally noticing how karina and heeseung were pretty much fawning over one another.

the atmosphere felt thick, and it was silent for a long while, before jake had broken the barrier.

“uh.. anyway. you’re welcome to hang out with us..” he shrugged, gesturing to their chairs before hopping back into the water.

taking up on his offer, you placed your belongings next to jake and his friends’ seats. you sat down for a moment, barely listening to how karina told eric can’t he just ask questions like that.

soon after, you moved to sit on the very edge of the pool, sticking your feet into the 10ft deep water.

you looked at sunghoon, watching as he had a contest with jay to see who could hold their breath the longest.

you noticed his habit of licking his fangs. you noticed how he’d often touch his eyebrows. you also noticed how he looked at you every so often, before hesitantly swimming up to you where you still sat.

“why aren’t you getting in?” he asked as he held onto the edge of the pool, his hands on either side of you.

“i will in a bit.” you paused. “so, sunghoon, right? one of jake’s friends?” “yeah.” he smiled, flashing his canines. “and you’re y/n, the girl who came knocking on the wrong door?” “yeah.” you grinned, mirroring him.

sunghoon hoisted himself up out the water, moving to sit next to you on the deck. luckily, he covered you in time as karina and danielle jumped in with a big splash.

“when did you guys get here?” he asked, finally looking into your eyes up close.

“just this afternoon. but we leave by the end of the week.” “yeah. us too.”

“so where are you from?” you question.

“west hollywood.”

“don’t tell me you’re one of those trashy hollywood kids.” you joke.

sunghoon playfully pouts, before breaking his act and laughing. “not even. i think i was raised pretty well.” he smiled. “but what about you? where are you from?”

“i live in long beach. but i was born and raised in beverly hills.”

“ew! don’t tell me you’re one of those trashy country club kids.” he jokes, clutching his chest.

you gasp, kicking water at him. he paused for a moment, before splashing you.

you and sunghoon were so immersed in each other and your conversations. you almost didn’t hear your cousins and his friends say they were going back up, after two hours of being in the pool.

the two of you stayed until closing time at 11pm, and even a little beyond that. you couldn’t think of a time you had that much fun with a guy.

“i had so much fun today.” sunghoon smiled with a genuine look of adoration, as he helped you up.

“i did too.” you blush before going to grab your tote bag. “we should hang out more often.”

“yeah, definitely. uhm, do ya think- do you think that i could like, you know. get your number? i mean, it’s okay if not. because like, if you’re not interested i totally get it. or if you just wanna be like friends that’s okay too. but like-”

you cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “of course you can.” you smiled brightly, taking his phone to dial in your number, pressing the call so you could also have his number saved on your phone.

“now we could call or text each other anytime.”

he smiled. and that was enough for you.

you walked back to your rooms together, but sunghoon paused before going in. “see you tomorrow?” “yeah, of course.”

“goodnight sunghoon.”

“goodnight y/n.”

you did in fact see each other tomorrow. while both of your groups went out, you two stayed behind to spend some time together. with so much spare time (and no car), you settled to just watch a movie in sunghoon’s room.

“what movie is this?” you asked.

“the notebook.” “oh. i never watched it.” and his jaw immediately dropped in shock. “there is no way you never watched this cinematic masterpiece. now you have to watch it! pay attention.” sunghoon exclaimed, pulling you closer to him by your waist.

by the end of the movie, you were barely awake. it was good, you could definitely agree. but, in the same sense, it was so comforting, it quickly put you to sleep.

you leaned closer into sunghoon, placing your head on his shoulder. almost in the crook of his neck.

his heart swelled when he looked down at you, watching how you struggled to stay awake. why do i feel this way? i mean sure, she is really pretty. but i barely met her yesterday.. he thought.

it really put things into perspective for you both.

despite this fact, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down to press a soft kiss on your lower cheek, a centimeter or two away from your lips.

“kissing me on the first date?” you mumbled tiredly. “hey, we’re hardly here for 6 more days. let’s make it count.”

and you did exactly that, you were making every last moment count.

the next day, you went to the glendale galleria together. “i haven’t been here in so long.” you sighed, forgetting just how big the shopping center was. “it’s almost like this mall i visited up in san jose.”

you gasped as you saw a beautiful necklace. it had a dainty gold chain and a stunning pendant. “sunghoon? don’t you think this would look gorgeous with my white sweetheart top?” “i don’t know much about women’s clothing, but i know you’ll look good in anything.” he replied smugly.

“aw thank you! but- oh. nevermind it’s way too expensive.” you shrugged, going to put it back. but sunghoon stopped you.

“i’ll buy it for you.” “it’s okay, really. it’s too much.” “for that necklace? $150 is not a lot.” “but to me it is.”

he ignored you, swiping his card anyway.

sunghoon nearly bought everything you slightly stared at, despite all your protests. that night, you came home with bags of clothes, snacks, makeup, and just random items you didn’t even really need.

you felt so guilty, thinking it was a waste of his money. you wanted to pay him back but surely, there was no way you could afford it. yet sunghoon didn’t care. he wanted to see you happy.

you settled for buying him a slice of pizza from the food court or generally just any food he wanted. and that was enough for him.

on the next day, you even went to disney california adventures together. because you and your cousins just so happened to go the same day as sunghoon and his friends.

most of your time at the theme park was spent with him, often making your groups uneven. or, one of your cousins had to be with one of his friends.

you loved going into random gift shops with sunghoon, taking pictures while trying on mickey ears and random headbands. he even bought you two matching ones.

the radiator springs ride in cars land was jay and sunghoon’s favorite. sunghoon loved how he felt butterflies in his stomach. not only from how steep the slope was, but also from how you tightly squeezed his hand in fear.

the drop tower was a memorable moment to everyone. the picture that was displayed at the exit of the ride, revealed eric was actually clinging onto jake and karina the entire time.

“do not save that. if you guys actually buy this souvenir picture i’ll literally run away from home.” he grumbled in embarrassment.

“it’s okay dude. stop stressing, because you’re gonna end up grabbing onto me again when we go on the incredicoaster.” jake joked.

you all laughed at eric’s humiliation but quickly bribed him with a pretzel from the pym test kitchen (even though it was insanely dry).

you couldn’t forget about your last ride of the day, the classic, the ferris wheel. karina, danielle, heeseung, and jay, decided to go in a rocking cart. you and sunghoon, along with eric and jake, decided to stay in a normal carriage. but eric refused to ride with jake, settling for going by himself.

eric was one of the only boys in your family, so being around sunghoon and his friends seemed to make him feel a little unwanted. but you understood.

you laughed as you heard danielle and karina’s screams while their carriage practically turned upside down.

at the very peak of the ferris wheel, was where you and sunghoon had your first real kiss while the sun set in the background. “this is so pinterest worthy.” you whisper. “don’t ruin this beautiful moment for me.” he mumbled, turning to watch the view after you pulled away from him.

by the end of it, you were giggling like a bunch of high school kids.

when you walked out the park, passing one last gift shop before the exit, sunghoon quickly ran inside. and he came out with two matching stuffed animals. a baby stitch plush, and a baby angel plush.

of course, you were angel, and he was stitch.

the beach day was one of your personal favorites.

you had picked up food from a local restaurant along with some snacks to bring to the beach, like a picnic. after you had finished eating, you all went for a swim.

you and the girls were the first to get out of the ocean, watching how the boys attempted to drown each other. you murmured a few sentences between one another that evening. however, it was clear nobody was listening to each other. “no way..” you whispered to yourself as you looked beside you.

heeseung and karina were practically making heart eyes at each other, not caring about the people around them. danielle’s cheeks puffed up as she held in her laughter.

but, you couldn’t say much either. the whole time, your eyes only ever remained on park sunghoon. the man who had caught your attention from the start.

the tension between the pair was obvious. so, you and sunghoon came up with the ultimate plan.

sunghoon would complain about how he was sore from wrestling in the water, so he asked if karina could hold his bags. but, he knew heeseung would quickly come to take it from her.

after getting everything and everyone into the car, you set course back to the hotel. sunghoon drove single handed, with his right arm resting in your grasp as you played with his rings.

you gave each other a knowing look before turning around to see almost everyone else had completely fallen asleep.

there sat heeseung, with karina’s head buried in his neck. jake remained isolated next to them, his headphones on full blast, as danielle, jay, and eric rested peacefully in the row behind him.

you smiled at sunghoon, even if he couldn’t see it. but you both knew your mission was accomplished.

by day 6, you were back in sunghoon’s room again. just lying down in his bed, speaking out gently and peacefully as you held each other.

“if you stayed in beverly hills earlier on, maybe we’d have known each other earlier.” said sunghoon.

“probably. my uncle, dani’s dad, is a realtor, and he always sold houses in your neighborhood. maybe i really would have known you sooner.”

“this whole trip has gone by way too fast.” he sighed, his face buried in your hair. “at least we still have tomorrow.” you mutter.

“will we keep in touch?” “if this whole time really mattered to you, you’ll know. but, we’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

as your words slowly began to die down, sunghoon figured you had fallen asleep.

he held you tighter, bringing you closer to him. sunghoon pressed a kiss onto your lips softly, before he too fell into a wakeless dream.

technically, sunghoon’s room was really jake’s room too since they always had to share a bed. but, seeing you two together and understanding the situation, he decided to take one for the team and sleep on the couch (only after heeseung did him a favor and brought him a blanket).

and before you knew it, it was your last day together. you were sitting by the pool where you met. your feet and lower legs dipped into the cold water as you felt the warm anaheim breeze. same position, same spot.

"it's been a good week. best week i ever had. this whole trip feels like a long dream and i haven't waken up yet. like, im still in long beach, tanning in my aunties backyard." you say.

the moment felt still, everything was paused, before sunghoon spoke. "you'll visit me up in the hills won't you?"

"of course i will. you trashy hollywood kid. and you'll visit me down in long beach?" "course i will." and he pressed his lips onto yours.

a part of you wished you met sooner, and that you had more time.

when sunghoon pulled away, you didn’t want to let go. you brought yourself up to kiss him again, holding him as if you’d never see him again. because who knows when you really will?

you almost sob when it's time to go home, you think you really have fallen in love this time around.

sunghoon refused to let you go, as if you’d vanish into thin air if you’re not within his grasp. and you felt the exact same way. despite not being together for long, now you really don’t know how you’ll go on without him.

because now, the summer was over.

you two were inseparable in the moment, jake and jay literally had to pry and rip sunghoon off of you.

they were gone before you could cry, but not before he could kiss you for the last time.

“make sure to call me!” he exclaimed from the car, after jay forced him inside. “i love you y/n!” sunghoon shouted out loud, as they started to drive off.

“i’ll call you every night! i love you too sunghoon!” you called back. “more than you know..” but the last part barely came out above a whisper, as his car was gone into the horizon.

and after that, was when you finally let it all out. all the longing, and the heartbreak.

the downside of summer love, never knowing if you’ll meet again.

you sobbed quietly in the backseat alone, refusing to let your cousins see you like this. you couldn’t handle being around them right now.

for you, the amount of time you knew each other didn’t matter. it was the way you understood each other, made each other feel. the way you cared for each other, some might even say it was in the way you loved each other.

but now, it was time to return to your normal lives, go on with your jobs or school. your endless summer has reached its finale. but how could it end like this?

one minute you’re bawling your eyes out in the back of karina’s jeep. your eyes swelled up as you clutched your chest with a heavy heart. the next minute, you wake up in your driveway, watching as your cousins hauled your luggage out to your doorstep for you.

before you knew it, now you were in despair as you hugged your pillow tightly. your silk pillowcase was almost as soft as his milky skin. it was unfair. you had no idea if you’d truly keep contact, or even ever see him again. maybe this whole summer fling thing was stupid.

one good moment wouldn’t make up for all the bad that followed after. you began to think, maybe it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to you. he’s handsome. he probably gets around. i’m not the only girl.

you lay awake that night, torn between the feeling of his lips on yours, and if whether or not it’s something you’ll ever get to experience again.

but by the next morning, someone was frantically knocking, pounding, on your front door. it was much to your surprise when you saw who it was. park sunghoon.

“holy shit, you scared me! what are you doing here..?” you gasped out, still processing the moment.

“you’re fucking crazy if you think i’ll just leave you like that, angel.” he muttered, before pulling you in by the waist to reunite your lips in a desperate kiss.

you suppose whatever you were thinking of last night can be disposed of. he did come back for you, and you do get to experience his lips on yours again.

last night, you were crying to the point there was no water left in your body. only dried tear stains and your red eyes remained as evidence. but now? by the following morning, your lover boy was already at your door.

and when he finally moved in to kiss you again, you smiled, reaching up to softly stroke his warm cheek.

you realized, all doubts you had about him were insecurities. false scenarios your mind made up to keep you questioning.

because sunghoon knew he would never leave you. he’d say it a thousand times over again to let you know just how much he loves you.

the summer wasn’t over yet. not until the two of you were through. because everyday with sunghoon felt like summer.

[ladykailitha]

A Love For Christmas Part 6

Last one for the night!! Thank you to everyone who has been following along with this little story.

Next up: gingerbread houses! Joyce makes an error, Eddie suggests an alternative, and El and Mike make the best of a bad situation.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

My next thought for the little elf was helping out Mrs. Claus in the kitchen. The task was detail orientated, would keep them constantly on their toes, and no animals to torment them.

Things went well for a week. They enjoyed making candy canes and little taffies. The soothing nature of the constant pulling must have felt like a boon to their soul after all the troubles they had been having.

Then it was time to make the gingerbread for the houses. Gingerbread for building is much different than the kind meant for eating. It’s harder, more rigid, easier to stand up.

Something no one told the little elf.

The gingerbread that didn’t come out burnt was too soft for building and too dry for eating. The kitchen smelt of burned gingerbread for days before it went away.

“At least you know you’re good at making candies,” I offered to the distraught little elf.

“Fat load of good that does me when Mrs. Claus won’t let me back in the kitchen,” they huffed morosely.

Ah yes, that was the sticking point as it were. Mrs. Claus had gotten tired of the burnt ginger smell by day two and had threatened to cook the elf if they came back. “It’s no matter, we’ll find something else you can do.”

~

Christmas was closing in and it was nearing time for the god damned Christmas party. Steve had gone back into the office, so his days weren’t free to just hang around teenagers and Eddie.

Everyone at work had been oohing and awing over the trees and decorations for weeks but no one seemed willing to praise Steve for it.

In fact, his dad had been taking credit for the whole thing. That Steve was just the errand boy in Clint Harrington’s grand Christmas plan.

It was so painful to watch. Steve was ready to throw in the towel if he was honest. Just put in his two week notice right before the Christmas break and just not come back after New Years.

“Steve!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his office. “You are bringing someone to the office party, right? Your mother is expecting to see you with someone this year, so you better come through.”

Steve opened his mouth to say he didn’t have anyone, but he closed it with a snap. A small smile spread over his face. Yes, actually did have someone this year. Or at least he hoped so.

“Yeah, Dad,” he said, his smile growing. “I’ve got someone to bring. I just have to make sure they’re free.”

Mr. Harrington nodded curtly and then turned on his heel, walking out of the office, leaving the door wide open. Steve just shook his head. That two weeks notice was looking better and better with each passing moment.

~

Steve pulled up to a different house. This one was more of a cabin than a house, nestled in a cove of trees that made it look like an old fashioned postcard. Idyllic and serene.

He loved it.

Ellie came dashing out of the cabin with a big smile on her face. “You made it! Joyce came over to help me and Dad make gingerbread houses!”

She gave Steve a big hug and all the stress from work and his dad just melted away. He loved these kids. He wanted a half of a dozen kids but the longer he went without so much as a single date, the longer he realized that wasn’t going to come true.

“Come on,” she said brightly, grabbing his wrist and dragging him inside. “Not everyone is here yet, but you can come have some of Dad’s hot spiced apple cider.”

Steve laughed as she dragged him to the kitchen as she kept talking. “Dad says there’s even a version for adults if you would prefer that. I had some once, it burned my throat.”

He stopped dead cold when he realized who her father was. Everyone had heard of the big city police chief that had come from New York to head up his old home town’s police force. Jim Hopper was a man everyone knew not to cross.

“Chief Hopper,” he greeted as warmly as possible. “I’m Steve Harrington. Pleased to meet you.”

Hopper smirked. “Ellie’s been telling me all about you all month. Nice to put a name to the face.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t happen to be Clint Harrington’s son, would you?”

“Not by choice,” Steve smirked back.

Hopped threw his head back and laughed. “I hear that. Come have some cider, it’s been cooking all day.”

Steve was led to the right pot with by scent alone. It smelled heavenly. He poured himself a cup and took a tentative sip. Oh, it tasted heavenly too. He took a longer sip. He was going to be coming back to this a lot.

He turned around just in time to see Eddie and Dustin come in together. He lit up with a large smile as Eddie spotted him. He came bounding up to him.

“I thought I saw a maroon BMW out there,” he said with big smile that took over his whole face.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “I was little surprised to beat you this time if I’m honest.”

Eddie jutted his thumb at Dustin who had stopped to talk to Lucas. “I would have beat ya if this butthead hadn’t still been showering when I showed up.”

Dustin cried out, “Hey! I lost track of time, okay?” He walked up to them and gave each of them a hug. “I’m glad you’re here, Steve.”

“I can’t wait to do this!” Steve said. “I never got to make them before. My mom would order these great big masterpieces and after New Years when it gone stale, she would just toss it out. I always thought it was a waste of all that candy.”

Eddie’s brow wrinkled. “You mean you didn’t even make one in elementary out of graham crackers?”

“Is that something you guys did?” Steve asked shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Dustin said and pressed his lips together. “Did you go to a private school? Is that why?”

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then nodded. “Yep! That would do it all right. Looks like I really missed out on a lot of fun things growing up.”

Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Have no fear, we are going to help you fix that, aren’t we, Dusty?”

“Hell yeah!” Dustin replied with a huge grin.

“Oh no!” Joyce cried from behind them.

They all turned to look at her and saw her standing there with the first batch of gingerbread, but it was absolutely soggy in the middle.

“Shit!” Jim said. “How much water did you use?”

“Water?” Joyce replied, her voice going high pitched. “I used corn syrup.”

“Well then how much corn syrup did you use?” he said gruffly. “My mom’s recipe added water to keep it from rising.”

Joyce glared at him. “A half of a cup.” And she grabbed her recipe book and shoved it at him.

There was silence as Jim carefully read the recipe. He squinted at the corn syrup and scratched it with his thumb nail. “Welp, there’s your problem. There was a crumb on the page that turned your three into a two. It was asking for a third of a cup of corn syrup.”

He handed it back to her and she sagged against the counter. She looked at all the dough she had made that she had used a half of a cup of corn syrup. “Now what are we going to do?” she wailed. “I don’t have time to make more or you kids will be here all night.”

Eddie grinned. “Got graham crackers?”

She blinked at him for a moment. “I’m sure I have some somewhere, I do have two teenaged boys after all. But I don’t think it’ll be enough for everyone to make houses with.”

Jim put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll go get more at the store. You get everyone started with what you do have and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jonathan said standing up. “You can drop me off at Nancy’s afterward. That way there is one less person making houses.”

“You don’t have to do that, hon,” Joyce said with a sigh. “I can figure something out for you.”

“Nah,” Jonathan said with a lopsided grin. “I haven’t had much of a chance to spend time with her since I’ve been back.” He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed up his coat and things, following Jim out the door.

“I don’t think I’ve met Nancy yet,” Steve said with a frown.

“She’s my big sister,” Mike said, rolling his eyes. “Her and Jonathan have been dating since they were both juniors in high school. Her classes at Emerson finished later than Jonathan’s classes at the state college did, so she just got home.”

Steve nodded.

When they all gather round the table to start their foundations of what would be their graham cracker houses, Steve noticed that Ellie was meticulously cutting the crackers into strange shapes.

“Wha’cha doing over there, Ellie?” Steve asked.

“There aren’t enough graham crackers so I’m making a hobbit house,” she said seriously without raising her head.

“You’re dad is going to be home in a few minutes with more,” he said tilting his head to the side. “So what are you going to make your hobbit house of?”

Ellie raised her head, walked calmly to the freezer and pulled something out. She set the bright yellow box down on the table and carefully removed the contents.

Eggo’s.

They were Eggo’s waffles. She was going to make her “gingerbread” house out of Eggo’s. Which in all honesty, even thawed he bet that it would hold up better than the graham crackers. Those things were bricks unless cooked.

Soon enough Jim was back with the boxes of graham crackers and gave everyone there own box.

With the help of royal frosting and enough candy to feed an army of children they all got to work. Some went the simple route of just a basic house. Some went like Ellie and made something a little grander like Eddie’s van or Dustin’s CV tower. And then there was Mike. It had started off as something a little grander. It was supposed to have been his parents house, but the second he put the last gumdrop on the roof, it collapsed under the weight.

“Oh, Mike!” Ellie said throwing her arms around him. “I’m sorry.”

He looked down at the mess for a moment and then looked up at her. “Do you have paper and a grey marker or crayon?”

“What’s on your mind there, Mikey?” Eddie asked.

He just grinned. “You’ll see.”

He worked on it for a moment or two and then asked for scissors. Jim got what he was doing first and chuckled. Then Steve caught on too.

Then Mike put his creation on his fallen house. Everyone burst out laughing. He had drawn a tornado destroying his graham cracker house.

“That’s brilliant, Mike!” Will said with a huge smile.

Mike turned bright pink and ducked his head.

Joyce and Jim handed out prizes for the most original, which went to Mike; the most interesting, which went Ellie’s hobbit hole; and best decorated, which had surprisingly gone to Robin, who had designed Santa’s workshop at the North Pole.

“Now for the best part!” Dustin said gleefully and then took a huge bite out of his tower.

Mike grinned, popping one of the fallen roof pieces into his mouth.

Steve looked at them in shock. “You’re supposed to eat them? You don’t throw them away afterwards?”

“That would be a waste of candy,” Robin said cheerfully. “The best part is eating it afterwards.” She picked up one of the candy canes that she used for the door and took a large bite out of it.

Steve looked down at his graham cracker house in wonder. Then he picked up the whole house and took a large bite of the roof.

“Hell yeah!” Eddie said and did the same to the tire on his van.

Soon everyone was joining and just happily munching away and throwing pieces at each other. Steve hadn’t felt so light in years. Maybe in his whole life.

As Steve and Eddie were walking out to their vehicles, Eddie bumped Steve’s shoulder.

“So did you have fun today?”

Steve smiled and ducked his head to hide his blush. “I did. That is a really great group of kids in there.”

“They sure are.”

They made it to Steve’s car first. “Did I ever tell you that I never wanted to in consulting like my dad?”

Eddie shook his head. “And what did little Stevie want to be when he grew up?”

“A teacher,” Steve said with a sigh. He shoved his hands in his coat pocket. “I was going to teach history and maybe even basketball, if they’d let me.”

“Did you play in high school?” Eddie asked, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He took a long drag and slowly blew it out away from Steve.

Steve nodded and then took the cigarette from Eddie and took a drag of his own before handing it back. He turned to face him and looked up at him as it began to snow. The flakes fell on his lashes and they were so close.

“I’m allowed to bring a plus one to my company,” he murmured, the cold air, making their breath show and mingle with each other. “I want it to be you.”

Eddie took another drag of his cigarette and blew out the smoke. “You sure you want me to come? I’m not exactly corporate material. I’m loud, I’m brash, and I’m queer.”

Steve moved a strand of Eddie’s hair and tucked it behind his ear. “That’s all the things I like about you, Eddie. You fill up a room with such brightness and wonder. I just want someone there who’s there for me and not what my dad can give them, you know?”

Eddie examined the cigarette for a moment and then nodded. “You’ve got it. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

He flicked the cigarette into the snowbank and smiled at Steve.

“For you.”

~

Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @tartarusknight

[goldengalore]

Neglected

A househusband!Harry fic.

Summary: Harry has been feeling neglected and unappreciated by Y/N, and she doesn’t realize it.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst, smut (sub!harry, soft dom!reader)

A/N: I woke up at 4am one morning with the urge to write this. Also listened to Tolerate It by Taylor Swift for more inspo!

***

In all the years that Harry has been married to Y/N, he has never felt neglected by her. Sure, there have been instances where her schedule became too hectic for them to spend much time together, but even then, her love and appreciation for him could be felt through her actions.

Lately though, that hasn’t been the case.

Work has been stressing her out, he can discern that much. And while she has never been one to let work stress affect her personal relationships, this past week has brought out a different side to her. A side that makes him feel small and invisible.

When she comes home, it’s like she wants nothing to do with him. She heads straight upstairs, telling him she’ll be down for dinner later. During dinner, she’ll ask their daughter, Savannah, about her day but won’t ask him. After dinner, she’ll go back upstairs without acknowledging whether the food was good or not, even when he cooks her favourite dishes. He’ll wash up in the kitchen and go up to their bedroom to find her already asleep on her side of the bed—or pretending to be asleep, it seems at times. If he tries to cuddle up to her, she’ll shrug him off and shift further towards the edge of the bed with her back to him.

He’s beginning to wonder if he unwittingly did something to upset her. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Maybe he should just suck it up. Surely, this won’t last forever and she’ll be back to her normal self soon enough…

It’s Friday now. He hopes that with the weekend on the horizon, Y/N will be in a much better mood when she gets home.

“Hi, lovie,” he greets her when she walks in through the door. “How was your day?”

She releases a heavy sigh as she slips off her heels. “Shitty, but at least it’s over, right?”

“Sorry to hear that.” He attempts to give her a hug, but it doesn’t last longer than a second before she pulls away with a tight smile.

She heads to the kitchen, dropping her bag and keys by the stairs along the way. He follows her like a lost puppy. Grabbing herself a glass of water, she collapses onto one of the dining chairs and chugs it down.

At least she didn’t go straight upstairs today, he thinks to himself, grasping for a silver lining.

She rolls her neck from side to side and rubs the back of her shoulder, wincing a bit. Harry moves to stand behind her. Shifting her hair over to one side, he starts massaging her neck and shoulders. He holds his breath, expecting her to brush him off, but instead, she reclines in her seat while he carefully presses his thumbs into the nape of her neck.

“Work has been such a pain lately,” she admits.

“I know. Could tell you’ve been stressed out.”

“It’s this new boss. She’s impossible to work with. She puts unreasonable deadlines on everything, expecting us to finish these huge, complicated tasks within days. Then, when people like me try to speak up about it, she’ll publicly shame us in front of the whole office and pile on even more work so that— Ow! Okay, H, you’re pressing too hard.” She reaches behind her to push his hands away.

“Oops. Sorry, love.” Fuck. She was finally opening up to him about why she’s been acting so cold, finally giving him more than just one-word responses or vague explanations, and he ruined it.

“It’s fine. I’m going to go take a shower.” She stands up.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her hand.

She turns to him with a look of mild annoyance.

“Um, wh—why don’t I run you a hot bath?”

“Sure. Not too hot though, okay? I’d like to not burn my skin off.”

He chuckles at the comment, pretending that it didn’t sting a little. “Yeah, of course.”

He runs the bath and checks the temperature of the water multiple times while Y/N undresses in their bedroom. He’s about to check for a fourth time when she enters the bathroom in her white robe, which she hangs up on the wall hook. She settles into the tub and closes her eyes. Meanwhile, Harry watches from the doorway, wishing he could get in there with her and be close to her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he offers tentatively. “We can talk more about the stuff you’ve been dealing with at work.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t even want to think about work.”

“Oh. Well, we can chat about something else to get your mind off—”

“I’m not really in the mood to talk.” She opens her eyes briefly to look at him. “I’ll be down for dinner later, okay?”

Translation: Don’t bother me until dinner.

With a hollowness in his chest, he shuts the bathroom door and returns downstairs to the kitchen.

***

“Daaaaad?” Savannah calls to her father from the dining table, where she has decided to do her homework tonight.

“Yeeeees?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

“Be right there.” He turns down the heat on the stove before walking over to his daughter, leaning over her to take a look at what she’s working on. Math. His worst enemy.

“I don’t understand this question,” she says, pointing to a lengthy word problem on the page with several multiple choice options.

He reads and rereads it a few times before attempting to solve it in his head. It seems easy enough… Until he realizes that the answer he came up with isn’t even one of the options. He asks Savannah how her teacher taught her to approach questions like this, and her explanation only confuses him even more. Math was tough when he was in school, but the way they teach it nowadays boggles his mind.

“I’ll go see if your mum can help.”

He heads upstairs to check if Y/N is done with her bath and finds her sitting at the foot of their bed in her robe, brushing her hair. The sun is setting outside. Its warm, amber glow spills through the curtains and falls across one side of Y/N’s face, casting a shadow on the other. She looks ethereal in this light, like a goddess, and he feels unworthy of her presence.

“Babe? Savannah needs help with her maths homework,” he tells her.

“Can’t you handle it?”

“I mean, I’m trying, but we both know how useless I am at maths,” he answers with a smirk, but she doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Harry, it’s grade school math, not rocket science.”

His face drops. “Well, yeah, but I— Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway, turning back around to face her. “Y/N, are you… Are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”

He instantly regrets asking. Y/N closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No, H, I just need some time alone,” she states slowly. “Like, is that too much to ask? I can’t even have a second alone without you getting clingy and thinking I’m mad at you? It’s exhausting.”

His heart cracks for what feels like the millionth time that night. Clingy. His wife thinks he’s clingy. It’s not the first time he has been called that word. But it is the first time he has been called that word by her. And God, does it hurt like a dagger slicing through his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before leaving.

He tries his best to help Savannah with the question, ultimately resorting to Google where he finds the solution posted on some forum a few years ago.

“Daddy, are you okay?” asks Savannah once her homework has been sorted.

He raises a brow at the odd, adult-like concern in his daughter’s voice. “Yes. Why?”

“You look sad.”

He forces a smile. “I’m not sad. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, of course. But I’m fine.”

She squints her big eyes at him suspiciously, drawing a genuine laugh out of him.

Kissing the top of her head, he says, “I’m going to finish making dinner, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

That little token of appreciation means so much to him, he gives her another kiss on the head.

“You’re very welcome.”

***

Harry feels numb at dinner. His appetite is nonexistent. The food that he himself cooked with love and care tastes bland and flavourless to him. He has long zoned out on the conversation between Y/N and Savannah, which is completely unlike him, as someone who prides himself on being a good listener.

“H, you okay? You’ve barely touched your food,” comments Y/N. It shocks him that she even noticed.

“Daddy’s sad,” Savannah blurts out.

Y/N frowns, studying him from across the table. “Sad about what?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He stares down at his plate and changes the subject. “Does anyone else feel like the pasta sauce is missing something? I followed the recipe to a tee and still messed it up somehow.” He shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to get anything right today.

“No, it’s perfect,” says Y/N. “As always.”

She’s praising him. So why does he feel like crying?

“Where are you going?” she asks as he pushes his chair back and rises to his feet.

“I have a headache. Going to lie down for a bit. Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll take care of it later.” He places his unfinished plate on the kitchen counter and leaves.

Tears are flooding his eyes before he has even reached the top of the stairs. By the time he gets to the bedroom, they’re spilling onto his cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he just climbs under the covers on his side of the bed and lets his pillow soak them up.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed before he hears Savannah’s voice down the hall, telling her mother goodnight, and then moments later, the light creak of the bedroom door opening, followed by Y/N’s footsteps approaching the bed. The mattress dips behind him.

“H?” she says softly.

“Hmm?”

“You still awake?”

He clears his throat and tries to keep a steady voice as he replies, “Yeah. You need anything?”

“No, just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Do you need anything from me? Painkillers? A cup of tea?”

How about kisses? Or cuddles? Or any kind of attention that doesn’t involve you glaring at me like I’m a waste of space? he answers in his head, but out loud he says, “I’m fine. Thank you, love.”

“You know, you keep saying you’re fine and I don’t know if I believe you.”

He doesn’t respond.

She places a hand on his arm over the covers. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he emphasizes stubbornly.

“Can you please look at me?”

He sighs. A part of him is tempted to snap at her and tell her to leave him alone, to hurt her the way she hurt him, but he doesn’t have it in him to do that. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. What he really wants is to be held by her, to be told that he is loved and appreciated and wanted.

When she gently tugs on his arm to make him turn around, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes scan his face, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“Oh, honey.” She brings a hand to his cheek. He’s been so deprived of her touch that he leans into it immediately. “Did I do this?” she asks with guilt-ridden eyes which suggest she already knows the answer to that.

“I feel like I can’t do anything right by you lately,” he says. “I just want to spend some time with you when you get home, but you never talk to me and you shoo me away any time I try to come near you. I don’t know what I did, but lately, I feel more like an annoying pest that you have to tolerate than your husband. And maybe that makes me clingy or whatever—”

“That does not make you clingy,” she interjects, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m sorry I called you that, and I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I’ve just been under so much pressure at work. That’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you, but I need you to know that it has nothing to do with you, okay? You haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

He sniffles. “Really?”

“Yes, baby. The only reason I’ve been pushing you away is because I come home with all this pent-up frustration and I don’t want to take it out on you by accident… But it looks like I’ve been doing that anyway.” She wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and kisses him tenderly. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She gets under the covers with him and guides his head to her chest, tangling her fingers into his hair. He nuzzles his face close to her breasts. She apologizes again and reassures him that he’s the best husband she could have ever asked for, that she still looks forward to coming home to him at the end of each day, that she loves him more than words can ever explain.

Her delicate touches mixed with her comforting voice telling him everything he needed to hear soothes his aching heart. They cuddle in silence for a while, their legs intertwined with each other. Y/N shifts around a bit while keeping him close to her. When her thigh brushes up against his crotch, she freezes.

“Are you hard right now?”

“Fuck, um… yeah?” he mumbles into her chest nervously, his face growing hot.

She giggles. “Well, let’s take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, you deserve it.”

She sits up on the bed beside him, while he lays on his back, gazing up at her, melting when she gives him a warm smile. Her hand disappears under the covers, making its slow descent into the waistband of his shorts. He gasps when she gropes him through his briefs.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he admits.

“That’s okay. Been a while since we’ve done this, huh?”

He nods, gulping as her fingers trace his bulge. Although he sometimes touches himself when he’s home alone during the day or in the shower, it’s never the same as when she does it. The orgasms lack the intensity he craves.

“My poor baby,” she coos, using her other hand to scratch the top of his head. “I haven’t been taking proper care of you. We’re going to fix that this weekend.”

She suddenly removes her hand from his shorts and takes off her shirt, revealing her braless torso. The sight of her gorgeous, round breasts makes his mouth water before she even invites him to suck on them. Moving his head into her lap, he wraps his lips around one nipple and swirls his tongue around the taut flesh.

Her hand ventures back into his shorts, this time slipping into his underwear. Instead of wrapping her whole hand around him, she uses only two fingers and her thumb, running them along his length in slow, gentle strokes that make his body shudder with pleasure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that? Nothing you do for me goes unnoticed, I promise you,” she says.

The reassurance brings tears to his eyes again but happy ones this time. She wraps the rest of her hand around his cock, picking up the pace and pressure of her strokes. He thrusts his hips into her hand desperately as his orgasm builds. She tells him he can come whenever he’s ready, but he tries to delay it for as long as possible until he can’t any longer. Then he lets himself go, his moans and grunts muffled by her breast.

“There you go. Good boy.” She coaxes the last few drops of come out of him.

He rests his head in her lap afterwards, dazed and breathless, hoping that she’ll let him lay there a little while longer. Luckily, that’s exactly what she does, only moving to rest her back against the headboard to make herself comfortable while keeping his head in her lap, her fingers in his hair. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

***

Thank you for reading! For more househusband!Harry and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

[jiminrings]

478 drabble: the baby blue couch sex

alternatively, jungkook gifts you a watch and you repay him with something of his choice.

[ 99% smut but of course there’s still plot, oc is the one who’s a little mean this time, 478jk asks to be choked, he says the word mommy one (1) time, they r so in love it’s almost annoying ]

[ 478 masterlist ]

Jungkook’s your cheerleader.

He does what’s given to him with grace and giddiness, sometimes going so far as to do things without actually being asked to. He’s been planning your celebratory party ever since it came out that you were nominated for the Daesang for your role in your latest drama. Without fail, Jungkook’s been praying for your win everyday since then, even if he wasn’t the type to.

Was he completely ambitious (he calls it a feat of manifesting) to start planning your celebratory party even before the award ceremony itself happened? Completely. But was it a far shot for you to win the grand prize? Absolutely not, Jungkook argues. You’ve peeked over his shoulder a week before the ceremony and scolded him for being presumptuous that you’d automatically win, but he only turned the tables and scolded you for being too hard on yourself.

You won last night, and everything felt like a fever dream; from the way you’ve bested all of the veterans you went up against, to the whole public roaring in cheers, to you crying to your palms and Jungkook sobbing even harder than you did. You won the Daesang just last night, and after weeks of preparation and second-guessing himself, your husband throws you a party larger than life tonight.

To be completely loved by everyone in attendance made you feel extremely warm and grateful, the whole night revolving around you just like how Jungkook planned it to be.

“That’s my wife for you!” Jungkook must’ve uttered atleast a thousand times tonight, because as much as he wanted to be glued to your side the whole time, he can’t complain because seeing you getting whisked at every direction with praise had put a permanent grin on your face. 

Your husband’s social battery conveniently runs out when the last of your guests leave, unable to recall a time that he’d been more eager for people to stop complimenting the foyer on the way out. He finally breathes a sigh of relief now that the two of you are alone, immediately untucking his polo and undoing the first few buttons of it.

“Finally-…”

“Isn’t it so crazy how we’re still so hyper?” you blurt out at the same time as him, making him blink because he doesn’t exactly know what we were you referring to. He’s not sleepy but it’s clear how you’re the one who’s more energetic between the two of you. “Are you hungry? Do you want takeout? Wait, what if we cook? I think-…”

Jungkook tunes you out, not out of irritation, but out of clear realization that he’s forgotten to give you his present. He finds you adorable when you’re droning either out of sheer excitement or fatigue, but in this light where you’re hit just perfectly in front of him, hands on your waist and silhouette illuminated, Jungkook blanks out.

For a lack of a better method to catch your attention, Jungkook tugs you down to his lap, his abruptness almost making you stumble with your high heels. He doesn’t even look the least bit sorry; in fact, he looks a little nervous.

“Bought you a watch,” Jungkook mumbles, spawning a box from right behind the couch when you weren’t looking. It was the only hiding spot he could think of this morning, albeit a risky one to think there were hundreds of people that have piled in and out of your house tonight.

You’re a little bit perplexed, both from the whiplash and how Jungkook hid it (you’re nosy and it’s physically impossible for him to hide a large Rolex box in his pocket… right?), but you move on as soon as your eyes land on your husband.

He actually looks nervous, his eyes practically glistening when they look up at you with more trepidation the longer that you don’t open his gift.

“Kook, you didn’t have to,” you start, the smile that forms in your face widening when you finally open the package. It’s the Lady-Datejust that stares right back at you, the white gold casing and the pale pink watch face reflecting your awed expression. It’s the same watch that Jungkook stumbled upon in your old Pinterest board before, dating back to the year where you started taking your acting workshops and wanted to take note of all the things you wanted to buy when you make it big.

You did make it big, yet truth be told, you’ve almost entirely forgotten of the things you used to dream of. Your old to-buy lists and manifestation boards come back right to your head with Jungkook’s gift, the memory and sentiment he has for these sorts of things– for you— making you reel back.

“It’s so pretty,” you speak at last, making your husband sigh a breath of relief because he thought you completely hated his gift. You take the timepiece out carefully, looking at Jungkook playfully as you do. “Is this why my debit card was missing the other day?”

Instantly, Jungkook rolls his eyes and shifts suddenly, joking to drop you from his lap as if he’d ever let it happen. He rests his chin on your shoulder as you wear the watch, his large hands running up and down your bare legs. 

“Bought it with my own money, silly,” he answers, voice lilting when he presses a kiss to your shoulder. He noses the curve of it up until he reaches your earlobe, the low giggle that erupts from him in faux arrogance making you shudder. “The couch we’re sitting on? My money too.”

“Your money,” you snort suddenly, the mischievous upturn of your lips making him raise his brows in provocation. He’s a little tipsy and with just the tiniest bit of alcohol in him, Jungkook’s filter is nowhere to be found. He makes it known that he’s entirely amused, even when you’re poking fun at him. “From where, baby?”

You already know where Jungkook could’ve possibly gotten the funds to buy you a luxury watch, especially since he worked for a large firm after college and was thrifty (maybe too much, even), but you wouldn’t be surprised if he does surprise you with a different answer entirely. 

It just happens that you love playing with Jungkook as much as he loves riding along.

Jungkook chuckles again, squeezing your arms with his hands. He figures that you have goosebumps because the airconditioner you have on works extremely well so he keeps touching you, but unbeknownst to him, its his ministrations in the first place that are making you shudder. 

“Well against my dignity, I became Jimin’s virtual assistant. Did the bookkeeping for like, decades worth of records.”

“My Jimin?” you ask in surprise, voice pitching because as much as you expected Jungkook to surprise you, you didn’t think it was to this extent.

He’s unfazed by your reaction for the most part because after all, he did confess to working with your manager behind your back, but what Jungkook really takes offense to is the way you word your shock.

Your husband flicks your forehead as gently yet as pettily as he could, the roll of his eyes coming like clockwork. “What do you mean, my? He’s just your manager.”

You laugh at the brief childish display, not being any better, when you gently pull on his hair. You’re occupied with getting back at him that you don’t notice the hitch in Jungkook’s breath; how his eyes close briefly in bliss. 

“Right. Sorry, accounting nerd.”

“This nerd got you a couch and a watch.”

The hum that leaves you is playful in good nature, and if Jungkook didn’t want to ravage you alive at the moment, he would’ve cackled. “That’s cute. I got us a house.”

“Mhmm, yeah you did. Pretty house,” he instantly agrees, closing his arms around your waist before he leans back on the baby blue floor couch and takes you with him. “It’s like you’re my sugar mommy, but we’re in love and we’re married and we’re not only fucking.”

“Greatly put, Kook,” you chuckle, the new position you have making the hiccups of your chest from your laughs reverberate right through Jungkook’s.

He’s still amused with you, the glassy look on his eyes evident not just from the liquor and the banter, but from the pure need in his chest. He zeroes in on your face when you look back at him, the intensity in his stare shutting your laughs up effectively.

He looks you over like it’s the first time he’s ever did this night, the desire in his eyes trumping everyone else’s who had looked at you in wholehearted yearning and jealousy — he figures that everyone knows and should know that you’re taken by him. 

Jungkook traces you from your high heels, to your stunning legs, to your pretty face, and finally, to your wrist that bears his gift.

“Thank you for the pretty watch,” you mumble, lost in the way Jungkook’s drinking in your appearance.

“You’re welcome. It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he hums, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. Jungkook’s speaking an afterthought, one that’s the only thing that’s been plaguing his mind recently. “Maybe you should choke me with it on.”

The skip that your heart makes isn’t out of fear, but instead, it’s out of excitement. Your sex life with Jungkook is the furthest thing from boring, of course — it’s just that this is the first time he’s ever pitched the idea to you and you want to kick yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

Against the popular misconception of your closest friends (and even non-close, prying people invested in your life too), it’s actually Jungkook who follows your lead. It’s proven by how he clung to you even from a distance during your break, to how he waits for you to come home from work and adjusts to your schedule, to how he craves your validation, and now, to how he wants you to choke him while wearing his gift on your wrist.

“Yeah? That’s what been in your mind all night?” you lick your lips, the drag of your teeth against them assuring you that this is actually happening and it’s not just a lust-crazed dream.

Jungkook’s mind cannot be any more present than now, the nod that he gives you highlighting his desperation. “Heels too, please,” he mumbles, chest starting to rise rapidly in anticipation.

You squint at the volume he regards you at, the way you tower over him as he’s sitting on the couch making him violently shudder. “What’s that? Don’t mumble if you want something, Jungkook.”

Jungkook snaps out of pent-up neediness, the roll of his eyes unmistakeable. “I said, keep your watch and heels on when you fuck me.” He blinks slowly the more that you keep your face straight at him, realizing his mistake belatedly so he rectifies his request sheepishly. “Please.”

“Could’ve said that without the attitude.”

“My fault,” he tests you purposely, knowing that you hate it when he doesn’t say sorry in verbatim. It’s a way of getting to you and on your nerves that he’s mastered. “You should choke me as punishment.”

As much as you try to feign indifference, an amused smile keeps trying to break out of your lips when Jungkook utilizes your moment of silence to scamper out of his clothes quickly, getting out of them in record time. The temperature the room is in should technically make him shiver, and yet the cold doesn’t get to Jungkook at all when his skin’s already hot just by thinking of you getting your way with him.

He has both arms leaned against the cushions, deceivingly composed when everything that’s just running through his mind involves you left alone in your watch and your heels. You undress in front of him like you’re bored and just want to get it over with, and even if it’s merely a show of your pride, it oddly makes Jungkook want you even more.

“I’ll use you however I want,” you croon, testing the waters that Jungkook’s already drowning himself in. He feels woozy already, the manicured nails with the color he picked out scratching against his chest. You’re perched on his thighs and not on his cock and so he bucks up into nothing, the realization that he’s not the one calling the shots making him hiss.

“Y-you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook’s docile underneath you, prim and proper even when he’s hard. The tiny nudge you give his chin makes him immediately look up, eyes attentive and pleading.

“It’s okay, baby,” you give in, the gentleness of your tone almost making him forget that he’s not dying for you to ride him already. “Wanna be a good boy for me?”

The question barely manages to come out of your lips fully before Jungkook leaps to kiss you, sloppily and messily. He’s whimpering with his mouth open, brows furrowing in frustration when you take control but it’s just not enough until he fills you up.

He’s noisy now, even more vocal than before. You inch closer to fill the space in between the two of you, and even if you aren’t sitting on his cock just yet, your clit brushes against the underside of Jungkook’s cock and it automatically makes him arch, the choked-out groan that comes from your throat making him whine.

Your pussy throbs at the mere attention but you’re sure that neither of you are gonna last either way, making the most out of the little room Jungkook has left before he cums. 

“I know, I know,” you hush Jungkook when you finally line your dripping hole with his cock, the combination of the easy slip and his tip maxing out in your core making him see white. He clenches your hips so hard that you involuntarily squeeze around him, his eyes almost bulging out of its sockets.

“Too — you’re too perfect for me,” he wheezes out when you grind against him before bouncing down again, riding him like you mean it. You’re flush against him, tits against his chest and mouth painting hickeys on his neck like he couldn’t feel any more insane. 

Jungkook makes the sweet mistake of looking away from where the two of you connect and onto the couch, seeing that you did keep your heels on and it makes him choke up over nothing. You pull away briefly from his neck just to see what his attention was on, and you realize that it’s one of the two things he asked you for.

“You’re making this too easy for me,” you huff, the roll of your eyes looking too genuine that your husband’s heart skips. He’s too preoccupied in his pleasure and the feeling of you that he momentarily forgot what he even asked of you in the first place until your hand comes up to his throat. Jungkook gutturally moans at your first, slow squeeze, eyes rolling back immediately.

Even if he hasn’t cummed yet, Jungkook looks completely unraveled beneath you, his moans and whimpers unlike any other. “Tighter. I-I can take it. I’m not gonna break,” he convinces you with his lips trembling, the nod that wracks his head making him even more dizzy.

Your grip on his neck momentarily loosens and Jungkook was just about to whine for more like the brat he is, but he stops in his tracks when he feels you gradually increase the pressure. “But what if I do wanna break you?”

“Gonna– gonna be the fucking death of me,” he whimpers, voice pitching out highly to the point it’s almost recognizable. The groan he releases next scratches the undeniable itch in your brain, setting goosebumps all over your bare skin because Jungkook’s possessed with pleasure. “I’ll let you. I want you to.”

His lips part open without you even saying a word, blinking up at you wordlessly and you take it as your cue to spit in his mouth. Jungkook whines because your hand temporarily betrays his neck to grip his chin in place and so he attempts to move it back himself, only to be swatted.

His eyes are blown-out with nothing but pleasure, snapping out of his daze when you go back to choking him. Jungkook plain-out mewls as your fervent bouncing on his cock transitions back to slow, deeper stroking against your walls. 

Your hand presses down all the right points and Jungkook feels like he’ll go cross-eyed just looking at the watch on your wrist that glints, the slight tremble that’s starting to wrack his body making you realize that’s he’s close to cumming.

“Read the time,” you practically spit as you slowly go back to bouncing on his cock at an angle, the fit tight and obscene with how your walls squelch around him. He’s inside you so deep that you feel the tip of him brush against your cervix, each thrust being the equivalent of you coming closer to being undone.

Jungkook’s close to incomprehensible, his breathing all over the place. “W-what? The– t-the time?” he squints, the tears of pleasure in his eyes making it harder and harder to see.

You bite back a moan when your other hand descends to your clit, digging yourself a grave as you tease. “Read the time, Jungkook. Do it correctly.”

“B-but I can’t-…” he starts to blubber, able to look down on your watch when he cranes his neck down enough, but unable to read the time when he’s this teary and close to cumming.

“Stupid,” you huff, making him whimper. You forego rubbing your clit in favor of roughly pulling his hair back, making him look at you even with the tears in his eyes. “Told you I wanted you to be a good boy. Not a stupid one. Can’t– fuck— can’t even read the time, baby?”

Jungkook’s mouth dries the more that you harshly ride him with no reprieve, the whimpers coming out of him being too high that they barely make a sound anymore. “I-I feel so good that I c-can barely see.”

He shakes underneath you, cock starting to twitch uncontrollably as you rock your hips to a rhythm he can’t keep up with. It feels too good that it’s paining you, swallowing your moans instead by taking out your pleasure by choking Jungkook. “Read the time correctly and I’ll let you cum.”

He feels like bursting already but he wants to please you still, gathering every last bit of clarity in his head. “It’s — t-the time is-…” he stutters, chest rising up and down rapidly. “12:45. It’s — shit! It’s 12:45 i-in the morning.”

You hum, finding the newfound energy to tease him before you see yourself ultimately crashing in the next few seconds. “I don’t know, Kook. You’re off by a few minutes.”

Jungkook’s so frustrated that he can tear his hair out, a new wave of tears running down his cheeks as he repeatedly chants under his breath. He’s begging and pleading and whining underneath you, lip jutting out in an insistent pout. “Y/N, m-mommy, please.” 

“What did you say?” your jaw snaps, the breath in your throat hitching that it makes your hand loosen up slightly on his own. Jungkook’s insistent for your hand to remain though, shaky hands darting up to keep the pressure there. “Where’d that come from, baby?”

“Huh? What did?” he mumbles, so blissed out and lost in pleasure, he feels drunk and sleepy at the same time. 

You finally take mercy when the knot in your stomach starts to unravel out of control, breathless when you take the last step to tighten your hold on his throat. “You think 12:45’s a good time for you to cum, baby?”

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook manages to get out, his vision turning white now that all it takes is one final roll of your hips before he cums inside you.

“Let go, baby, hm? Don’t stop cumming until I tell you to.”

Jungkook finally gets his release and his cum bursts in waves inside you, setting off your own orgasm. He shakes and cries continuously, whining as you slowly rock back and forth through your high as if you’re soothing him. He screws his eyes shut the moment that you grind against him, beyond sensitive to the point of no return. “Can’t — I c-can’t stop cumming! I-…”

You catch your breath as you cease your movements, feeling your husband tear it all out beneath you. “Just until the minute is up,” you assure him, your own vision hazy from how hard you came. “You can take it, crybaby.”

“I can, I can! I’ll be good,” Jungkook whispers, the very last few spurts of his cum draining everything from him. The two of you are completely fucked out, one more-so than the other.

You’re convinced that your husband has already succumbed to sleep if not for the small deep chuckle that escapes him, eyes glazed and slitted.

You don’t hold back this time, indulging Jungkook fully because this time, he says the right thing at the right time.

“If I get you a bracelet next, how far can that take me?”

[simplynims]

David Shaw Headcanons

Some David headcanons I wanted to share alongside a few minor Angel ones, enjoy!

Davids dad used to bake Davids favorite cake for his birthdays when he was still alive. After his death it's hard for David to enjoy his birthday because it reminds him of the loss. When David and Angel got together, Angel despite being god awful at baking or cooking in general, still went out of their way to make him a cake for his birthday. The cake was borderline inedible but the whole gesture was something that David really appreciated.

Definitely a personal headcanon of how he looks like but I see him with more longer thicker hair, his dad had similar hair while his mom in the photos and videos he has of her has shorter hair. If he were to ever cut his hair shorter, I'm sure he'd definitely look more like his mom.

I can see him having a personal journal to write in, especially around the time his dad passed. He wasn't able to grieve properly due to his position as being the new alpha so he turned to writing his thoughts down instead. It was easier with a private journal and in a way it helped ground him enough to get through the week. David doesn't write much in his journals nowadays due to finally being able to properly grieve and Angel being a major part of his support system. But, he does occasionally look back on those journal entries to see how far he's truly come.

David is very much a well groomed person and takes care of his hair very well. Conditions that motherfucker almost every day and shampoos it every 3-4 days thoroughly. It's just part of his routine that he sticks to.

Really doesn't like energy drinks in general but absolutely is a coffee addict.

Has matching Minecraft skins on Minecraft with Angel whenever they play together.

Angel managed to convince him to watch a few Aphmau videos with them specifically the Pheonix Drop series and he lowkey was invested in Garroth as a character. Angel teased David that he was like Aaron in the series and now David doesn't like him anymore. (He doesn't hate Aaron, it's definitely more lighthearted than he lets on but he'd rather let Asher cook dinner any day than admit that to Angel.)

David is strangely really good at tic tac toe, he always manages to win and believe me when I say his friends have TRIED to beat him at the game with little to no success.

Makes it a point to try and cook with Angel at least once per week, quality time is apart of his love language and he treasures every moment with them.

David usually keeps his hair up in a ponytail but has let Angel stylize it before when they're just relaxing.

During the Quinn situation, David was definitely on high alert with the safety of his mate. He knows Quinn isn't stupid enough to try but knowing Angel could've gotten hurt like Darlin's friend who got attacked just by associating with them shook him to his core. I don't think he'd ever forgive himself if something did happen to them and he wasn't there to protect them.

Davids dad was a really good cook and made a lot of his own recipes, he always wrote them down on note cards which David has saved and kept safe in a tiny wooden box in the kitchen. When David misses his dad, especially around the anniversary of his death, he gets out one of those recipes and cooks it. It's nostalgic for him and eases some of that grief that still lingers.

David really hates the cold so when winter hits, Angel is his personal space heater throughout those frosty months. Though, he does like spooking Angel a lil bit with how cold his hands can get. He put his hands under their shirt one time when his hands were particularly cold and they nearly jumped.

Angel gives David playful love bites and David loves recieving and giving them.

David has trained his body to wake up 10 minutes before his actual alarm goes off in the morning so he can cuddle Angel longer.

Dark chocolate is his favorite, it's not too sweet and has more health benefits compared to regular chocolate.

[impala-dreamer]

The Fragile Heart

A Stort Story

~ After returning home from filming a movie in Europe, Jensen fights to control himself and Y/N keep safe. Unfortunately, lust is hard to fight and hunger even more so…~ 

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader

5,002 Words

NSFW, Vampire!AU, Relationship Angst, Mentions of Past Infidelity, Smut, Blood, Dark Romance, Death

Written for @jacklesversebingo "Bad Things" by Jace Everett was the prompt and inspiration

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He came back wrong.

She couldn't explain it, but he was different. Usually overly affectionate and sweet, her husband shied away from her touch, snapped at tiny offenses, and hid his thoughts away.

No matter what she did, she couldn't reach him.

No matter how tight her grip, she couldn't hold on.

He slept most of the day, complaining of a migraine that he couldn’t shake. She’d bring him meds and water, a snack now and then, but he’d wave her away with a grunt and push his head deeper beneath the pillow.

At night, he seemed better, but still off. He’d disappear into the home gym most of the night, refusing supper for protein shakes and lifting more weight than she thought was safe.

It seemed he could barely stay in the same room with her for long, and as the days ticked by, Y/N grew more worried.

When she tried to confront him and plead for an explanation, a placation, anything- he’d sigh and turn away, unable to give her what she needed.

She was losing him.

Jensen could barely stand it. The entire time he was away, all he wanted was to come home, but being there was painful. Seeing her was tearing him in half. The guilt of what had happened and the fear of what he could do was too much to handle.

He knew he shouldn’t hide, knew she’d listen and be by his side, but he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk losing control and taking away the one thing he truly loved, the only thing in the world that he needed: her.

Each day was worse than the last. Y/N looked at him with eyes filled with pain when once there was only love. She sat alone at the dining table, picking at food her stomach was too upset to take. The blanket wrapped tight around her while the television watched her was no comfort, the books she held lay in her lap ignored and unread.

After a while, she stopped trying to talk to him. She no longer reached for his hand when he walked by or met his gaze with adoring eyes.

He was losing her.

Just before sunset that night, Jensen was slumped in his favorite chair by the living room window. The curtain was drawn shut and he held his head in one hand as if the very act of being there was painful.

He looked up when she came in, green eyes glowing slightly in the lamplight. For a second, he forgot everything. For a blessed moment, they were happy and whole.

He smiled softly. “Hey, baby.”

She stared at him before answering, confused by the greeting after so much silence. “Hey.” She crossed her arms over her chest, putting up invisible defenses. “I’m not cooking tonight,” she said simply while looking down at her socked feet. “If you get hungry, there’s some yogurt in the fridge or that leftover chicken from the other night.”

Jensen pulled in a heavy breath. “You’re not hungry?”

“No.”

Y/N turned to leave but he stopped her.

“Wait…”

In a blur, he jumped up from the chair and touched her shoulder. She spun and found him closer than he’d been in weeks. Tears sparkled in her eyes and she held her breath, needing him to make a move.

He fell into her gaze. “Y/N, I-”

She looked so tired and lost that his chest ached. On instinct he lifted his right hand, ready to cradle her cheek like he’d done a thousand times before. When his touch landed, Y/N flinched and he watched a shiver work its way through her body.

“Jensen, you’re freezing.”

Immediately, he snapped his hand closed and pulled away, backing up a step. “Sorry, I’m… it’s cold in here.”

She moved to follow him, closing the space between them with a long step. “Baby-” Concern flooded her voice and Jensen’s jaw clenched tight. “Are you sick? Is- is that what’s been going on? I can call the doctor or we can go in the morning or-”

“No!”

Y/N gasped and backed up, more hurt than scared.

His shoulders fell. “I’m sorry. I’m not sick- I’m just-”

“What?”

He turned away, but she grabbed his wrist, keeping him there, refusing to let him storm off again. Her fingers burned into his skin. She was so warm, so soft. His breath quickened and his heart raced.

“Y/N, don’t do this.”

She held him tighter. “Me? I’m not doing anything but trying to get you to talk to me!”

He could feel her pulse through her grip, like tiny beats in the tip of each finger. He tried not to focus on it, but it was too hard to ignore.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” Her voice cracked as emotion took over. “Please. You’ve been home for almost a month and I have no idea what happened in Paris; no clue why you’re acting like this. Please. Talk to me!”

The more emotion she felt, the harder her blood flowed and Jensen closed his eyes, letting the sound permeate his being. He could almost see it pumping through her body; feel each tiny blood cell sweeping through her veins. He locked his jaw shut and took a breath to steady himself.

It was pointless.

He was close to breaking.

“Jensen!”

When he wouldn’t answer, Y/N stepped in front of him, forcing him to at least look at her. His mind was reeling, his flesh tingling with dangerous lust.

“Please talk to me…”

She dropped his wrist and placed her hand on his chest. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his gray t-shirt and his hands began to shake. He wanted to grab her, slam her up against the wall, and-

“No.”

Y/N’s lip trembled. “No?”

“No, it’s not- I didn’t mean-”

Slowly, her hand fell to her side. Y/N looked up, choking back a flood of tears. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she swallowed them down. “Why won’t you talk to me? I miss you.”

Her words wrapped around him, pushing caution away.

“I miss you too, Y/N.” Jensen reached for her cheek and this time she didn’t flinch. He slid his fingers behind her ear and back, bracing the nape of her neck in his big hand. “So fucking much…” He urged her chin upwards and pulled her body flush against his. “You have no idea…”

Shivering but desperate, she fell into him and let her lips gently part. “Please…”

Her breath washed over him like sunshine, warm and inviting. He bent to kiss her lips, instantly remembering their secret rhythm and how perfectly they fit together. Y/N exhaled into him and he sucked it down, kissing her deeper and wrapping his thick arms around her. She moaned as he ran his hand down her spine; shuddered when he sucked at her bottom lip.

“Fuck, baby… I need you.”

Jensen growled as her whisper echoed in his head. He needed her just as badly and wanted her even more. His tongue swept over hers and he heard her heart tick faster. Her breasts pressed firm against his chest; her fingers teased upwards to hook around his collar.

“Jensen…”

An ache spread through him and fire sparked deep in his gut. His fingers tensed on her flesh, dimpling her softness as he held on. His lips danced across her cheek and jaw as his knee pushed between her thighs.

Y/N tugged a hand through the long hair that curled around his ear and moaned as his kiss fell against her throat.

He shut his eyes, feeling the fire grow more intense. His mouth ran dry, his muscles tightened, his senses heightened. He could smell how wet she was as the arousal dripped from her cunt. He could feel her temperature rise half a degree as the blood rushed to the surface of her skin. Her heart beat loudly in his ears and Jensen felt his control slipping.

He sucked at her throat, licked hard at her thrumming pulse, each beat driving him farther away from safety and into the darkness that waited for them both.

His upper lip twitched as the monster struggled to break free and Jensen panicked. Immediately, he jumped back and turned away, covering his deformed mouth with his hand and closing his senses to her presence.

Y/N stumbled in place, her balance shattered when he released his hold. “Jensen?”

He cowered by the window with his back to the light. “I can’t.”

Her heart ached. He could hear it slowing.

“You can’t? You can’t what? Kiss me?”

He shook his head.

“Hold me?”

His chin dropped and he held his hands over his ears, desperate to block the sadness in her voice and the percussion of her heart.

“Listen to me? Look at me?” Tears fell. Her stomach churned. “Look at me!”

Afraid to move, he stood frozen like a coward. Silent, hurting, and terrified to lose her.

She wanted to beat her fists into the wall, slap him, scream in his face- anything to get him to talk, but she knew it wouldn’t matter.

She took her broken heart to bed and shut the door without another word.

He walked the city like he had every night since he’d been home. Keeping to the side streets, he hid himself away in the alleyways and the empty lots, all the places the light rarely touched. If anyone recognized him, they didn’t show it. This late at night he was just another lonely wayfarer in fancy boots and designer jeans. A mess of a man who had no place to go, nothing to do but linger in the dark.

With every step he thought about their kiss and how closely he’d skirted danger.

Each blink brought her face into view, with broken bones and bruised flesh, pale skin and lifeless eyes.

It was a warning he couldn’t ignore, but he was too in love to back down.

Y/N lay in the dark counting the minutes until morning. Twice, she’d dozed off, but a buzzing mind kept true sleep at bay. She tossed and turned, twisted the blanket around her body, cradled the pillow in her arms.

There was no comfort without him there.

The empty bed was a painful reminder of love slipping away.

When he came in, the air went out. Y/N jolted up from her pillow, gasping as if the oxygen was being sucked from the room. Every tiny hair stood on end and the electrical pulses shooting through her body told her to run.

“It’s just me.”

Jensen’s voice calmed her panic but did little to ease the hurt. He stood in the bedroom doorway, his face lit only by the faint stream of light peeking through the curtains. He looked ghostly, his face pale and gaunt.

“You scared me,” she told him, sitting up against the padded headboard. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere. Just out.” He shifted his stance and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Did I wake you?”

Y/N shook her head and hugged her arms across her chest. “Haven’t been sleeping lately.”

Jensen hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed and looked away. “Don’t-”

“No. I am.”

He took a step inside and reflex tightened her body. She flinched and he froze in place.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “About all of it. Everything. For tonight, for not… talking to you. For leaving you alone all this time.”

Drawing her knees up, Y/N hid her face in her hands. “You don’t have to, Jensen. I’m… I’m so tired.”

Hurt and worry knotted his gut. Another step pulled him closer to the bed, but he kept a safe distance.

“I need to tell you what happened, I want to. I just don’t know if-”

“If I’ll forgive you?”

He looked down at the carpet and found the faint outline of the red wine stain still stuck in the fibers from a night of drunken sex three years ago. He shouldn’t have been able to see it in the dark but it was clear, every strand of thread, every fleck of stain visible now.

“If you’ll… understand.”

Y/N exhaled a shaking breath and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She didn’t want to fight.

“Was it another woman?” she asked, dreading the answer.

Another.

The feeling she put into that single word shook him deep.

Years ago, he’d fucked up. There had been another woman, a guest on set that he’d gotten too close to. It was only a week, but it had nearly shattered their marriage.

He swore he’d never go there again, and he wasn’t sure that he even had this time, but she needed to know. She deserved to know. Everything.

“It wasn’t like that,” he said softly, “but yes.”

He could almost hear the crack in her heart. The fragile heart that had forgiven him years ago. The heart that had stood by him through everything life had thrown his way. The heart that always welcomed him home. The heart he was forever breaking.

Jensen sat at the very foot of the bed and hunched over, resting his forearms on his knees. He clasped his hands and closed his eyes, trying to figure out where and how to start.

Y/N watched him struggle but turned away when he looked back. She refused to meet his gaze, afraid she’d crumble into more pieces than they could ever pick up.

“I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath.

“I can’t even explain what happened-”

“Try.”

He swallowed hard. “The shoot was… crazy. I’ve had rough gigs before but this took a lot out of me. This was…” He felt her eyes on him, heard her steady breath, smelled her trepidation. “Anyway. There was a lot of drinking. Too much.”

Y/N sighed. “Go on.”

“Couple of us found a bar- just a local place. There was nothing special about it. The booze was cheap and…”

“I get it,” she snapped. “You were drunk. And then?”

“I was just minding my own business and-” He pressed his nails into the palm of his left hand as memory washed over him. He could smell the stale beer, taste the bourbon, feel the cool air. “I don’t know where she came from, she just appeared at my side and… we started talking.”

Y/N held her breath and her tongue, giving him the time he needed to get it out. Anger swirled in her stomach but she did her best to keep it from boiling over.

“I can’t even remember about what, really. It was all a blur. Like, an actual blur. After a while I could barely see anything in the room but her, as if the background had gone out of focus. I felt stoned. Slow. Like… I was drugged.”

Concern pushed anger aside and Y/N leaned forward, kicking her knees down and to the side. “Drugged?”

“I just felt… strange.”

“Baby- what happened?”

He looked up with tears rimming his emerald eyes. “I honestly don’t know. I have gone over it a million times but I just… don’t… know. One minute we were talking and… I know she touched my face. I know we left the bar… and then-”

Y/N braced herself with a deep breath that steeled her soul.

Jensen looked away again, shamed and confused. “I woke up in bed. My bed.”

She clenched her jaw, waiting for the worst of it.

“Alone.”

“Alone?” Her breath released and she shook her head. “I thought-”

He laughed bitterly and stood up. “So did I. I thought- fuck, Jensen, you did it again. You fucked up- but… It was so much worse.”

“Worse? How could it be worse?”

Jensen turned away and rubbed his neck. He felt the marks she’d left behind, invisible yet there, haunting him eternally.

“You won’t understand.”

Y/N swung her feet off the side of the bed and gripped the sheets for strength. “Try me.”

He didn’t know how to say it. It made no sense. It all seemed like a crazy nightmare. How could she understand?

She grit her teeth. “Jensen!”

Startled, he turned back. “She drank from me.”

Y/N sat up straight and a confused smile tickled her lips. “What?”

“She drank from me,” he said again, his voice low and calm. “Drank my blood, Y/N. And… I drank hers. At least, I think I did. I don’t really remember.”

The tickle spread down into her chest and a laugh bubbled up. “What?”

“I said you wouldn’t understand.”

Y/N laughed louder, shocked at the audacity of his lie. “Wait. So… instead of just admitting you went off and fucked some stranger in Paris, you’re trying to tell me that a vampire picked you up at a bar?” She stood up as her attitude and anger swelled. “That’s what you’re going with? A vampire? What, did your buddy Kripke write this excuse for you?”

The rage in her voice made his skin prickle. He cringed and spun away. “Don’t.”

Again, she laughed. It stung him deep.

“Oh, I fucking will!” Enraged, she grabbed his upper arm and tried to spin him back to face her. “Are you seriously gonna stand there and tell me a fucking vampire story right now? After everything?”

He would not be moved, standing like a statue next to her.

“Y/N, please-”

“A vampire!” Another yank on his arm did nothing to appease her. “No. I want you to look at me in my face and tell me that you believe some French bitch sucked your fucking blood and turned you into a vampire.”

His head was spinning. The heat of her touch burned into his soul. His muscles ached; his bones felt like they were about to splinter. He held his breath, trying to stay calm, to fight the urge to snap back.

“Look at me!”

She was screaming and he was silently boiling inside.

“Fucking look at me! "Goddamnit, Jensen!”

Desperate, Y/N shoved him hard and the dam broke.

Jensen spun around and showed her the truth.

His eyes, once a comforting forest of green, were rimmed in crimson and seething with danger. His plump lips, so cracked yet soft, kissable and beautiful, were pulled tightly back, revealing a pair of dagger-like fangs and a hungry tongue.

Terror petrified her limbs and locked her in place, eyes wide and staring. Jensen’s body trembled there, his chest heaving with panting breaths; his hands balled into strong fists to keep from grabbing her.

Every second was agony for him. He could hear her blood coursing like a raging river, see her pupils contract and expand in such miniscule points no human eye could track. He wanted her to understand. He wanted her help, needed her comfort. He wanted to rip her chest open and devour everything inside.

Y/N took a deep breath and the panic subsided. She lifted a hand to his cheek without hesitation or fear.

“Jen…”

He closed his eyes and let her touch ground him. He felt the pain ease as he leaned into her palm.

“Baby…”

Her whisper broke through everything and the monster calmed. He opened his eyes and hot tears streamed down his face.

Y/N took him in her arms, holding him tight as he crumbled.

Silently, they moved back to the bed and she eased him onto the pillow, never lifting her touch from his skin.

“I do not understand this,” she said gently, leaning on an elbow to look down at him. “But we will figure this out. I’m not gonna give up on you, Jensen. Not ever.”

He shook his head. “What is there to figure out? I’m cursed. One night of drunken bullshit and I’m a fucking monster.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.” He sat up quickly, knocking her hand away. “I’ve done things.”

Y/N bit her lip, struggling to stay strong for him and contain her own tears.

“Every night while you’re in here alone- I’m… I’m out there…” He looked to the window across the room and the pale light illuminated his face. “Hurting people.”

Y/N cringed and hugged herself tight, trying not to let her imagination take off.

“I’m sure you can’t help it,” she whispered.

He looked back over his shoulder. “I can’t. I can’t fucking stop it from happening. I get this pain in my gut. This hunger… I can’t stop.”

Every story she’d read, movie she’d seen- the thought that it was all real was driving her mad, and yet- there he was, living it.

“Maybe there’s a cure or something. Like… well, I don’t know exactly but if-”

“No.”

Jensen dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders began to shake. He exhaled a trembling breath and Y/N shifted closer, laying her hands on him once more. She pulled him close and he melted into her, soothed by her warmth.

“I’m so sorry.”

She kissed his forehead, smoothed back his hair. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I am.”

She kissed him again and he lifted his chin, meeting her gaze.

“I am so fucking sorry.”

Y/N nodded and raked her hand through his hair, curled her fingers around his ear. “We’ll get through this. We will.”

He clung to her, praying she was right. “How?”

“Together.”

Jensen closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to her chest. Her heartbeat was so steady in his ear, her fingers felt like heaven running across his scalp. Slowly, he lifted his lips and she met him halfway.

The kiss was slow and familiar, like he was finally coming back home.

She pressed harder and his lust stirred. He licked at her lips and breathed her in, needing everything she could give.

Y/N fell back against the pillows and he followed, dropping down to cover her with his full weight. Her lungs emptied and he breathed life back into her as his hand slid down her side. Her lips parted for his tongue and she moaned when he lifted up an inch, just high enough to trace her hipbone with his cool fingertips.

She gripped his collar as his hand snuck into her thin panties, rocked her hips as his palm pressed up against her cunt.

“Fuck…”

He slipped his middle finger inside and she shivered at the cold.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head and licked into his mouth. “Don’t stop…”

Wetness trickled down onto his wrist and he lifted his thumb to stroke her clit, expertly winding her up the way only he knew how. Her breath quickened, her temperature rose. He could feel it like never before: every fiber of her body tightening as the pleasure increased.

Jensen stared at her face, marveling at the subtle changes. Blood pulsed in her cheeks, her lips fell slack, her eyes went blurry, all under his gaze.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed. It was like seeing her for the first time and truly knowing her. “I love you.”

A smile lit her face and she blinked up at him, worried but grateful he was back. “I love you…”

He felt the snap, the precise second her orgasm struck and he sat back to watch her body writhe with bliss. It was pure magic the way she moved, the way her body opened up even more for him.

“Need you,” she moaned, reaching out for him.

Jensen rushed to shed his clothing, kicking his boots off and rolling onto his back to yank his jeans away. Naked and pale, he returned to her, shifting his thighs between hers and spreading her knees wide.

He hesitated but she relieved his worry, setting her hands on his chest and nodding gently.

“Please…”

Falling forward, he set one hand by her head and eased his cock inside with the other. His jaw dropped as her body squeezed around him, warm and tight and absolutely made for him.

Y/N shivered but held on, snaking her hand up to rest at the nape of his neck. Moans filled the room and tight-lipped, loving curses passed between them.

Lost in her, Jensen sensed the hunger rising again. His muscles twitched with the need and he shook his head, refusing it to surface.

Sensing his struggle, Y/N dug her fingers gently into his neck and urged him down. She kissed him hard and then turned her head to the side, stretching her throat for him.

His entire being seemed to focus on the thick vein pulsing in her neck, calling to him, begging to be torn apart.

He held back.

“No.”

Y/N ached into him. “Do it. I want to feel it. Please.”

With a low growl, he kissed the crook of her neck and jerked his hips. She gasped and her heart rate soared. Another kiss, another hard snap of his hips. Y/N trembled beneath him and whimpered as his tongue swept over her pulse.

“Please…”

The desire was rampant, but love held him back. “What if… What if I can’t stop?”

Y/N squeezed his neck and ran her hand up to cradle the back of his head, pulling him closer.

“I trust you.”

The heat of her, the wetness, the soft flesh made his thirst peak, and Jensen sank his teeth into her throat.

The first splash of life against his tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through him so intense that he came, flooding her cunt as her blood filled his mouth.

“God…” Y/N’s consciousness wavered. She felt light, as if her body was floating in his arms, safe and loved forever. Every gentle pull of his lips drew more sense of self from her mind until she was a simple cloud of pleasure set to dissipate into the night sky. “Jensen…”

He felt her heart straining and her warmth fading as she shuddered with ecstasy. Intoxicated, he drank deeper, pulling her essence into himself and moaning with every drop he swallowed.

“Jensen…”

Her eyes refused to focus, rolling uncontrollably in her skull. Her lungs burned as the blood ceased to return. Her legs went numb, her hand fell limp onto the mattress.

“Jen-”

Wrapped in bliss, he bit down again, loving the way her flesh yielded to him. He licked at each wound, and savored every flavor. The salt on her skin, the faint remains of her night cream. The blood, so rich and full of love, pouring into every inch of him. He smiled against her throat. “Love you… Love you… Love you…”

He didn’t hear the moment her heart stopped, but he felt it like a strong force shoving him in the chest. He jolted back and blinked into the darkness. His body was tingling, alive and full of energy. For the first time in weeks he felt true warmth spread through him and he laughed.

“Fuck, baby, that was incredible.” He licked her taste from his lips and moaned. “So fucking good!” He stretched hard, moving his muscles and grinning. “You good, baby?”

A tiny breath fell from her lips and Jensen’s lightness faded.

“Y/N?”

Her cheek was frigid and pale, as if she’d siphoned the cold from his soul.

“Y/N.”

He shook her but she wouldn’t wake.

“Y/N!”

In a panic, Jensen dug his nails into his own neck, ripping a deep gash that sprayed across her face. The blood ran down and he took her weak body in his arms, pressed her cold lips to the wound.

“Come on, baby… Don’t leave me….”

The blood gushed down her chin, soaked into her skin, forever stained the mattress.

“Y/N, please…”

A stream found its way between her lips and a surge of electricity sparked on her tongue. Jensen felt the pull as she accepted his blood, sucking hard at his throat.

“That’s it, baby…” He smoothed the hair back from her face. “That’s it. Fuck…”

He sat by the window and watched her for hours. She lay as if dead, her body unresponsive and posed where he’d left her. There was no breath to lift her chest, no beating heart to echo in his ears.

The night slowly faded and Jensen closed the curtains against the light. He wiped the tears from his cheek and climbed into bed beside her, draping his arm across her middle. He rested his head on her chest and closed his eyes.

One last night together and then eternity without her.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

The day came and went with Jensen sleeping fitfully by her side. At sunset, he heard a gentle thump and then another. He opened his eyes and held his breath, listening for more.

“Come on, baby…”

A louder thud gave him hope. Jensen sat up and gripped her shoulders tight.

“Open your eyes, Y/N. Please.”

The sun finally hit the horizon and Y/N sucked in a full, gasping breath. Her eyes flew open and her body tensed, every cell filling with preternatural power as the cursed blood flowed through her.

Jensen backed away as she sat up, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked at her husband. The darkness was no match for her vision and she could see every detail in his face, every pale freckle, every line, every lash clear and vivid.

“Jensen?”

He rushed back to her side and took her hand, lifting it to his lips.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I thought- I mean- I killed you…”

Smiling gently, she pulled him close. She licked deep into his mouth and his head spun.

Y/N was as cold as he was now, but it wasn’t painful. It felt right; he felt complete.

“How do you feel?”

New life pulsed through her, tingling and alluring. Y/N took a deep breath and exhaled against his lips.

“Hungry…”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

[furiousgoldfish]

On effortless recovery (personal)

I've been slowly dealing with cptsd and osdd for the last 8 years, and while I've had to actively work on some stuff, other have just happened without my interference, or at least, without me knowing I did anything about it. I have not been to therapy; or rather, there's been several attempts that were not working, and I had to end them. For instance, I've had therapy with someone who showed next to no interest in my issues and kept minimizing and ignoring whatever I've been saying, and this was the only person who didn't try to institutionalize me.

I've had to actively work on osdd, and it's something I'm learning about, and understand more as I go, but I also get that osdd is making everything else much easier on me. For instance, lots of my memories and thoughts are being blocked from me, and contained in alters who are making sure that I'm not affected by it, that is a huge help. Lots of thoughts that would upset me if I thought about them, are completely out of my reach, and if I do try to think about them, my mind goes blank and I forgot what I was thinking about. That's a great help for issues like anxiety and spiraling; I used to drown in my own fears and worries; now I just can't remember any of it. It is slightly depressing that my own peace of mind requires that big amount of amnesia, but you know, having some peace is so nice I could never be anything less than grateful for it. Being able to maintain some semblance of peace feels like resiliency, it means I have a place of quiet where I can go back to, even when distressing things happen.

I'm having my chronic pain and chronic exhaustion ease away from me very slowly. I still get exhausted easily, and am tired way more often than a regular person, but I now rarely get days when I can't get out of bed, or have to sacrifice a whole week due to a flashback or a nightmare. I no longer get anxious about planning to do something a day or two ahead because I can count on having at least a basic amount of energy. I don't think I've done anything to create this, it was just happening over the years, on its own. It's also happening so slowly that I don't even feel the progress, I have to remember to look 3 or 5 years back and remember just how much time I've been spending in bed then, to realize that it's less now, that I can do multiple activities a day now. I know I'm extremely lucky to be recovering from this, because there are people who have a chronic condition that doesn't allow for recovery, and I am very grateful for every day I can move around.

Another thing that is much better is sleeping! I used to wake up feeling like I'm dying, overheated, stressed, anxious, sometimes even paralyzed in fear, and if not fear, then grief would hold me down and I would be too sad to move. Now I'm finding myself waking up thinking 'Oh I'm so well rested! I have the energy to tackle some chores' like I'm in an actual good mood. And it's like ??? what is going on, since when is this me. I've been dreaming of having mornings like this, and now I have them, and it just happened over time (8 years) I still only think about doing chores when I have energy, because I know it's the only time of day I'll have any energy, so if I wake up restful I will rush to do dishes, laundry, cleaning, cooking, and whatever else, because I know the energy will go away later and I will become a sad slob. But it's much better than waking up and having to take a few hours (or days) just to recover from sleeping. My sleeping schedule has been 8 hours all along, I somehow can't sleep over the 8 hour mark, and can't function if I sleep less than 7.

I will still sometimes have flashbacks and meltdowns if anything bad happens to me, but the recovery time from them has gone way down. It used to be weeks, months even, to recover from a single bad event. Now it's more like hours and days. It's still not very similar to what I think a regular person would have to deal with, but I love the progress very much! One thing that slips my mind is that I regularly forget how much worse things used to be. If I bounce back from something, I forget that in the past, this would ruin me for weeks, and I forget that this is progress and to take a minute to acknowledge that. I just take what I can and go. But it's good to look at it and see that life is a little easier.

Some anxiety has also withered away from me, because so much of my anxiety was due to inexperience. New problems that would appear in my life seemed unsolvable and catastrophic, because I never faced those problems before, didn't know how to solve it, didn't dare to ask for help, didn't have skills or knowledge to tackle any of them myself, and all of it felt like it would lead to my doom. After already having solved some of those problems multiple times, I'm at peace just because I know what to do now. I haven't done much asking for help to be honest, because I hate it, but in struggling to solve the problems myself (sometimes taking months and years to do so), I've gathered knowledge, skills and experience, and I now have a general idea of what to do in situations that reoccur, and also know what to expect, how long something will take, what type of action will resolve it. Just living and tackling things by myself, and succeeding, eases a lot of anxiety. There is a solution to everything, with sufficient knowledge, experience and skills.

A lot of stuff that's previously been bothering me to the level where I couldn't deal with it, can now be dealt with merely distracting myself from it. Which I think is very funny, because I used to consider all my time playing games or looking at funny videos 'procrastination', because I wasn't being productive right, I was just 'procrastinating' and delaying dealing with life. Now I value these activities specifically because they can save me from feeling miserable and sad. There's a warmth to looking at people being goofy, funny, interesting, entertaining, and taking joy in it, and reminding myself there's still a lot of good things in the world, there are good people, there is warmth, there is love, and I feel better after seeing it, regardless of how awful I felt before. Having my own thoughts redirected to something hopeful is making my days better, more stable. I think I'm just stopping myself from spiraling into hopelessness, by looking directly at hope and staying fixated on it for long enough. And it's something I didn't previously value as a real activity, because I didn't believe that making myself feel better while producing nothing, was a worthwhile pursuit.

Being safe from abuse for a long time managed to erode the feelings of guilt and shame I had in my own interests, thoughts and activities, and I've became unafraid of any failures. It is now very clear to me that failing is the only way towards learning and it's incredibly valuable. I'm shameless at starting new hobbies and activities and it does not bother me whatsoever when I do badly. Even failing at big stuff in my life, things that created actual damage to me, supplied me with knowledge I don't think I would otherwise gain, and I treasure it. I don't feel ashamed or like I've done anything wrong. I've been able to engage with my own curiosity about things and I'm now able to ask questions about anything, without feeling bad for 'not knowing already'.

I've also accepted that I'm bad at some stuff, and it doesn't mean anything much about me, we're all bad at something. Sometimes I'm bad at stuff, but enjoy doing them, so I still do them, fun gives it good value! And if I'm both bad at something and don't enjoy it, then I completely drop it, and feel okay knowing this just isn't for me. I remember when I used to believe I'm bad at everything, just because I was getting such horrid feedback on it, now it's almost funny. I like stuff I create even when I do them badly, because I remember how much fun I had doing it. If I want to do them better, I know I just need to keep practicing and it will happen. Nothing a human creates is shameful, especially if it's not causing any harm to anyone. We're made to create and it makes us happy.

I don't think I've done anything specific to create these changes, maybe some critical analysis of the past, and some willingness to consider my own happiness important and worthwhile. I think I spent so much time grieving that I've actually processed the most of it, so I'm no longer as overwhelmed by it as I was before. It's not like I'm no longer sad, I will start sobbing frequently and whenever I'm tired, I am automatically miserable. But it is no longer constant, suffocating feeling that follows me for every second of existence.

I haven't done anything to fix the sleeping or to ease the chronic pain, that was just time and being safe from abuse for a longer period. I wanted to write this specifically because I've been waking up feeling okay the last few days and that was a shock to experience, what a bliss to wake up and think 'I'm well rested'. Incredible life experience.

[monstrousdesirestudy]

So I forgot that Ao3 makes it so that you need an invite to join and they are telling if I’ll get the invite AUGUST 4th. So. I’m posting my lesbian pirate x selkie romance here lol.

Prologue

From the bobbing ship deck, a small child watched as her home burned. She had long since stopped sobbing, though the tears continued to run freely down her cheeks in silent trails. Flames engulfed the shore, so brilliant and bright it hurt the child’s eyes to watch. But she dared not look away. Not from the smoke that choked the sky, from the monastery which could hardly be seen as it was swallowed whole by fire. Not from the bodies of the clergy that lay limp and still on the dark sand, between the thick copses of trees.

The acrid smoke tore at her throat, the tender skin of her wrists raw from the rope biting into them. A scream was building inside her small body, expanding in her lungs and crashing against the back of her clenched teeth like waves breaking against the cliff sides. The child dared not make a sound.

There, just behind the crumpled body of Brother Eamon was the tree she used to climb at least once a week. Flames consumed it, eating at its pine foliage and thick truck before the great tree snapped with a tremendous crack, hurdling to the ground. She had never seen bodies so still, not even while they slept. Eamon had always been a restless sleeper, tossing and turning in his narrow cot. He had never been this still before. Nothing more than a lump of rumpled robes.

All those busy clergymen who had hustled to and fro within the monastery like bees in a hive, their robes flapping around them as they chastised her for stealing from the kitchen or tended to the herb garden, just. Gone.

Beneath the roar of the fire, she could hear a low, unearthly, groan building. She caught glimpses of the monastery through the shifting veil of smoke and fire. Was it a trick of the heat, her own eyes failing her, or was the structure actually shuddering?

A heavy hand speckled with blood and ash clapped her shoulder, causing the child to flinch. She hadn’t even heard the man walk up behind her.

“Come, boy,” the man commanded.

She didn’t move, not yet. Not as she watched the monastery where she had been taken in as a small child collapse. It died much in the same way the clergymen had, giving one last painful breath before folding in on itself and toppling to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

“Come,” the man said again, this time with impatience.

She followed, but even as the ship began to sail, she did not take her gaze from the island. She did not look away when the island became small and inconsequential. She did not look away when the island had all but disappeared on that long, lonely horizon.

Chapter 1

There were many places that Síleas could be found: hunched over a table assessing maps and coordinates in her captains quarters; tangled in the unwashed sheets of a random wenches’ bed, her face buried between buxom bosoms or twitching thighs; at the bottom of a bottle, slumped wherever her drunk carcass decided to fall. And since their raid had gone rather successfully that week, if she did say so herself, she would no longer be relegating herself to the perfect, wretched, confines of the Luath.

Tonight—and for a blissful, agonizing, week— she would be free from the unwashed stench of her crewmates; from Cabbage’s poor excuse for cooking; from Crux’s rattling cough that kept everyone up on the ship, no matter their vicinity to his hammock.

She would also be free from the wide open world all around her, the smell of cannon powder coating her nostrils, and the salty wind against her burnt cheeks.

Sìleas stopped short at that thought and peered around her small room, grimacing. It was a room she commonly got at the Fat Goose Inn while they all marauded around the island, drinking, fighting, and fucking themselves into enough trouble that someone inevitably drove them out of Perthlochry and back onto the Luath. Tavern owners who had enough of the gambling sessions her boatswain Santino hosted, and cheated at; the drunken fights her powder monkeys and gunners wound up in, because they were still riding the highs from raids; angry citizens whose wounds got worse after seeing her surgeon Twoosies. And then there were the hefty unpaid tab bills that she and her first mate, Asher, racked up. Even with purses fat with stolen gold, it could never amount to how much they drank together.

Sìleas considered herself lucky she could even count on room and board at the Fat Goose because of her piss reputation, however, her schmoozing of the inn owner’s wife Maggie had helped her considerably. Then again, it wasn’t always a given: she had been tossed out in a fit of jealousy a few times after being caught with another woman.

The room was sparse and worn, but clean enough for it to be a reprieve from her quarters in the Luath, which had begun to take on a stench and needed to be aired out for a few days. Her room had a rickety, wooden chair in the corner; a lumpy but decently-sized bed against the wall; and a bedside table with a melted candle that had fused itself to the surface after years of use. If she managed to find herself in Maggie’s good graces, Sìleas knew she could have a hot meal, on the house no less. Tonight it smelled like some sort of stew and fresh, chewy bread. The cook wasn’t superb, but was certainly better than Cabbage.

Her trunk sat in the corner, ragged like a defeated stray dog. For a moment, Síleas felt an overwhelming urge to tear through the trunk’s innards to find her tin box of cigarillos, buried somewhere under her clothes. Tension crept into the back of her neck, a tremble settling in her hands. She needed a drink; no–she needed to get drunk.

It was always like this after docking. She couldn’t really blame her powder monkeys and gunners for being lawless animals constantly looking for a fight; being on land after long durations on the Luath made her agitated as well. The crew knew to scatter like the roaches they were after pulling into the harbor, far from her dour mood. All except Asher, who weathered her surly glares and grunts. Asher knew that Síleas’ mood was not long-lived and after enough ale and port, she would be back to yelling shanties at the top of her lungs and howling with laughter at bad jokes. It didn’t hurt if a few beautiful women were involved as well.

A knock on the door shook Síleas from her thoughts. Answering it, she found Maggie on the other side.

Ah, Maggie.

Maggie brushed the fringes of her brown blonde hair from her face with fluttering hands. It was as if she couldn’t keep them still as Síleas grinned and leaned up against the door frame. Maggie’s hands oscillated between her hair and her skirts, where she wiped her palms against the stained fabric, trying in vain to smooth them.

“Ah, I see you’re settling in well,” Maggie said, clearing her plump throat. Her eyes darted from Síleas to the room behind her. The perpetual flush in her cheeks darkened.

“Mhm. All thanks to you,” Síleas replied. Maggie stammered out an incoherent sentence, her hands even more restless as they twitched at her hair and clothes. Síleas’ amusement rose. “Where’s Robert?”

Síleas already knew where Robert was: far, far away from the inn, oblivious–or perhaps, uncaring–of his wife’s actions. Robert often left Maggie in charge of the inn while he went to trade for booze and metal goods in the Arasen desert. It left Maggie exhausted as she was to now look after the business of the inn on her own, on top of chasing their three children. It did, however, afford them to have their trysts without having to sneak around and, more importantly, provided Síleas free room and board. Not that Robert was perceptive enough to spot anything so clearly under his own nose.

“Another one of his trips to visit the Yurukhan. He shouldn’t be back for another fortnight,” Maggie said, feigning casualness, but Síleas could see the bright gleam in her eyes. It was a look she knew well, one that normally led to them closing the door and retreating to the darkness of her bedroom, but Síleas found that tonight it made her stomach ache.

Maggie had once been a beautiful woman–she still was a beautiful woman, but life and all of its responsibilities had lay claim to her body: deep-set lines bracketed her pursed mouth and cut between her furrowed brow, her face appearing to sag with a defeated weariness that dulled her brown eyes. She had once asked Síleas if she could leave with her on the Luath, to never come back to the Fat Goose or her children or her husband. And in a moment of weakness, that was less of a moment and more a habit, Síleas had talked her out of it. She wouldn’t have liked it, Síleas had argued, the ship was disgusting and full of farting, vulgar men. It was too dangerous, too uncomfortable.

But the truth of the matter was, if Maggie was with her on the Luath, where would Síleas stay when they docked? She had enough enemies in Marauder’s Cove without adding Robert to the ever-growing list, who would invariably be furious that his wife had upped and left him with their children and the inn. The reality that presented itself in that turn of events was a bleak one: Robert in a probable fit of rage burning down the inn to free himself of it once and for all, and Maggie everywhere on her ship, around every corner. Síleas knew she’d never have a moment to herself after that. Maggie would be waiting for Síleas in her captain’s quarters with hopeful eyes that Síleas couldn’t bear to look at: hopeful that she’d stop drinking so much, stop fighting so much, stop slinking around and fucking so much.

Maggie stepped closer, trailing a finger up Síleas’ shirt, her knuckles chafed from continuous handling of boiling-hot laundry. She forced herself to stay still, to not put distance between them, as Maggie raised her head and gave a coy smirk. “So, you can stay for however long you like. No need to rush back to the Luath. Hope you’re not too tired from your travels.”

It was now Síleas’ turn to feign casualness as she shrugged. “I could definitely eat.”

Maggie’s face fell, her eyes dimming briefly, before she nodded and found her momentum again. “Of course, you must be half-starved after all your travels,” she soothed, her fingers playing with Síleas’ shirt strings. “We can go down to the kitchen and fix you some supper right quick. I’ll join you–”

A loud raucous crash came from downstairs and both Síleas’ and Maggie’s heads swiveled towards the cacophony. Baritone voices were yelling, arguing, the noise cut by the adolescent squawking excuses of children. Children that Maggie immediately recognized.

“What is going on down there?” she yelled, bolting down the hallway and leaving Síleas behind, forgotten.

Síleas huffed a relieved sigh and darted back into her room to grab her cigarillos from her trunk. It took a moment too long for her to find the tin before she rushed from her bedroom, almost forgetting to lock her door.

The fighting downstairs was still ongoing, only now Maggie’s voice had joined the pandemonium. As Síleas crested the staircase at the end of the hallway, she pieced together the scene within the dining room: three, large men, dirty and tired from their travels, were yelling at Maggie with aggressive, jabbing fingers. She stood firm, a barrier between the men and her two eldest boys, who hid sulking behind her. The drama didn’t seem to affect the other patrons within the dining room, who either watched with detached amusement or kept their heads down in their drink and food. From the chaos, Síleas could pick out snippets of the argument, something about Maggie’s children trying to pilfer from their coin purses; which, having known Maggie’s shithead children for some years, Síleas could absolutely believe. Perhaps they were the way that they were because Maggie was more concerned about keeping the inn up and running than raising her children; or perhaps it was because all sorts of dubious figures–herself included–came and went at the Fat Goose while the children grew up. Síleas was suddenly struck with the memory of teaching the middle child, whatever his name was, how to play pinfinger when he couldn’t have been older than six. In her defense, she had taught him with a dull butter knife. Nothing the child could have really hurt himself with.

Apparently the accusation was not far-fetched for Maggie to believe either. As Síleas crept down the stairs, careful not to draw attention to herself, Maggie turned on her boys. Síleas kept close to the wall as she reached the bottom of the staircase and slunk to the left, behind the fighting group. Maggie had turned her back towards the men, new lines drawn in the sand as the men and Maggie began yelling as a unified front at the boys, who had long since given up on their martyred, silent-suffering appearances and shouted in return.

Síleas was so close to freedom, the door a stone's throw from her. She knew that once she left the Fat Goose, it would be easy enough to find Asher and begin their night of revelry. Perhaps she could convince the owner of the Smoking Fox to let them in; she had plenty of gold this time around to cover her outstanding tab. Their ale was cheap and the barmaid was a young woman who thought Síleas was charming, charming enough to fill her glass to the top every time.

Without warning, her stomach growled and Síleas hissed in frustration at the reminder. She hadn’t lied when she told Maggie she could eat; the smell of stew, with whatever mystery meat they put in it, permeated the air. But if she stayed any longer Síleas knew that she would be spotted and pulled into the mess or made to stick around. At the moment, she would have rather danced with Jack Ketch, which meant she would have to skip supper, to her chagrin.

Síleas weaved around the last table, her hands quick as she snatched a piece of bread from the plate of a pock-marked patron who was paying more attention to the escalating scene than her. While it wouldn’t satiate her, it was enough to take the edge off her hunger. Besides, Síleas tried to reason with herself, drinking on an empty stomach was much cheaper.

With the hunk of bread clamped between her teeth, Síleas opened the inn door and escaped into the night without a backward glance.

Read the rest of the first chapter on Ao3 here!