#her first shed! I’m so proud of her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothcsz · 1 month ago

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part ten of the neighbors series. i hope everyone who has been reading so far enjoys this chapter, because i definitely shed a tear or two during the writing process. one of the more difficult things i've had to write because that writer's block hit me good and hard multiple times throughout this, but i am pretty proud of what came out of it! mwah, love you all... please come cry about this with me ok thank u 🖤 oh and a big big big thank you to @persephone-girl for always being there for me when i'm ranting about how i don't know what the hell i'm doing and for reading over the parts i was struggling with. ¡te amo, cleo!

javier peña x f!reader. ~10k word count. (oops) the angst we've all come to know and love, canon typical violence (please proceed with caution), feelings are confessed, anything procedural that occurs comes from the small knowledge i have and just pure vibes (let's suspend our belief real quick), translated spanish, mateo is a piece of shit, reader is going through it, any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

The sharp buzzing of your pager against the kitchen table jolts you out of your book. You frown, sliding a ribbon into place to mark your page before rising to see who’s paging you this late.

Mateo glances over from his spot on the couch, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches you. “¿Quién te llama tan tarde?” (Who is calling you so late?)

“No se,” (I don’t know) you pluck the device from the table and squint at the screen. A number you don’t recognize flashes, accompanied by the name of a local hospital.

You blink in confusion, picking up the landline and dialing the number, tapping your fingers against the countertop as you wait.

A brisk receptionist answers, eventually redirecting you to someone who can actually help you in English.

Your Spanish is good but not that good.

“Javier Peña is here and you’re listed as one of his emergency contacts.”

Your heart drops into your stomach and your grip tightens on the receiver. “Is he okay? What happened?” Your mind races through a dozen worst-case scenarios.

“He’s alright,” the nurse assures you, “Much less intoxicated than when he was brought in. He was involved in an… altercation at a bar. We need someone to sign his discharge papers before he can leave.”

The knot of anxiety loosens slightly, but in its place comes a flare of exasperation. Of course. A bar fight? You rub at your eyebrow, closing your eyes.

You’ve done everything possible to create distance between you and this man, and still, somehow, he finds a way to pull you back in.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

You snap out of your thoughts and clear your throat. “Yes—sorry. I’ll be there shortly.”

Hanging up, you let out a sharp breath. Why do you keep doing this? Even though you tell yourself you’re just being a good person, there’s a part of you that knows better… that secretly wonders if you’re glad for an excuse to see him again.

You straighten up and head back to the living room where Mateo is lounging, and his eyes shift to you expectantly.

“¿Quién fue?” (Who was it?)

“The hospital downtown. Javier’s been injured and I need to go help him.” You move around the room, grabbing your things.

You feel the shift in the air when he mutes the television and stands, his brows furrowing. “Javier? Your neighbor? The one who nearly ruined our first date?”

You pause, bending to put on your shoes, catching the sharp edge in his tone.

“Yeah,” you admit, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m listed as one of his emergency contacts, so…”

His body language shifts into something more rigid. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“My girlfriend is being called out in the middle of the night to pick up some malparido who’s clearly into her. That’s what I mean.”

The snort that escapes you is involuntary. “You’re being ridiculous. We’re just friends.” Barely that anymore, you think. That word feels like a fragile label for whatever exists—or existed—between you and him. But Mateo doesn’t need to know the messy, complicated details.

You’ve deliberately kept it that way to avoid exactly what’s happening now.

“Friends,” he repeats, the word heavy with doubt. “No me gusta.” (I don’t like it)

“It’s a good thing I don’t need your permission.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“You don’t see how strange this is?”

You let out a breath, straightening your posture as you meet his gaze. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mateo. All I have to do is sign his discharge papers and call him a cab home. That’s it.”

“It’s not your responsibility. He’s not your responsibility.”

You blink at him, taken aback slightly. He’s always been steady, easygoing, and this possessive edge is new—unwelcome. Jealousy, you realize. You understand it to a degree, but it makes you wary.

“I know that—”

“You don’t see me playing knight-in-shining-armor for some random woman I barely talk to anymore.”

“Javier is not just some random guy—” You cut yourself off with an exasperated sigh, hating how defensive you sound, feeling uncomfortable with the turn this conversation has made.

Mateo’s expression darkens, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Exactly,” he mutters bitterly. “He’s not some random guy. Y ese es el problema ¿no?” (And that’s the problem, isn’t it?)

You can feel the heat rising in your face, a mix of anger and guilt twisting in your gut. “We’re just friends.” You reiterate, trying to sound as resolute as possible. “You can believe that or not, but it’s the truth,” you retort, ending your side of this argument before grabbing your bag from the entryway table.

“Are you coming or not?” you ask without looking back.

There’s a long, agonizing pause that makes your heart pound in your ears. For a moment, you think he might refuse, that he might dig his heels in and escalate this further. But then he just sighs, shuffling to gather his own things.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

The nurse ushers you through a brightly lit hallway and into a larger room lined with hospital beds, each one partially hidden by flimsy curtains that do little to offer privacy. At the very end, you spot Javier.

He’s perched on the edge of a bed, his broad shoulders slumped forward. His arm is wrapped in gauze, a deep gash on his eyebrow held together with fresh stitches. His lip is swollen and split, a constellation of bruises littering his face, one eye swollen shut.

He looks like he’s been through hell.

“Javier, oh my god!” Your voice comes out squeakier than you intended as you rush toward him. You stop short, your hands hovering awkwardly in the space between you, instinct screaming to pull him into a hug. But the injuries hold you back.

Even with the ache radiating through his body, the sound of your voice and the sight of you standing there softens the edges of his pain, offering a brief, soothing reprieve. He can’t believe you actually came.

“What happened?” You ask, your voice cracking with worry despite your efforts to keep it even.

Javier looks up at you, his gaze glassy but warm, a tired smirk tugging at the corner of his injured mouth. “Guys talkin’ shit at the bar,” he mutters, his voice raspy and slightly slurred. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t mention how he courted the violence, drunk and bitter, until it exploded into a fight he couldn’t win. Three guys dragged him outside, taking turns landing blows.

The shameful truth is, he relished the pain. It was sharp, tangible—more real than the numbness he’d been drowning in with booze and meaningless sex.

It was a culmination of all the bad decisions, every scar his job had etched into his soul, and the emptiness he couldn’t seem to escape.

“You are not fine, Javier,” you snap, your frustration spilling over as you gesture to the mess of bruises and bandages covering him. “You got the shit beat out of you.”

That earns you a low chuckle, though it quickly morphs into a wince as he presses his uninjured hand lightly to his ribs. “Always so dramatic,” he teases, his gaze sweeping over you. “You look good.”

Your cheeks warm despite yourself. How he’s able to be a flirtatious bastard all the time is lost on you. You cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

“I know you are.” He grins wider, which only makes him wince again. “That’s why I’m laughing.”

You let out a sharp breath, your emotions roiling—frustration, worry, and relief that he’s fine.

“I handled everything up front,” you say firmly, needing to regain control. “We just need to go outside and wait for your cab.”

Javier’s expression falters, his brows pulling together. “You’re not coming back home with me?”

The casual way he says it makes your stomach flip. You bite the inside of your cheek, choosing your next words carefully. “I’m going home with Mateo. He drove me here.”

For a moment, Javier is quiet. Too quiet. You watch as his body stiffens, his bruised jaw clenching tightly.

“He’s here?”

“Yes,” you reply as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, dropping your arms to your sides. “He’s waiting in the lobby.”

Javier swears he’s never sobered up so fast.

The urge to tear through the room rises, and he almost gives in to the intrusive thoughts, but instead, he tamps it down, the only outward sign being the sharp scowl twisting his swollen, beaten features.

“Couldn’t leave him at home?”

“Excuse me?” Your brows shoot up.

“I don’t need an audience for this.”

“An audience? He’s my boyfriend, Javier. Of course he’s here. This isn’t even about him,” you’re feeling déjà vu from your argument earlier.

No one really prepares you for how dramatic relationships can be.

“This is about you—about you acting out and dragging me into it. You show up at my place drunk, claiming you miss me after ditching me for months, fall asleep at my door like I’m some kind of lifeline for you. You pull me in so many different directions, and it’s exhausting.”

Javier’s mouth opens like he’s about to fire back, but then he deflates. The irritation in his eyes dims, replaced by something that looks a lot like regret.

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You roll your eyes, looking away from him, partially relieved that Mateo wasn’t allowed back here, or this confrontation would have spiraled into something much uglier.

“Try by being sincere. Every time you apologize it feels like you’re only doing it to save your own ass.”

“Because I was. For the longest time.” He admits, gingerly slipping off the bed, slowly walking over to you and you swallow harshly as the distance between you decreases. “Then I realized how much I took you for granted and I’ve been falling apart since.”

Why does he have to make everything so complicated? Why does the apology you’ve craved for months suddenly feel like the hardest thing you’ve had to hear?

You cross your arms over your chest again, trying to create some kind of barrier between you and the honesty radiating off him. You don’t even know what to say.

Javier inches closer, his voice softening further. “I’m sorry for treatin’ you like shit and for being a terrible friend. I just... I need you to know that I really mean that, and I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you… if that’s something you even want from me anymore.”

You look at him then, really look at him—the bruises, the stitches, the exhaustion lining his face. There’s no wall of deflection in his eyes this time, no trace of the usual excuses he uses like armor. Just unguarded sincerity.

You rub your temple, trying to soothe the headache forming.

“I appreciate your apology,” you finally manage to find your voice. “And that you recognize what you’ve done wrong. But it’s going to take more than just words to fix this.”

The admission feels dangerous, like opening a door you’re not sure you’ll be able to close.

Is it even a good idea to let him try to fix this? The memory of the argument earlier replays in your mind, and you know without a doubt there will be more fights like it if you allow Javier back into your life.

Mateo made his feelings about him abundantly clear.

But beyond your boyfriend’s disapproval—and that glaring red flag of jealousy you haven’t entirely processed yet—there’s the deeper question: can you handle this? Can you handle being just friends with Javier? The last time you tried, it nearly destroyed you.

And if he does follow through? If he becomes the person you’ve wanted him to be this entire time? That might be worse, because you don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your feelings in check.

The storm of thoughts threatens to overwhelm you, so you silence them, focusing instead on the immediate task: getting him home safely.

Javier’s expression softens at your words. Relief flickers in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. “I know. I’ll be better.”

You let out a heavy sigh, toying with the pendant around your neck as you try to ground yourself. “Come on,” you say after a beat, resigned. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He follows you out of the room, each step betraying just how much pain he’s in.

When you step into the waiting room, Mateo is standing by the entrance, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His dark eyes sweep over Javier, taking in the full extent of his injuries, before landing on you.

There’s no mistaking the irritation simmering beneath his calm facade.

Javier straightens despite the visible discomfort it causes him, his sore muscles screaming at him. His dark gaze meets Mateo’s, and for a moment, the two men size each other up.

You can practically hear the things they’re not saying. Mateo’s scorn is written all over his face—This is the guy? The one who’s causing all this bullshit? And Javier’s defiance is just as clear—Yeah, I’m the guy. What are you going to do about it?

“Mateo,” you say, your voice cutting through the charged silence, “this is Javier.”

“I remember.” Mateo’s tone is clipped, his eyes narrowing slightly as they linger on Javier’s injuries. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

“Let’s wait for the cab outside.” You quickly add, anything to keep these two and their manly, dick measuring competition at bay.

As you lead the way, the two men follow like a shadow, heavy and unavoidable, their stares burning into your back.

“Oh—I forgot to grab your meds. Wait here,” you quickly pivot back toward the sliding glass doors before either of them can protest.

The moment you’re out of earshot, Mateo takes a step closer to Javier, his gaze hard and unyielding. “No sé cuál es tu obsesión con mi mujer,” (I don’t know what your obsession with my girl is) he begins to confront him, “but that shit ends tonight. Basta con estas tonterías de ser contacto de emergencia o de andar con ella, fingiendo ser su amigo. I can see right through you.” (No more of this emergency contact bullshit or hanging around her pretending to be her friend)

Javier’s jaw tightens, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. He’s already had his ass handed to him once tonight, but the temptation to go another round—this time with Mateo—is almost too good to resist.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Then maybe you should be the one hittin’ the road,” he retorts, his tone like gravel. “Keepin’ her locked up at your place like she’s some fuckin’ doll that doesn’t have a life of her own to live. Eso no es amor, es control.” (That’s not love, that’s control)

Mateo snorts, a humorless sound that sets Javier’s blood boiling. “Locked up?” he echoes, his lips curling into a sneer. “Le doy todo lo que necesita. Está feliz conmigo—ya no es el desastre que era cuando andabas por aqui. Cree que no me doy cuenta, pero no soy idiota. Desde que desapareciste de la faz de la tierra, está contenta. No necesito que regreses y me lo arruines. Stay the fuck away from her.” (I give her everything she needs. She’s happy with me —no longer the upset mess she was when you were around. She thinks I don’t notice, but I’m not an idiot. Ever since you dropped off the face of the earth, she’s been content. I don’t need you coming back and ruining it for me)

The words hit Javier harder than any punch he took earlier that night. He knows there’s some truth to them. Hell, he’s been kicking himself for months over how he left things with you.

But Mateo’s entitled delivery makes his fists clench, his chest puffing out in barely contained fury. It takes every ounce of willpower not to lunge forward and break his fucking nose.

Before either of them can escalate the situation further, you reappear, a white paper bag in hand. You stop short, glancing between them, your brows furrowing at their postures.

“Instructions are on the bag,” you say, handing it to Javier. “Your cab should be here any minute.”

Javier takes the bag, his eyes darting to you briefly before landing back on Mateo. His fists relax slightly, but his shoulders remain rigid.

You shift uncomfortably, the atmosphere heavy and you wonder what you just walked in on.

Mateo steps closer to you, sliding his hand into yours and pulling you to his side. You let it happen, not fully grasping that this isn’t just affection—it’s a display of dominance. He’s making a point, staking his claim on you in front of Javier.

Javier notices. Of course he does. It burns him up inside, but he bites down on the simmering anger, knowing now isn’t the time to say anything. He’s just been given a sliver of hope to fix things with you, and he’s not about to jeopardize it by getting into it with your asshole boyfriend.

Moments later, the cab pulls up to the curb. Javier exhales slowly, steeling himself as he moves toward the car. He tries not to wince as he slides into the backseat, his body protesting every movement.

“I’ll see you around,” you tell him softly, still standing at Mateo’s side. His arm has snaked around your waist now, and Javi’s stomach twists at the sight.

He doesn’t respond, just nods, his expression unreadable. The door closes, and as the cab pulls away, Javier’s head falls back against the headrest.

He knows this isn’t going to be easy. Fixing things with you, proving he’s deserving of your friendship—it’s going to take a lot of fucking effort.

A nagging doubt then creeps in: has he set himself up for failure?

The room is stifling, the warm glow of the desk lamp barely cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke and exhaustion. Papers are strewn across the table, maps, routing numbers, and satellite photos spread out like the world's most maddening puzzle.

Javier leans back in his chair with his eyes closed, pinching the bridge of his nose while Trujillo flips through pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“I keep seeing the same routing number attached to some of these shipments,” Steve mutters, ashing his cigarette into an overflowing tray. He leans forward, his tone carrying a spark of determination. “Something’s telling me we should check it out.”

It feels like it’s been months of running after ghosts while Escobar and his men continue to outpace them. “Half of these are fake accounts set up to throw us off,” Javi states. “Even if there’s drug money in ‘em, they don’t give a shit. It’s collateral. They’ll make that back in days.”

“It’s still worth checking out,” Steve counters, unbothered by his partner’s irritation. He taps the paper. “Could be our needle in this fucked-up haystack.”

Javier exhales heavily, rolling his neck like he’s trying to shake off the weight of his own weariness. He has no desire to chase another dead end tonight. “You handle it. I’ll stay here with Trujillo, see if we can find another angle.”

Steve shrugs, already slipping on his coat. “Fine by me. Need some fresh air anyway. Smells like ass in here.”

Trujillo snorts, his laughter muffled behind his fist, but Javier doesn’t even crack a smile. His focus is already back on the satellite photos sprawled across the table—grainy images of the barrios where Escobar’s operations are most active.

He traces the outline of one, his coffee mug dangling precariously from his other hand, its contents spiked with enough liquor to numb the ache of his lingering injuries.

The hours stretch thin, blending into each other, the occasional sound of shuffling papers or Trujillo’s half-snore the only break in the silence. Javier barely notices, remaining focused to find anything that could give them the upperhand.

When Steve returns, the sound of the folder slamming onto the table jolts Trujillo awake. He blinks blearily, mumbling something incoherent, while Javier looks up, his expression more bored than curious.

“What’d you find?” he asks, his tone flat, tired.

“Open it,” Steve says, a sly edge in his voice.

Javier grabs the folder with little enthusiasm. But the moment his eyes land on the photo inside, his entire body stiffens. His jaw tightens, and his chest constricts as a surge of panic bolts through him.

It’s Mateo.

Steve keeps talking, his words distant and muddled as Javier stares at the picture. “Just like that account is attached to the shipments, he’s attached to the account. The bank he works at is owned by some powerful and shady people. I’m almost certain he’s on Escobar’s payroll. At this point—who isn’t?”

The rest of Steve’s explanation fades into background noise as Javier processes what this means.

For months you’ve been involved with someone who has ties to one of the most dangerous men in the world.

It can’t be a coincidence. Mateo sought you out. You work at the American embassy—not in a high-ranking position, but enough to get the attention of the wrong people.

That night at the hospital… it wasn’t just jealousy. It wasn’t just him ‘staking his claim’, telling Javi to stay away. Mateo knew. He knew that if Javier got too close, he’d find out.

Now all of the violence, the lies, the endless cycles of chasing men like your boyfriend have spilled over into your life, staining the one good thing he’s tried to keep untouched.

“Javier.” Steve snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting him back to the present.

“What?”

Steve narrows his eyes. “What do you think we should do?”

Javier exhales through his nose, rubbing his lips together as he stares down at the photo again. His mind is already spinning with strategies, balancing the need to act against the risk of tipping Mateo off too soon.

Then he thinks about how you’ll react when he tells you. He knows you’ll need more than just his word. He’ll need proof. Otherwise, you’ll think he’s doing this just to sabotage your relationship.

“Tail the guy,” he finally says, his voice steadier now. “Follow him around, gather intel. We need to be sure we’re not just jumping the gun because it fits the narrative we want it to fit.”

Steve nods, but Javier barely notices. His only priority now is making sure that you remain safe while they think of a plan to bring this man in.

“Cariño, hold up.” Javier’s voice cuts through the cool night air as he jogs toward you. You’re halfway to the entrance of Mateo’s building, keys in hand, when you stop and turn, startled to see him.

“Javi?” Your brows furrow, confusion flickering across your face as you take in his familiar figure—black button-up shirt, jeans, and those scuffed boots that have somehow become as much a part of him as the shadows he carries. “What are you doing here?”

Things between you two aren’t as strained as they were, but they’re far from how they used to be. Those easy conversations and shared meals feel like a distant memory, replaced by brief, polite interactions at work and the occasional glance that lingers too long.

At least you’re acknowledging that he exists again.

Javier hasn’t pushed, though. He’s been careful, letting things progress naturally, giving you space while silently yearning for the warmth you once offered so freely.

But right now, his usual restraint is gone. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” He glances around the semi-populated area then gently takes your elbow, guiding you away from the open street to a nearby alleyway.

Your heart sinks. You don’t know what he’s about to say, but the hardened look in his eyes tells you it’s not good. “What’s wrong?”

He reaches behind him, pulling out a stack of folded papers he had tucked into the back of his jeans. He holds them out to you, his expression unreadable, as if bracing for impact. “Mateo is working for Escobar,” he says bluntly.

For a moment, all you can do is blink at him, your mind scrambling to process. Slowly, you take the papers, your hands trembling slightly as you unfold them.

The photos hit you first: Mateo in various locations, surrounded by men you don’t recognize. Beneath the images are detailed reports, routing numbers, bank transactions—a web of evidence you don’t want to believe.

“I’m sorry—what?” You let out a laugh, but it’s strained and hollow, a defense against the disbelief clawing at your chest. “Are you serious?”

“The bank he works at launders money for Escobar’s operations,” Javier explains, his voice steady but tense. “Fake accounts, hidden transfers, branches overseas—he’s tied to all of it. We’re building a case now, but—”

“Stop.” You cut him off, shoving the papers back into his hands. Your head shakes instinctively, refusing to entertain the possibility. “No. No way. Mateo would never. He’s always talking about how much he hates those men, how they’ve ruined this country. He wouldn’t work for them, Javi. He hates them. And honestly? I’m kind of hurt you’d even accuse him of this.”

The man Javier is describing—some slimy criminal playing a dangerous game with the cartel—doesn’t resemble the Mateo you know, the Mateo you’ve spent nearly a year forcing yourself to feel something for. And now that some feelings are sticking, here comes Javier with this metaphorical anvil, dropping it right over your head.

Your brain scrambles, frantically searching for some explanation that could make it all untrue.

You’ve seen his disgust at the violence that plagues this country, the way his jaw tightens when the news shows another bombing or assassination. You’ve heard his impassioned speeches about wanting to see real change, about how the corruption needs to end for there to be any hope.

Your chest tightens as the thoughts contort inside you: What if you’re wrong? What if Mateo’s perfect facade is just that—a facade? It feels impossible, a cruel betrayal by the universe itself.

Because if it’s true, then you’ve let yourself fall for a lie. And you’re not sure how you’ll cope with the weight of that.

Javier’s face hardens, his frustration nipping at him. He says your name firmly. “This isn’t about some petty rivalry. I’m not making this up. It’s real. He’s dangerous.”

But you shake your head again, denial eclipsing reason. “You’re wrong. This is just…” You exhale sharply, the words tangled on your tongue. “It’s absurd. You don’t like him, so now you’re trying to drag him into this?”

A flicker of pain crosses his face at your lack of acceptance, but it’s gone in an instant, replaced by sheer exasperation. “This has nothing to do with how I feel about him,” his voice rises slightly before he reins it in.

He steps closer, his hands gently gripping your forearms to stop you from walking away. “I’m not lying to you. You have to trust me. Mateo isn’t who you think he is.”

“Much like you, right?” The words escape before you can stop them, cutting deep and twisting in the space between you.

His jaw twitches. “Cariño, por favor—”

“Let go, Javi.” Your voice wavers, but your resolve doesn’t.

He wants to shout, to demand you reconsider, to tell you how these things usually end. But he doesn’t. The thought that you’re safer because of your government ties is the only thing keeping him in check.

He stares at you for a long moment, his grip loosening before he finally lets go. “Fine,” he says, “don’t believe me. But you’ll see soon enough. Just…” He swallows hard, “be smart. Be safe. If something happens to you…”

He trails off, looking down, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. You don’t know about the ghosts that haunt him, but you can see the weight of them now, heavy in the lines of his face. “Por favor, cuídate.” (Please take care of yourself)

You straighten your shoulders, masking the turmoil inside with a veneer of indifference. “I’ll be fine. Goodbye, Javi.”

Turning away, you walk back toward the building without a backward glance. Your steps are steady, but your chest feels hollow, your mind buzzing with too many thoughts to make sense of any of them.

Behind you, Javier stands in the shadows of the alley, watching until you disappear through the doors of the building.

His hands curl into fists at his sides, frustration and dread curling in his gut.

What happened earlier with Javier clouds your line of thinking as you lie naked beneath the silk sheets of Mateo’s bed, his lips lazily dragging across your shoulder before finding their way to your mouth, kissing you passionately.

“Join me in the shower?” He mutters, his large hand massaging your thigh before it trails up to cup your breast.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, hoping it disguises the unease you’re beginning to feel. “Yeah, just give me a second and I’ll be there.”

He doesn’t think anything of it, kissing you again before slipping out of bed. You listen as the bathroom door shuts and wait for the faint hiss of water hitting the tile.

Wrapping the sheet around yourself, you rise quietly, your pulse pounding in your ears. The small voice in your head that’s screaming at you to stop is drowned out by the rush of adrenaline as you start rifling through his belongings.

Nothing stands out—just the neatly arranged trappings of his life, curated to look perfect. But perfection doesn’t leave room for secrets.

If he’s hiding something, it wouldn’t be here. Your gaze shifts to the hallway where the closed door of his office is.

Tiptoeing down the corridor, you push the door open and slip inside, the sheet still wrapped tightly around you.

The air in here feels heavier, like the room itself is holding its breath. You move quickly, sifting through drawers and shelves, your heart a riot in your chest as you search for something—anything—to prove or disprove Javier’s accusations.

Then you find it: a loose bottom in one of the desk drawers. Your fingers fumble as you pry it open, and there it is—a leather-bound ledger, hidden away like a dirty secret.

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a moment before flipping through it. Familiar initials, dates, and sums that match too closely with what Javier showed you earlier. Names you’ve heard on the news, men associated with violence and destruction.

Your stomach turns as the realization washes over you—Javier was right.

You’re so caught up in the revelation, that you don’t hear when Mateo curiously cuts his shower short after you failed to join him, padding down the hallway until he’s at the door of his office, catching you red handed with the ledger in your possession.

“What the hell are you doing?”

His voice slices through the air like a whip, and you flinch, clutching the damning item to your chest. Turning slowly, you meet his glare, the heat of his anger so palpable it makes your skin prickle.

“What is this, Mateo?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, heat flooding your face, panic building at the base of your spine.

He steps into the room, his wet hair dripping onto his shoulders, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Why the fuck are you going through my things?”

“You need to explain yourself right now,” you demand, though your hands tremble. “Or else—”

“Or else what, lindura?” His voice drips indignation as he closes the space between you in an instant. “You gonna call your friend at the DEA? Snitch on me?”

Before you can answer, he crosses the room in two long strides. The ledger is ripped from your grasp, and his hands are on you, shoving you roughly against the wall. Your cheek presses against the cool surface, and he yanks your arms behind your back, his grip on your wrists unrelenting.

The cool silk of the sheet clings to your skin, but it does nothing to shield you from the shame burning through your body. His breath, hot and sharp with fury, ghosts over your ear as he leans in close. “You had no right to go through my things.”

“You lied to me,” you spit back, struggling against his grip. “You’re working with those monsters—you’re just like them!”

He laughs bitterly, the sound lacking humor. “You don’t know shit about how this works.” He presses harder, keeping you pinned. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I understand enough to know what you are,” you hiss, your voice breaking. “That ledger proves everything. The accounts, the shipments—everything Javi said was true.”

At the mention of Javier, his grip tightens painfully, and you let out a soft gasp. “Javier.” The way he spits the name sends a shiver down your spine. “Of course, this is about him.”

“You’re deflecting,” you accuse, though your body betrays you, trembling against the wall. “If you’re innocent, explain it to me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Mateo lets out another harsh, humorless laugh. “Wrong? Wrong?” He releases one of your wrists, only to grab a fistful of your hair, forcing your head back until your neck strains and you wince. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong? You’ve put both of us in danger.”

“I’m not the one working with murderers!” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You lied to me, Mateo. You’ve been lying this whole time.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he might actually hurt you. Instead, he yanks you back from the wall and spins you around to face him, his hold on you still bruising.

“This world isn’t all black and white like you think it is. People like me—we do what we have to, to survive.”

“Survive?” you repeat, disbelief lacing your words. “You chose this. You chose to work for men who ruin lives, who destroy families. You’re just as bad as they are. You’re profiting off the misery and destruction of others. That’s not survival—that’s greed.”

Mateo’s face twists with fury, his hand flying up like he’s about to strike, and you brace yourself for the hit, but he stops himself, his chest heaving.

For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths.

He steps back, releasing you abruptly, and you stumble, clutching the sheet tightly against you.

“You know too much. I can’t risk you running off telling them everything, especially if they’ve already been tipped off. Fuck!” He swipes at his desk, sending a glass trinket flying and shattering against the hardwood floor.

You try not to let fear swallow you whole, but it’s hard not to—especially when you know how brutal these things can end.

You remain silent, watching Mateo pace the room with a towel wrapped around his hips, not daring to say anything because you don’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger again.

He doesn’t let you leave his apartment for three long days, the hours stretching endlessly under his watchful gaze.

Being held in his penthouse—perched high above the city like a gilded cage—only amplifies the suffocating isolation.

The thought of trying to escape crosses your mind repeatedly, but you know better. Running would make things worse. Right now, staying put and waiting for Javier to come through is your best, and only, option.

You can’t stop replaying the moment he tried to warn you, the worry etched into his face, the edge of desperation in his voice.

You’d brushed it all off, blinded by your need to believe Mateo was different. That he could be something good.

You should have listened to him.

Now you see the truth. He wasn’t special; he was just another man playing a role. You hate yourself for letting your heart cloud your judgment so easily.

Calling in sick to work is a delicate operation. Mateo looms nearby, arms crossed, glaring at you as you speak to your supervisor. You carefully mask the tremor in your voice, saying all the right things to ensure no suspicions are raised.

He keeps his own phone calls confined to the balcony, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that’s too muffled and too quick for you to decipher. You strain to catch even a few words, pressing your ear to the glass, but it’s futile. The conversations are long, tense, and only heighten your paranoia.

You’re not sure what his plan is, but since the initial explosion of anger and aggression when he caught you with the ledger, he’s been disturbingly composed.

His calmness is almost off putting.

He finally approaches you one evening, the sun dipping low behind him, his voice is unnervingly steady. “You can go.”

You blink, sure you’ve misheard him. “What?”

“You’re not a threat. Too low-level for anyone to care about. By the time you’re home, I’ll be gone.”

His nonchalance unsettles you, and you hesitate as he disappears down the hall. When he returns, he’s carrying your shoes and bag, as though this were a casual parting.

“So that’s it? You’re just letting me leave after keeping me here like a hostage?”

“I had to make sure everything was in place first,” he explains. “I couldn’t have you running your mouth before things were handled.”

His packed suitcase in his closet flashes in your mind, along with his endless phone calls. Maybe he really is more worried about disappearing than dealing with you.

But the cartel doesn’t let loose ends walk away. Your heart pounds as you weigh whether this sudden freedom is genuine—or a trap.

You slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder, the need to escape drowning your caution. Still, you pause, unable to shake the uneasy feeling settling in your bones.

“What?” Mateo’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “You don’t believe me? Want me to drop you off myself?” He steps toward you, and you instinctively retreat.

“Why were you even with me?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Was it my job?”

He tilts his head, his gaze cold and calculating. “No,” he replies, his tone devoid of emotion. “I was attracted to you. Then you mentioned your job, and I figured, why not? But you turned out to be useless for that. Didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy the perks—companionship, a warm bed…”

The insinuation in his voice makes your stomach churn. “So you used me.”

“As much as you used me,” he counters, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your chest tightens and your gaze flits down to the floor. His detached demeanor cuts deeper than any heated argument could. When he says your name, it pulls your attention back to him like a leash.

“Leave.”

The word releases you, your body moving before your mind catches up. Stumbling toward the door, your trembling hands barely manage to turn the lock. The moment it opens, you bolt, refusing to look back.

Your necessities are in your bag, everything left behind purely materialistic.

You know you can’t go back to your apartment. They know who you are now, and no matter how insignificant Mateo says you are, you can’t risk staying.

Your fingers dig into the strap of your bag as you mentally map out an escape plan. You’ll go straight to Javier. He’ll know what to do. He’ll keep you safe.

Upstairs, Mateo leans against the window, the burner phone pressed to his ear. “Ya se fue,” (She’s gone) he says, his tone devoid of emotion. “Hagan lo que quieran con ella, pero no le disparen.” (Do whatever you want with her—just don’t shoot her)

Javier has been restless all night, unable to shake the weight of worry that had clung to him since returning from his assignment in Medellín.

The information about your sudden “illness” hadn’t sat right with him. Too convenient, too vague. He hadn’t pressed his team tailing Mateo for more than the facts—they’d seen nothing suspicious—but the absence of evidence did little to calm him.

So when the muffled sounds outside his door reach him, he’s on his feet in seconds.

He swings open the door to find you struggling to unlock yours, your entire body trembling as you fumble with your keys. Relief washes over him so suddenly, it nearly buckles his knees. “You’re okay.”

The second his voice cuts through the silence, something inside you begins to break. It’s soft, concerned, carrying a weight of relief that only makes you feel heavier.

The ache that has swallowed your body whole now reaches your chest, blooming into something sharper. You feel like crumbling right there in the hallway, letting the floor catch you because you don’t think you can hold yourself up for much longer.

This pain is a hum that pulses through your entire being, dull in some places, jagged and relentless in others. It numbs you in strange ways, yet it’s all you can feel, consuming every fragile thread of strength you have left.

You don’t even know how you made it back, how your trembling legs carried you through shadowed alleys and along dimly lit streets. Survival instinct? Perseverance?

It all happened so fast.

You stepped off the bus from Mateo’s place, unaware of the storm waiting to meet you. A few minutes of walking was all it took. They came out of nowhere, grabbing you roughly and dragging you into the shadows. Two of them—large, brutal—landed punches and kicks like you were nothing more than a punching bag.

The pain blurred into one endless wave, but their words cut even deeper. They spoke mockingly, almost laughing, about assaulting you in ways that made you wish they would just pull a gun out and end it all right there.

When you finally fell limp under their blows, you heard one of them mutter something. A boot nudged your side—testing, checking—but they didn’t bother to confirm. No pulse, no breath. Just assumptions. They left you there like discarded trash, their shadows disappearing into the night.

It took minutes, maybe hours, before you could even think about moving. You waited, your breath catching on sharp pains that confirmed what you feared—broken ribs.

The air burned in your lungs, and your head spun so violently, it was hard to tell if you were standing or lying down.

Eventually, with no other choice, you dragged yourself upright, ignoring the protests of your battered body.

The world tilted as you took your first step, and then another. Every ounce of strength you had went into putting one foot in front of the other.

When you finally reached your apartment door, you were shaking so hard it was nearly impossible to hold your keys.

Trembling hands fumbled with the lock, missing again and again. Your vision swam, blurring the keyhole into an indistinct smudge.

And then there’s Javier.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. He says your name, but you don’t respond, your focus locked on the useless, agitating hands that can’t seem to do anything right. How could you possibly move on from this?

You’re just standing here, struggling to breathe, struggling to exist, as the weight of everything presses harder and harder on your broken soul.

His relief is short-lived. Something’s wrong.

The second his voice reaches you, your whole body seems to collapse inward. You clutch the door frame for balance, your breathing ragged.

Javier’s stomach twists as he takes in your state—your disheveled hair, the cuts on your hands, the way your shoulders slump as if the weight of the world has been dropped on them.

He steps closer. “Hey,” he says softly yet firmly. “Look at me. Mirame.”

You don’t. Your head shakes faintly, and the motion makes you wince.

It’s not purposeful ignoring; you’re hurt. He notices it now, the stiffness in the way you hold yourself, the shallow rise and fall of your chest like every breath is a struggle. His jaw clenches. What the hell happened to you?

His plea is more urgent now. “Cariño, please. You’re worrying me.”

Your lip quivers, and slowly, you start to unravel—one tear falls, then another, then another until they’re streaming freely down your cheeks.

He can’t hold himself back anymore. In two strides, he’s in front of you, slipping between you and the door, his large frame a protective shield.

Still, you refuse to meet his gaze, your silence loud and barbed.

Javier’s jaw tightens, his hand twitching at his side. It is taking every ounce of restraint not to reach out and cup your face, tilt it upward, make you look at him.

The tension is unbearable, the space between your bowed head and his searching eyes buzzing with unsaid words.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Look at me.”

Finally, you do. And it breaks him.

Your face is battered—one eye nearly swollen shut, a deep gash across your cheek, your lip split, nose still bleeding.

The vulnerability in your gaze hits him like a freight train, and he fights to keep his rage at bay. His nostrils flare, his entire body tensing as red creeps into the edges of his vision.

Every mark on your face feels like a personal attack.

This isn’t the time to lose control—not when you need him steady. Not when you’re crumbling right in front of him. You’re here. You’re alive. And right now, that’s all that matters.

His grip is careful, as though you might shatter beneath his touch, as he gently cradles your face into his hands. “Did he do this to you?” He has to know, though the answer seems to be glaringly obvious.

The sob tears from your throat like a wounded animal’s cry, raw and unrestrained, echoing down the hallway. It shakes you to your core, unraveling the fragile composure you’ve been clinging to.

Before you can hit the ground, Javier is there—solid and unyielding—catching you in his arms and pulling you carefully against his chest then guiding you into his apartment.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his anger and helplessness.

The pain hits you all at once and you cling to Javier like he’s a lifeline, allowing him to move you until you’re sitting on his couch and he’s crouching in front of you.

Through choked cries, you manage, “Two men... they pulled me into an alley and did this.” The words spill out in fragments, each one more pained than the last. Your whole body quivers, and your heart races so wildly that you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack.

“We need to get you to a hospital.” He is woefully underprepared to deal with you in this state, you need proper care and he needs to deal with the fury that’s engulfing him by finding this piece of shit to beat his teeth in for what he’s done to you.

Your eyes widen. “No,” you croak, your voice hoarse from crying. “They’ll know they didn’t kill me. I can’t, Javi. I can’t.”

This is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do–remaining calm and fucking collected right now, suppressing the rage that’s clawing at his chest and threatening to spill out in a way that would terrify you more than you already are.

His mind spirals, circling back to that same godforsaken question: Why does it always come to this? First Helena, now you. This job—this life—it’s a parasite, sucking the light out of anything worth a damn.

Why can’t his penance be his own? Why must it reach everything he loves?

Fuck, maybe Connie knows enough to help you in the time being. If not, he’d find a way to make sure you got the care you needed while flying under the radar.

He’d tear down the goddamn world for you if he had to. Move heaven and hell, break every rule in the book—none of it matters if it means keeping you safe.

He looks at you again, seeing the fear trembling on your lips, and something solidifies within him. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

I won’t let them take anything more from you, he swears silently, his gaze softening despite the storm raging inside him. “I’ll take care of it,” he says aloud, his voice steadier now, resolute.

He starts to rise, intent on getting help, but your hand darts out, catching his wrist with trembling fingers, even though the motion sends a fresh wave of agony through your ribs. “Please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Don’t leave me.” The sheer terror in your eyes is enough to tear him up from the inside out.

“Never again.” He promises, reaching over for the phone on the end table with one hand while the other stays on yours, dialing the familiar number.

Javier leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed and his jaw tight, listening as Connie explains your injuries.

The words feel like punches themselves—broken ribs, bruises all over your body, stitches across your cheekbone, but nothing that needed immediate intervention.

When he finally forces himself to ask, his voice is gruff, barely above a whisper. “Did they…”

Connie’s face softens, the professionalism in her demeanor giving way to quiet sympathy. “No,” she says firmly, meeting his eyes. “I asked her. I didn’t see any bruising or signs of trauma around her pelvis. She says it didn’t happen, but we won’t know for sure until she gets a kit ran.”

The tightness in his chest doesn’t ease, even with her answer. The mere thought of those men doing that to you has his fists clenching so hard his knuckles ache. His fury simmers low but steady, like a kettle on the verge of boiling over.

He nods curtly, his voice rough with gratitude. “Thanks for coming, Connie. I owe you one.”

She waves him off, already heading toward the door with her medical bag slung over her shoulder. “It’s the least I can do. You make sure my husband gets home safe all the time. Just… make sure she rests, takes the pain meds. No heavy lifting, no unnecessary stress.” She glances back at him, her eyes full of meaning. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

When he closes the door behind her, he exhales slowly, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on his chest. The apartment feels too quiet now, and his eyes drift toward the closed bathroom door where you’re still inside.

He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck before knocking gently. “You good?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, almost tentative.

There’s a long pause before he hears your voice, quiet and weary. “Yeah… you can come in.”

Pushing the door open, Javier steps inside, his boots scraping softly against the tile. The sight of you in the tub stops him cold.

You’re hugging your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around them despite the obvious strain it puts on your ribs. The water is cloudy, tinged slightly pink from where Connie had cleaned your wounds. Steam curls faintly in the air, the room heavy with the scent of lavender soap.

His chest tightens again, a mix of anger and something else entirely. You look so small, so vulnerable, your face drawn with exhaustion and pain. Your head tilts slightly, your damp hair sticking to your cheeks as you glance up at him, your expression guarded.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m broken.”

Javier’s throat works as he swallows hard, dragging a hand down his face to mask the guilt flashing across his features. “I don’t think you’re broken,” he says finally, his voice rough but steady. “I think you’re strong as hell.”

You huff a soft, humorless laugh, resting your chin on your knees. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

He takes a careful step closer, his hand brushing against the edge of the sink as he leans back against it, his eyes never leaving you. “You survived,” he says quietly, his voice thick with conviction. “That’s strength.”

For a moment, you don’t respond, your gaze fixed on the water as if it holds answers you can’t quite find. Finally, you sigh, your arms loosening slightly from around your knees. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Javier says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The silence stretches between you like a fragile thread until your voice breaks it, soft and raw. “I’m sorry for not believing you.”

Javier’s head snaps up, his expression hardening—not with anger, but with the kind of fierce protectiveness that has become second nature to him. “Don’t,” he says sharply, the words thick with conviction. He shakes his head, his voice softening but no less intense. “Don’t you dare apologize, cariño. None of this—none of it—is on you. This is on men like them, who run through life hurting innocent people for their selfish, fucked-up reasons.”

Your face crumples, and you press your trembling lips together, trying to stave off the tears threatening to spill over again. “I was stupid,” you choke out, the words a blade against your own heart. “I thought—God, I thought he was just going to let me go. He made it seem like… like I was nothing but a minor inconvenience. And then…” Your voice falters, the memories clawing at you, and you shut your eyes tight, forcing a deep breath the way Connie had just taught you.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

Seeing you like this does something to Javier that he’s never quite felt before.

He’s seen grief, fear, and pain—hell, he’s caused more than his fair share—but this? This helplessness, this guilt? It’s a hollowing thing, gnawing at his insides with ruthless efficiency.

He thought what happened Helena had broken him, but this is different. This is you. You. And he’s here, but it feels like it isn’t enough.

“What’s going to happen now?” you ask, barely above a whisper, as though afraid of the answer.

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drops to the tips of his boots, jaw tightening.

The logical answer is simple: those bastards who hurt you should be found, arrested, and thrown behind bars to rot. But he’s not naïve. Justice doesn’t always come cleanly. More often than not, it doesn’t come at all. And the thought of leaving it up to the system? Doing nothing would be more beneficial somehow.

Ever since Connie showed up to treat your wounds, an idea has been gnawing at the back of his mind.

He could visit Berna… one of his more resourceful informants, and get everything he needs to track those motherfuckers down. Handle things his way.

But he can’t tell you that, especially if he decides to follow through with it.

“You’re going to stay with me until I can guarantee that you’re safe,” he says finally. “Or, I can arrange for you to go to a safe house—”

“No.” The word comes sharp and immediate, your eyes snapping open to meet his. Despite the pain radiating through your battered body, you sit up slightly, holding his gaze with surprising resolve. “I’d rather stay here. With you.”

He exhales a long breath, nodding slowly as he scratches at his jaw, considering his next words carefully. “Do you remember that night you got drunk with Maria from HR and almost threw up in my car?”

The memory hits you, sharp and vivid. It was after you and Javier had mended things following the night he stood you up for Helena. You cringe a little at the thought of how self-deprecating you’d been then, how you’d spilled your guts—both figuratively and literally—once you got home.

This unexpected shift catches you off guard. For a moment, the ghost of a smile tries to tug at your lips, though it’s swallowed quickly by the weight of the night. “Yeah,” you murmur. “One of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had.”

Javier chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. “Tequila’ll do that…” His voice trails off as he thinks about the confession you’d made that night—about your discomfort in your own skin, your doubts about whether you even belonged here. He remembers how, in return, he’d told you then how much you meant to him, how much this job weighed on his conscience.

“I should’ve told you then. That I loved you.”

The confession rams right into your heart. Tears spill freely, and you bury your face in your arms, your entire body shaking.

As tender and sincere as it is, his profession doesn’t soothe you.

You want to feel comforted, to let his words wrap around you like a shield against the horror of the night, but instead, they do the opposite.

The timing feels wrong, the weight of his love pressing down on wounds too fresh to bear it. It feels like trying to breathe through shattered ribs—too much, too soon, and it hurts more than it heals.

Fuck. shouldn’t have said that—not now, not when you’re at your most vulnerable. He stands frozen for a moment, unsure if he should move closer or stay where he is. His hands grip the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles turn white.

Finally, you lift your head, your face swollen and red. “Don’t say that just because of what h-happened,” you stammer, your voice cracking. “I don’t need you to feel obligated to feel some type of way because of it.”

“This has nothing to do with what happened tonight,” Javier says firmly, your name falling from his lips. He pushes off the sink, crossing the room to crouch beside the tub.

Neither of you seem to care about your state of undress—it’s not about that. His gaze locks on yours, steady and sure.

“It’s how I’ve been feeling for so long now,” he continues, his voice low but full of conviction. “And I’ve fucked it up so many times along the way when I should have just been honest. But I was so scared—scared of hurting you, of not being able to give you all of me. Of not being the man you deserve.”

You blink at him, your mind swimming in the gravity of his words.

They hit you like waves, powerful and unrelenting, pulling you under even as you struggle to stay afloat in this overwhelming moment.

Javier loves you. Despite the scars he carries, despite his mistakes, he’s offering you a truth that feels too big to hold right now. It’s not just one-sided; it never has been, and that realization aches in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“Javi…” you whisper his name, a sigh that escapes like a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

One of your arms unwinds from around your body, trembling as you reach out and rest your hand on his where it clings to the edge of the tub. The warmth of his skin against yours feels grounding, even as everything inside you is unraveling.

His gaze locks onto yours, those soulful brown eyes glinting with hope and desperation under the soft bathroom light. He leans closer, as if every ounce of him is hanging on what you might say next.

“Do you mean that?”

“With all my fuckin’ heart.”

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, conflicting emotions tearing you apart. “I can’t even begin to fathom that right now,” you admit, your voice breaking.

“And I’m not expecting you to,” he says quickly, his grip tightening on the porcelain edge of the tub. “I just needed you to know. I guess what happened tonight finally put my ass in place. Made me realize how much of a dumbass I’ve been. Te amo, cariño. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

You want to tell him everything—how you’ve carried feelings for him from the very first day you met, how his mere presence lit up spaces you didn’t know were dark. How you’ve loved him in ways that scared you, in ways you tried to push down. But the words stay trapped, locked behind the barricade of pain you’re still trying to process.

“I wish we could have had this conversation before all of this.” Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand in a tentative, instinctual show of affection, and his whole body seems to soften under the touch.

“Me too,” he admits, “But we can’t change the past, as much as we want to. Whatever happens after this… we’ll get through it. Together.” His voice lowers, a quiet promise lingering in the air. “I meant it when I said I’m not leaving you.”

For the first time tonight, you feel a fragile flicker of safety, of something unbroken, even if you’re not ready to hold it just yet.

You nod, biting your lip as tears spill over yet again, and Javier’s hand shifts slightly beneath yours, his fingers brushing against yours in silent reassurance.

For now, that’s enough.

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puck-luck · 4 days ago

Text

a lesson in control | trevor zegras

warnings: daddy kink. HEAVY daddy kink. m!dom, f!sub dynamics. kneeling, throat training, face-fucking, degradation and praise, use of the word slut (twice? three times?), masturbation, VIDEOING oneself masturbating, sexting but it's one sided, locker room traditions in hockey being slightly misogynistic ("boys will be boys" hey what?), dirty talk, references to squirting, overstim, orgasm denial, face slapping ONE TIME, crawling, exhibitionism, spanking. THERE ARE PROBABLY MORE THINGS THAT I MISSED. SRY. i think i got everything else tho

summary: after breaking one of daddy's rules, tz reminds you who you belong to.

wc: 3862

“Do you think this is fucking funny?” Trevor snaps, crashing through the front door and throwing his gym bag to the side. “Sending me that shit while I’m at the gym with the team?”

He’s not exactly giving you the reaction you expected. You’d sent him that video during his workout on purpose, knowing that it would rile Trevor up and result in the fucking that you have been wanting since he left the house this morning. The thought of him all sweaty and lifting heavy weights, muscles bulging, had you all riled up. It’s only fair that he experienced the same thing– even if it meant you broke one of Trevor’s rules.

There are only three.

If you misbehave or act bratty, Trevor gets to decide your punishment.

Don’t touch yourself without Trevor’s permission.

When you’re in a scene, you have to call Trevor ‘Daddy.’

So you might’ve broken two of Trevor’s three rules.

The video had been worth it, though. Seeing his girlfriend spread out on the bed, two fingers buried in her cunt and whimpering for her Daddy? Forget it. You know that Trevor will go back and look at it during roadies, imagining that it’s your hand around his cock instead of his own. He may even memorize it so that he can close his eyes and pretend his hand is your pussy, wet and slick just for him.

Which, to be fair, it always is.

Unable to hold back a smirk, you blink up at Trevor from your spot on the couch. “Sorry, Daddy,” you apologize sweetly.

Trevor hasn’t stopped moving since he entered the apartment, so he’s easily able to reach out and wrap his fingers around your neck, squeezing slightly. “You’re sorry,” he repeats sarcastically, voice dripping with doubt. “You’re going to be by the time we’re done.”

His first kiss is harsh and angry. Trevor bites over your bottom lip before he forces his tongue into your mouth, filling the space and effectively gagging you before you can make much noise. Trevor draws you up from the couch and walks as he kisses you, eventually pushing you up against the wall of the living room.

The thing you like most about the living room is that the wall has a beautiful section of windows that reveal the view.

The glass also feels incredibly cold against your body, a welcome contrast against Trevor’s impatient hands. He’s tugging your leggings down already, pushing them to the middle of your thighs before he draws your sweatshirt up and removes it completely, leaving your top half entirely bare. Your nipples harden when exposed to the air– which makes them an easy first target for Trevor.

“Keep stripping,” he commands lowly before grasping your tits in his palms. “I want you naked.”

Eager to comply, you nod. “Yes, Daddy,” you say breathlessly.

He manages to keep a hold on your breasts as you move around, shedding your leggings and panties as quickly as you can. Trevor pinches your nipples hard. “You’ve been bad,” Trevor tells you. “What happens when you’re bad?”

“You punish me,” you reply.

“That’s right,” Trevor says, a proud smile tugging at his lips. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s clear that he’s plotting something already and enjoying the visual in his mind. “Bad girls get punished. Who gets to decide the punishment, sweetheart?”

“You do,” you say. There’s a slight pause before you can muster up his title in a tone that reflects what he called you– sweetly adding, “Daddy.”

“Smart girl,” Trevor praises before planting a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. He reluctantly takes his hands from your chest and brings them to his sides. He takes a step back. His eyes turn almost mournful, pitying you. “Smart, but bad. Daddy has to teach you a lesson, huh?”

You nod, keeping your hands at your own sides even though you itch to cover yourself up. You’re fully exposed and Trevor is completely clothed. Humiliation creeps up your neck like a blush. That feeling has yet to go away, even though Trevor has been domming you all throughout your relationship.

Trevor smirks again, his face contorting. It’s fascinating how Trevor can jump from emotion to emotion. He settles into his role seamlessly every single time, using his tone and inflections and expressions to manipulate you and remind you why he’s the one in charge. He tilts his chin up, quirking his eyebrows. “On your knees.”

You drop down, the hardwood floor digging into your knees uncomfortably. “How long?” you ask. Normally, Trevor gives you a timeframe. It keeps you grounded.

The smirk on Trevor’s face grows. “As long as I want.” He holds a finger to his lips, a reminder that you aren’t supposed to talk to him when you’re on your knees. You’re something pretty for him to look at when you’re on your knees. It’s one of the ways that Trevor asserts his dominance over you. His evaluating gaze always makes you shiver.

Today, though, Trevor leaves the room. You can hear the shower start, then you hear Trevor step inside. Occasionally, you catch snippets of his hums and the song he’s singing. Since you can’t hear him all the time, you can’t estimate how long you’ve been kneeling. Your knees have been aching from the second you dropped down, so there’s no gradual pain to use as a timer either.

Just to spite you, Trevor makes sure his shower runs long, too. He’s sure to tell you that when he returns.

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says, ruffling his damp hair before collapsing on the couch and spreading his knees wide. Your eyes fall to his bulge, half-hard and covered by, but clearly unrestrained within, his Boston University sweatpants. He bounces one of his knees, the fabric covering his groin shifting with the movement. “Lost track of time in the shower. You know something about touching yourself, don’t you? It can be very distracting.”

Your eyes are wide when they snap to his face. Trevor looks smug. He throws his arms over the back of the couch and cocks his head at you, as if he’s catching you in the act of checking him out… as if you’d be embarrassed by something like that. Humiliation might raise the hairs on the back of your neck, but you never feel ashamed or sheepish when Trevor catches you looking at him. He’s sexy.

“You were very pretty in that video, baby,” Trevor says at a normal volume, as if you’re having a nonchalant conversation.”Really. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

This is the reaction you were looking for when he came in– the slow, methodical domination that Trevor normally defaults to instead of the angry, reactive domination that appeared when he stormed through the front door. You want to shift to relieve your knees slightly, but Trevor will only add something else to your punishment if you do. You merely blink at him, a breath leaving you through your parted lips.

Trevor brings a hand to his mouth and rubs over his lips, sighing. “But… well, you know what happens when one of the boys gets a text from his girlfriend during a workout.”

You do. That was part of the motivation. Trevor doesn’t like to share, but he likes to brag. There’s a very delicate balance there and you knew what you had to do to make Trevor angry. If one of Trevor’s teammates sees that another teammates’ partner texted them, then the original teammate is allowed to look at that text.

“So imagine my surprise when I open my phone and McTavish sees my baby coming all over her fingers, asking for her Daddy.” Trevor sneers when he says Mason’s name, even though you know he’s glad it wasn’t another teammate, one that doesn’t already know about your sex life.

A question arises in the back of your throat. It’s a heavy lump, hard to swallow, yet… you’re not allowed to speak like this.

Trevor becomes even more smug as he watches you remember that fact. It’s not really an official rule, but Trevor prefers it, and you want to be good for him. He’s pleased when you snap your lips shut and blink at him. “Don’t worry, little one. He couldn’t hear you. I had my headphones in. Good thing, too– I wouldn’t want anyone to hear how pretty you sound when you need Daddy.”

Your breath catches in your throat, but not because of the lump that rose up only moments ago. That disappeared when Trevor answered your question without even trying, like he can read your mind. No, your breath catches because he answered your question in the sexiest way possible.

God, you love when Trevor becomes Daddy.

Trevor tilts his head down, his gaze dark and prodding. It washes over you like an actual touch from your boyfriend. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself without asking me,” Trevor says. His voice becomes more and more like a simper as he continues to speak. “But you couldn’t wait for me, huh? Couldn’t even take the time to ask before you got all wet and needed to be full? What had you so worked up?”

Sweat, arm veins, a natural musk, endorphins…

“Did you have a dream about my cock? I know you’d said you were sleepy before I went to the gym and that you’d try to take a nap while I’m gone.” Trevor nods to himself. “That must have been it. You woke up all empty after being so full. Poor girl just needs her Daddy.”

Hearing Trevor talk in the third person has you clenching down on nothing, suddenly feeling very empty. That’s not what actually had you worked up, but now… maybe Trevor’s right. It would drive you crazy to be so empty after experiencing Trevor’s cock. To have his length stuffed inside of you, filling you out, and then nothing? Oh, you’d die.

“Let me give you my cock, then,” Trevor says. He spreads his legs just an inch wider and beckons you with a curled finger. “C’mere, baby.”

Your knees feel ready to creak as you move to stand. You get one knee up before Trevor starts to shake his head and you freeze.

He holds his palm up flat, stopping you before you can stand. Trevor snickers. “Nuh-uh, I don’t think so,” he corrects, chuckling. “Do bad girls get to walk to Daddy? Stay on your knees.”

You blink up at him, cheeks growing warm at the thought of crawling to him. It’s so demeaning, but God it’s hot. You’d be kneeling right between his thighs at the end and you know what comes from that position.

Something Trevor started when you were just starting this dom/sub thing was throat training. Trevor knew you liked to have his hand around your neck, causing you to go short of breath. He applied the same logic and asked if you’d like to hold his cock in your mouth for a long time. You’d tried it, and it was fine, and it sparked a second idea. Trevor wanted your throat to hold him perfectly, for your mouth to be ready for him to take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Now, he can fuck your face whenever he wants.

He can take whatever he wants.

You lower yourself down again, back onto two knees. Then, you lean forward, one hand a bit further than the other. You shift the opposite knee forward in a hesitant step, eyes rapt on Trevor.

“That’s my girl,” Trevor coos, his stare raking over your figure. “Come get Daddy’s cock. I’ll fill you up.”

Another step, then a third. You’re moving to Trevor like he’s reeling you in, the tension taut as fishing line between your bodies.

Trevor’s quick to drag himself out of his sweatpants. Your mouth is already open, accepting whatever he gives you with a slack jaw. He fills you until his tip bumps the back of your esophagus, then he withdraws.

You breathe through your nose and gag at all the right times, feeling the precum from Trevor’s cock mix with your saliva and drip down your throat with each swallow.

Trevor uses you for what he needs. He draws your head up and down on his cock, his hips occasionally twitching and thrusting like they have a mind of their own. “You know what’s– shit– you know what’s funny, baby?” Trevor asks, clearly affected by your touch and itching to regain control.

You hum around his cock, eyes drifting to his face. They’re shining with tears from all of your gagging around his base and Trevor curses again.

“Fuck, so pretty,” he says, taking the hand still thrown over the back of the couch and using his fingers to wipe away the tracks on your cheeks. “You’re so good at taking my cock, sweetheart. Making me feel so good.”

The hand on the back of your head grips your hair and rips you from his cock.

You’re nearly eye to eye with Trevor, whose mirthful smile means trouble.

“I’m going to come in your pussy.” Trevor’s voice is a near whisper. “And you won’t come at all.”

“What?” You demand with a jolt, caught off guard by his statement and forgetting your manners.

Trevor’s hand strikes your cheek, branding your skin with the heated echo of his touch.

You’re stunned silent, jaw dropped and mouth open.

Trevor caresses the hollow pocket of surprise on your face with his thumb. Trevor smiles down at you. “Daddy wants you to be quiet when you’re on your knees, baby, don’t you remember?”

You stare blankly at him.

He continues to pet over your face, admiring your glossy eyes and rosy cheeks. His eyes even roam to your hair, a flicker of pride passing through his expression. He fixes a piece of hair, then taps your head. He quotes the short list of rules by which you abide. “Don’t touch yourself without my permission.”

You breathe in, preparing for him to continue. He taps your cheek and waits for you to nod. You do, after a moment.

Trevor guides your head back down, towards his cock. “Then what?” He asks.

You open your mouth a little wider, spit pooling at the thought of licking up the precum that leaked from his cock while you were recovering from his slap.

Trevor laughs, bringing your head to his tip and making the length jump between your lips. “If you misbehave or act bratty, Daddy gets to decide your punishment.” He brings your mouth down a little further, cock sliding against the flat of your tongue.

The taste makes you feel like you’ve gone cross-eyed, relaxing into his touch. Sliding back into the throat training routine you’d created over the months, your head grows a little fuzzier and your body feels a little lighter.

Trevor pulls away again.

You don’t snap at him, but your eyes fall into sharp focus on his face.

“Who am I, baby?” Trevor asks, winking at you. His mouth forms a proud curve.

“Daddy,” you reply, voice ruined from disuse.

Trevor likes that. You can see how his jaw subtly twitches, tensing up. “Are you gonna let Daddy fuck your pussy right here?” He asks, then his eyes go over your shoulder. “For anyone to see?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you breathe out, sounding rough and awed at the same time. “Please, Daddy. Fuck me against the window.”

The smile that encompasses Trevor is purely rueful pride. How easily he can ruin you. “Because you want the world to see that you’re Daddy’s,” Trevor assumes, feeding you the words like they’re fact.

You sear them into your memory. He’s right. Who else can do something like this to you? To you, what Trevor says is gospel.

“That’s why you sent that video,” he continues. He’s all-knowing. Smug, even. “You needed Daddy to remind you that you’re his little slut, right?”

All this nodding has you feeling like a bobblehead.

Trevor helps you stand, touching your hips and backing you towards the window. At the last second, he spins you around and presses your front against the glass.

“For everyone to see?” Trevor checks again, his voice soft for a second. God, he’s perfect. He’s the right amount of concerned, without leaving much room for argument. He’s still in charge here. He’s still punishing you.

You don’t even get to come, but you don’t care. You just want to feel him leaking from your cunt. Instead of kneeling again, you’ll stay like this if he wants you to, presented like an art exhibit for him to study.

You moan in relief as soon as his tip breaches your hole, bare and throbbing as he inches forward. He allows himself to thrust shallowly, stimulating his tip and denying you the full pleasure of his cock.

Even still, you’re a mess.

Then he brings his hand down on your ass cheek, much harder than he’d slapped your face. Instinctively, you clench around him and your head droops. The glass window cools the skin of your forehead.

You’re not silent by any means. It’s like you’re unable to silence yourself– a broken dam. With each shallow thrust and each slap to your behind, Trevor makes you feel so good that you feel like you’re crumbling into dust.

“You gonna take my whole cock like you wanted to?” Trevor probes, kicking your legs a bit wider and pressing you into the glass. Your nipples are squished against the surface, restricting your movements. Trevor crowds against you, body warm and solid behind you. “Like you tried to pretend in that little video? When you whimpered and cried because your little fingers weren’t a match for my cock?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, a mirror image of yourself just hours earlier. You’re humming out the same soft pleas that spur Trevor on, that convince him to chase his pleasure.

“That’s right, baby,” Trevor praises. “Daddy’s cock, making you feel good, just like you wanted?”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes…”

Trevor spanks you again, the burning sensation of impact marking your body. “Why do you ever act up, sweetheart? I could’ve been fucking you like this all nice and making you come if you’d just asked me for permission,” Trevor simpers, teasing you. He speaks like it’s a big, heavy burden on him, this choice to deny your orgasm. He wants to give you an orgasm– a mind shattering, leg-numbing, shaking and squirting orgasm– but you just had to be bad.

“Of course I’d make you ask again,” Trevor continues, his half-thrusts pointed. “You’d have to show me again how good you can be. You know I like to see my good girl.”

A strangled noise falls from your lips, landing on the floor like a bowling ball. Trevor knocks the wind out of you sometimes with his words.

“I want to show you what it would be like,” Trevor says. “Ask me, baby. I want to hear your sweet voice beg Daddy to come.”

Finding your voice and losing control of it like a helium balloon, you’re able to gasp out exactly what Trevor asks, thinking maybe, maybe if you’re good enough now, he’ll let you come now, too. “It’s so good, Daddy, I always need your cock,” you say between moans. “I never stop thinking about it. So good, please, Daddy. I need to come, I need to show you how good I feel, please let me come.”

Trevor moans and nudges his nose against the top of your spine as you speak. His seed flows from his body and fills yours in the midst of your testimony, the low and fucked-out grunts from Trevor making you that much more desperate and teary to come. His cum settles inside of you, warm and as good as godly nectar, in your mind.

“I’d come, just like that,” Trevor tells you, speaking slowly. His voice is gravely like it is when he first wakes up. He presses kiss after kiss to your spine, working lower and slightly withdrawing from your heat. “And then I’d tell you that you can come…”

Just when you think he’s going to shift back into you, his length sheathed inside of you so much that your pussy brushes against his pelvis, and fuck you until you do exactly that–

Trevor’s softening penis leaves your pussy. He shifts his hips even further back, then touches your sides to spin you back around. He faces you and brings his hands up to cradle your face. With a devilish, con-man-like smile, Trevor stands his ground. “This is mine,” he reminds you. His blunt fingertips collect some of the cum that has started to slide down your thighs, unable to escape gravity. Trevor lifts his fingers to your mouth, the wet slick brushing against your lips. He makes no move to push past your teeth and press down on your tongue. He’s just dangling a carrot in front of your face, further reinforcing his control over you.

“Yours,” you agree.

A grin plays over Trevor’s face. “Good. You just broke the rules to get Daddy’s attention. You needed Daddy to take care of you.”

You helplessly nod, preening under his touch.

“You’ve got my attention now, baby,” Trevor assures you. “And to prove it to you, we’re going to do one last thing. I’m going to sit on the couch and look at you, pretty girl. You’re going to kneel right here and let the cum drip out of you until you’re empty.”

You blink at him, feeling lightheaded. That’s before he paints his cum over your lips and ponders, “Kneeling in a puddle of my cum, you really are a slut.”

A gush of his seed seems to leave you at the demeaning nickname. You clench again to keep it inside– what Daddy wants, Daddy gets. It can pool beneath you as your knees dig into the floorboards and bruise.

“Daddy’s little cumslut,” Trevor says with a chuckle. He shakes his head and backs away from you, returning to the couch and manspreading. He pushes his sweats all the way down to mid-calf, revealing his thick thighs and pretty cock entirely. “I should put that on a shirt and have you record that video again for me.” He wraps his hand around his soft cock, fisting it like he’s going to start pumping over the skin at any moment. “With your hard nipples poking through the fabric and those pretty words of yours, begging for your Daddy to satisfy you the way that you need.”

You drop to your knees and clasp your hands behind your back, hovering only slightly above the floor and only parting your lips to breathe. After all, you’re on your knees again, so you have to listen to Daddy speak.

“Or on FaceTime for our next roadie,” Trevor decides, evidenced by the way his cheeks dimple. “Yeah, baby, we’ll see how desperate you can get before I let you come. This time, you’re going to be so good that I make you come until the sheets are completely soaked.”

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hockey smut #hockey fanfiction #tz11

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scribblesofagoonerr · 4 months ago

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Mascot Memories | Never Grow Up

this is the first part of the small 3 part series that i have lined up next

summary: remi is 3 years old and she is a mascot at leah's game for the first time during the world cup in 2027

pairings: leah williamson x reader

“Someone’s excited to be a mascot at Mummy’s game today, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but beam with a smile as you bent down to your daughters’ level.

“Yes!” Remi’s eyes are dancing with excitement at the prospect of being able to be a mascot in England's opening game of the World Cup that is being hosted in Brazil, “I’ll be the best mascot ever, Mumma!”

You press a kiss to the top of your little girl's head and smile at her, “I’m sure that you will be, baby girl,” You pause as you pick up the small jersey hung up on the hanger, “Do you want to get changed into your football shirt?”

“Wear Mummy’s number?” Remi asks, curiously.

“You bet, Remi Roo!” You nod encouragingly, helping your little girl shed her previous t-shirt in favour of the football jersey with Leah’s number written on the back of it, “You look just like Mummy now.”

“There’s my baby Gooner!” Leah’s voice appears out of nowhere, walking into the changing rooms as she’s almost tackled to the floor by Remi.

“Mummy!” Your 3 year old crashes directly into your wife’s legs.

“Ooft,” Your wife let out a grunt of pain when the whirlwind of a toddler ran into her, “When did you get so big?” She questions, crouching down to your daughter’s level.

“Mumma keeps feeding me all of them veggies that ‘ou don't like,” Remi retorts cheekily, poking fun at Leah’s childish food palette that limited her to only a several few things that she seemed to like to eat – The only veggie she will eat being peas, and even those she thinks are too exoctic to eat.

“Of course she does,” Leah chuckles in amusement as she takes a look Remi donned in her own Jersey with her name on, “Well don’t you look the part.”

“I look just like you do!” Remi grins, dressed in a tiny England jersey to match Leah’s with her hair pulled back into two playful pigtails, and a pair of white Nike trainers, “Even Mumma said that I did!”

“You do indeed,” Leah replies in agreement and holds her hand out for your little girl to take, “It’ll be time to line up soon, do you want to come and stand with me? I bet you we’ll hear the roar of the crowd from there!”

“Yeah!” Remi bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, her excitement palpable as you can indeed hear the noise coming from inside the stadium, a mixture of England travelling fans and the fans of the home team. It’s a feeling that leaves you with a buzz of your own excitement.

“Alright then,” Your wife smiles and turns in your direction, “Say bye to Mumma and Essie and we’ll make our way out there.” She tells her, gesturing to your 8 month old baby girl Esme Beau Williamson, born in September 2026.

“Bye, Bear. Bye, Mumma. Love ‘ous!” Remi rambles quickly with energy bursting through her, leaning over to give her little sister a kiss on the head and crash her little arms around you.

“I love you too, baby girl,” You tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Have fun out there with Mummy, okay? We’ll be watching you!” You add, gesturing to the fact that Amanda and Jacob, Leah’s mum and brother were joining you to watch in the stands.

“She’s going to be absolutely fine, love,” Leah reassures you, sensing your initial nerves due to the fact that Remi would be walking out onto the pitch with your wife for the first time and you are worried about how she might take that overall, “I’ve got her. I love you.”

“I love you too,” You respond, pressing a gentle kiss against your wife’s lips, “Good luck out there, superstar. Make us all proud!” You add, moving to fix the captain’s armband around your wife’s arm and kissing it for good luck, a ritual you’ve come to do every game that you attend.

“I aim to just do that,” Your wife grins, a flash of cockiness taking over her face for a second before she peppers small kisses on Esme’s forehead, “Bye, Essie Bear. I hope to make you proud too. I love you.”

The stadium erupts into loud cheers as you watch your wife hold Remi in her arms as they make their way onto the pitch, your daughter is waving enthusiastically out to the crowd of England fans as there’s not a single trace of shyness in her demeanour.

Leah, ever the professional, keeps her focus with her stern game face plastered but even she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips every time she gazes at her daughter. For the first time you’ve ever witnessed, your wife actually breaks her stern expression as the spotlight is on your daughter.

“Remi looks so grown up,” Amanda speaks aloud from where she’s standing in the stands amongst you, Jacob and Esme, cradled against your chest, as she watches in adoration of Leah and Remi on the pitch.

“Don’t say that too loud or Leah will freak out,” Jacob jokes, regarding Leah’s fear of Remi growing up too quickly. It’s now become a somewhat ongoing joke in your family now.

“Speaking off, look how proud Le looks,” You say, watching your wife and daughter with tears welling up in your eyes.

“This is definitely a moment to treasure forever,” Amanda chimes in, wiping one of her own tears away.

“I swear she might even relent from her usual stern frown,” Jacob jokes watching as Leah stood tall and proud in her captain’s armband, her face glowing with both excitement and pride, “Rem looks adorable though!”

“I mean, there’s always a first,” You remark in amusement as you watch your wife and daughter on the pitch, feeling insanely proud of them both.

The sun shines brightly over the sprawling stadium in Brazil, where the energy of the World Cup is palpable. Fans gather in vibrant colours and flags fill the stands, creating a sea of excitement and anticipation just as the national anthem plays and you can’t help but smile looking out onto the pitch while you look at your daughter who is beaming with an infectious smile.

“I think I might cry,” You murmur, overwhelmed with pride watching them as the National Anthem begins to play.

“You and me both, darling,” Amanda replies in agreement, her eyes are misty.

“Can you see your Mummy and your big sister, Es?” Jacob holds Esme in his arms like the proud uncle he is and points his index finger in the direction of where Leah and Remi are standing on the pitch amongst the rest of the England team, “Look, there they are!”

“Mummy! There’s so many people!” Remi’s voice is quiet and in awe, her eyes gazing around the stadium at the several thousands of fans in the stadium, “Are all these people here for ‘ou?”

Leah chuckles fondly as she keeps a gentle grip on your toddler, “Only half of them, baby Gooner,” She pauses as she points with her index finger in the direction of where you all sat in the stands, “Over there is Mumma, Essie, Nana and Uncle Jacob over there? Give them a wave!”

“Will they be able to see me from this far away?” Remi asks, curiously as she waves brightly in the direction and you can’t help but smile in adoration of the pair together, “It's so far away!”

“I bet they will,” Leah nods in agreement, spinning slightly to look over in the direction of the giant screen and then towards a camera, “Do you see that big screen over there? There’s a camera on the pitch and Mumma will be able to see you, even from all the way over here.”

“Wow,” Remi’s eyes widen in amazement as she eagerly waves in the direct eyeline of the camera and her mouth forms the perfect O as she sees herself on the screen for the first time, “Mummy! I’m on the screen with ‘ou!”

“You are,” Your wife couldn’t help but laugh faintly as the end of the National Anthem played, which meant that it was time for the coin toss and captain duties, “Do you want to come do something extra special with me?” She asks.

“Uh huh!” Remi’s eye’s gleam with excitement at the prospect of doing something extra special according to your wife as she continues to carry Remi over to where Leah stands together with her teammates, with Remi perched on her hip to take a photo.

“Remember to smile, Rem,” Beth, one of Leah’s fellow team mates for club and country, reminds your little girl as she ruffles her hair playfully, “Don’t be frowny like your Mummy now.” She jokes, poking fun at your wife’s impartial need to always scowl during a team photo.

“I don’t frown all the time,” Leah retorts, scowling at the blonde.

“Yes you do, Mummy!” Remi’s little voice replies in agreement as she giggles, “You don’t scowl at me or Bear though!” With those words in mind, Leah can’t help but crack a laugh and the official photographer manages to capture the moment, history is changed that your wife actually broke her stern expression during a team photo.

“Mumma!” Remi shouts running across to you as fast as her little legs will let her, “Did ‘ou see me out there? I waved at ‘ou!”

“I did see you, baby girl!” You scoop her up into your arms, twirling her around as she giggles with delight, “You were amazing! The best little mascot I have ever seen!”

Your eldest daughter continues to bounce up and down in excitement, “I was on the big screen with Mummy!”

“We saw that, Tiny,” Jacob grins, ruffling your daughters’ hair, “You looked like a champ out there!”

“We’re so proud of you sweetheart,” Amanda chimes in, pressing a kiss to the top of Remi’s forehead.

“And I even got to take a photo with Mummy, Auntie Beth and everyone else!” Remi continues to ramble, a tone of excitement in her voice still as she slumps back to sit on Amanda’s lap to watch the match play out.

“Mummy’s gonna win!” Your little girl declares, confidently.

“That’s the hope, baby girl,” You agree with her, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face, “We’re going to cheer her on though, no matter what. Mummy is a winner to us, no matter what. Right, Remi Roo?”

“Right, Mumma! I will be the best cheerleader ever!” Remi exclaims, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, “Mummy’s the best footballer I know!”

This game might have just been one of many in Leah’s career, but this day certainly was special and one to cherish, being able to watch your wife and daughter walk out onto the pitch together.

A memory that you will always remember, shining bright in your heart.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #scribblesofagoonerr

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lunajay33 · 1 month ago

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Never the Right Time

•🩶💋🦇🍂•

Summary: Living as a single mother in Velaris was difficult but at least she had her family, the inner circle, but the trauma of living under the mountain still lays heavy on her heart, the nights she shared with an heir of the autumn court by force of amarantha leading to the creation of her daughter, will she find love? Was she ever loved? Maybe her childhood best friend will show her

Pairings: Azriel x f!reader, Eris x f!reader

•Masterlist•

I was never meant to go to the party, I was suppose to have a girls night with Mor but Rhys was feeling anxious and asked me to come along and I’d do anything for my brother after everything he’s done for me

After our mother, sister and father passed we were there for eachother, holding eachother as we wept, Azriel and Cassian doing everything they could to cheer us up in their own ways, I cherished my little family but that night under the mountain changed everything

I was played out to be a gathering of high lords and their guests but she tricked us, Amarantha ruined so many lives, she took my brother away from me for 50 years as her own personal play thing and I was banned from speaking to him, thankfully we could communicate through thoughts, but seeing him break slowly was a different pain

Over the years amarantha became more cruel, she picked me and Eris Vanserra, the eldest of the leader of Autumn court, to have forced intimacy knowing his past with my family, she thought it was funny, night after night forcing us to be together while she watched, many tears were shed between the two of us and I guess along the way we bonded over the trauma, after everytime we’d apologize to eachother profusely even though we both knew it wasn’t either of eachothers fault

But when Feyre my lovely sister in law came and saved everyone I thought maybe Eris would want to keep in contact and help eachother being the only two to know what we felt but the night everyone left he was gone not even a word and at that moment I felt a strange tug in my chest, like I lost something

Rhys took us home after his talk with Feyre, our family swarming us immediately, Feyre came into our lives shortly after, Rhys had her and she had him to grow past what happened under that wretched mountain but I was lost, so many nights feeling like dirt until a month after during a cold night in Velaris I felt shadows swirling along my body holding me like a hug

•Flashback•

“You know I’ve always loved these little guys” I whispered knowing Azriel was stood behind me on the balcony

“You need to leave this room angel” his calm but rough voice soothed my soul for a moment until those feelings of disgust came crawling back

“I can’t Az, I feel like scum what she made me do and now…….” My heart felt like led

“What? You know I’ve always been there for you, I remember when you feel and scraped your knee when you were so little chasing after cas and I, but I came back to you and wiped your tears, and I’m here for you know” he said his scared fingers tracing through mine

“She made me do terrible things az, she thought it would be funny since the family and Eris have bad blood……..she forced us to have sex night after night for 40 years Az, I felt so wrong and Eris is the only one who knows what that felt like and I haven’t heard from him since and now…..now I’m pregnant” I gasped finally letting it all out

His face shocked, the first time I’ve ever seen him express so much emotion

“Oh angel, it’s gonna be okay, whatever happens I’m here” and that’s when I felt alive again, a golden string of love connected between us, my best friend

“My Mate”

•Present•

It’s been a year since then, Mor was over the moon to find out, Cass acted like a teenage girl all giddy for his brother, and Rhys was so proud of both of us, but when they all heard my story and finding out about my pregnancy they supported me, and now I have a beautiful little girl, turns out I was 5 months along when Madja checked on me the day after I told Azriel

So now Azriel and i are raising the cutest little girl, her hair as fiery as autumn, her eyes a deep purple like Rhys’ and mine, she’s everything I ever wanted but I’ve had this nagging feeling that Eris is out there and doesn’t know he has a daughter, even though Azriel stood up and took that fatherly role

I was sat in the living room of the house of wind watching Harlow crawl around and giggle at Azriels little shadows, ever since I had Harlow I felt more at home up here and so me and Azriel permanently moved in, it’s been a smooth year with him, he helped me heal as best he could, he went from my mysterious, quiet best friend, to my mate that used every chance he could to touch me either hugging me, running his hands through my hair, rubbing my belly, telling me every second he could how much he loved me or how beautiful I am, I never thought I’d see that side of him but I felt amazing to be the only one to receive his love

“She’s just like you, that’s why the shadows love her” Azriel whispers in my ear as I lay my head on his shoulder

“She’s like you too you know, she’s a little grump when she doesn’t have me around” hearing his laugh rumble under me made my heart swell

It was silent for a while more until Harlow crawled into my lap and fell asleep, her little blue dress sparkling from the fire shimmering in front of us

“I can hear your thoughts screaming from a mile away what’s got you so distressed Angel?” His eyes pierced into mine like he could read every bit of me

“Don’t be upset…….you know I know that you’re Harlows father and I’m lucky enough to have had you with me through everything but…..there’s this nagging feeling in my chest that Eris doesn’t know, that if I don’t tell him I’ll be letting her down and in the future she’ll wonder why she has her red hair and how she was created and I’d be robbing Eris of a pure love that is a child, he’s not cruel Az, not like how the rest of Prythian sees him, he’s kind and selfless………what do you think?” I chewed on my lip anxiously waiting for him to answer not being able to read what he was feeling

He tucked some hair behind my ear holding my cheek tenderly

“I think you’re right, she’s brought so much joy into my life I never thought I’d experience, who am I to stop you from giving our little girl the love and life she deserves, even if I don’t fully trust Eris I trust you”

“I love you Azriel”

“I love you y/n, more than all the stars in Velaris”

Thankfully the next day Rhys had to go have a highlords meeting in the autumn court and it was a perfect moment to try and find Eris and tell him everything

I dressed Harlow in an emerald green dress that had a sparkly black strap around the middle, I wore a ankle length silk dress a dark grey with a black shoulder covering

“Are you ready my lovely sister and adorable niece?” Rhys asked smiling from the doorway of the nursery, it was so nice to see him smile after what he went through

“I guess as ready as I’ll ever be, I’m nervous Rhys” sucking in an anxious breath, all these feelings I’ve been holding in since under the mountain and all the questions gone unanswered when I needed Eris

“Oh my little star, it’ll be okay, one way or another everything will work out” I sighed picking up Harlow as Rhys wrapped his arms around us both in a warm hug

“Okay im ready”

The air was suddenly crisp with a chill nipping at my exposed skin, the light breeze blowing my hair back as the leave rustled along our feet

“You can open your eyes” Rhys chuckled

“Sorry I’ll never get use to that……..well I guess it’s now or never” we both walked into the Vanserra Mansion, maids leading me one way as guards led Rhys another to the meeting

“Umm excuse me is Eris free by any chance?” I asked the maid infront of me

“I’ll check on master Eris, please wait in the library miss” she smiled as she motioned to the two big oak doors to the left of the hall

I always found comfort in reading, many lonely night trying to escape in the words of the pages, but then Azriel became my mate and nothing could compare to the fantasy and romance he gave me

Pushing inside it was huge, walls upon walls covered with books it was beautiful, noticing a comfy burnt orange couch placed infront of the burning chimney I sat down laying Harlow down in her blanket infront of me as she had fallen asleep, she really is the light of my life even if the way she was created was under horrific circumstances I still love her

I hear the doors open behind me and the room gets warmer and I know it’s Eris, after 40 years of being with him I just know

I stood turning to him standing tall gathering as much courage as I could, his pants a dark brown his vest a deep burgundy embroidered in gold thread, finally meeting his eyes

“Eris”

He gasped starring at me almost stunned

“Eris are you okay?” He finally shook out of whatever daze he was in and that stoic expression was back on

“Y/n it’s been a while, wasn’t expecting to see you” he said holding his hands behind his back

“Why did you leave me Eris?” Just jumping right in was all I could think of, might as well get this over with

“What?” He asked suddenly shocked again

“40 years, she made us do things for 40 years and then we were free and you didn’t even stay to atleast say goodbye, I needed you Eris you were the only one who could understand I looked for you but you were gone…..I spent so many sleepless nights just wanting to talk to you” the emotions were finally spilling out to the person I’ve been craving to talk to

“I’m……I’m so sorry my dear I just….i couldn’t bare to say goodbye, to know that after everything you’d just finally be gone so I thought if I never said goodbye maybe we’d find our way back to eachother again” he sighed showing that emotional side to me like he always did under the mountain

“Maybe things would’ve been different but that’s not the only reason I’m here Eris, I didn’t find out until a while after I got back to Velaris and then coming to terms with the decisions of coming here but……just come over here” a lump forming in my throat not being able to say the words, confused he rounds the coach now facing me and Harlow, picking her up I sat he gently in my lap as I eased back down onto the cozy couch

He dropped to his knees infront of us his one hand gripping my knee as the other gently traced Harlows rosy cheek

“She’s mine” it wasn’t a question it was a statement, anyone that knew our story knew that she was biological his

“She’s beautiful isn’t she” my heart settling

“Lovely” he was completely awe struck

She started stirring blinking open her big eyes instantly giggling when she sees Eris

“She has your eyes and your smile”

“Her name is Harlow, Azriel thought it was perfect” his movement stopped as he looked at me tearing his eyes from our giggling little girl

“And what reason did he have to name my child”

“Eris please don’t be like that with me, you have no idea how hard it was to go through being pregnant and lost but he was there for me he’s my best friend and……he’s my mate”

“What? No that’s impossible”

“How is it impossible, I know mates are rare but is it so wrong for me to have found happiness?” I sigh looking back down at Harlow as she plays with Eris’ fingers

“Just forget it, I’m coming back to Velaris with you, father can not know about you or Harlow, I need to make sure you’re okay”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to pretend you want to be apart of our lives if you don’t want to I’d understand”

“No im coming I need to be there I don’t care if Azriel is your mate I want to be apart of both your lives and protect you from Baron” he smiled brushing my hair back making my heart jump

“Okay you can come but don’t go starting trouble with Azriel please” he smirked

“I’ll try my dear”

We winnowed back home to Velaris, Rhys wasn’t very happy about the decision to bring Eris back with us but he’d do anything for me he always has

I gently laid Harlow down in her crib as to not wake her from her nap after her feeding when I felt shadows swirl around my ankles making a sense of calm set over my body

“Mother above I’ve missed you Az” I sighed turning to see him leaning against the door frame

“How did it go?” He asked stepping closer as he placed his scarred hands on my hips

“Better than I thought but I still feel like somethings unresolved, he already loves her though who wouldn’t” at that he smiled

“Of course he would she takes after you” but I know the next thing I say will wipe that smile away

“He’s here…….he said he wanted to come back here for a while to protect us from baron”

“I know can’t say I’m too happy about him being here but I know the past baron has with people involved with his children and I’ll take that extra protection for you both even if it��s Eris”

“Wow I never thought thee shadow singer would be agreeing with me” came Eris at the door way

Azriel growled as he turned glaring daggers at Eris

“Please don’t fight at least not while I’m here I can’t take it right now” I pleaded already feeling a headache coming on

Both their expressions calmed as they looked at me with the same expression……..Love and that’s when I felt it, the same spark I have for my beloved Azriel was now singing for Eris too, making me gasp and clench my chest

“No” Azriel gasped as he pulled me into his chest

“This doesn’t make any sense” I whisper

“How do you think I felt when I find my mate and she tells me she’s already mated” Eris sighs

“Azriel I’m sorry I still love you this doesn’t change anything……oh mother above I don’t know what to do” I panic scared I’ll lose everything I’ve tried to build and heal from

No body said anything making the panic set in more mixing with nausea, I pushed past Eris in the door way and went straight to Rhys and Feyre

Tears were now streaming freely as I pushed open their bedroom door, they looked at me immediately swarming me with worry

“Y/n my star what’s wrong what’s going on?” Rhys asked as he sat me down on the bench at the end of their bed, Feyre sitting next to me as she rubbed my back soothingly

“Eris……I don’t understand it’s not possible Rhys, and what if Azriel doesn’t want me anymore what if I lose everything oh I’m gonna be sick” I gasp breathing quickly

“Shhhhhh you need to breathe and tell me what happened did Eris hurt you?” He asks brushing my hair back from my face

“Maybe somethings wrong with me maybe the mother made a mistake what if neither of them want me”

“What are you trying to say honey” Feyre says calmly

“Two…….how can I have two mates” they became like statues at my words

“What? I’ve never heard of that happening in all my life” Rhys says squeezing my knee

“Do you think Azriel hates me now, what if I’m disgusting to him now and he leaves me and Harlow what if he never wanted me in the first place and he would’ve never loved me if it weren’t for the mating bond” I continued spiraling

“That would never happen Angel” Azriels voice rings from the door way, we all look up seeing him and Eris there looking almost as distraught as me

“We’ll give you some time” Feyre says taking Rhys’ hand and leaving the room

Azriel kneels infront of me taking my hands as Eris takes feyres spot

“I loved you long before we became mates, I loved the way you always tried to play with us as kids, how you always tried to cheer me up, how you smell like a cupcake and the way your hair shines in the sun, I’ve loved you for so long and this won’t stop that, we can figure it out because I’m never leaving you or my little girl”

“Really you mean it?” I sigh relaxing at his heart warming words

“Of course my angel, maybe the mother thought you were so special and so filled with love you were meant to have two mates to spread the joy you give” Azriel rarely got this emotional with me

“I love you Az, always” I lean down placing my forehead against his sending a jolt of love down our bond

“Not as much as I love you, forever”

The moment was interrupted by Eris clearing his throat

“I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble my dear” he said soothingly, he always talked to me like I was fragile under the mountain and I can’t deny how he only treats me with that kindness

“It’s not your fault anymore than it is mine, just give this time for me to figure out how I feel”

“Of course I’d give you all the time in the world my dear……..I’ll go check on Harlow” he said as he placed a gentle kiss to my cheek before leaving me and Azriel alone

“You know I could go to that bakery you love and get you your favorite cookies”

“You read my mind”

#azriel x you #azriel one shot #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader x eris #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar oneshot #acotar fanfiction

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lipglossanon · 3 months ago

Text

Day 7

Kink: Piss & Collaring

Pairing: Puppy!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, hybrid Leon, piss kink, collaring kink, assertive reader, teasing, slight feet kink, praise kink, whiny Leon, begging, premature ejaculation

not proofread

The day started off breezy and a little overcast. The perfect kind of weather for taking Leon to a pumpkin patch. The drive there and the initial first part of exploring the farm went pretty smoothly. It wasn’t until you and your pup ran into another couple with a sweet older hybrid that things became tense.

Nothing even happened, just the usual polite smile and hello in passing as you and Leon skirted past the little group to reach the next row of pumpkins; Leon, however, started getting an attitude to the point you had to leash him tightly so he couldn’t walk anywhere except beside you.

Your smile shifted into a frown as he didn’t listen to you again, leading you to make the executive decision of cutting your losses and going home. Oh, he pouted and whined and dragged his feet all the way to the car, but after one stern look and a click of your tongue he quieted down. You made him sit in the backseat, away from the radio since he lost that privilege.

The drive home went by quietly and quickly—now, that you’re both home, Leon’s leash comes off, but his collar stays in place.

“B-but Miss owner—“

“Leon,” your voice lilts in warning. “You’re not to leave your room under any circumstances. You’re going to reflect on your poor behavior. I’ll come by and get you when it’s dinner time.”

“But—“

You shake your head no and his lower lip wobbles.

“Go, Leon. You’re lucky I’m being lenient.”

He nods dejectedly and walks off to his room. Your ears strain to listen and you hear the snick of his door closing, allowing you to blow out a breath. You hate being so bossy with him, but sometimes he just needs a firm hand.

A few hours go by and you feel less irritated and find it’s been long enough for Leon to stew alone in his thoughts. Knocking on the door, you wait for him to invite you in before opening it.

“I’m sorry!”

Leon wraps you into a hug, face tucking into the crook of your neck as he sniffles.

“I’m not mad, Leon, just disappointed.”

He whines, ears flattening against his head.

“You know better,” you lower your voice, tone soft and soothing. “What happened to my good boy today, hmm? You never act like that.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I didn’t like the way that lady looked at you.”

“Lady?” You rub his shoulders. “What lady?”

“The one at the farm,” he nuzzles into your neck. “She kept looking at you.”

“That hybrid we passed?”

“Uh huh.”

You bite your lip to prevent yourself from smiling, “Leon, you don’t have to worry. I didn’t really even notice her.”

“You promise? She had a prettier tail than me and smelled really nice.”

“Should I be jealous?” You tease only for him to jerk his head away, eyes wide.

“No! No, no, no,” he shakes his head so hard his ears flap.

“Hmm,” you pull away, “seems you might need to learn a lesson.”

You loop your finger into the ring at the front of his collar and tug him along with you down the hall to the bathroom. You put him on his knees and move to turn on the shower. Leon watches you, tail thumping against the floor as he tents the jeans he’s wearing.

“Get undressed,” you tell him, shedding your own clothes until you’re naked. His hands go to take off his collar and you click your tongue. “That stays.”

He flushes all the way down to his chest, “Yes’um.”

You walk back over to him, his eyes jumping around your body before meeting your gaze with a blush. Pressing your foot down onto his cock, his breath hitches and he whines, fists clenched at his side. Lifting your foot away, his dick bobs—head shiny with precum.

“Miss owner,” he pouts, but doesn’t move as you drag your toes up his stomach to his chest, pushing gently until he takes the hint. He places his hands behind him and arches, aching cock standing proud as he stretches backward.

“Look at my pretty boy.”

His cock kicks and you watch as his abs flex with his groan. Placing your foot on the floor, you bend down and lean forward to grip his thick length. Giving him a few strokes, you let go and listen to his whimpers.

Stretching your hand out, you snag on the ring of his collar and pull him forward, Leon going eagerly. Panting, he lets you lead him on his knees over to the tub.

“Get in,” you nod and he eases himself over the porcelain side, now kneeling in the tub itself. “Good boy, Leon.”

His tail wags back and forth and he preens. Climbing in after him, you slide the shower curtain closed, warm water drenching you when you step under the shower head. You rub the water into your skin, fingers skating down your stomach to pet across your throbbing clit. You’ve been dripping slick ever since you made Leon get on his knees.

He runs his palms up your calves to cup the back of your thighs and you smile, a sharp curve of your mouth.

“Who said you could touch me?” You kneel over his thighs.

“Such a bad boy,” you coo and he whines, hips humping the air as your cunt hovers over his cock. He pants loudly, water matting his hair to his face.

“Please, please, miss owner,” he whines, dilated eyes staring at your puffy cunt.

“Well,” you hum, “maybe if I punish this naughty puppy’s cock, you can be my good boy again.”

He whimpers when you lower your pussy against his dick, letting your plush lips part around the thick length. You grab his hands and place them on your waist. Leon’s fingers dig into your skin, helping you grind up against his cock, slick dripping onto his half formed knot. The shower drums against your shoulders, water droplets trickling down your chest and making you shiver.

“Maybe I should leave my mark on you,” you murmur, eyes hooded as you gaze down at his needy face.

“Please,” he whines.

“Hold still,” you firm your voice. “If you move away, you’re going to get punished.”

He nods wildly, ears flicking water from the movement. Biting your lip, you raise up your hips, letting Leon support you as you use one hand to grasp the lip of the tub for balance and the other to spread open your slick pussy lips. Breathing out slowly, you relax your inner muscles.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Leon chants under his breath, eyes wide as he watches you. His cock throbs and oozes precum as you piss on his dick, the warm stream running down his shaft to drip off his balls, washed away by the shower.

His cock bobs and kicks as he whines and groans, precum weeping from his tip—glob after glob dripping from his slit until it looks like he’s cum all over himself.

“So good, so good, I can’t— oh, miss owner, you’re g’nna make me cum,” he mumbles, sounding pussy drunk already. He bucks up, cock grazing your cunt as the trickle of urine tapers off until it stops.

Shivering, his fingers grip your waist even tighter and keens in his throat, ears flat on his skull. Globs of pearlescent spend spurt out from his tip, knot halfway filled out and balls drawn up tight.

“Oh Leon, are you cumming?” Your hand cups the base of his cock, fingers loosely wrapped around him to feel him throb as cum oozes down his shaft.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean to,” he gasps, tears running down his face. “I promise I didn’t mean to, miss owner. Just felt too good.”

“Yeah?” You whisper, eyes flicking down to his hard dick.

“Uh huh,” he shivers again, dilated eyes staring at your pussy. “Wanna make you cum now.”

“I won’t say no to that,” you grin and he gives you a lopsided smile. “Let’s get cleaned up a little first and we’ll move this to the bedroom.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #lipglossanon kinktober 2024 #hybrid au #hybrid!leon #hybrid!leon s kennedy #puppy!leon #puppy!leon s kennedy #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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lewisvinga · 10 months ago

Text

mi reina | lando norris x latina! reader

summary; y/n’s success as a latina keeps growing and growing, especially after getting the lead of a new hit movie and lando is always there to praise her

fc; danna paola

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! when reader is latina >> also i just made up a movie bc i couldn’t think of one tbhhhh but can yall pls give me latina fcs bc i don’t wanna keep reusing the same ones 😣😣😣😣

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: a little bts from the godmother, thank you all for the love you’ve been showing me 🥹🥹🥹 los quiero a todos muchísimo [i love you all so much] ❤️❤️ don’t forget, the godmother is in theaters now!

landonorris: oh my

landonorris: mi novia [my girlfriend] is so gorgeous and talented 😍🤩🤩

yourusername: 🙈🙈

landonorris: WATCH HER MOVIE NOW.

username: we love a supportive bf liked by yourusername and landonorris !

username: MI REINAAA [my queen]

username: she ate w her role as maritza 😩😩

username: love u sm

lilymhe: YOU’RE SOOO AMAZINGG alex n i watched it twice in theaters already😭 we’re obsessed !!!

yourusername: so glad you enjoyed ☹️🩷🩷

alex_albon: i cried both times btw

yourusername: LMFAOOO

username: idk wether to be scared or turned on by maritza but y/n ate w her acting skills

alexandrasaintmleux: charles and i loved it! eres especial , y/n! [you’re special] 💗💗💗

yourusername: gracias alex🥹🥹

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt, and others !

yourusername: mi amorcito [my sweetheart] always sending my flowers even from miles away ❤️🥹 tqm🫶🫶 [ily]

tagged; landonorris

landonorris: the best flowers for the best actress always !

yourusername: lando ur too kind ☹️

landonorris: just telling the truth 😁😁😁😁

username: LA REINA DE LATINOAMÉRICA [the queen of latin america]

username:stoppp the bouquet is gorgeous

landonorris: just like her am i right 🤭

yourusername: omg lando 😩

username: she’s gorgeousss

username: he’s so bf coded

username: lando best bf iktr

carmenmmundt: gorgeous gorgeous girl🥹🥹 seeing the godmother again w george tonight 🙈🙈

yourusername: carrrmm🤭🤭

username: mis padres 🥹🥹🥹

username: i love them sm ur honor

username: how’d lando pull a bad bitch fr

landonorris: tbh i ask myself that everyday

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landonorris uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; reunited with my best girl🧡] [caption 2; recharging before the next week 🔋😴]

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liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and others !

landonorris: so unbelievably proud of you, mi amor. winning your first oscar and breaking records by becoming the first latina to win best actress, is there anything you can’t do? te quiero mucho, siempre soy orgulloso de ti. ❤️ [i love you so much, i’m always proud of you]

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: mi landitoooooo, te quiero 🥹

yourusername: couldn’t have done it without you by my side 💗💗💗

landonorris: are you kidding? you would’ve done it anyways! you’re truly the best actress 🧡🧡

username: HES SUCH ASUPPORTIVE BF IM IN TEARSSS

username: paving the way for latina actresses iktr 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

oscarpiastri: congratulations, y/n!! lily and i were cheering so hard for you! liked by landonorris and yourusername !

georgerussell63: congratulations y/n!!🎉🎉 liked by landonorris and yourusername !

username: he made a whole post for her i’m🥹🥹🥹

username: i need a bf as supportive as lando fr

username: she’s barbie and he’s just ken!

username:the way she ate everyone up oooou

username: MOTHER IS MOTHERINGG

lilymhe: AHHH Y/N IM IN TEARS I’M SO PROUDDD liked by landonorris and yourusername !

alexandrasaintmleux: 🥹almost shed tears seeing y/n receive the award 💗 so prouddd liked by landonorris and yourusername !

carlossainz55: enhorabuena, y/n! 👏👏[congratulations] liked by landonorris and yourusername !

username: mi reina 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

username: no one’s gonna mention lando speaking spanish for her😩😩😩😩

username: hes dating a latina baddie he is legally required to

username: duhhh he’s dating la reina de latinoamérica 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️ [the queen of latin america]

landonorris: mi reina 😁😁 [my queen]

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #lando norris smau #lando norris x y/n #lando norris scenarios #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine

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fluorynn · 2 months ago

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〴 📘 — AU!𝙃𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣!𝙇𝙤’𝙖𝙠 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜 : @jioohyo @bambithewriter @rivatar @sunofpandora @xylianasblog @ikeyniofthetayrangi @plantgirliewholovespandora @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @pandoranbean @literallynpbody

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚢 : @cafekitsune !!!

Subject that human!Lo’ak doesn’t like ?

MATH. ANY type – algebra, geometry, calculus, precalculus – human!Lo’ak might be shit at it

Or rather, people THINK he’s not very good at it — geometry, algebra, calculus, precalculus, anything math related — and he even believes that he is not good at it because he just lets others’ opinions get to him

It isn’t precisely that he doesn’t like the subject - it just has too many numbers, strategies, and – letters???

I’m sure he’s the type to think once he sees letters involved in an equation that he will be very, very dubious and not at all try to solve it.

“Why can’t you just let numbers have their own category and leave the fucking alphabet out of it bro-”

HOWEVER, if he does try, he comprehend and is actually very good at it.

Very smart, just people think him to not be “Neteyam smart” that it pisses him off, drains him, then he doesn’t give a shit in trying anymore

Leave the poor guy alone though, he tries his best and is VERY INTELLIGENT.

… I see Lo’ak being into video games — try tearing the guy away from a game console.

Human!Lo’ak is that guy during gaming nights—loud, animated, and absolutely relentless. He’ll trash-talk like there’s no tomorrow, but he’s the first to cheer everyone up if they lose.

From COD to Minecraft and Fortnite and NBA2k24 and Roblox and Mario Kart 8 Deluxe

it is freaking WAR when the entire family plays Mario Kart.

Just imagine that. Paint the picture, folks.

Don’t want to? Fine, I’ll more than gladly paint it.

I think while Neytiri thinks and finds video games to be stupid, she overhears Lo’ak saying she just sucks and is scared to lose.

It may be war with the entire family playing, but it is scorching HELL when she’s playing only against him.

Even Jake sheds a sweat, and he’s already out of the round.

Kiri, who didn’t really want to play to begin with, actually perks up a bit while sitting on the sofa, even cheering and siding with her mom

Tuk would be that one person who doesn’t know who to cheer for so she’s cheering for them all —

Best believe momma Neytiri is gonna beat the shit out that game though.

And a rolling on the floor while sobbing Lo’ak too after savoring her victory.

Jake is so proud to call her his wife akakkssklksls

Oh, and COD, call of duty, is definitely his father-son bonding time with Jake. They’re a badass duo when playing a match— it’s like the one of the rare times that they’re on the same page and Jake’s giving him compliments back to back—

Prides himself with all them compliments, even rubs it in Neteyam’s face who would just smirk and roll his eyes but let his little brother have his enjoyment

Human!Lo’ak probably teaches Tuk how to play video games —

While he’s doing his own thing she probably goes into his room and plays on his computer or X-box.

Tuk will definitely get him to play other games like Stumble Guys or download apps on his phone that he pretends not to like but secretly plays them on his own.

tuk : “hey how did I get 1st on the leaderboard??”

She’s not complaining tho —

Also, plays Roblox a LOT with Tuk, Kiri, and if Neteyam is not busy with his own thing, even him.

Group chat between the Sullys, Spider, Ao’nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo.

When they all play roblox, it gets wild.

Human!Lo’ak definitely gets banned for a week from the dumb shit he be saying with Ao’nung — even sometimes Neteyam.

“Mom, you’ll never believe why Lo’ak got banned from [👠HEELS baddies]”

“Kiri, shut up! — ”

One time invited Tsireya to play rainbow friends with Tuk

Tsireya would be sobbing as to why her crush / boyfriend and his little sister play such things —

Human!Lo’ak is intelligent— VERY intelligent but like … chooses not to use that intelligence quite often and wounds up in trouble?

Definitely let’s intrusive thoughts take over.

He’s washing the dishes, holds a spoon, stares at it for awhile before putting it under the water when already knowing it’s gonna create a whole frigging waterfall.

Human!Lo’ak is very goofy — this very natural charm that’s almost so ridiculous?

But, human!Lo’ak has the best sense of humor, naturally funny — can make one laugh with anything.

If he heard someone try to crack a joke that’s not exactly funny, he pats them in the back and just gives them a small smile and laugh. “Bro— you tried.”

Acknowledges the joke though, because he know how it feels to be in awkward situations and how it feels to go by ignored.

And if he heard someone make a joke that makes someone uncomfortable or is just something mean and stupid, he looks at them with a ‘wtf’ stare, or looks at them as if they’re high and tells them to shut up.

Definitely had an Xxxtencion phase, a Captain Underpants phase, a Dog Man phase, and a Rocket Raccoon phase.

Human!Lo’ak tries and pretty much is caught up with the latest rap music — he vibes to it.

Give this guy some Afrobeats — he thinks he’s the shit

Human!Lo’ak would be randomly bursting to song in Neteyam’s perplexed face or Kiri’s annoyed face while Tuk sings along with him and makes the identical face Lo’ak makes.

I’m certain human!Lo’ak discreetly listens to K-Pop.

Kiri and Tsireya — even Rotxo gets him into it.

“What’re you guys even listening to? This is so lame.”

Meanwhile, his AirPod is blasting ‘Cherry bomb’ by NCT 127 —

Oh my gosh, Kiri would be listening to “House of Cards (Full Length Edition)” in her room and Lo’ak could come in to ask her some random ass shit while the main part of the song is playing, and he could be getting into some body rolls to go along with the song’s rhythm.

Meanwhile, Kiri’s just sobbing in the corner because of the meaning behind the song — (iykyk)

Very much The Neighbourhood and Chase Atlantic coded.

Even Bryson Tiller — he can vibe to SZA too.

Definitely yells the lyrics to her SOS album — especially Open Arms to Tsireya as he holds her face in hands, singing Travis Scott’s part to her.

Meanwhile poor cutie is just confused but is allowing him to express himself in however way he needs to, lmao

Sprinkles of Bruno Mars and Coldplay. Ali Gatie, Arctic Monkeys and MANESKIN too in his taste of music ( just my opinion —)

Human!Lo’ak loves snacks and always seems to have a stash of chips, candy, or homemade treats. He’s also the one who combines weird flavors (“Trust me, it’s good!”) and gets surprisingly defensive about his food experiments.

I also feel he can be one of those guys that can eat 5 cheese burgers, yet also remains shockingly toned and fit?

While going to the gym is somewhat a priority for him, he might skip leg day here and there. ( regrets it tho, Kiri could make fun of his skinny legs. Even Neytiri tries to feed him more.)

Human!Lo’ak enjoys adventure. Growing up close to the land (thanks to Jake and Neytiri’s influence), he has a deep respect for the outdoors.

I think while he enjoys his video games and playing sports ( see him doing basketball and baseball. Would even try soccer ) he likes departing from that for a bit and wants to go exploring.

Wether it be around the neighborhood, a random Walmart, the park, forest, hiking

He has a hobby for photography has a secondhand camera that he takes everywhere, snapping candid photos of his adventures, friends, and the moments that matter to him.

His photos are raw and authentic, capturing life in a way that reflects his love for the untamed.

He’s the type to go to the park and walk with siblings ( spider included ), friends, and while you’re down the path you’re supposed to be following, and if there’s a deep forest to the side he’d definitely be the one to suggest — more so already be doing — to go down there and check out if there’s anything interesting.

He hears a branch break? He’d either be, “nope, why’d you make me do this” or, he’d hold it together and tease the others if their scared when he’s the one secretly crapping himself —

Sensitive.

Human!Lo’ak is definitely sensitive, but chooses to mask the hurt with something harsh or very, very teasing when it’s actually a jab of an insult.

Human!Lo’ak has a loud laugh and loves making others smile with his antics, but he sometimes uses humor as a shield for his insecurities.

He hides the fact that he feels like he doesn’t quite fit in anywhere.

Human!Lo’ak might cry when he’s angry or very frustrated. The browns of his eyes become more clear and their shape more prominent — he looks so much like Neytiri when this occurs.

When human!Lo’ak is alone and he trips over air, he definitely laughs to himself and gives himself a face smack.

Human!Lo’ak’s room is a chaotic blend of random posters, discarded clothes, and half-finished DIY projects. Despite the mess, there’s an undeniable charm to it—it feels alive and uniquely his.

Eats cereal out of the box and drinks milk out of carton — Neytiri smacks him for it while getting Jake to scold him ( even though it’s Jake that taught him how to do that when he was little and ever since has always done it —)

Human!Lo’ak wears the necklaces Tuk makes for him — pretending he doesn’t like them and makes the excuse that they don’t go with his fit, but, he still wears it because why would he not?

At some point him along with the rest of his siblings, including his parents, have matching jewelry because of Tuk

Human!Lo’ak has a phase where he wears Kiri’s old magnetic earrings before she got her ears pierced because he was too scared to get his own pierced.

Eventually he goes and gets them pierced with Kiri who’s getting, like her fourth piercing on her ears —

Human!Lo’ak messes with Kiri just for fun, but he likes hanging out with her — won’t admit it to her of course , but if anyone else bothers her, he’ll beat their behind — no matter if they’re 10 times bigger than him.

Definitely gets introduced to customizing his shit because of Kiri.

From his sneakers to his backpack, Lo’ak loves personalizing his belongings with graffiti-style art, stickers, or patches. Everything he owns reflects his bold and creative personality.

Human!Lo’ak sings at least one of Taylor Swift or Britney Spears’ songs very randomly — or if he hears Tuk singing a Disney song, he’d get into character and dramatically sing along — even if he hears Kiri softly singing to herself, he’d do the same too.

Gets into character, gets a little sassy and does these hand waves.

( kiri definitely records Lo’ak without him noticing and later on sends it to the gc they have with their other friends)

Oh my gosh I’m sure him and Spider had the idea to start a band and join the army, including Neteyam when they were between 7–10

Neytiri, despite thinking Spider might be some kind of bad influence on her kids, allows this — she even records them ‘performing’ when they’re just really banging shit and singing God knows what —

They look so goofy when they try playing soldiers, they’re wearing Jake’s and Quaritch’s old clothes that’s too big for them, but it’s adorable

Human!Lo’ak looks very happy, jumping over Neteyam’s back as his big brother smiles largely and freely, while Spider’s head is hooked beneath Neteyam’s arm with a two-front teeth gone smile, and Kiri’s in the back using the camouflage gear as a way to blend and connect with nature —

Human!Lo’ak is not used to physical touch.

He somewhat shrinks away from it, unless it is from someone he is 100 percent comfortable with.

Physical touch is not a major thing I think is included in his family. Unless it’s something grand.

HOWEVER, I do think when it’s an s/o, he’d like the idea of them being around.

Not entirely PDA, but he would have their arms ‘accidentally’ bump into one another while walking side by side, or s/o catches on, and just lets their arms touch at all times.

100 percent a hopeless romantic.

Human!Lo’ak has a soft spot for love stories, even if he’d never admit it.

He’s the type to scribble cheesy lines in his notebooks and go all-out for someone he cares about, like creating a mixtape or planning a starlit picnic.

Human!Lo’ak was definitely dropped by Jake as a child, so many fucking times to the point where Neytiri did not allow Jake to grab him.

Neytiri dropped him once too though— that was Lo’ak’s fault for squirming too much though, Jake never let her hear the end of it whenever Tuk was born and she was hesitant to let him hold her.

Human!Lo’ak fell off the bed a lot during his nap times as a toddler

Definitely almost accidentally always bangs his head against something 😭

At this point, do not be surprised if he’s in the state of memory loss

Human!Lo’ak definitely let’s put a random screech of anger after doing something that’s so frustrating for a long time

Human!Lo’ak is a magnet to stray animals — they’re practically drawn to his energy.

He’s the type to bring home stray dogs or befriend the random raccoon that keeps raiding the trash.

His family often rolls their eyes, but most definitely find the whole thing amusing.

Tuk goes to school and flexes that her brother is King of Animals —

Neytiri ensures her kids remain connected to their heritage, and human!Lo’ak appreciates it more than he lets on.

He wears small tokens or bracelets that symbolize his culture and finds solace in its traditions, even when he feels out of place.

Human!Lo’ak dreams big, even if he doesn’t know how.

Lo’ak often talks about grand ideas—traveling the world, building a better future, or making a name for himself.

He doesn’t always have a plan, but his enthusiasm is infectious.

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robinsno1lesbian · 6 months ago

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I want Robin to teach the reader how to use a strap in the WORST way. Experienced Robin teaching us how to put it on and take her apart? Please 🥵

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞! ᯓᡣ𐭩

- r.b. x reader

summary: robin teaches reader how to use the strap on her! (1.4k)

warnings: SMUT!! (mdni), strap-on sex (robin receiving), finger sucking, use of pet names (baby, good girl), established relationship, not a warning but i literally finished this at the beach and did not beta read so….anyway, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i started writing this forever ago (like…last year??) & figured i’d make it a part of my summer fanfics! find my summer fic masterlist here & feel free to send your own requests! <3

experienced robin who helps you put on the strap for the first time. you’re all shy about it, unsure of where to put your hands, but she’s being so gentle and patient with you. she kisses the buckles of the harness, whispering words of encouragement to you as she secures them in place.

“such a pretty girl”, “just look at you”, “so beautiful and all for me hm?”. she taps her index finger against the different parts, explaining how they are supposed to sit against your body, how they will fit inside hers.

you wish to hide your face in her soft, soothing pillows against your back. but robin shedding her clothes right in front of you is too good of a sight to see.

“still okay?” she breathes once she’s straddling your thighs, open mouth ghosting along your jaw slowly. the plastic cock is resting against her belly like this, flush against her freckled skin.

you nod, “yes”, and even with both eyes closed you can sense the soft smile that curls up her lips when she hears your approval.

“good” robin hums as she places a featherlight kiss to the side of your neck. the gesture draws another shuddered breath from you. “open up, baby”

you blink against the warm light that floods your vision when you open your eyes. she’s holding out her fingers, head tilted slightly. you know what she wants immediately.

obediently, you part your lips for the girl on top of you. robin runs her hands through your hair, soothing you with a proud hum when you take her fingers into your mouth and feel them press down on your tongue.

“that’s it” she coos. they feel good against you, a firm pressure at the pack of your throat. robin makes sure they’re nice and wet before she withdraws them. she brings the saliva stained digits down, all the way down, until she wraps them around the silicone that’s strapped to your body. the side of her nose brushes yours playfully whilst she pumps her fist along the length of the toy, using your spit to lube it up. she presses a quick kiss to your lips, smiling against your mouth sweetly, before she removes her hand from around the silicone shaft and sits up on her knees.

“i’m gonna-“ she reaches around the strap and lines it up with her entrance. you haven’t felt it yourself yet, but given her confidence, you’re almost certain she’s soaked. “…sit now. okay?”

“mhm” you nearly whimper through tight lips.

“good girl” she says, lowering her body onto the toy. the words morph into a satisfying sigh as they fall from her lips. robin’s lashes flutter and her jaw goes slack when she takes the toy in as far as it’ll go, until her body sits flush against yours. she remains silent for a second, adjusting to the new sensation, before she looks down at you. she smiles breathlessly, then, and cups your face in her hands.

she wiggles her hips from left to right slightly, trying to find the perfect angle on top of you. all you can do is watch, stunned by the mere sight above you. the only thing she’s wearing is the necklace you gave her as an anniversary gift: a delicate silver chain with a charm dangling from it. the first letter of your name, right between robin’s breasts. claiming her as yours.

her arm, dusted in freckles like the rest of her, comes down to rest her palm against the headboard behind you. you’re still unsure where to put your own hands; too many places to choose from, a seemingly endless amount of skin exposed to you just like that.

“you’re so pretty” you finally manage and run your hands up her side. robin shivers. she runs her free hand over your rosy cheeks, letting you adjust to the new situation as well.

“mhm” robin murmurs. “okay? can i move baby?”

“more than okay” you manage, your voice cracking weakly.

“here” she offers and guides your hands to her hips. “hold me like this and-“

she lifts herself up, just to drop her weight back down onto the strap on, your thighs nestling against hers.

“oh” robin moans. her head falls back and her eyes close when the toy strokes against her g-spot. your hands instinctively tighten against her hips. you want to guide her, watch her as she bounces on it, chasing her own pleasure.

she arches her back and raises her hips, thrusting down on you again and again until she’s built a steady rhythm.

“yes, yes, yes” she chants every time her skin slaps against yours. “oh my god, y/n, baby, that’s so good”

with your confidence (as well as your arousal) growing from the praise, you hold onto her hips and shyly lift your own body to fuck the toy into her deeper. robin moans, loud, when to find the exact angle that seems to do it for her. her pussy throbs and you’re almost certain you can feel her arousal against yourself each time her weight drops.

in the heat of the moment the two of you are creating, robin’s mouth still manages to find yours. it’s all tongue and teeth, her hand grabbing your cheeks and pulling your lips apart with her thumb.

“i love you” she moans and you can only watch in fascination when her pretty, blue eyes roll back in pleasure. her bangs are stuck to the sweat on her forehead and her chest rises and falls rapidly. she’s mesmerizing like this. she always is, really, but this might be your new favorite sight to see. “i love you, i love you, i love you”

you’re panting too, even though robin’s the one doing most of the work; riding you so prettily. you can hear it each time the strap sinks back inside her, her cunt squelching with her arousal.

“i love you too”

“fuck” robin moans, her voice even raspier than usual. “fuck baby this is so good”

your own cunt is pulsing, aching to be touched, to get any sort of relief after watching your girlfriend lose it like that for the very first time. you’re pretty sure it’ll leave a stain on her sheets; you can already feel it leaking from your body.

“you’re doing s’good” robin praises, grunting in both exhaustion and pleasure above you. “making me feel so good baby- shit-“

you can sense her pace faltering: her hips stutter and her thighs tremble, a sign that she’s getting closer to her release. you know this won’t do it yet though.

carefully, you put your fingers between her thighs. a gasp falls from your lips when you feel her wetness smeared all over her inner thighs.

“holy shit”

“touch me baby” she urges. “so close. be a good girl and touch me”

you swallow and rub your index and middle finger in slow circles around her stiff clit, matching the pace of her body against your own. robin whines and lets her forehead fall against yours. she’s no longer bouncing on your strap, just rutting back against it in short, desperate thrusts while chasing her release.

“gonna cum baby” she moans. “you’re gonna make me cum. you’re gonna make me cum!”

you nod, it’s all you can do in your trance like state, and press your fingers against her clit so she can grind her hips against them however she wants.

“baby baby baby” she babbles breathlessly, her head tilting backwards. “fuck- fuck s’good- i’m gonna- i’m cumming”

robin comes with a shout of your name, her eyes pinched shut tightly. you feel her release gush around the strap and over your thighs but you can’t be bothered to turn your gaze away. she’s beautiful when she cums, yet you’ve never seen her quite like this: with her hair clinging to her face -contorted in pleasure- and her thighs trembling around yours when her hips still eventually. robin keeps grinding against the cock, dragging her clit against your fingers while the pleasure washes over her.

finally, she drops her weight against you, and you wrap your arms around her warm, shaking body.

“fuck y/n” she mumbles against the crook of your neck. you can feel the pebbled skin of her nipples press against your body.

“earth to robin” you chuckle, huffing out a gentle chuckle.

“i’m good” the other girl assures you, her lips pressing the softest of kisses against your skin right where her mouth rests against your shoulder. “so good baby. was that okay?”

“okay?” you repeat, almost in disbelief. “baby that was-“ you stammer, trying to find the words to articulate just how ‘okay’ it was.

robin chuckles and you feel the vibrations of the noise against your chest.

“come here” she murmurs, lifting herself up to meet your lips halfway.

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader smut #robin buckley smut #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

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chevroletdean · 6 days ago

Text

sibling!reader dealing with demon!dean headcanons (req.) ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: None, just platonic Winchester!Reader (fem) and her brothers Genre: Angst, fluff To note/warnings: Hurt/comfort, grief (temporary character death, as in Sam and Reader think Dean died), canon level violence A/N: A great way to start the year is definitely getting a cool request by @midnight--raine! Tysm, dear, your praise means a lot to me <3 and I 100% agree, Demon!Dean is terrifying. Still my favorite arc ever, because I’m a sucker for the nitty, gritty, dark and scary, but yes. Credit & links: dividers ──〃★ request here

Sam’s heart breaks twice that day. For one, there is the crushing grief that comes with watching the life disappear from his brother’s eyes. Then the realization: How could he possibly tell his sister what happened? Dean’s death is tearing him apart, and he knows it will absolutely destroy her.

There’s no easy way to deliver the news. But, alas, he’s spending a good amount of time sitting alone in the Impala, Dean’s lifeless body in the backseat. The ride back to the bunker was the hardest ever, the silence nearly driving him insane. Sam is thinking back and forth on what to say, what to do.

He knows waltzing in, carrying the corpse is not an option. If anything, Sam doesn’t want her to see Dean like that at all. Though he figures she’ll probably want to see for herself.

She probably already knows something bad happened the second Sam enters the bunker. Of course she does, her brothers have trained her to stay alert 24/7, to look at her surroundings with a keen eye — Dean would be so proud of her people reading skill right now. Sam’s by himself and his expression… he’s devastated, though he tries to keep it together for her sake. It can only mean one thing.

It feels wrong right away. She can tell. It’s obvious when he doesn’t answer her questions. “Where’s Dean?” Silence. It speaks volumes. “It’s not funny, this is a dumb prank.” Sam still can’t bring himself to speak up.

She runs past him, straight outside to look for Dean, even when Sam tries to stop her.

Sam’s glad he thought of draping a jacket over Dean’s body before talking to his sister. She shouldn’t have to see her brother so lifeless, after all. This view alone, even just through the car window, is enough to traumatize her.

What happened isn’t his fault, but Sam still apologizes over and over again. He can just stand there and feel guilty while he’s holding her shaky form.

It’s not their first rodeo with death and while it doesn’t make it any less sad, her tears convince Sam even more that he has to fix this, somehow.

That night she can’t sleep. Nothing can console her, not even Sam. Though she is grateful to have him at her side.

It’s the same for Sam, honestly. With both of them restless, they dig through the library, they try to find anything to bring Dean back.

In the end, she’ll probably fall asleep right at the desk, her eyes heavy and sore from crying and reading. It’s not a peaceful slumber by all means, it’s more like her brain and body just shut down.

Sam carries her to her room, but the second he tucks her into bed and wants to leave again, she wakes and sobs again.

She’s terrified to spend the night alone, nightmares haunting her. If it were for her, she’d be up and in the library again, but Sam manages to make her agree to a compromise: She will try and get some rest and he will stay with her.

None of them get another wink of sleep that night, she’s staining Sam’s shirt with tears while he’s busy brushing his fingers through her hair.

The next couple of days are rough. The bunker feels like a graveyard, Dean’s presence is definitely missing.

She finds herself wanting to prank her brother like every morning — she’d always exchange his shampoo bottle with the ketchup bottle, shed secretly put a Celine Dion cassette in the Impala. Now, there’s no point for any of that.

Instinctively she grabs onto any piece of Dean she still has. She takes one of his shirts to wear, his scent still lingering in the fabric. She doesn’t touch the piece of pie in the fridge, which she’d usually steal, but she wants to keep it there, preserve it, just in case Dean will magically return.

When Dean’s body disappears, it’s like losing him all over again at first. He’s suddenly gone, again, and panic sets in. And it feels even more permanent. However, it’s also a glimmer of hope, right? He has to be somewhere, so is he alive after all?

Sam’s more reluctant to get his hopes up high. He’s dealt with heavy losses before. Seeing his sister motivated to find Dean is a double-edged sword. It’s the first time since Dean’s death that he sees her eyes sparkle again. But he’s also scared she’ll break down even more when this turns out to be another tragedy.

It’s because of that very reason that Sam’s working on this without telling his sister. He hates keeping secrets from her, he hates lying to her, but he can’t bring himself to feed into her delusions only for her to end up even more hurt. So, when he’s able to track Dean down, he’s not telling anyone.

It bites him in the ass. While Sam’s out trying to find Dean, Dean’s already on the way to find her.

She looks like she’s seen a ghost, honestly. Wide eyes staring at him and filled with tears. Suddenly all her hunting skills are out the window. She doesn’t care to throw holy water at him, she doesn’t think of nicking him with silver. Demons, skinwalkers, none of it exists to her in that moment. All she can think about is her big brother being back.

She jumps right into his arms, scolding him, whining and sniffling and hugging him with a death grip.

Dean’s quiet, eerily so, but that’s not enough to make her suspect anything just yet. Maybe he’s tired, maybe she’s confused, it’s so much all at once. She refuses to let go of him, afraid he’ll slip away again, so she drags him to the kitchen and happily presents the piece of pie to him.

Dean doesn’t even touch it. Hell, he’s not even looking at it.

She quickly texts Sam, letting him know Dean’s back at the bunker. Then, when she looks up from her phone again and sees Dean not eating, she’s starting to get doubtful.

Dean not digging into pie? Is he sick or something? “You okay?”

There’s a grin on Dean’s lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and it feels off. It feels dangerous. “Never felt better.”

The wheels are turning in her head and her blood runs cold. She didn’t do any of the routine checks. Why didn’t she do any of the routine checks? Sam and Dean have taught her better, but she was so caught up in the moment and…

Her phone buzzes and Sam’s reply is simple. ‘That is not Dean.’ Her eyes widen. ‘Demon. Get away.’

The three or four seconds she spent looking at her phone are what almost gets her killed. It’s plenty of time for Dean to grab the kitchen knife and aim it at his sister instead of the pie.

She manages to dodge, somehow, although Dean makes it sound like he just enjoys playing with his prey. As his eyes turn jet-black, she knows she’s in trouble.

“I’ll give you a headstart, sis,” he hums and even his voice sounds so twisted, so wrong.

“Headstart?,” she echoes. “Dean, please, you don’t wanna—”

“Ten… Nine…”

He absolutely wants to. Sam’s right, this isn’t Dean. Not their Dean.

She bolts out of the kitchen as fast as she can. The bunker is big, but the problem remains that they all know it inside and out — where can she possibly hide? Should she lock herself in the dungeon? Should she ditch the place altogether?

“Six… Five…”

Panicked, she just makes a run for it, not knowing where to quite yet, but knowing it had to be away. As far away as possible. She scrambles to find a weapon, anything to fend off a demon, though she hates the thought of fighting against Dean. Not only would she not stand a chance against her brother, she could never bring herself to harming him or his vessel.

“Ready or not here I come.”

She’s definitely not ready. He could’ve given her a minute, an hour, a freakin’ year, nothing could prepare her for such a chase.

Stupidly, she decides to hide in Dean’s room. It’s far from the safest option, but it’s where her feet have carried her. She can’t really think of any room in the bunker that could protect her from the demonic version of her brother, but here at least, she’s surrounded by happy memories, right?

She’s holding her breath, clutching Ruby’s knife in her trembling hand.

It’s only through a trick that she’s able to survive. Of course, Dean finds her, but she’s fast and able to (a) distract him long enough to make preparations and (b) then lure him to the dungeons.

Dean’s not dumb, he knows there’s a devil’s trap. But he didn’t know there were two of them. She’s haphazardly drawn one he didn’t see until he is standing in it.

Bless all the times she has cursed in the past. She has complained to Sam so often whenever he had forced her to practice drawing pentagrams. She’ll make sure to thank him for it later.

Speaking of the devil, Sam returns just a bit later. He must’ve broken several traffic laws racing back to the bunker, but between that and his sister’s safety, she obviously came first.

He thought she’d be pissed at him for lying to her, but she has a priority too right now: Turning Dean into a human again.

It’s definitely not an easy task. More specifically, it’s downright nauseating to witness the purification process. Dean’s clearly suffering, the pain must be agonizing, but they are able to heal him.

Dean’s back, and he’s human again and it’s all she could’ve ever asked for.

Now, for Dean? Shit, he won’t be able to look into the mirror for a very long time. He always sees himself as the family’s protector. His siblings are his world and to think he attacked his baby sister? It’s killing him.

He feels so guilty he’s not able to look her in the eyes, let alone talk to her or touch her.

Which is why when she hugs him, clinging to his form sobbing, he thinks he doesn’t deserve that kind of trust. His greatest fear is that she’s now scared of him. She’d have every right to be, he attacked her with a damn knife.

“It wasn’t you. It was your body, but not your mind. I mean, that thing comes up with all sorts of dumb things, but not that kind of dumb.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that, of course she’s already back to sibling banter. How she manages to pretend like nothing happened is beyond him.

The events stick with him for a very long time, they never fully disappear from his conscience. He wishes he could wipe the memory of your panicked eyes from his brain, but that image will still haunt him in his grave.

Something has changed though. His shampoo is shampoo and his cassettes are his cassettes. There’s always pie in the fridge and she’s not playing any pranks on him anymore.

It makes him feel even worse. Especially when she explains to him that she’d rather be nice to her pain-in-the-ass brother and have him alive than be mean and have him dead.

“You know one thing doesn’t have anything to do with the other, right?”

It almost sounds like she’s blaming herself. As if Dean’s death was her punishment for bickering 24/7. It’s not right, if anyone should be feeling guilty, it’s him. And he does. God, he does.

It’s very obvious that she’s more afraid of losing him again than she is of the monster he’s become.

He’s set out on playing double the amount of pranks on her then, in hopes of getting some normalcy back. Of reminding his little sister that he’s still here, he’ll always be there. He’ll always be her pain-in-the-ass brother that’ll look out for her and keep her safe and play pranks on her.

When one morning he finds his toothbrush in a jar of pickles, bristles soaked in the vinegar-y liquid, it’s a small victory. Her post-it note with a smug smiley drawn on it is a step in the right direction.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist): @ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

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