#i miss her i need to play again but oof | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesummerpetrichor · 1 year ago

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𝓥𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓸 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼

Dads best friend!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: For years he’d lived in your head like a distant memory. Something too good, too far away to attain. You shouldn’t be so hurt he’d left his old life behind, but how could you not be, when you had been such a big part of it? But you can’t hold a grudge. Not when he’s standing in front of you– doing everything to prove he’s not a stranger.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, dads best friend trope, morally questionable relationship, minor angst, chunky age gap [reader is in her 20s Javi is in his 40s], banter, lotsa sweet moments, explicit language, explicit sexual content, couch sex, inebriated sex, cigarette and weed smoking, alcohol, dom!javi, sub!reader, pet names [cariño, baby, babygirl etc.], dirty talk, major praise kink! [lotsa good girl action iykwim] some over the clothes action, grinding, fingering, unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if I missed anything!! <;3

Word count: 12.8k oops

A/N: Oof this took longer than I thought it would but I’m so excited for you to read it. Javier is the man of my dreams here 🥺. lotsa porn for you nasties. morally questionable relationship fr but it’s fiction so we’ll forgive Javi. I hope you darlings enjoy! Mwah 💗

Masterlist

Swinging in the backyard

Pull up in your fast car

Whistling my name

Open up a beer

And you say, "Get over here

And play a video game"

The last time you saw him you remember all but tackling him to the ground as he walked through your front door. He had bought you a special edition copy of your favourite Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, and DVDs of ‘film noir’ movies– the kind your dad didn’t like you watching. You spent the days reading as he smoked cigars by your pool, and you remember your father joking about his ‘bad influence’ as he poured you drinks in the evenings.

That was several years ago, and now all you had left of him was a hazy memory of that distant summer, a fading image of his golden eyes glittering in the setting sun, and your copy of “The Little Mermaid”. That had been the last that he’d visited you– before his work got in the way, before he decided he’d rather stay in Bogotá than come home.

Your life had gone on, and while every year you wondered whether he’d make his grand appearance, as you grew older you came to terms with the realisation that it would just be you and your old man lounging on the patio on those treasured, warm, golden evenings. At university you were pursuing those dreams you always wanted to, the ones your father wasn’t so keen on you chasing, the ones you’d confess to him when he would drive you around the city– to that faraway ice cream place no one else would take you to.

He was all cigarettes and whiskey and secret promises.

“He’ll literally kill us, it's midnight.” It was too late, he was grabbing his keys and jacket, and despite your better judgement the thought of the fairy lights by the beach as you walked with your mint chocolate chip cones had you giggling as you followed him out the door. It was your 18th birthday. “He doesn’t need to know now, does he, cariño?”

He’d telephone your father once in a while, you knew because your house would fill with laughter only invoked by one culprit. You wondered what adventures he was on, were they like the ones he’d tell you as you sat by his side till the early hours of the morning? You wondered if he even remembered– remembered you.

But now you were in Bogotá, in the sweltering June heat, suitcase in hand, scanning the crowd for a face you barely remembered. You were scared, stupidly so, worried that your physical proximity would do nothing to mend his distance. You worried he wouldn't see you as he did before, wouldn't remember your inside jokes, your mischief, how you’d beg him to take you to that dance bar because your dad didn’t like you going alone. That he had somehow morphed into someone you couldn't recognize. You felt hot all over once again, and this time no thanks to the summer sun.

Your head turned left to right, and you spotted among the crowd families reuniting, couples kissing hello, young people returning home, lone travellers, lonely travellers, and in the hustle bustle a black leather jacket walking briskly towards you. He looked older, and tired, but his eyes still sparkled the way you remembered, still turned golden when they met the sun. From the distance he spotted you, and you watched expectantly as his furrowed brows relaxed into a calm, almost surprised expression. You felt a little short of breath, felt suddenly larger than life, as he neared you, your mind spinning and hoping, praying that he was still the man you knew.

“What have you done with my cariño?”

He was looking down at you with that same smile. Everything about him was really the same. He still smelt like tobacco and cedarwood perfume, still wore the same leather jacket, the same faded, button up shirt– with the first two buttons undone. In a moment you felt your mind's eye reconstruct those waning images of him you once cherished, from the dells of memory. And now you saw him vividly, reclining in his chair, sipping his whiskey, leaning on your porch, hair falling in his face in soft curls as he lit his cigarette.

He was a lot more handsome than you recalled.

“Hi” You were smiling so wide your face hurt, and despite the years of his absence there was a familiarity you found comfort in, a sense of belonging, and maybe naively… longing. His hands moved to grab you by the shoulders, and he stepped back to get a good look at you, almost examining how time had passed. “Lookat’ ya, university girl now huh, smart cookie?” The way he looked at you had your heart pitter pattering– with so much pride, and gentleness, and adoration.

Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, holding your head against him. Waves of calm washed over you, an immediate reassurance you were desperate for. It was his non reluctance, his lack of worry, the way he brought you into his arms like nothing else mattered. With a heavy sigh you collapsed into him, all the uneasiness you felt before melting away as you melted into his touch. He felt warm, and strong, and like you’d remembered.

He was everything you’d remembered.

You felt yourself relax. It had been a long day, a long time getting away from your father, who, despite the fact that you had been living alone for years now, had called you about a thousand times – reminding you to take all your things, to be careful, and importantly to not get into any trouble.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Javier, it was that he was trouble, trouble, trouble.

He was still smiling when he gently pulled away, still looking at you with the same enthusiasm. He was happy to see you. He chuckled as he let go of your shoulders, and you felt your chest swarm with butterflies when he grabbed you by the hand and twirled you around, and in typical Javier fashion produced a white lily from his shirt pocket, and tucked it behind your ear.

“Welcome to Bogotá cariño”

You felt your cheeks heat. For as long as you could remember you pretty much idolised him, and the longer you didn’t see him the more distant and adored he had become. You had worked that distant memory up so much, the memory of that fateful summer, that he’d come to be a symbol of fear and dread in your head. At least until that moment.

You felt silly for ever thinking he’d be different. And there he was, standing right in front of you, putting flowers behind your ear. You mumbled a soft thank you, securing the lily, which was inadvertently an excuse not to meet his overwhelming gaze.

“Your old man give you a hard time on the way up?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes. If there was one person who knew how much of a stickler for organisation and responsibility your father was, it was him. “He gave me an entire list of things to not do”. Javier’s deep baritone joined your laughter, and he shook his head in faux irritation at the mention of his best friend.

Reaching down for your bags he leaned beside your ear, and you felt your heart race when you turned your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze– at that glimmer in his eyes, his mischievous smile, and raised brow.

“Well, he’s no fun now, is he?”

And with that he was heading towards the exit.

—

I'm in his favourite sundress

Watchin' me get undressed

Take that body downtown

I say, "You the bestest"

Lean in for a big kiss

Put his favourite perfume on

Go play your video game

“He says I'm like you, y’know?” You leaned your elbow on the open window, knees to your chest as you sat curled up in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes were on the road, but his attention remained on you, and you were instantaneously reminded of your trips to the pier, your mint chocolate chip ice creams, and innocent secrets.

You felt warm and fuzzy inside, and your eyes wandered the beautiful Colombian city –the colours, and the smell of summer flowers, and food as it wafted out of the mom and pop restaurants you passed.

“Yeah, you a troublemaker?” He glanced at you momentarily, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. “”M not, but he thinks Dora’s wreckless for wandering around without her parents.`` His laugh was hearty and he had that smile, that tilt of his head you were sure had all the women around him swooning. You felt your cheeks heat at the thought, especially when he chided you. “Cariño” he dragged out every syllable of that treasured pet name, shaking his head, and raising his brows in your direction, teasingly. “Okay.. maybe I like to have a little fun, but I’m still not like you.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp his head whipped towards you. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?!” Your head was buzzing, he's still the same, the same.

“I’m good.” He rounded the corner, and you couldn’t help but wonder who else had been in the passenger side of his car, getting this view you so cherished. You didn’t know why you cared, or why you were even wondering in the first place. It wasn’t any of your business, but somewhere deep down it made your heart ache.

“I know you are honey.. Thought your dad was gonna’ have a fuckin’ heart attack when he called me.” You could only imagine. The poor man. The thought of him persuading Javier to convince you to stay with him for the sake of his peace of mind making you giggle.

“Can you blame him? It was either you or Maria, and somehow you're the better of the two evils.” When you decided to come to Bogotá you originally planned to stay with one of your close friends from university. She had offered you a room in her apartment for as long as you needed. The both of you had applied for the same summer program, and were looking forward to spending your vacation together. That was before you confessed that a certain somebody also lived in Bogotá. A somebody you weren’t initially keen on meeting again. Somebody you had planned to avoid at any cost during your stay.

You weren’t really sure why– if you wanted to keep him away out of spite, or convenience, or fear, but all you did know was that when Maria had practically forced you to ask your dad to give Javier a call you were nothing short of petrified. She would not let it go, even said you’d regret not meeting him, better yet staying with him after how much you’d talked him up in the time you knew her. She was so confident she placed a bet you’d give up her house for his in less than forty eight hours.

“I’m a cop, I’m the obvious choice here cariño” His confidence was charming. He was deceptively charming.

“Yeah. A terrible one.”

“Was a little shocked you wanted to see me..” sometimes you really thought he could read your mind. Not just in that moment, in fact he had a habit of hitting on right whatever you were thinking about, whatever was bothering you, things you felt you couldn’t tell anyone else because they wouldn’t understand. You were not sure if and how you wanted to respond, and if you did honestly whether he would know how much the whole situation had preoccupied you.

“Strictly practical. Wanted to see if you remembered me..”

“‘Course I remember you, been haunting me like a little ghost since I last visited..”. you thought you might just explode at his teasing. You asked yourself if he was being truthful, if he truly thought about you, about how he’d up and left.

“You’re the one that disappeared into thin air!” Undeniably, despite the laughter and banter there was a tension in the air– floating between the two of you heavy and low. But what was he expecting?

Thankfully, the car came to a slow and gradual stop at the side of a small side street, where you spotted a small glass door over which flowers blooming from the floor above had been cascading. “Where are we?”

“Mint chocolate chip” One hand on the wheel, the other grabbing his keys, he looked at you as he spoke, so matter of factly it made your heart flutter. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No pier, or fairy lights though, and no thrill of running from your papa.”

He remembered.

Heart bursting with love ache, you weren’t really sure what to say. As if he had anticipated your fears he seemed like he was coaxing you into your natural rhythm. Reminding you he wasn’t some stranger whose house you were staying in out of convenience. That you knew him, and that he knew you, remembered you.

“Thank god for the last one..” The memory fluttered between you two– the same thoughts, hovering between your heads. He was opening the door, taking a quick check of the traffic. You stayed put, finding your bearings. With one hand extended he beckoned you towards him, offering his arm when you hopped out the car on wobbly feet. “Oh hush, you loved it, cariño. And he knew, I told him the next day.”

With locked arms you crossed the street, and as if no time had passed you had squished yourself to his side, and had smacked him against the shoulder lightly at his admission. “What?! Traitor!”

“I handled it.” He sounded quite impressed with himself, and when you tilted your head and locked eyes with him you noticed how he looked quite impressed as well. You pressed your cheek against his arm, the leather of his jacket brushing against your warm cheeks.

“You were always the fun one.”

A large ‘OPEN’ sign stared you blank in the face, that was until Javier had gently tucked a finger under your chin, and delicately directed your eyes towards him. “He’s your dad, ‘s not supposed to be the fun one..” he softly remarked, his smile remained, and you felt nothing but warmth, and comfort from his presence.

The moment fell naturally, and he reached forward to pull the door open for you, letting skip ahead of him and into the store. “Feels like my 18th all over again.”

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You're the boss Peña, give me the word, and it’s done.” You caught Javier’s reflection in the mirror as you sat down to get ready. Fresh out the shower it took about three seconds for the summer heat to get back at you. He liked to keep his place freezing, and at times like that you could only be grateful– the cool air soothing your scorched skin.

Carillo, Murphy– you could recognize the voices as they bounced off the wall, the same men you’d met when they barged into his home unceremoniously at six in the morning. You would have preferred to meet them in actual clothes rather than your pyjamas, and maybe outside instead of infront of your concerningly large cup of coffee, but they seemed to be used to finding unexpected guests in Javier’s apartment early in the morning.

Regardless of the fact that they’d interrupted your quiet breakfast with Javier, they were really nice people. Carillo’s wife even sent some snacks over with him the next time he visited. One because she wanted you to try the local food, and two because “Javier had nothing in his kitchen.”

“I will. soon as that dick Stechner gets out of my fuckin’ way” reaching to put you necklace on you watched as Javier moved out of your field of vision for a quick moment, returning with a glass filled with ice and an ashtray. What were they talking about? You never really asked about his job, you'd tried to talk him out of it many times, but he never budged. One day he hated it, one day he didn’t.

What he was like at work was a point of endless curiosity for you– he just seemed so different. If you were being honest he seemed like an asshole. In the few times you’d seen him interact with his partners he’d barely cracked a smile, trading in his joking and teasing for curt jabs or looks of disapproval. He also admittedly liked ordering people around, telling them what to do. His phone rang about five thousand times a day, and each answered call was punctuated with an air of control, indifference, and the steady and constant confidence of a man who knew what the hell he was doing. And did not like to be questioned about it. The only people who seemed to break the ice were the two he was speaking to at that moment.

“Javi, think this one through, don’t be fuckin crazy.” The voices drowned out as you put your attention back to getting ready. Maria was right. By the time you called her the evening of your arrival you had abandoned all plans to escape Javier's home for hers. She was in hysterics, endlessly pulling your leg over the whole situation. Your overthinking, your panic, your regret, and most obviously your complete infatuation.

She had picked you up the next morning, and had impersonated you the entire ride to the university. You hoped that you didn’t sound the way she said you did when you spoke of him, that you weren’t all heart eyes. It only made you worried about what you sounded like when you spoke to him.

With your bag tucked under your arm you grabbed your shoes off the floor, heading towards the dining table. “You got work this evening?” you were hoping he didn’t. His eyes lifted off his work to watch you shuffle around the small kitchen. Opening the fridge you grabbed a bottle of chilled water, and leaned against the closed door as you spoke.

“Depends if they call me in, they’re tracking some radio signals so we’re sitting tight till then.” He was leaning back in his chair in absolute exhaustion. Knowing that his day started around seven thirty, and never seemed to end, you didn't blame him. The few days you had been staying at his place he’d join you for dinner and be right back to work in a second. This job of his pretty much consumed him, and judging by his commitment you understood why he had no time for anyone or anything else. The guy was practically married to his job. His job and his co-workers, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if Murphy and Carillo’s wives were envious of how much quality time Javier got to spend with their husbands.

“So you’re staying up until they get back to you?” You didn't mean to sound so perplexed, but you were. Mostly at how unpredictable his hours were. Did he really want to leave the quiet, laid back life at home for whatever this was? He crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke to you in between puffs of his cigarette.

“Yes, cariño, I'm in my forties, dont got a bedtime.” The man could barely keep his eyes open, and when he lifted his glass to his lips you felt a little better about ditching him for your fun night out. Of course you wanted to sit with him, have him talk about everything under the sun, like he used to, but you didn’t want to be another thing he had to worry about.

You barely got to speak to him outside meal times. If he stayed home, safe to say he’d be preoccupied, and if he didn’t it would be just you, and the white noise in his empty apartment, like it had been for the past four nights you had been there.

The man looked like he needed a cup of tea. You reached for the kettle, pushing it on and leaning against the closed fridge door. “They tell you that at the old people's home?” Grabbing your buzzing phone off the counter you moved towards his surprisingly organised kitchen drawers, in which there was little besides some tea bags, coffee beans, jam, canned fruits and bars of candy. That combined with the eggs, bread and milk in his fridge came to make an almost comical representation of what most people would consider a bachelor's desolate pantry.

Your eyes shifted to the illuminated screen of your phone, an unread message staring back at you.

Maria: Leaving in five <3

As you took the bubbling kettle off the burner you made a mental note, reaching for a cup, and a tea bag from the unopened box of earl grey you were pretty certain Javier did not buy for himself, rather became the owner of thanks to one of the nice old ladies who lived opposite him.

“Somones in a mood today huh?” It was then you realised he had abandoned his work to watch you trudge around his kitchen barefoot in your little party outfit, one hand rested on his chin, one leg crossed over the other as he leant back in his wooden dining table chair.

The teabag bobbed in the steaming water a couple of times, before you were pulling it out and tossing it in the trash. You grabbed his blue mug by the handle– some generic, machine made ceramic devoid of any personality, something you’d probably find in a show home. It looked like it had always been sitting on his kitchen shelf, only seeing the light of day every once in a while when he ditched his liquor cabinet for the coffee machine on the far end of the counter. Knowing him that wasn’t often.

“I'm kidding .”

“Well cariño I was thinking we could go to the dance bar tomorrow, but now I guess I'll have to stay home and rest my old knees.” He looked so surprised when you placed the mug in front of him, rested on a white paper napkin. It was almost like he had expected you to make it for yourself. The chair made a slight squeak against the floor as you pulled it back and took a seat, pulling his glass, now lined with the slight golden residue of whiskey, towards you. He was still surprised, a little taken back even, but not in offence, rather a tender, grateful smile tugged at his lips.

“Since when do you dance?” With your focus no longer split between tasks you turned back to the conversation at hand. Making sure to emphasise you remembered just how uncharacteristic Javier’s little suggestion was.

He took a sip of the earl grey, leaning forward and letting his shoulders fall ever so slightly. The glimmer of a distant memory played in his eyes as he met your gaze.“I don’t. But you do.” Your little reminiscence played in the back of your head like a movie reel, the soft sound of music from the dance bar by your house hanging in the air. As if transported into a distant dream you could see clusters of people twirling and dancing with the beat, like little ghosts behind Javier as he spoke.

“And who am I going to dance with” When you said those words out loud you meant for them to sound a whole lot more utilitarian than they ended up sounding. Whether it was hope, or some odd suggestion you were in no mood to unpack where from deep in your subconscious that had come. All you could wish for is that he didn’t notice.

“Plenty of people at the bar who’d love to dance with my darling.” And there it was, that answer you dreaded, delivered with that signature smile, with that warm, twinkling light in his eyes. “You don't have work tomorrow?” unable to bear the thought you moved along to more practical matters.

He was already halfway through that cup of tea, and like his body was in the middle of some sort of spiritual cleanse you could see him resurface somewhat coherent and with eyes that weren’t half as dead as they were two minutes ago.“‘S friday, need the time off. Besides, I'd kick myself if I didn't make good on your time here. These fuckers still gonna be around when youre gone.” Sometimes you wondered if he was talking more to himself than he was to you.

You felt a little buzzing in your purse, and you rummaged through it to find your phone. A text from Maria reminding you you needed to leave. “Yeah, you're gonna sit at the bar like a senior citizen while I have some fun?”

Rising from your seat you searched the room for the last of your things. Notwithstanding the lack of time he had put into making the place home there were still small elements of him scattered throughout that little two bedroom. The fresh flowers in a glass vase on his centre table, framed pictures and art he’d been collecting over the years, small artefacts he’d brought back from his travels. It was so odd, the whole place stood suspended somewhere between home and a place far from it. Familiar yet distant.

“Hey, they’ve got great drinks.”

He finished the last of his tea, and you picked up his mug and set it in the kitchen sink, running it under the tap water for a quick second to rinse it. Truth be told, you just wanted to sit and chat, and if half heartedly doing the dishes was going to give you a few more minutes with him you’d take it.“Don’t get too excited old man, I'm not driving us home.”

“I can take a few cariño, ‘m not like you.” You travelled to where you’d dropped your heels.

“Slander.” pausing momentarily in the middle of putting on your shoes you lifted your head to find him looking back at you. His eyes had seemingly followed you all the way behind him, and he was still smiling. Had you not had one hand on his couch holding you in place you just might have tumbled over.

“You be careful tonight, and don’t walk anywhere alone, especially if it's past ten. I know you– can't even read a damn map, so no wandering around, call me.” It looked like he had already given up on you, one hand rushing to his face to rub his tired eyes, the other plastered to the table. He was shaking his head the way he did when he caught you sneaking out your house one summer.

“I’ll think about it.” of course you were going to call him, you didn't need an excuse. But you liked to see him all agitated, bossing you around like you knew he liked to do. With everyone, that is.

“No no, you're gonna call me when you get there, and you're gonna call me when you leave, and you're gonna tell me exactly how, and with whom you're gettin back.” You were already at the door, hoping to escape him, but he was yelling your name in that exasperated voice, and you heard him shuffle from his seat to stand up– catch you and drag you back in case that was necessary.

“But-” Turning to meet his peering form over the wall of his living room you parted your lips, attempting to protest, playfully, but still protest, but he wasn't having any excuses.

He was doing that thing where he looked at you with his soft eyes, slightly downturned, and the look could convince you to do just about anything, made you feel like you’d rather die than let them down. Anybody else’s nagging would have got you on your last nerve, but you only felt warmth, concern and care when he did it. Hell he could throw you off his roof and you’d still think the same.

“No buts, no excuses. Thats final” You giggled, half because he sounded so much like a boring old man, and half because he was now leaning against the wall, with the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hands on his hips, hair dishevelled from when he’d combed his fingers through it.

“You sound like him..” With brows raised you looked at him expectantly, taunting him with your teases, and you nearly jumped out the door when he walked towards you, ready to grab you back to him as you escaped. Any insult was better than being compared to your dad, especially in this context. “Don't you say that, cariño” He was laughing, and you were laughing, and his otherwise quiet apartment building was now singing with an uncharacteristic gleam, a glow, a gaiety.

Your shoes clicked against the floors as you scurried away, turning one last time to see him leaning against his door frame, shaking his head as he watched you skip into the night. “I don't make the rules old man”. You heard him chuckle behind you as you ‘sing songed’ your words, your heart fluttering when you noticed he waited for you to get outside before he closed his front door.

–

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

“Thought I told you not to wander around alone, cariño.” You jumped, but it was too late, he had wrapped you up in his arms, and you were pressed up against his chest, and his voice was a low whisper in your ear. And you were dizzy. The alcohol in your system only partly responsible for your petrified squeak, wavering voice, and the way you swayed gently in his embrace. But when he kissed the top of your head ever so gently you could only giggle, recognising that warm hold, that faint smell of whisky on his shirt.

“Psycho, you scared the shit outta me.” He was laughing when you turned around, exhausted, defeated almost, but his eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, and you felt yourself all but swoon at the way he was looking down at you. “You’re lucky I'm the only psycho you ran into” Grabbing your face in his hands each word he spoke was punctuated with hyperbole, and a teasing disbelief. Your own hands shot up to grab his, and your cold palms thawed at the touch. You were sure you felt your heartbeat in your throat when his thumbs brushed the swell of your cheeks, you were sure he could feel the way they grew hot under his rough hands. “Just came out for a smoke, don’t go into cardiac arrest now” your fallen cigarette crumpled under your foot when you stepped on it, and in the midst of your eye roll you watched as he stepped back to look at you in faux disapproval.

“Look at ya’, terrible.” He motioned his head towards the trampled butt on the ground below you. “Me? Terrible?” When you closed the distance between the both of you you stepped on it again, hearing it crush under your shoes, and shoved his shoulder playfully, poking his chest with your pointer finger. “Drinking on the job again old man?” Then he laughed again, this time at your playful yet truthful accusation, and the sound made you feel lighter than a feather. How could one person be so charming, so charismatic, at one in the morning? Like he was divulging a trade secret he raised his brow. “Keeps me awake.”

The blaring music in the club was muffled in the distance as you walked towards the steps of the church in front of you, the quiet and empty street echoing your footsteps. He walked beside you, kept you close on that pleasant summer night. When you turned your head your eyes caught a group of men huddled by a small food stall at the side of the street, hunched over some beers, smoking cigarettes. In the crowd there were two familiar faces. Steve was dressed casually, Carillo and the others in military fatigues. You wondered why he wasn’t walking in their direction, but judging by the look on their faces you concluded there would probably be a better time to do so. Besides, you weren't complaining, he was enough, he always was.

They shot you a half hearted wave, and two strained smiles from across the road.

Taking a seat you pat the stone ground beside you, watching as he looked around, almost willing someone to come into sight, one foot on the steps leading up to the cathedral entrance, wringing his hands. “What’re you doing here anyway?” You wondered what he had done that evening, but you knew you were better off not asking. You were glad to have bumped into him, and the last thing you wanted to do in your giggly half tipsy mood was have him explain something you were sure would keep you up at night. Not when he had that look on his face, his work look.

“Waitin’ on an informant, but someone fucked up and well, we’re back at square one.” he was still searching the street when he bent down to sit beside you, so close your knees bumped.

You felt your heart race a little when he pulled out what looked like a joint he had rolled moments ago from his shirt pocket, when he leaned back on his arm, lit it and looked up at the sky as he took a drag. You wondered if in your little emotional panic, your worry of his disappearance you had blocked out the memory of his striking, handsome face. You wondered if he had always been this beautiful, this captivating, everything he did set you on fire, the way he carried himself.

“Smoke a lotta weed for a DEA agent.”

He turned his head towards you, letting it fall lazily in your direction, and his hair fell in his face the way it did all those years ago, and he shot you that smile that felt like home. “Been a long day cariño”. He was looking back to the sky, but your eyes didn't leave him. He looked so tragic in the moonlight, half lit by its platinum glow. You weren’t sure if it was the liquid courage, or the fact that his shoulder looked more inviting than ever, or the fact that a cool breeze just blew by, and you shivered as it brushed your shoulder, but you leaned your head against him, and you felt your tummy erupt with butterflies when he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead. It was forbearing, and merciful, and you wondered if he had somehow noticed your girlish fawning, your silly admiration, and your heart dropped momentarily, but was soon resuscitated by his soft laughter.

“Remember those cigarettes of mine you'd steal back in the day.” The breeze had picked up, and it’s cool was far more jarring when it kissed your hot cheeks. “‘S’not stealing… you knew.” you closed your eyes, and let yourself get lost in that comfortable memory. “yeah , could've told your papa” He was looking down at you, but you kept your eyes ahead, too intimidated to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t”

“Should’ve” His voice was a mumble beside you, and you found yourself thinking about your dad for the first time in a while, and you were instantly reminded the man you were so taken up by was his best friend, and almost twice your age, and saw you as nothing more than his buddy’s daughter. You stiffened against him.

He took another drag of his joint. “If he was here right now his blood pressure would be through the roof”. A cold breeze tickled your skin, and he rubbed your shoulder gently and despite the murmured chatter in your head you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“Darling, I can't believe you've been out this long.” He was laughing, and his horrible impression had you in a similar state. Conflict bubbled in your chest, each word slipping past his lips reminded you of your relationship, of your dad, and what he would think if he could peek inside your head, at your little thoughts. You felt guilty, but how could you hold that feeling? Not when he was shaking with joy beside you, not when he had his arm around you the way he did, not when you were tucked into his side, shielded from the winds.

“You smell like a dingy bar” It felt so natural, your regular routine, the way it had always been, when your dad would say something funny, or outrageous, and the both of you would have a field day. It was well incorporated in your repertoire at that point, but the years apart had the memory sitting on a shelf in your brain, collecting dust. You remember when your dad made a terrible joke the day of your senior prom, and the two of you refused to let it go the entire evening. Javier had a vocabulary of his favourite phrases, and so did you, and you couldn’t help but pull them out every once in a while.

“How am I going to survive you?!” You spoke in tandem, each letter dragged out with faux frustration, an uncanny similarity to your dad’s tone ringing in the air as your blended voices formed a familiar melody. It hung between you as he laughed heartily, and you wanted nothing more than to frame the moment, keep it tucked away where it would be yours, only yours forever. The starry night, a twinkling sky above you, the chirp of the crickets, and perhaps your most treasured person, holding you against him.

You wondered why he left, why he left you behind. Did he feel the same as you did in that moment? Was he happy to be there? To have caught you on your night out? After he’d called off his wedding all those years ago he’d become a rarer sight. You were too young to remember, and it wasn’t long after your parents got married. Growing up in your little town you’d heard he always had a reputation with women, but you never believed a word of the neighbourhood chatter.

They were not the same person– the guy everyone talked about, and your Javier. While you’d never give him a break from the teasing, bringing up all the times you’d run into women in the streets, asking if you’d seen him, you could never really imagine him as the man everyone made him out to be. He was reckless, sure, and impulsive, and insolent, and a hardass, but he was also gentle, and thoughtful, and gallant.

At least he was to you.

As if he could hear your thoughts, and they were so loud in your head you wouldn’t be surprised if he could, he broke the silence. “I wanted to come back cariño, but-”

“But you couldn’t, I know '' There was no point going over what had happened and why, and while you incessantly wondered you knew it was a fruitless exercise. It was just how he was, he liked to up and leave, disappear, keep his distance, and you wondered if that had anything to do with you. But you didn't want to kill the moment, more for yourself than for him.

“Glad you decided to come, cariño” It was like he was trying to convince you, of what exactly you weren't sure, but he sounded so earnest, so true.. and you felt deep down he was trying to make amends for his absence. Not just from you, but from the life he left behind. Were you an exception? Or a way to right his wrongs? mend all that had been pushed aside? You didn't know, but you’d worry about that later.

The winds had picked up, and the sky was gleaming, and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace.

“I like it here, it's nice.” When you spoke he was almost surprised, but your words seemed to only widen his grin. He squeezed your shoulder gently.

“Me too baby, me too.”

—

Singin' in the old bars

Swingin' with the old stars

Livin' for the fame

Kissin' in the blue dark

Playin' pool and wild darts

Video games

He holds me in his big arms

Drunk and I am seeing stars

This is all I think of

“Looks like they knew you were coming.” You swivelled the bar stool in your direction, hopping up on the seat. It was early in the evening, around seven, but the music was already going, and there were people on the dance floor, moving to the beat of retro spanish tunes. Javier took a seat beside you, still in his suit from work, shirt haphazardly tucked into his dress pants, tie loose around his neck.

“Why?” the bartender placed your drinks on the counter, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that he’d stuck to his whiskey on the rocks. “They got the oldies on”. You were giggling, and while he wanted to pretend like he was far too tired to care about your antics he couldn’t help but crack a smile. There was a charm to it– catching a break at the end of the work week, the tranquillity of the weekend enveloping you like a safety net. One of you that is.

Friday night was busy at any joint, buzzing with nightlife, food and drink. Somewhere along the way you’d gotten up from your seat and headed to the large empty space in the middle of the bar, where tables and chairs had been cleared to create a somewhat makeshift dance floor. Javier was right, while he sat sipping his whiskey you found plenty of dance partners.

It was all easy, getting passed from one person to the other as the group formed a large circle. It was like you had disappeared into the crowd, bodies moving left to right in the dim green glow, only occasionally giving you a glimpse of the man sitting at the counter– face rested in his palm. Ask him to dance. These urges of yours were momentary, little private lapses of judgement that would only remind you of what was just not possible.

When he’d take you out back in the day he’d have some minor injury to blame for his lack of participation on the dance floor, and when he didn’t he was “a terrible dancer” or “had too many drinks”. After a while you stopped asking. You realised you’d never really seen him dance.

You had grabbed the hand of a stranger, letting them twirl you around– Javier was looking in your direction. For how much fun he liked to have you had come to recognize hardly any of it involved other people. Weddings, birthdays, barbeques. He was there. However, you’d always felt he looked at it as an obligation. A hi to the bride and groom, a bouquet of flowers, some meaningless small talk and he would disappear out the door. When he stayed it was solely in the company of a few familiar suspects– your dad being one. While he was often the subject of conversation, he was a pretty reluctant conversationalist.

It was hot, and muggy, and if someone asked you where you were in the room you surely couldn’t place yourself. Forcing yourself out of the chatter in your head you looked up, noticing finally that your partner hadn’t changed in the past 10 minutes.

He was looking down at you quite sweetly, he was actually quite handsome, your age, but he didn’t have a white button up on, didn’t have that sideways smirk. He wasn’t Javier. And unfairly, for that reason alone you didn’t want him. But who were you to say no to pretty green eyes, soft, delicate looking light brown hair, a black button up that wasn’t very buttoned up. Neither of you had the confidence to speak up, so you let him sway you side to side, one hand firmly planted on his chest.

You wondered what he really thought of you, if after this little visit he’d be more compelled to come visit, at least spare you a call. Would he disappear once again? Call your dad once in a while and ask him to deliver some impersonal message like ‘say hi to her for me’? You wished you could care less, but you knew you couldn’t, and something inside you told you he knew too.

A firm arm wrapped around your waist, spinning you in the opposite direction, faces turned to motion blur as you turned on your heel. “Looks like a saved you, cariño.” He was twirling you, holding your hand in his and pulling you into his chest. He hadn’t really saved you but at the same time he had. He could pick you up from a field of lilies and drop you in a medieval torture chamber and he’d still be your knight in shining armour.

What the fuck are you doing here? You wanted to ask, but you held back. You wondered what had prompted him on the dance floor. Did he think some weirdo wouldn’t let go of you? Had seeing you dance with someone else accomplished a task years of your coaxing couldn’t? You turned back, but the stranger had already disappeared, and Javier was directing your gaze towards him.

As you had always suspected he was a great dancer, and he sure as hell liked holding you close as you moved along the dance floor. The songs ran over the decades, and he’d often sing lines to you– smiling and pulling you towards him. He looked so handsome, lights reflecting off his face, his smile tired, but earnest, and wide. You almost couldn’t keep up.

“Danced your energy away?” Picking up the pace once again you twirled around him, unwilling to give in. “No! Why? your back needa rest?” You watched him laugh– shake his head and grab you by the hips. “Sure you didn't cariño.. Can't keep up with an old man?” Voice raw from yelling over the music, you pulled his leg. “Think I heard your knee pop.” His raised brow only aroused suspicion. “Oh really?” Before you could even respond his arm had hooked under your thighs, and his hand was on your back and you were being lifted into the air. “Oh my god!” Your own arms flung around his neck, both your laughs floating between you as he spun around.

It felt different and not because something in his head had dragged him out onto the dance floor. The way he was looking at you, the way he just couldn’t let go. It hurt your heart more than anything you’d ever experienced. The pain was conflicting– the love ache and the hurt. Did he know how much he meant to you? Did he even care? Something in your heart told you he did but you chalked it up to innocent hope.

The music slowed down, and you heard emerging from the stereo a familiar tune.

You’d hum it all the time, so much so it would drive your father nuts. In the kitchen, while doing chores, sometimes as you read by Javier’s side. On the weekend when you woke up early to help cook breakfast it’d be the first song on the playlist. You recall how he’d watch you dance around the kitchen, truth be told rather ungracefully in the mornings– spatula in one hand, kitchen towel in the other.They played it at some wedding once, and your friends had bounded to the dance floor with you just to ensure you didn’t miss a note. You were running so fast you all but collided with him, and he had to catch your falling form as you stumbled towards your best friend, shouting a quick “sorry” as you bounded in her direction.

He remembered.

Words were useless when you looked at him the way you did. An expression of surprise, confusion, realisation, all at once, a smile tugging your lips, your doe eyes gazing into his soft brown ones. And his arms were around you, and you were pressed against his warm chest, and you were gently swaying to the beat of the music.

“Looks like they knew you were coming.”

It felt like a blip in time, but it would’ve been hours. People came and left, all around you groups of twos and threes and tens, but you stayed, and he stayed. Smiling down at you, holding you tight. You were a little light headed from it all, feet fighting the urge to take a little break. You just couldn’t let go.

Plopping down on the bar stool you let your cheek hit the cool marble of the counter. Your legs felt like wet noodles, trembling when you finally sat down. You weren't really sure where Javier went, but it felt like an eternity he let you lay there with your eyes closed. Every second was one hundred times longer when he wasn’t holding you. His arm was firm around your waist when he finally helped you out of your seat. You realised he’d been standing only about two metres away the entire time.

“Let’s get you home, ‘s late.” He had picked your shoes up from where you’d abandoned them, his own blazer draped over his arm– the one you weren’t hanging on to. With closed eyes you let him lead you out into the night, all your weight firmly supported by his broad shoulders, your stumbling feet only stabilised when he tucked you into his side.

Unintelligible to anyone but him, and muffled by your yawn and cheek pressed against his upper arm you slurred your words as you spoke. “Past your bedtime?”

He chuckled to himself, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a faint murmur– the last thing you really remember hearing. “Yes cariño, past my bedtime…”

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You been drinkin’ my whiskey….” He was leaning on the table, waving the glass you left out in the air, holding it between two of his fingers. He wasn’t upset, rather looked quite amused. You rubbed your eyes, making out his smile from a distance. “Couldn't sleep.” Peering into the room you were staying in you were sure he saw your blankets bunched up on the bed where you had been tossing and turning for hours. Your eyes caught the clock on the wall.

1am.

It had been a long day. Being assigned to a new supervisor proved to be a real curse. He was quite a piece of work. Patronising, condescending, everything in between. If that wasn’t enough he rejected your proposal, and asked you to submit a new one in two days. God knows you had a lot on your mind.

The kitchen cabinet swished when he opened it, bringing you back to the present. “God, you really are like me huh?” He still had his jacket on, but judging by the look on his face he needed a drink first. The couch dipped as you threw yourself on it, and you turned over its back rest to watch him move around the kitchen.

“I had like one shots worth, with like a whole glass of water, so not like you.” Curled up under his plush throw blanket you sank into the cushions, eyes following him as he sat down beside you. With a deep sigh he leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index. “Fuckin’ hell”

“Long day?” He picked up the joint he’d just rolled from the side table, groping for the handle of the drawer to grab a lighter. “Can say that..” It was just another night for him. You were lucky you heard him pull up outside, and had got yourself to look somewhat presentable so you could see him at least once that day. Granted that involved nothing but putting on a bralette.

Maybe it was the fact that it was late, or that you had such a shitty day, or that you just couldn’t help yourself anymore, but you leaned against his chest, snuggling into his side as he took a drag. “I would try and talk you out of this job, but I think I've exhausted all my arguments..” You twiddled your fingers, just wanting to melt into him and disappear.

“I don’t think there’s anything else I could do.” You shivered, his fingers tracing shapes on your upper arm. “Couldn’t do whatever it is you’ve been doing…” redirecting your gaze from your lap you looked up at him. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t either” He was looking ahead, voice low and rumbly, and just what you needed to hear.

“You’ve got time, got one’ve my lifetimes ahead’ve you” He pulled you closer, head resting against yours. “Don't say that” You poked his side lightly, hearing him chuckle beside your ear. “Oh yeah, now those jokes gettin’ to you?!”

Stewing in a comfortable silence you let yourself ease into his embrace, willing your mind to shut up for the time being and enjoy his company. The way he was holding you– so much more delicately than he ever had before had your heart clenching. “Tell me your day was better than mine.”

His words cut through the chilled air, and your heart soared at the thought that it even mattered to him. “No, sucked.” to anyone else you would have responded with a simple ‘it was good’, some white lie to avoid further questions, but you couldn’t lie to him, he’d figure it out one way or another. “My supervisor’s an asshole..”

Nothing was more comforting than the kiss he placed to the side of your head.“‘m sorry honey” He offered you his joint– seemingly having deserted his agenda of being a good influence in favour of apparently celebrating your mutual disappointment. You felt your cheeks heat.

“I've never smoked before.”

Gasping comically he whipped his head towards you. He tapped your nose with his index, pinching your cheek and giving you possibly the most suspicious look he could muster. At least he tried, because his smile peaked through the interrogative exterior. “You little liar.” The gesture had you jumping to defend yourself. Shifting to meet his drooping eyes you almost knocked him over as you plopped on the couch, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist to steady you. “No, promise!” You leaned your forehead against his, your eyes gazing into his in an attempt to convince him. Despite his disbelief you were indeed telling the truth.

“Oh really? Been drinkin’ too, trouble.” his hand snaked up the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw. It was then you realised just how close you were to him. Your eyes flickered to his lips momentarily. When you realised he had beat you to the task you were convinced you were hallucinating, or had somehow gotten high off the second hand smoke. In pain, you were in utter pain, unveiled and unprotected– subjected to his piercing gaze.

Painfully aware of the tension that had settled like a thick cloud over you, your voice came out small and strained, but also hopeful. “‘M not trouble….could be though”

The tightness in his jaw was something you couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, I know” In a moment of bad judgement, or in hindsight good judgement you decided you knew what you needed to do. You were exhausted of having to wonder. You were exhausted of asking questions, exhausted of his absence. You slung your leg over his thighs, lifting yourself onto his lap Leaning against his firm chest you peered up at him through your lashes.

“Baby, careful” You knew this time those words were not for you, you knew he was fighting the urge to gather you in his arms. You could see that look in his dark eyes– hungry, and hot. You could feel him, hard against your cotton panties. He bent down to press his forehead against yours, your noses bumping. “Cariño, you don't know what you're doing.” His actions were in direct contradiction to his words, his large hands cradling your soft cheek, pleading you to put him out of his misery. But you were selfish, like he had been all those years ago, and you needed him to put you out of yours.

“You don’t want this, Cariño” He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. He was doing that thing again, where he was talking more to himself than to you. But couldn’t let him decide what you wanted, because for years you’d let him convince himself you’d wanted to keep your distance to maintain his own conscience– to make him feel better about how he’d disappeared from your life.

“I know what I want..” You didn’t mean to, but you were pouting, and despite your best efforts to speak with conviction you couldn’t help but come off a little pleading, “show me, please.” surely he knew you weren’t just talking about the weed.

His lips ghosted over yours, and you could just about burst into tears the way he was looking at you. He probably noticed the way your chin wobbled, the way your doe eyes blinked away from his. Because in a moment you heard him sigh heavily, painfully, and apologetically all at once.

And he was kissing you. Soft and slow, and gentle, and benevolent and like everything you’d ever hoped for. He tasted how you’d always imagined– like whiskey and cigarettes and everything in between. Like home. His thumb stroked your cheek gently until you pulled away, glossy eyed and wobbly on his lap.

“Want me to show you what?” And here you thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker. He mumbled into your lips, voice commanding and steady– everything you weren't. He grabbed the back of your neck and guided you back towards him. Threading your fingers through his hair you let yourself get lost in the shelter of his hold. You felt as though he could pretty much eat you alive, the way his lips were moving against yours– suddenly hot and soft and needy.

Heart racing you chased his lips with your own, but he steadied you with his hands, amused at your zeal. “Gotten all worked up now have we?” You couldn’t help it, you tried, tried to sit steady in his lap, but you just couldn’t, not when you felt his cock, twitch against your clothed pussy.

You rolled your hips against his, watched as his head fell back against the couch. The crease between his brows only persuaded you to continue. “Shit baby, tryna kill me?” barely audible, his rasp had you bracing yourself with your hands planted firmly on his chest. You dragged your hips again, leaning down and tugging the fabric of his shirt. He reached for the joint he’d abandoned on the side table, bringing it to your lips.

He observed you greedily. “That's it, good girl.” His voice had never sounded more strained than it did in that moment, watching you take a drag, eyes glossing over. The praise had your heart fluttering, you’d do just about anything to hear it again. Smoking wasn’t helping either of your causes, because it only made you press your pussy harder against his clothed crotch. This time his hips rose slightly to meet you, and he cursed lowly under his breath. Already unable to maintain control.

Taking another drag he leaned back, letting you rub yourself against him, eyes screwing shut every once in a while, just like your own. He’d bring the joint to your waiting mouth every now and then, revelling in the sight of you getting more and more desperate with each puff.

“dirty little girl..” you whimpered at his words. “rubbin’ that drippy lil pussy all over my lap.” You looked down, only to find a dark spot on his grey jeans, for where you pressed yourself against him. Incapable of stopping your movements you continued, relishing how the friction eased the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah? few drags got you all achy cariño, got you squirmin’?”

He was watching you, and you could make out his intense gaze through your fluttering lashes, his eyes scanning you up and down, then fixing on your face of strained pleasure. “Tell me how good it feels, Cariño” His palms smoothed up and down your thighs, harsh and slow, and exercising all the self control he could muster. It was difficult to answer, a response bubbling in your throat before you were incoherently blurting it out.

"Feels so good..” whining, you grabbed the fabric of his shirt in your fists, bouncing on his lap lightly to feel just anything against you, you wanted more, lust and intoxication clouding your judgement. “Please, need it, need it so bad” Losing all sense of restraint one of his hands reached for your hips, squeezing and gripping firmly.

He dragged your already rolling hips against him, sliding you against his clothed crotch to the point you couldn’t help but let your legs fall limp, your forehead press against his shoulder. “Need what?” You could feel the tick in his jaw where it was pressed up against your cheek.

His hand slipped between your bodies, moving your soaked panties aside to feel your wetness. You shuddered when you felt him against you, grinding down on his hand. “Fuck, look at that. So fuckin’ wet for me babygirl.”

“Need you inside me, please.” Nosing his neck you pressed a kiss there, mouth falling agape as he rubbed your clit, fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing into you. “Like this?” If your laboured breaths were any indication you couldn’t take it much longer.

You wiggled your hips, trying to bear down on his digits, but he pulled away only to squeeze the inside of your thigh. ““Gettin’ to you already? use your words baby” he was taunting you, your little ‘no’s making him smirk against your shoulder as he went back to sliding his fingers along the cut of your pussy. “What do ya’ want me to do to you? Tell me babygirl.” You knew the sweet talk was only meant to encourage you, and while it worked you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned when you replied.

“Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me.. please … need it”

Now that he listened to, fingers pulling away and tapping at your lips. When you gazed down at them you could see how wet you really were– having drenched them in the little while he’d had his hand in your panties. Obeying you parted them, letting him slide them into your waiting mouth, sucking gently, the taste of yourself heady on your tongue. “Good girl.” Even though he looked quite composed on the outside you still noticed the way he swallowed thickly when your tongue ran along his digits.

“Want me to fuck the cute lil pussy?” you shook your head vehemently, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “That's my pretty baby.” he kissed you like he wanted to devour you, frantic, and urged, voice so rough it came out almost like a growl. His hands roughly grabbed your hips, flipping you to lay back against his couch. In a moment your sleep top and bralette had been discarded, in a pile on the floor alongside your shorts and his own clothes.

Slotting himself between your legs you looked down to where his fingers were tracing the inside of your thigh. You gazed up at him, upper body lit by the dim orange light of the side table, broad shoulders slumped as he admired the sight of you– on your back, in nothing but your panties, all for him. As he slowly pulled them down your legs, he sure seemed to relish the way the fabric of your cotton panties clung messily to your wet pussy.

“Poor thing, just need someone to take care of you don’t you?” It was less of a question and more of a declaration, and undoubtedly it made you feel open and weak. How could you not feel that way? There you were laid out in front of him, every part of you exposed, his toned torso being the only part of him you could really see thanks to the half lit room. It felt like if he looked just a little closer he’d be able to see right through your naked body– and into your scrambled thoughts.

His index teased your dripping hole, briefly dipping into you and coming back to rub soft circles on your clit. Gasping, your fingers flew to grip his wrist when you felt him slide his cock against your cunt, tip teasing your sensitive nub ever so slightly. “Relax babygirl, be good for me.” Bringing your hand to his lips he peppered your knuckles with kisses, willing you to ease into the cushions as he draped himself over your body. He grasped your face in his palm, kissing his reassurance against your forehead as you felt him line himself up with your leaking entrance.

You mewled at the stretch of him, at how hot you felt against him as he eased himself into your soft pussy. “Shit- so fucking tight-” his stopped for a second, like he was willing himself not to split you open with one quick snap of his hips. “can barely fit my cock in this lil pussy.” Leaning in your lips searched for his. He let you melt into him, fingers brushing against your side as if to calm you down.

It was so much– his weight on top of you, his hips slotted between your thighs, forehead pressed against yours. You could feel every pulse, every throb, every ridge of him inside you, nudging those spots you could never reach yourself– and he wasn’t even moving yet.

When he did start moving you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past your lips. Your fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps, pulling him closer. You needed him, pressed up against your rising chest, holding you. “I know cariño, I know.” His right hand squeezed your waist, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Yeah feelin’ all full?”

His voice was so sweet, like honey, warm and sultry in your ear. You nodded a quiet ‘yes’. He cradled your face in his palm, nose nudging yours gently. Mumbling his own rhetorical “yeah?” he kissed the underside of your jaw. For the first time he felt as close as he physically was, big and thick inside you.

You were drowning in his arms, enveloped by them, cocooned in a bubble of heat, and low breathy sighs, and his lips ghosting over yours as he thrust into you– hard, but slow, and deep. “That’s it, just like that–” he picked up his pace ever so slightly. “Such a good girl.” His words were gruff, and stuttery and his breath tickled your ear whenever he spoke.

Feeling the drag of his thick cock against your pulsing walls your eyes struggled to focus on him above you. He on the other hand seemed to have no trouble fixing his gaze on your trembling form. “Makin’ me feel so–” he brought his thumb to brush the swell of your cheek, “fucking good, baby”. Your head buzzed at his praise, burning face turning to rest in his palm.

With your back lifting off the soft cushion you reached to pull him impossibly closer, wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts. “More, please, please.. Want it” you couldn’t recognise your voice, not when you were begging him, watching his eyes twinkle. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy harder?” you nodded– feeling embarrassed enough at his smirk of surprise to hide your face in his neck, but not enough to stop begging. Another soft “please” barely falling from your mouth.

Rising slightly he grabbed your hips, holding your thigh against his side. Your tilted hips granted him a whole new angle, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, letting it fall against the upholstery. “You want that, don't you baby? Need me to stuff you full of my cum?” You could only respond with your sounds of pleasure.

He pushed you against the cushions, hovering above you to drive himself deeper, watching you turn into a moaning incoherent mess– your whimpers and whines bouncing off the walls and only exhilarating his pleasure. “That's right cariño, I gotcha’” one hand squeezed the flesh of your hip, then travelled up to brush against the exposed column of your throat– fingers tracing your skin before he was leaning down and placing sloppy kisses against you.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy till she’s dripping with my cum.”

He must have noticed that dumb, hazy look in your eyes when propped himself back up, still fucking you till your hips pressed into the sofa’s cushions. “Fuck, nothin in that head of yours huh?” You made out his smirk of pride as you jostled around, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as he moved above you.

It was far easier said than done. Not when you could feel his cock against your throbbing walls, could hear his scruff groans whenever he felt you clench around him, not when he was looking down at you with his furrowed brows, and sweat gemming his hair– which’s curls had been ruffled out of place from when you’d ran your fingers through them.

Especially not when he shifted ever so slightly, and you felt his tip brush that sensitive spot inside you you didn't even know you had. Javier cursed above you, feeling you squeeze his cock. “that the spot huh babygirl?” he watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, face scrunching in pleasure as he hit it over and over and over again.

Your head lulled from side to side, your body in overdrive and completely overwhelmed at the sensations. That was until he was cupping your cheek in his palm, tilting your face in his direction. “Use your words for me.”. But you couldn’t, parted lips struggling to form anything coherent besides soft, little whines.

His hips snapped in a deep, slow thrust. “Say it..” Your eyes were barely open, and you reached and tried to grab him closer, but he stayed above you, unwilling to budge as he slowed to a complete stop– waiting for you to voice your needs. “Yes-”

He mumbled against your lips, nipping, and kissing. “Good girl, my good girl.” To that you nodded, back arching as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Every part of you singing at his touch– how he kneaded and squeezed your hot flesh.

The coil in your belly only tightened and tightened, and you suddenly felt too vulnerable, too exposed to meet his hooded eyes. Turning your face to the side you let the plush throw blanket hide your hot cheeks, burying your face in it. “Look at me, wanna see your pretty face.” It was an instruction. One he expected you to follow like all the others.

You didn’t think he’d notice that hitch in your breath, the way you did the opposite and smashed your face against the soft fabric. It was all too much, and he was fucking into your soaking pussy, and his hands were roaming your body, and you could feel his skin brush yours, and you were dizzy, and overwhelmed and you could scream and–

And he was slowing down again, just enough to where he kept you on that edge, to where you could savour every bit of him inside you. – “Cariño, look at me..” God he sounded so tender, coaxing you out of your daze just enough to the point you shook your head ‘no’, whimpering and turning only further away from him.

He kissed your cheek, cooing at your overwhelm. Not to mock you, rather he sounded quite endeared, prideful even. “Baby” Nudging his nose with yours you felt his thumb rub soothing circles against the apex of your cheekbone, urging you in his direction ever so slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, only to find him smiling down at you.

“There’s my girl.”

“Need you to look at me when ‘m fuckin’ you.” He held your face in place as his hips met yours, slow and languid. No part of you was left untouched, his kisses adorning every inch of your exposed skin, lips coming to press against yours every now and then. It was like he could see through your nakedness, and the thought terrified you to no end, made you feel small and defenceless, and had your sensitive cunt squeezing his cock.

“You close honey?” When you nodded your nose bumped his, and he laughed before he was kissing you gently. He brushed the sweat from your brow, voice so mellow yet in control. “Cum for me baby-” You felt him deep inside you. So so so close. ”Wanna feel you cum all over my cock”

It rolled over you, slow and intense and deep, in waves. He held you close, cooing at your trembling frame, holding you against him. “'M here cariño, I gotcha, just like that.” Groaning, he watched your eyes struggle to remain open, rolling back into your head as he fucked your throbbing cunt. “That's my pretty girl.”

His own hips stuttered, thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. Still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm you felt him fucking into your warm, pulsing pussy. You felt his cock twitch inside you before he was filling you up with his cum, a strained curse slipping past his lips.

Ears ringing you registered him catching his breath above you, but it was all too hazy for you to make out. All you really knew is that he hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t abandoned you on the couch to smoke a cigarette or pour himself a drink, instead he was peppering your face with little kisses. “ ‘m so proud’a you cariño– did so well for me.”

Pulling out he slid his hand under your back, flipping you over so you were snuggled into his chest. The cold air from the open window could barely touch your skin before Javier was throwing the blanket over you– keeping you warm, close.

You were still in your daze, but even as you lay on top of him, drifting in and out of a deep slumber you couldn’t shake the worry that when you opened your eyes he would be gone.

That he would have traded you in for the comfort of his bed, or worse would have disappeared into obscurity once again. The thought only stung more as you felt his cum leak out of you, mixing with your own to drip down your thighs obscenely.

You never really knew if he regretted it, if he wanted you for sure, if he liked having the weight of your body against him. Flinging your arms around his neck you tugged him impossibly closer, burying your face in his neck. A silent plea to stay where he was. You didn’t care if you seemed needy, or clingy or pathetic.

It was like he knew somehow, like your thoughts floated to him after you’d thought them. And as always there was no explaining to do, no questions to answer, nothing to say. His embrace was safe, and secure, and unwavering. “close those eyes for me cariño mìo” He planted a soft kiss to your nose, his arms tightening around you, palms rubbing soothing circles on your back. “‘m right here babygirl, not goin’ anywhere….”

You did. And he didn’t.

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

Now you do

Now, now you do

Now you do

I would also like to add that we are engaging with this concept solely in the realm and interest of fiction. This type of situation is a huge red flag. While the reader is seemingly consenting and enthusiastic there is a huge power imbalance between her and Javier. He has also known her her whole life and has been a significant part of her childhood. Engaging sexually or romantically in a relationship like that is creepy gr*omer behaviour. I used their past as a narrative device because this isn’t real, but please be aware of your media consumption, and that dynamics between characters in fic are vastly different from what is healthy, and ethical in real life. 🫶🐝💗

I really hoped you lovelies enjoyed it!! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it! Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

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alicelufenia · 2 months ago

Text

A Guide To Keeping Wyll And Karlach After Siding With Minthara In Act 1

Or as I like to call it, how to permanently recruit Karlach and Wyll (because I have yet to complete a full playthrough with both of them)

Ever since Larian added a way to legitimately recruit Minthara by knocking her out, I've wanted to help the community be more successful in their efforts to give my favorite drow yet another concussion. Because like all things related to Minthara, the KO method was buggy as hell, non-intuitive, and metagamey as fuck. I wrote multiple guides on it, to the point where I made the master post my pinned for a while. You may have seen it at some point, but here it is again for reference [x]

As happy as I am with the success of those posts, it's time I revealed my true alignment. I'm actually one of those scary Minthara stans who has killed the grove more times than siding with the tieflings. I know, you'd never guess by looking at my blog (don't look at my blog) I did it my first playthrough and it's only gotten easier since. And while I stand by it as the single best way to experience Minthara's character and story arc, I'm not so cold-hearted as to deny that it's a shame we miss out on Wyll and Karlach in the process.

So rather than play the villain, what say we have them stick around by taking on the REAL villains of Act 1:

The Druids

To start off, you'll want both Wyll and Karlach in your party, and Withers in camp. I've had him show up upon crossing one of the bridges in Act 1, either to the blighted village or the goblin camp, I forget which, or you can bust him out of his Dank™ crypt. Proceed through Act 1 as normal. To be safe I got as much approval from them as I could in early game, but that may not be necessary. Offer to kill Kagha for Zevlor.

Now, both of them need to die, and preferably not by the hand of your party members. I had them suicide charge the gnolls and get wrecked, as on Tactician mode they'll attack downed party members until they're dead. I don't know if having them jump off a cliff works, but it might. We need to entrust them to Withers by asking him to look after their bodies instead of reviving them. Their bodies will then appear in camp by their tents.

Now go kill Kagha without revealing the shadow druid conspiracy. This should trigger the Druids to start fighting the Tieflings, which will happen off screen as you deal with Kagha and the few druids inside with her (killing Nettie earlier might make this easier in case she joins in. She tried to poison you, so serves her right.)

Steal that idol! I'm not 100% sure this is required, but it takes no effort at this point and you need to sit tight for a minute, so might as well.

Also if you thought you could return the idol to Mol, no luck, she won't accept it until the fighting ends. Unfortunately all the tieflings need to die for this to work, so rip Ring of Protection. But not exactly rip the tiefling kids, more on that in a minute.

OOF, rip Dammon (and most of Karlach's questline. Don't look at me like that, it's Larian's fault for tying her entire story onto one npc and giving nothing as an alternative)

I'll give the tieflings credit, they did not go down without one hells of a fight. This bear was found burnt to death, probably due to Zevlor.

Damn, they really killed all of them. I wanna point out this can happen even on a good playthrough with the best of intentions.

In the end, only four(!) druids survived. I don't know how they'd fare with Kagha fighting too, but overall I'd say the druids talk big for doing this badly against a bunch of unarmed civilians. We kill the last four of them, then get ready to move on.

With trepidation, I go to check on the kids. Not recommended if you raid the grove for real, but here:

It's just... empty. No bodies, no npcs hanging around, they completely cleared out.

I like to headcanon that Mol followed through on protecting her kids, and they escaped down this hole. I'm still very early in this run used for testing, so I have legit no idea if they show up later. But this is good enough for me to include them all in my fanfiction so :D Congrats, the only tieflings with rights (sorry Karlach!) are gonna be alright (because if we don't see a body it doesn't count)

Next step is to just... keep going. Sazza can get you into the goblin camp no problem, and if you play a Drow or have Shadowheart use disguise self, you can gain entry without any checks or dialogue. My half elf needed to talk her way in (or just use AUTHORITY)

best goblin btw

MOMMY

Lookit how happy she is after Sazza has brought her the grove's location! A lead on the weapon AND another True Soul AND she's concussion-free? Everything's coming up Minthy!

It's at this point things get a little weird (I did warn ya), as the game now has flagged the grove as "raided" even though we haven't done an actual grove battle, which is a different thing (as I'll demonstrate later), so Shadowheart has her "post-raid" dialogue when we wake up on the next long rest. The Raid The Grove quest is also marked as Completed, but still has a marker on the map. Have patience, return to the grove and walk through the (destroyed) gate, and suddenly:

The quest will update, and direct you to speak with Minthara in the secluded chamber where she normally is at when the raid is finished. There's also goblins milling about the grove now, same as the post-raid grove.

Get someone who looks at you the way Minthara looks at a cave full of dead druids and tieflings.

"No Minthara, I never meant for any of this to happen. This was all my fault, I shouldn't have gotten involved, they're all dead because of me-"

"Nevermind I am no longer morally conflicted about all this."

To the goblin party!

LIES. He never mentions it again lmao. C'mon patch 7 fix this! (you won't)

Why we're all really here 🥰

The next morning, speak to Withers and ask to collect your dead party members. He will have you confirm payment for their resurrection.

And it works! Karlach and Wyll are back, they can rejoin the party, and their approval is Unchanged!

Since I was on a roll, I went ahead and checked a few other scenarios: what happens if we don't start a fight with the druids and just raid the grove directly, with Karlach and Wyll dead? Well you can revive them afterwards, but...

Dang, Wyll still leaves (he's still so nice about it though! Even wishes you well!)

Meanwhile Karlach: Feck off, cunt.

Well, she's not leaving, but she's never been this blunt or cold towards me before. I wonder how much-

Damn, -49?! That's literally one away from leaving permanently! She started at 50, which means Karlach looses 100 approval from raiding the grove, and being dead doesn't change that. I think the only reason she's at -49 instead of -50 is due to that +1 from reviving a party member. So, she's grateful for being brought back to life, but not happy about anything else. You know what, that's fair.

One last thing I tested (and no pics for it cause this post has reached its limit! But those extra pics of Sharp-Eye Sluck are important, so I'll just write this next part out) I wanted to see if it was even necessary to finish off the remaining druids after they killed all the tieflings. So I left the grove (manually, you have to journey quite a distance before it lets you fast travel, almost all the way to the first bridge) and headed to the goblin camp to start the raid as normal.

Like our first time, we arrive at an empty grove. Even the druids we left behind are gone, meaning you can safely headcanon this method as joining up with the goblins and Minthara to take revenge on the druids. The game still acts like you killed the tieflings though, down to Gale's threatening to leave.

But Karlach and Wyll still get brought back without a problem! You can even revive them DURING the goblin party and they'll act like nothing's happened!

Wyll And Karlach Recruited Alongside Raiding With Minthara: Success!

So Baldur's Gate 3 community! I now implore you to put down your Pommel Strikes, switch off that Non-Lethal toggle, and stop giving poor Minthara even more brain damage than the tadpole and the Absolute already gave her!

And when you reach Moonrise Towers to rescue her, for the love of Selûne, when the guards are torturing her in the prison, don't just swing on them. Agree to enter her mind first. You'll have a dicey roll to deal with, but trust me, it's SUPER worth it!

As for the whole process, well. Despite the clunky way quests update after you start the grove civil war, the resulting lack of direction and narrative inconsistencies in the dialogue post-goblin party, this still feels like a more immersive way to recruit Minthara on a run with both Karlach and Wyll still present, than the KO method, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Consider this: You've got a major twist in the Act 1 plot now, with the Druids turning on you and killing the tieflings you were trying to help, leaving your party dispirited and lacking direction, other than to continue their search for a cure, which leads them to meet the Absolutists, the goblins, and the drow commander leading them and looking for the druids' sanctuary. And in the midst of your grief and anger, you side with her, both to get close to the source of the infections (as the Dream Visitor suggests) but also to take your revenge out on the druids.

You can feel conflicted, regretful even, but the context has changed enough that I think even a good-aligned Tav with no qualms about methods can live with this result. It just takes a bit of filling in the gaps (do you simply point the goblin army at the druids and look away, or lead them yourself by Minthara's side? Either way works for the results)

The only real downside is, again, Karlach's story just sorta ends here, until the confrontation with Gortash. I personally think this is a problem with Larian's writing for her, and at this point fanfiction is about the only solution in sight. But if you don't mind her not getting the chance to touch others again, you really have nothing to lose here

Besides, were you really going to pay Dammon for that act 3 armor? Of course not, you steal it every run and don't pretend otherwise, "hero."

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bravo4iscool · 3 months ago

Text

i started watching vikings like two weeks ago and this came to my mind😭

(ubbe ragnarsson x fem!reader; lothbrok/ragnarsson family & fem!reader)

(we’re just gonna act like they’re all a happy family and no one hates each other and everyone is a decent human being lol)

(this is also anything but canon, everyone’s alive, no one’s dead and this has like no place in the timeline lmao. this is just my delusions taking over😭. this probably will have multiple parts too (if people want that lol))

(masterlist | join my tag list!)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

you’re standing at the docks, erik on your hip and little ingrid by your side as you watch the ships slowly run into the habour of kattegat.

your daughter is all giddy beside you, just waiting for her father to finally arrive. “where is he mama? where is he?” she keeps asking, jumping up and down in excitement.

“i don’t know, baby,” you chuckle while the first ships arrive at the docks, the men leaving them in a hurry to get off. “i’m sure he’ll arrive soon,” you promise, ruffling your daughter hair.

meanwhile ubbe can’t walk towards you fast enough. there’s a big smile on his face as he keeps his eyes focused on you and the kids. he needs to take you into his arms again, he couldn’t wait.

he calls out your name when you don’t seem to notice him just yet and your head snaps up at his voice. your eyes light up when you finally see him almost running towards you.

once he reaches you he picks you—and erik—up in his arms, spinning you around. “my love,” he mumbles. “i’ve missed you.”

he sets you down again, immediately connecting his lips with your while his arms hold you close to his body. you sigh into the kiss, more than happy that your husband had finally returned.

when erik begins to squeak you both break the embrace. “look at you,” ubbe coos. “all grown up, my boy.” he takes erik from your arms and holds him up before he peppers his chubby face with kisses. “have you been good to your mama?” he asks, grinning when the baby begins to giggle.

“papa, papa!” ingrid starts to jump up and down again, grabbing her fathers clothes. “will you give me a kiss too?” she asks, her voice sweet and innocent as she blinks up at ubbe.

he looks at her and crushes down, “of course, my darling,” he smiles before he places his other arm around her and starts to plant small kisses all of her face.

the little girl starts to giggle, clearly happy that she’d gained her fathers attention. you only look at the three of them, thanking the gods that ubbe had returned home safe and healthy.

“papa?” ingrid then asks. “can i go greet uncle bjorn?” she’s giddy on her feet, looking at ubbe with those big eyes. “pleaseeeeee?”

ubbe looks at you and you give him a subtle nod. “you can,” he ruffles her hair. “but be careful, the docks can be dangerous.” his voice contains a clear warning but he doesn’t know if ingrid heard him because she’s already running off.

she’s quick on her feet as she dodges the people on the docks, searching for bjorn’s ship. once it came to her vision she let out a happy squeal.

bjorn stands on the docks, only seconds off the ship before ingrid launches herself into his arms. “oof,” he just manages to catch her, laughing when he clutches to him.

“i missed you uncle bjorn,” ingrid mumbles against bjorn’s chest, pressing her face against his armour. he tightens his arms around her, just enjoying the hug.

“i’ve missed you too,” he then mumbles. “my favourite niece, eh.” a smile breaks out on his face while he ruffles ingrid’s hair.

she giggles, “i’m your only niece.”

“that you are,” he smiles. “but you’re still my favourite.” ingrid starts to play with bjorn’s beard while he gently rocks her around in his arms. he wasn’t married, he had no kids, so he enjoyed the attention ingrid gave him.

“you’re standing in the way, brother,” a annoyed voice then sounds from behind bjorn and he turns around to see ivar standing behind him.

bjorn sighs and shifts ingrid in his arms. “there’s enough space to walk around me, ivar. don’t be such a baby.”

ingrid tilts her head and looks at the youngest ragnarsson. “hello uncle ivar.” she gives him a toothy smile, waving.

ivar only scowls and stumbles past bjorn and his niece. “do not call me that,” he hisses, not paying them both another glance. as he limps away the smile on ingrid’s face fades and she looks at bjorn with question marks in her eyes.

“why doesn’t he like me? or my mama?” she wants to know, turning in bjorn’s arms to look after ivar.

bjorn sighs again and grabs the back of her head gently to place a kiss on her hair. “you should not think about that, little one,” he softly mutters before he starts to move and walk towards his brother and sister-in-law.

you laugh as ingrid climbs all over bjorn’s shoulders, using his tall and broad frame as some kind of tree while your sitting back against ubbe’s side, erik in your arms. “be careful ingrid, you might fall,” you still warm her though, your eyes trained on her.

bjorn only chuckles and raises his hand to tickle her. “don’t worry about that. i’ll make sure nothing happens.” he winks at you.

“don’t flirt with my wife,” ubbe grumbles at that, still a small smile on his face.

hvitserk laughs and slightly shoves ubbe’s arm at his comment. “at that point, she’s our wife, my dear brother.”

ubbe shoots him a dead panned look before he rolls his eyes. “she’s more like a mother to you than anything else,” he huffs out a small laugh.

you slightly smirk at your husbands comment, patting his hand. “i like it that way,” you smile, standing up when erik starts to fuss around in your arms.

“you keep an eye on ingrid,” you point your finger at bjorn as you start to rock erik and make your way towards the door of the great hall. maybe fresh air would calm him down a bit.

you softly hum to your son, as you walk away from the hall a bit, just until you reach the first fields. “shhhh,” you coo at him, caressing his cheek with your finger.

but no matter what you did, he didn’t seem to calm down.

“maybe you should throw him away,” a familiar voice then sounds and you turn around to see ivar standing a few meters away from you. he’s propped up on his crouch, a permanent scowl on his face.

you let out a small huff and shake your head. “he’s a baby, ivar. he can’t express his feeling yet. sometimes crying is just easier for him,” you explain in a soft voice, continuing to rock erik.

“that’s why i don’t like babies,” he grumbles.

“you were a baby once.”

“i know.” his facial features were still tense as he stared at you, then at erik. “but i’m not a baby anymore.”

you didn’t know why ivar had—most likely—followed you out here. you knew he wasn’t particularly fond of you or your children. you couldn’t recall anything that would make him hate you but in the end of the day, that was how he was.

but even though he didn’t want you in his family, near his brothers, you loved him. he was your husbands brother. by marrying ubbe his brothers became your brothers and you loved them.

you look at ivar and slowly take a step towards him. “ivar,” your voice is soft and gentle as you speak, only erik’s little whines being audible. “why is there so much hatred in your heart?”

he freezes at your question, his eyes boring into yours. “i don’t have a heart,” he then hisses, taking a small step into your direction. “and i don’t need you to act like you care about me.”

“but i do.”

“no, you don’t,” he says, his jaw clenched and his body tense. “you’re lying. no one cares about me, except for my mother.”

you subtly shake your head and walk towards him until you’re standing in front of him. he had his head turned, staring at something behind you. “look at me ivar,” you softly demand, erik suddenly quiet in your arms.

ivar doesn’t listen to you. deep down you knew he wouldn’t but it was worth a try. so, you carefully raise your free hand, leaving enough time for him to pull back, and cup his cheek. “i said, look at me, ivar,” you say again, your voice gentle and calm, soothing even.

“why should i?”

you slowly start to caress his cheek bone with your thumb. “because i want you too see that my concern for you is genuine,” you answer, surprised that he hasn’t pulled back yet. he didn’t like being touched.

slowly ivar lifts his head to look at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. he was acting against all his instincts, against everything he knew.

a small smile plays around your lips as he looks at you. “you’re my brother, ivar,” you start. “and i love you. i care for you. whatever people might’ve done, might’ve said, you’re my family and i keep my family close to me.”

he’s silent while he listens to you, letting your words sink in. barely anyone has talked to him like that before. he wasn’t used to being at the receiving end of such feeling. he didn’t deserve that.

he swallows, “after all i’ve done—”

“i don’t care what you’ve done ivar or what you thought.” you gently pat his cheek before you pull your hand back to shift erik in your arms. “my love is unconditional. and if you never need someone to talk to or someone to listen, even a shoulder to cry on, my door is open. always.”

you get interrupted when you see ubbe walking towards you. he calls out your name, the concern evident in his voice.

“i think that’s my sign to get back inside,” you softly smile before you place your hand on ivar’s neck to pull him down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “think about my words, ivar.”

that’s the last sentence you say before you walk past him to assure your husband that you were alright.

pt.2, maybe a little series???

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #vikings #ubbe ragnarsson x reader #bjorn ironside #ivar the boneless #sigurd snake in the eye #hvitserk ragnarsson #bjorn ironside x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk x reader

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

eddie and roan <333 reader is on her period and Roan wants to help, sweet girl is a real-life heating pad

.thank you for your request! dad!eddie x stepmom!reader

"Taste?" Eddie asks, lifting the wooden spoon up to Roan's mouth. "Blow, blow. Super hot."

She's heavy on his hip but isn't yet a weight he can't carry. Eddie thinks he'll probably still be picking her up at eight, at ten. Hell, he'll throw her over his shoulder when she's a teenager if he needs to. But for now she's six, and she's light enough to carry, especially if he props her on the lip of the countertop.

Roan blows on the pasta sauce, cherry tomatoes and ricotta. Steam billows away from the spoon and kisses his cheek. She licks the spoon tentatively.

Eddie laughs as her eyes widen and she puts the spoon in her mouth happily. "Yummy?" he asks.

She nods around the spoon.

Eddie looks down at his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. He's not anxious in the day to day beyond the usual family related worries, but your absence is really playing on him. You should've been home twenty five minutes ago, which is super late for you.

Eddie dips the spoon in the sauce before Roan can burn herself in her own attempt, blows on it, and passes it to her before putting her down gently into a kitchen chair. She's focused on her pasta sauce and doesn't notice.

Eddie takes the boiling pot of pasta off of the heat, strains it, and pours it into the sauce. Then he transfers that pot into a baking tray, covers it in ricotta, breadcrumbs, tiny diced tomatoes and fresh herbs and puts it in the oven to bake on a low heat and brown the top layer. He washes the dishes he'd made, including the wooden spoon, which Roan goes on tiptoes to deposit at his hip, and is just about finished when the front door opens.

"Finally!" Roan says.

"You took the words out of my mouth, babe," Eddie says, dumping the dampened hand towel over the dish rack.

You shuck off your shoes and sigh. Your back is hunched a little and you're squinting, clear signs of discomfort. A blue plastic bag hangs from two curled fingers. Still, you say, "Hi, my loves."

Roan jogs up to you and wraps her arms around your knees. Eddie knows exactly how she's feeling, the ache of missing your mom and the relief of seeing her again.

You don't frown at Roan, exactly, but you don't look happy. Fingers brushing down her hair to push stray strands from her face, you lean down to dot a quick kiss to her forehead. "I can't pick you up, sorry. My tummy hurts."

Eddie doesn't waste time waiting for you to come to him. You roll your eyes as he approaches, murmuring complaints when he gets his arms around you, Roan included. She oofs at being squished between thighs but she's a really smart girl, moving to your side before Eddie can encourage her away from your stomach. He rubs your back, checking you're all in one piece

"What's wrong?" he asks, pressing his cheek to your temple for a quick second. "Time of month?"

"Time of month," you confirm, wielding your blue bag at him. He had a suspicion.

He peeks inside at the assortment of Midol, heat packs, and sanitary towels. "Sorry, babe. Bummer."

"Super bummer," you say.

You mention wanting to shower and Eddie ushers you away with the promise of a dryer warmed towel and a bowl of pasta when you get out. Roan trails around after him curiously, knowing vaguely what time of month entails. She can't sit in your lap unless you ask her too, and she can't start a karaoke party without permission. Besides that, not a lot changes for her. She insists on being the one to get your pyjamas out and ready, and when you emerge from the shower she makes herself scarce with a promise —you will be in the company of her very best Teddy, just as soon as she decides which one that is.

Eddie tries not to stare as you change, but it doesn't matter, you don't mind nor wither under his watching. You wince as you pull your pants up over your stomach and roll them down so the band cinches lower. He winces when you sniffle.

"Is it really bad?" he asks.

"No," you say miserably, shirtless and aching. He has a funny feeling that you're lying.

You don't cry and Eddie thanks whoever for that, but you struggle to raise your arms when a shooting pain nibbles at your spine, so he decides it can wait, and wraps you up in another hug, careful not to touch your abdomen.

"Midol not working?" he asks.

"Not really."

"Want a double dose?"

"Don't joke, I'll say yes."

He eases his hand down your front and presses it gently to your soft tummy. Not even pressing, simply holding it there. Eddie doesn't know if he could handle it, but he wishes he could take the pain from you. It's brutal, and it's much too often.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he says, meaning it emphatically.

"It's okay," you say. Quieter, "Will you help me with my shirt?"

Eddie stations you at the end of the bed. He brushes your tacky face dry with his hands and picks up your shirt, bunching it together in his hands to pop it over your head. You slip your hands through the arm holes and Eddie pulls it down, smoothing down the slope of your waist to your hips. "Tada," he says.

You give him a kiss for his efforts.

Roan rushes in with a teddy in her hands. She has two favourites, both missing an ear, and when she was a baby baby she'd call them all 'Teddy' without differential treatment, but she's brought Mr. Cool in, named for his dark eyes that look like sunglasses.

"I've found him," she says urgently, running to the bottom of your bed and climbing up, little nose tipped up as she meets your eyes, "don't worry, mommy. Mr. Cool has super powers."

You accept Mr. Cool with a hand held over your stomach. He didn't notice when you first came in but you're definitely bloating now. He knows that can make it more painful. The last thing you need is more pain.

"Let me bring dinner upstairs, yeah? We can eat it in bed, you can keep your shoulders back," he suggests.

You nod quickly. You'd probably say yes to an exorcism right around now. Dinner in bed doesn't scratch the surface.

Eddie nips downstairs to gather the trays and drinks and has to bring it up in two trips. When he finishes his final trip, you and Roan are sharing from your plate, the tray on your thighs with your back to a mound of pillows, her smaller stature nestled into your side cautiously.

A cherry tomato falls off of the knife you'd been using as a fork and onto your clean t-shirt. You groan. Roan laughs and picks up the tomato, eating it without another word.

"Weirdo," you say fondly.

"Dad says five second rule," Roan says through her food.

"What if I wanted to eat that one?" you ask, amused.

Roan swallows her tomato. "Huh."

"I brought your heat packs up," Eddie says, slotting his tray haphazardly onto the dresser so he can peel open the box.

You lift your shirt and indulge him, letting him place it against your pouch with a ridiculous amount of tenderness if he does say so himself. Roan pouts a little bit, and her pout soon turns to puppy eyes, and before he knows it she's lifting her t-shirt for him to pat a heating pad onto her stomach.

"They're for grown ups, Ro, and they get really warm. Please tell me if it's too hot," Eddie says, folding her shirt back down.

Roan squirms. "It feels weird."

Your smile tells a different story. "It feels nice. Thanks, handsome."

Eddie squeezes your shoulder in a shake. You're more than welcome.

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thescarletnargacuga · 3 months ago

Note

OOOH CARNIVAL FICS?

Boy, I have a thing for you!

I've recently fallen in love with the song "Kiss me (Kill me)," and it gave me an idea.

You know when sm-baby mentioned how Pomni may be the final boss? Well... Pomni loses control after Caine beating Kinger's level, it results in a battle between Caine... And Pomni...

Towards the very end her sentience returns for a brief moment to aid him.

But... Results in her tragic end.

Leaving Caine heartbroken.

- Fowl Anon

A/N: how devastating...

GAME OVER

A TRAGIC CARNIVAL AU SHOWTIME ONESHOT

Carnival AU credit: @sm-baby

WARNING: HEAVY angst, hurt/some comfort, digital violence, main character death, non-sentient Pomni

~~~

The King fell from his throne with a heavy thud. It was over. It was finally over. Caine stood shakily next to the dethroned King boss. Pomni was hiding in the curtains that separated the room from the main hallway. A heavy silence filled the room as they processed what they had just done.

Caine was still trying to catch his breath when he looked around for Pomni, seeing her peak from her hiding spot.

"...you did it." She said in quiet astonishment as she stepped out into the open. A wide smile slowly grew. "You did it!" She cheered as she ran to Caine, arms open.

Caine barely registered in time she was going to hug him before impact. "Oof! Ha...yeah...I guess I did." He side eyes Kinger as he embraces Pomni. Something still felt off. He couldn't figure what was bothering him in the back of his mind, but it felt like a memory trying to make its way through the blackout.

Pomni's smile faltered. A faint green glow circled her irises before being blinked away. She couldn't move.

"What..? Oh, come on! Not again!" Sentient Pomni groaned inside her own head.

Pomni whispered to Caine. "Well done, player. Your final reward awaits you in the Circus." She gave him a seductive smirk as she pulled him towards the curtains by the hand.

"Uuugh...you know, I don't need you to keep flirting with him. We're already sorta...uh, actually, I don't know what we are-"

Caine blushed. Being completely distracted by the look in her face, he misses her calling him Player. "Of- of course, Pomni, but I feel I should tell you that I don't really care about the award. Whatever it is. I'm just happy your friends are free of the madness."

"Trust me, you'll enjoy this." Pomni stepped back into the darkness beyond the curtains. A look of mischievous glee on her face.

Sentient Pomni didn't know what the program was talking about. There was nothing past Kinger. HE was the final boss. The game credits should be rolling or something. Where were the ending cutscenes? Why did everything still feel the same?

Caine's mind raced, trying to figure out what she was talking about. He stopped himself before it went places that would defy the game's E rating and followed Pomni into the loading screen for the hallway.

Some things are too good to be true...

Caine took a deep breath, happy to be out of the Kings court, but a sense of bittersweetness hit him. He's done. He and Able can leave... but what about Pomni? She can't leave. Maybe he could come back? Maybe the game would work properly now that everyone's madness has been corrected? He squeezed his teeth shut at the overwhelming thoughts.

He needed to talk this through with her, he knew that much. They've grown close. He cares for her. He didn't want to just leave. "Pomni- ...Pomni?" He opened his teeth to find himself alone in the hallway. "Maybe she's taking longer to load in?" He waited. She never came.

Band organ music came from the far end of the cavernous hall, playing a showtime tune. It eerily echoed to Caine like a circus siren's call. Caine followed the music cautiously. "Pomni..?" It came from behind Pomni's door, light shining from beneath. With no other options on what to do, he opened the door and stepped through.

Welcome to the show

Caine entered the tent to applause, lively music playing and spotlights flashing around the unseen audience. He hasn't seen the circus so lively since his performance in level one.

Around the center ring were figures Caine couldn't quite make out, the bright spotlights blinded him with every pass. He got closer. The figure nearest him was moving erratically.

"Caine!! Caine, it's a tra-mmph!!" Able tried to warn his brother, only to be silenced by a dancer's ribbon wrapping his cards together.

The lights stopped. The music stopped. A single spotlight came on over a figure on the high tightrope. "Tsk...tsk...why must you spoil the surprise?" A high feminine laugh fills the big top.

More lights come on over the restrained figures around the center ring. Ragatha. Gangle. Jax. Zooble. Kinger. All bound in chains along with Able.

"Pomni!? What's going on??" Caine was mortified, seeing the malicious grin on her face. His head hurt. The foreign memory feels closer.

"Congratulations, Player. You've defeated everyone who stood in my way. Now, this is MY Carnival! MY SHOW! And you..." She chuckles darkly. "...are no longer required."

"CAINE! I'M SORRY! I CAN'T STOP THIS!" Sentient Pomni screamed from inside, fighting back as hard as she could.

"The secret boss..." Caine said to himself. "You....no..." It was in the game files he read before he ever entered to find his brother. Information that was stored in Bubble, but never knew the true identity of the boss. Only that they existed. "Pomni, don't do this!" He pleaded.

"WELCOME TO YOUR GRAND FINALE!!" Pomni raised her arms and the circus became vibrate neon. Every color was an attack on the senses. Loud music blared. NPC circus performers and toy-like life sized animals emerged from backstage. It was a flurry of movement that disoriented Caine.

A massive health bar, one ever larger than Kinger's, appeared in Caine's lower field of vision. She was not Pomni. She was THE JESTER.

An elephant with performers atop it rampaged at Caine. He dove out of the way just in time. He looked back up at the tightrope. The Jester was gone. He has to keep moving. Every step he took, another performer was attacking him. "POMNI! STOP! I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT YOU!!"

Multiple confetti canons aimed and fired. Caine's preacticed reflexes kept him clear of each shot as he searched for Pomni in the chaos. He dodged flying balls and colorful performing horses. He didn't see the arial silk performers swinging at him, and he was struck in the chest.

Caine rolled across the circus floor, slamming into one of the poles supporting the tightrope. He struggles to get to his feet, winded from the hit. Someone stood before him, he looked up to see the Jester glaring down at him. She grabbed his collar and pulled him to his feet with unknown strength.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt him!" Sentient Pomni begged.

"Then take your final bow, Player. Because everything ends here." She threw him away from her in time for a trapeze to swing low and knock him to the far side of the circus.

Caine lost a whole third of his health. Tears brimmed his eyes. This was too much. Everything was happening at once. He wasn't ready for this.

He tried to run for the door.

He slammed into it as it refused to budge.

"Nuh-uh-uh, Player." The Jester giggled. "There is no escaping me." She sent a flurry of streamers to entangle her prey.

Caine moved quickly from the door, outrunning the streamers as they reached for him.

Pomni grunted in frustration. "Stop moving!" She pointed to Caine, confetti canons ready to fire.

Caine ran around until he stood between the Jester and a canon. "I'm sorry..." He dove out of the way in time for a shot of violent confetti to smack the Jester off her feet.

"Ah!" Sentient Pomni screeched from the hit. She could still feel everything happening to her body.

The damage to the boss Jester was minimal, but Caine felt a rock in his stomach having to hurt her. Tears made it hard to focus. "I'm sorry!" He ran for a trapeze pole to get away from the chaotic movement on the ground.

The Jester wiped her lip, cackling. "Yes, Player! Fight back! Give the audience a show they'll never forget!"She raised her arm and a swinging performer grabbed her to move her up.

Caine found himself where this all started; on a small platform, high above the circus, Pomni opposing him, but instead of performing together...he was meant to defeat her. His chest felt tight. "Pomni! I know you're in there! It doesn't have to be this way! There's always a choice!"

Sentient Pomni cried from inside her prison. "Not this time..."

The Jester grinned. "Win or lose. That is your choice, Player."

Caine looked down at his brother. Able was still bound, desperately fighting the restraints.

Defeat the Jester, and he and Able are free.

Die, and Able and the others live in the Jester's world forever.

Caine clenched his fists. He glares at the Jester with mournful anger. "I'll find a way! I'm not finishing this without Pomni!"

The Jester let out a shrill laugh. "Then you are a greater fool than you seem!" She leapt from her platform to grab a trapeze. The audience cheered as the Jester did a flip to the next trapeze to get closer to Caine.

An idea came to him. He grabbed the trapeze hooked to his side and swung. The Jester spun midair to catch another swinging trapeze when Caine came up high and clothes lined her with his leg.

"Ack-!" The Jester was struck in the neck and missed the bar. She was caught by another passing aerialist.

The crowd booed and a good chunk of the Jester's health bar went down.

"Goodness, that worked!?" Caine gasped as he landed on a platform.

Sentient Pomni groans, instinctually rubbing her neck. Then she suddenly felt less restricted. "Huh?"

Green and blue pixels distorted the Jester's eyes, she shook it off. "ARGH!" The Jester growled, kicked the NPC off of her and swung herself at Caine.

Caine dove for a passing silk and arched with it at the oncoming Jester. He twisted his silk with hers, preventing her from doing anything impressive.

The crowd booed harder.

"NO!!" The Jester snarled, trying to get her silk swinging again. Her health went down more. "NO!! MY PERFORMANCE WILL NOT BE RUINED!!" She jumped from the silk to a passing elephant, doing a handstand. She got a few cheers and her health increased some.

Sentient Pomni slammed herself against the borders of her mind. With each hit she felt movement in her own fingers again. "You can't hold me! I'll make sure you fail!" One more good try and her arms glitched out on the hand stand, dropping the Jester on her face.

Caine saw the glitches. "Pomni!! Keep fighting!" He swung himself to trapeze and gained some speed to fly kick at the Jester.

The Jester sat up on the elephant in time to see a boot flying at her face. She tried to duck, but she glitched back up.

BAM!!

The Jester fell backwards off the elephant to the dusty floor outside the ring. The Jester glitched and pixelated severely. Health dropping, Pomni fought hard for control. "Caine! Please!! End this- NO! I will have what is due! I am the Ringmaster now- CAINE!!" Pomni the Jester's eyes flashed between blue and green. Glitches distort their appearance and voice.

Caine had landed nearby and watched the horrific ordeal Pomni was facing. "Pomni, I can't! You- I don't want to defeat you! Regain control!"

"She's too- YOU WILL NOT STOP ME!!" The Jester got up faster than Caine could react. Her eyes blazed green as she shoved Caine over the edge of the ring. He fell backwards into the path of the stampeding animals and performers. "NOOO!!"

Caine was trampled by zebras and clowns on pogo sticks. He crawled as far as he could out of the way but took serious damage. His health was in the red. He planted as he crawled for the pole ladder. He glared back at the Jester. "You want me? ...come and get me."

"Caine! Don't!" Pomni fought the Jester as she grabbed a circling performer to the other pole connecting the high tightrope. Glitches made her slip every few rungs, but the Jester determinedly climbed in her single minded agenda to end this.

Caine met the Jester's glare across the wire. The audience below awed at the spectacle of the two performers making their way toward the middle. Caine focused hard to keep balance. He has a plan.

When the Jester was far enough from her platform, he pirouetted, making the wire wobble. This got him applause and thwarted the Jester's attempts at a stunt. The Jester's health fell to critical and she glitched hard. She fell on the wire and koala clung to it.

Caine moved closer, ready to grab at her. "Fight her, Pomni! You can do it!"

Pomni fought with all her might, but it wasn't enough. Whatever restrictions were on the program that allowed her to maintain control were gone. The Jester was here to stay. "I-I- can't!" Pomni glitched again as the Jester fought back. She slid, hanging on the wire with only her hands.

Caine dropped on the wire and grabbed her arm. "I believe in you, Pomni! Please! I've got you!"

The failed wire stunts made the crowd angry. They booed and hissed at the "poor" performance, making the Jester screech and glitch. Her hands slipped off the wire.

Caine gripped her wrist as hard as he could. "Pomni!!"

Pomni held tight as she saw the chaos below. Then Abel. Her friends. This was bigger than her. This ended with her, one way or another. She looked back at Caine, sorrow in her eyes. "Let me go..."

"WHAT!? No! You're going to win this!"

"She's too powerful. This won't stop until it's over. It's the only way you'll get home."

"It can't be the only way! Don't let go!" He pleaded as he felt her slipping.

Pomni gave him a sad smile. "I love you, Caine Alexander Eden..." She let go of his wrist.

"POMNI!!!" He cried out as her hand slid through his grasp.

Pomni closed her eyes as she fell to the circus floor. Caine lost sight of her in the crowd of performers and made his way to the nearest platform to climb down.

A hush fell over the tent as the performers vanished. The music stopped. The colors muted. The audience went silent. The chains binding Able and the others broke.

Pomni was revealed lying face up in the center of the circus, as though she only fell asleep. Caine rushed to her, fell to his knees and held her to his chest. "Pomni? Pomni, please." He gently brushed the hair from her face. He shook with grief. This couldn't be how things were supposed to end.

He held her for a long while, part of him hoping she would just...wake up. He couldn't hold in the sorrow that washed over him. He wailed as he held her against him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Pomni, I'm sorry!" He hiccupped as he sobbed against her face. "I love you too...I always have...I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you..."

Able kneeled next to Caine. There was nothing he could say that would make the situation better in the slightest. He sat with Caine just to be there for him. The others didn't crowd, but they were mournfully silent in solidarity.

Bubble popped in, gently leaning against Caine's shoulder. His abilities calm Caine's heart rate.

Caine felt Pomni get lighter in his arms. He sat up with a gasp, a split second of hope in his heart that she was getting up. Instead, her body turned to wisps of glitter. She fell apart in his hands and flew to create a doorway in front of him.

The glitter solidified and became a bright red door with the word exit printed on it. Caine sat, mortified as the ending text appeared before him.

Thank you for playing the Amazing Digital Carnival!

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc fanfiction #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #the amazing digital carnival #tadc au #angst #tw angst #tw violence #tw death

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

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haii !! for your fluffy friday:

hobie brown x reader and reader got one of those american girl doll baby dolls (i forgot what theyre called) so hobie and reader can take care of it like its a real baby 🤗

Hi, angel! Thank you for your request, hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x Fem! Reader

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Reader is pregnant, Fluff.

It's Fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You and Hobie wave goodbye to Mayday, she pouts in her dad's arms, not ready to go home yet. Baby blues tearing up, her lip wobbles. Peter tries to console his daughter. The portal swirls in your living room, bathing it in a yellow glow. You cringe at how your stuff will fall harshly on the floors once it closes.

"You'll see them again, don't you miss mama?" He bounces her in his arms. Mayday only frowns more at her father's question, emotions running high.

"Mm-hmm, I'm sure your mommy misses you a lot, Mayday" you coo at the toddler, cradling your baby bump. You're about to burst any day now.

Hobie hands Peter Mayday's baby bag, "yeah, we'll just be here waiting for you" he ducks down to meet Mayday's teary eyes, shaking her tiny hands, trying to bring comfort. You grin at the interaction, hormones making you tear up.

"Thanks guys, I really need to get her home before she throws a tantrum. See ya!" Peter makes Mayday wave her hand by using his own. "Say bye bye, Mayday! Hit me up if you need any help, okay?" she finally wails as her dad steps inside the portal. Her cries get cut off by the portal closing.

"Oof glad I'm not Peter right now" you huff, turning around to look for Hobie, "Hobie?"

He crouches down to pick up a baby doll left on the floor. Shaking it in his grip, "D'you think she was crying because of this?"

"I don't think so, she barely played with it" you shrug, wobbling to him, taking the doll in his hands. Still accustomed to taking care of an actual baby, you cradle the toy like it's alive. "We can give it back to Pete next time they visit"

Hobie cracks an endearing smile, he's seen you hold Mayday before with the same enthusiasm but something about you carrying a smaller baby albeit a toy one unlocks something in his mind. He's absolutely excited to have the little one in your arms.

"You look really fit right now" Hobie eyes you up and down, whistling. You make pregnancy look good.

You roll your eyes, "what?" Not believing the words he uttered "my shirt is covered in baby food," you sniff at your collar. "Yep, mango baby food. And I haven't washed my hair in days"

Hobie leads you in his arms by your elbow, holding you close, the baby doll right in the middle of your cuddling, stomach making it hard to embrace him properly.

You suddenly realize what he really meant, knowing him well. Basically reading his mind when he lays his head on your shoulder, tired from chasing around Mayday all over the flat; hand rubbing soft circles over your tummy. The other kneads at the small of your back, massaging the aching muscle.

He's been so supportive the entire pregnancy, even with all your weird cravings and hormone induced mood swings, Hobie was always there to help ease the burden off of you. You've seen him get more and more excited everyday, bouncing all over the flat to get it ready for the baby.

"Yeah? I look good?" Bouncing the toy in your arms, you smirk at Hobie.

"Mm-hmm," Hobie peppers your face with sticky kisses leaving you all giggly and smiley. "So" kiss "bloody" kiss "good"

"Okay" laughing in between "calm down this is the reason why I'm pregnant" instead of pulling away, you encourage him by leaving your own kisses on his cheeks.

After a moment of you attacking his face with your lips, you finally pull away, scrunching your nose endearingly at Hobie with a lopsided grin. His hand never leaves your bump.

"Maybe we should keep this for a few days, might be good for practice" He holds the doll by its foot jokingly. You know he's prepared enough to know how to hold a baby properly.

You chuckle, "not a good start, babe" taking the doll with care, cradling its head, you indulge him.

"I haven't got that swaddling thing down"

"Come on then, let's practice" leading him to the bedroom by his hand with a tired but happy smile.

Reblog banner by @/cafekitsune

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sublimecatgalaxy · 10 months ago

Note

liz i miss you :((( i keep saying i have to message you and then getting distracted (as per usual 🙄) i can't wait for the semester to end so that i can actually have a life again!

for theme night, can i request number 26 with joel please? <3

I love you sweetheart, message me anytime, whenever you're free :)

Also bestie, I'm writing this way way way after my theme night and can't remember what number 26 was lol so I hope you'll take this as is.

"Hello?" He answers the phone with a gruff sigh and my cheeks warm at the sound of his husky voice, a smile spreading across my face at the sound.

"Hi Joel." I coo but he scoffs and I can hear him shuffling on the other end of the line.

"What do you want?" His question makes my stomach drop, though probably not intended to come out so harsh, it did and it makes my heart sink nonetheless.

"Ouch, not happy to hear from me?" I ask with a sudden lull to my voice and I hear him curse, and I can picture him rubbing his forehead in annoyance and sighing a much-needed breath.

"Sorry, it's been a long day and- Sarah, go to sleep already, damnit." I hear him bat the girl away as she giggles, calling out my name through the receiver and I giggle, slapping a hand across my lips at the sound of her teasing her father for speaking to me this late.

"Need me to come over and make you feel better?" I ask and he shushes me before going back to talking to Sarah, practically begging her and bribing her to go to sleep already.

"Don't start with that." He mutters into the phone and I smirk, twirling the phone cord between my fingers as I play dumb, something I know he loves though he'll always act like he hates it.

"Start with what?"

"Behave." He groans and I fall back onto the bed with an oof, hoping and begging that he'll tell me to come over, even though he's acting like it's the last thing he wants to be bothered with.

"I'm doing nothing."

"You're doin' a whole lotta talkin'." He laughs, the first genuine sign of happiness that I've managed to pull from him all night and all day of texting and I smile, knowing that his frustration from earlier was just that, frustration at something else.

"What would you rather my lips be doing?" I ask and there's a pause, the line humming with static as he thinks of something to say.

"Hush." He whispers with a sigh and I bite at my lip, waiting, knowing that if he's going to ask me to come over, it's going to be now. "Leave in twenty, I'll make sure Sarah's asleep."

"See you then, tough guy." I'm jumping out of bed as soon as the line cuts and, with a huge smile on my face, I gather my clothes for tomorrow, snatching my toothbrush out of the bathroom before I'm out the door.

#joel #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller x y/n

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simplygyuu · 2 years ago

Text

Nouvelle Crown - 018 : Still the Same

synopsis : choi beomgyu, the second prince of the royal choi family doesnt have much of a life outside of his duties. even then hes not allowed to do much, his brother is the crown prince after all. but when he meets you, a regular commoner girl, through his brothers friend soobin he cant help but be intrigued. commoner life is so different from what he knows and you are the only person to treat him like the normal teenager he always longed to be. with you he gets to experience the normal, teenager life behind the backs of his overbearing family.

while standing in front of the giant, mansion of a house that belonged to hueningkai you couldnt have felt more out of place. the garden was perfectly kept and there were full on butlers at the door, holding it open for you because they had been 'awaiting your arrival.' it was all so new, something you had never experienced before.

once you walked inside you were led through the admittedly, very confusing home by a maid. she rambled on about how their dear hueningkai had yet to bring friends over that werent beomgyu and how she was so glad to meet you. you felt a bit like a fraud knowing the both of you were acquaintances at best. you should try and befriend him later. he seemed like a sweet guy either way and deserved to have more friends. perhaps him and taehyun would get along.

as you continued up the winding stairs you heard a familiar twinkle of laughter, laughter that you could recognize anywhere. it was gyu, or well beomgyu now. you had already come to terms with him being the prince and having snuck around to hang out with you of all people. at first you were absolutely freaked out but now youve realized hes still the same shy guy you met at 7 eleven. still the guy who sat there for a good hour trying and failing to play simple arcade games. still the same guy who would take time out of his busy days to text you as much as possible.

knocking on the door, the maid peeked her head in and made a small gesture. her and hueningkai must have talked about this before hand because just seconds later he was stepping out of the room and giving you a big thumbs up and smile. nervously you smiled back since it seemed like beomgyu didnt know you were showing up. at least thats how it seemed when you spoke to hueningkai.

with a deep inhale you finally stepped into the large room, the sound causing beomgyu to look towards the door. your eyes widened once you noticed he wasnt wearing the familiar mask you had always seen him in. of course he wasnt, he didnt need to hide his identity with hueningkai. his expression mirrored yours, a shocked look dawning his face as you took the few seconds of shocked silence to study his features. you knew that he was handsome after finding out who he was but it was an entirely different thing to see in person. especially after knowing him personally.

"..yn? what are you doing here?" beomgyu finally piped up, sounding sheepish. he was obviously nervous most likely because you knew his big secret. for a split second you just continued to stare before jogging forward to engulf him in a hug. a soft "oof!" left his mouth from the impact before he hesitantly returned the hug.

"i missed you so much! gosh i never realized how much we talked until you were gone... dont ever do that again!" you began to ramble, hugging him tightly. you had a tendency of picking a 'favorite person' to look forward to speaking to the most and beomgyu had been that for you since a few days after you met. you had looked forward to his texts and to the hangouts you two could manage. you never thought much of it, having had other people as your favorite person that were simply friends. you assumed thats how it was with him too, but now that you were hugging him so tightly and inhaling the familiar floral scent of his perfume you felt pesky butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

"i missed you too... you arent mad at me?" he asked softly and when you looked up you saw the pout you had imagined so many times. a new round of butterflies burst in your stomach as you smiled and reached up to playfully pinch his cheek. "i could never stay mad at you~"

it caused him to chuckle and try to evade the attack on his cheek without shoving you off him, ever the gentleman. once you finally let go of eachother beomgyu seemed happy to dive into a small tour of hueningkais room. it seemed obvious that he didnt want to talk about what had happened or what happened at the school he was sent to, and that was okay. you had to plans to pressure him into talking. he could come to you or his brother or hueningkai when he was ready.

for now, you were happy to sit and listen to him ramble on about his best friend and their stories together.

--------------------------------------------------------------

previous masterlist next

notes : hi...... sorry ive been sick n have felt HORRIBLE n havent been writing because of it.. its also why this is so short but i really wanted to get something out. pls forgive me :(( once im back to 100% ill try and write smth a little longer!

reblogs and replies are really really appreciated and keep me motivated!

taglist (open) : @mazeinthemoon @pokyloky @run2seob @bluebearybeom @wonioml @rikismiel @yumilovesloona @captivq @soobin-chois @thisisnotjacinta @silvsie @sullystraw @luvsoobs @ddeonudepressions @woncheecks @ioszzn @dudufodd @jaeminanklelicker @strawbrinkofdeath @softcabur @luvsooby @ilovewonyo

send me an ask or message to be added to the taglist! i dont add from replies

#beomgyu #tommorow x together #txt #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu #kpop #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu smau #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu fic #beomgyu ff #beomgyu fanfic #txt socmed au #txt fic #txt smau #txt fanfic #txt social media au

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serenasoutherlyns · 7 months ago

Text

i won't end up anywhere good (without you)

“The guitar suits you; you know. It just looks right in your hands.”

calex. mature. ao3. playlist.

If I'm a broken record, write it in the dust, babe I'll fill myself back up like I used to do And if my bones are made of delicate sugar I won't end up anywhere good without you

After the show, it was beers in the basement, after beers in the basement it was smoking outside in the warm June weather. After smoking she pulled out her acoustic guitar and covered Rihanna songs to make everyone else laugh. Olivia always turned in first, Amanda second, and Rafael and Casey would stay up until dawn before caving and falling asleep on the floor, the only space left. They’d wake up with pounding hangovers and load into the van again and do it all over in a new town. They were somewhere in Massachusetts; Casey couldn’t keep track anymore.

Olivia motioned for the bong over breakfast. Casey passed it, coughing into her cup of coffee. Amanda patted her back. Rafael was in the kitchen finishing the mountain of pancakes and bacon he was making for everyone in the house, the number of which seemed uncountable. The first of them to wake emerged from a bedroom in shorts and a tight tank, her eyes half-closed. She gave everyone a wave before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Ugh,” she said when she reappeared, sitting down at the crowded table, “I need food, right now.”

“Raf, ETA on pancakes?” Said Amanda.

“Gimme three,” he shouted over the hood fan.

“Thank God,” said the blonde woman beside Olivia.

“Big night?” Asked Casey playfully. The woman nodded.

“There was a show, went late, the afterparty went later. Too much whisky.”

“That’s all?” Said Amanda.

“Coke, but not that much,” she said. “Can I?” she asked, motioning for the bong.

‘Of course,” said Olivia, handing it to her. The woman turned her head back as she exhaled, politely blowing the smoke away from the rest of them. Raf came into the dining room with a towering stack. The woman’s eyes widened, and she immediately dug in like a cat with a fresh bowl.

“Hungry?” Said Raf, laughing. The woman nodded. Raf went back to cooking.

“This is so fucking good,” she said. “Ugh I have terrible manners, I’m Alex.”

“Olivia, nice to meet you.” The rest of them made their introductions. Alex Casey rolled around in her head. She liked the sound of that.

“I have to go to work in like half an hour,” Alex groaned.

“Oof,” said Amanda, “I don’t miss that. What do you do?”

“I’m a barista.”

“Do you play?” Asked Casey.

“I just live here,” said Alex. “Can’t play an instrument to save my life.” Casey nodded, taking a bite of her bacon. Another door opened and Rita came out, that was who had invited them, Casey remembered, the bass player. Rita gave them a nod. They heard the unmistakable sound of vomit from the bathroom and all cringed in sympathy.

“Poor thing,” said Amanda, drawling.

“Hey,” said Rita when she came out.

“Hey,” chorused the rest of them. Rita poured herself a cup of coffee from the Chemex. Casey imagined Alex must’ve insisted on a nice set up.

“I’d better go change,” said Alex, rising from the table. They filled the air with idle conversation. When she came back out, she had on a baggy pair of men’s Levi’s and a loose white t-shirt, her hair was up in a high ponytail. Casey noticed the green lower half of her hair. She had swiped on some black and white eyeliner and plum lipstick. She slung her arms around Rita’s shoulders. She grabbed her bag off a hook in the living room and said her goodbyes as she left for work.

“See you guys tonight,” she said. “Can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for us.”

“See you,” said Casey for the rest of the table. Olivia had begun to gather the dishes and Amanda was washing them. Raf took his opportunity to finally eat. Another roommate, and then another, and another (significantly more people than there were bedrooms) came out over the course of the next couple hours and were disappointed that the pancakes were gone. You snooze you lose, was Rafael’s reply. He knew more of them than the rest of them did. Raf had been in bands since he was thirteen.

“I saw you checking out Alex,” Rita said, cornering Casey at around three o’clock. She was sitting on the couch reading a novel.

“Did you?” Said Casey, who was unaware she had been doing such a thing.

“Yeah,” said Rita. “You’re her type, you should go for it.” Hm thought Casey. She did like to build memories in each town they visited. Eventually, though, they started to blend together, and all she would remember was girl with all the rings or undercut girl.

“Maybe,” said Casey.

“Anyway, I’m going to The Olive,” Rita said, “Alex’s boss gives us free drip. Want some?”

“Actually,” said Casey, setting aside her novel, “Can I come with?”

“Sure,” said Rita with a smile. “She’s fun to watch in action.”

“They always are,” said Casey. She grabbed her wallet and followed Rita out.

---

“Casey, hey, welcome,” said Alex from behind the bar. It was a busy Saturday, but not too busy. The place was full but there wasn’t a line. Casey watched as Alex effortlessly took an order while finishing up another one, like it was nothing. Pleasant indie pop played over the speakers, not entirely unlike what Hands in the Middle played, though they had more of a punk edge. Casey looked forward to their show that night.

“Hey,” Casey replied. Alex was filling up two twelve-ounce cups of drip coffee for them. She gave them a happy look. “Good to see you. You want room?”

“Black’s fine, thanks.” Alex handed them the cups. They could afford to chat for a little while. Rita, somewhat pointedly, went to the bathroom, leaving the two of them alone. “How’s it been today?” Alex bit her lip and looked into Casey’s eyes. She was being pursued. She liked that feeling.

“Oh, fine,” she said, “The lunch rush was kind of crazy.” She gestured to an untidy workstation behind her.

“Saturday,” Casey said.

“Looking forward to tonight?” Alex said. Casey didn’t miss what she meant. “I’m excited to see you guys play.”

“Yeah, I am,” said Casey, “very.” Alex’s coworker gestured behind Casey, and there was someone waiting. Rita came back from the bathroom.

“See you, Alex,” said Casey as they left. Alex gave her a large smile and wave in return.

---

“We sound like shit,” said Raf to Olivia. Something was off about the acoustics in the space, but there was nothing to be done about it, and no use in complaining, in Casey’s opinion, which she was sure Rafael knew. Casey played a few bars of their newest song.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Raf,” she said. Amanda made a noise in agreement. The residents of the house were milling about, eating, smoking, drinking, playing cards. Casey liked this kind of show, one where people actually lived. It was so personal and comfortable. They eventually got Rafael to calm down and just play. It was a good show, all things considered. Maybe they didn’t sound their best, but Casey was sure they didn’t sound their worst either. The crowd seemed to have enjoyed themselves. Now, everyone was gathered in the living and dining rooms with beers and weed, just how it should be. Alex found her right after the show and sat down next to her. Olivia and Amanda found some corner to pretend not to be into each other in (messy), and Rafael was passionately discussing cartoons with Rita at the dining table. Alex had her hand on Casey’s thigh, now, and Casey knew it was only a matter of time before they were going to be making out on this couch. She set down her beer.

“You really were great,” said Alex, flattering her. “The guitar suits you; you know. It just looks right in your hands.”

“Looking at my hands, were you?” said Casey, teasing.

“A little, maybe,” said Alex with a giggle. Casey was just high enough to be a little silly. Alex must’ve been too. Casey took Alex’s hand in her own.

“Look all you like,” she said in a deep voice. Alex kissed her, then, cupping her cheek and leaning in. Before long, she was in Casey’s lap and Casey’s hands were roaming her back, playing with her hair. Alex whipped her head back when a can collided with it.

“Get a room,” yelled Raf. Alex looked at Casey and shrugged in invitation.

“Sure,” said Casey. Alex hopped up and guided her into her bedroom. There were two beds in there, but nobody else in either. Alex got on the bed and lay back. Casey took one hand in hers and used the other to prop herself up as she kissed her lips, then her neck, making her gasp and moan.

---

It was nice to sleep in a real bed for once. Casey woke up feeling more rested than usual that Sunday morning. It was a good thing, too, because they had a really long driving day ahead of them. She could smell Rafael cooking, which meant it couldn’t be that late (well, someone would’ve woken her up if it was dire). Alex was already awake, it seemed, because she was alone in the bed. Casey dragged herself up and into the kitchen.

“Morning, Casey,” said Rita, “Alex had to head into work early, she sends her apologies. Fun night?” Casey grinned.

“Yep,” she said. Amanda gave her a high five. Breakfast was served, and thoroughly enjoyed. They loaded their things into the van and set off. That had been a good stop, in Casey’s opinion. It was on to the next.

#calex #casey novak #alex cabot #svu #svu fic #sficx

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benasabrina · 7 months ago

Note

A prompt for you: Phoenix and Maya attend Trucy and Pearl's high school graduation together.

Ooh, fascinating idea, anon! Let's see what I can do with this~

slight edit: Link to the fic on ao3!

-----

The alarm blared right in his ear. It is Friday and there are no cases to investigate for, no trials to be had. So, why did he have an alarm on for six in the morning? Phoenix would have pressed snooze to sleep in longer but that was not going to happen.

As soon as his finger pressed the snooze button, two figures entered his and Maya's room and immediately jumped on top of his side of the bed, and even him.

"Oof!" Phoenix gruffed out and groaned groggily. "G'mornin'," he mumbled and blearily opened an eye to see Trucy and Pearl staring at him.

"Daddy! It's time to get up! It's graduation day!" Trucy grinned as she silently yelled at her father, not wanting to disturb Maya who was still sleeping. "Mama needs to get up soon too..." she mumbled and rested her chin on Phoenix's raised leg. Pearl giggled softly and peered over Phoenix to see Maya on her side, snoring softly. "The pregnancy must be taking a toll on her if she's still sleeping through this," she whispered and glanced over to Phoenix.

Phoenix couldn't help but feel some pang of guilt... despite knowing that they both wanted this. He just didn't expect her to fall pregnant with twins right off the bat. With a sigh, he motioned the girls to move off of him and he sat up. "You both finish getting ready. I'll get ready then get Maya up when I'm done."

The girls nodded then dashed out of the room.

xXx

Maya ended up waking up as soon as Phoenix was in the shower and opted to join him to freshen up (and to wake up as well). She played nice and decided to not rile him up since they're technically on a time crunch for both Trucy and Pearl's high school graduation.

After the shower, they both finished getting dressed, Phoenix decided to wear just a plain light powder blue dress-shirt with this sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark blue jeans. Maya on the other hand wore a white t-shirt with a light purple maternity over-all sun dress. She looked over herself in the mirror and sighed softly.

Phoenix took note of this. "Everything okay, Maya?"

She grumbled and tried to suck in her belly a bit, but to no avail. "I'm fine, just feeling a bit fat right now." Maya rubbed at her large belly and sighed again. "Can't they just come out now? I'm tired of being pregnant."

He couldn't help but chuckle gently. "You say that now, but you know for a fact that once they're out, you're going to miss them being in there."

Maya's eyes narrowed. "Fair point. This is all your fault, you know."

"My dear, it takes two to tango," was all Phoenix said in reply. "Now come on, we can't let those two be late for their graduation."

"Yeah, yeah."

xXx

The graduation is a bit of a strange one this year. While Trucy attended the local high school, Pearl did not. Pearl actually attended the continuation school near the office so she too can get an education. Thankfully, she was homeschooled, but that can only get her so far. Kurain was not exactly suited for "higher" education as some of the elders put it. So with Phoenix's help, Pearl was enrolled and sped through the courses since she was such a fast learner. Both schools decided to merge their graduations so families can see their teens graduate together rather than picking and choosing.

Once they arrived at LA High, the girls went off to find their classes while Phoenix and Maya went to where the families were made to sit. They arrived at a decent time and found open toward the middle aisle where they both knew the girls would walk down to get their diplomas (and also in case Maya had to get up to use the restroom at any point during the ceremony).

Phoenix breathed out gently and tried to keep his emotions in check about the two girls. No use getting worked up since he knew Maya would also be an emotional mess. But... It felt like only yesterday he met Pearl and also took in Trucy. He glanced over to Maya as she adjusted her sunglasses to just above her bangs. Her gaze caught him staring at her.

"What?" she asked innocently.

He shook his head and smiled gently back at her. "Nothing. Just thinking about the girls and how different our life would be without them. Well... at least without Trucy." His glossy eyes almost gave him away.

She noticed his glossy eyes, but didn't say anything about it. "Our life is going to be even more different once these two are out," Maya replied with a grin. "For better or worst, I think we'll be okay, no matter what."

Phoenix took her left hand and marveled at the wedding ring on her ring finger. He placed a soft kiss there. "For better or worst," he replied and waited for the graduation ceremony to begin.

xXx

The ceremony was beautiful and went by rather quick. Both graduating classes were somewhat small. Once it was all said and done, Phoenix and Maya held hand as they got up and went to find their graduated girls and give their congratulations. They did not have to search long because as soon as they rounded a corner, Phoenix was tackled and hugged by Trucy and Pearl.

"Daddy! Mama! We did it! I can't believe it's finally over!"

"Mr. Nick!! Mystic Maya! Thank you for helping me!"

Phoenix and Maya both laughed. Maya joined in on the hug as best as she can, maneuvering her belly so she can hug them tightly. "You girls did this all on your own! We're so proud of you both!" Maya grinned and kissed the top of their heads.

Seeing his little family brought a tear to his eye. Phoenix wiped at his eyes quickly and coughed into his fist. "I think it's time to celebrate! Where do you girls want to go? We can go anywhere you want to!"

Trucy and Pearl looked to each other and grinned. "Korean Barbecue!" they both said in unison.

Maya cheered alongside them and tugged at her husband's shirt. "Let's go, Nick!"

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, let's go!"

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #maya fey #trucy wright #pearl fey #narumayo #sabrina replies #this was fun!#i wasn't sure where to end it... but i'm glad i actually wrote after the graduation ceremony

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redahlia-writes · 1 year ago

Text

you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc

six. need your love so bad.

content (for this chapter): family feels (again), marriage talks, cursing, lots of fluff, comfort, slight anxiousness, the boys being menaces, unedited

word count: 4.8k

a/n: i was trying to make this chapter longer because next one will be the last and i'm already missing them, but also it's been almost a month since you've last heard for me. exams aren't over yet, so it'll still take me a while to get the next one going and finished, so thank you for your patience (before and even more now). ily

reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

series masterlist | masterlist

“When I was young, my mama used to tell me I would find love many times throughout my life, and it wouldn’t always look the way I expected it to. Unsurprisingly, she was right–I found love in her, the way she’d care for me even when I was here and she was back home, miles between us that at times felt unbearable; I found it in all of you, who’ve had to bear with me through college–I’m sorry, I love you, thank you for sticking around; and I found it in this family: Alba, who is too busy trying to get to the cake to hear a single word I’m saying–hi, sweetie, we’ll get you a piece right away; Frankie, of course–I’m not sure I knew what love really meant until you came around. You, and the rest of them. Because, you see, what I didn’t know when I first got with Frankie was that he came with addenda, and they are one of the best things that ever happened to me. Santiago, Will, Benny, you–I love you, and I hope you know I will always be there for you, whenever you need me. Growing up I never wondered what it’d be like to have brothers, to be honest, but I now know I just had to wait around to find out. It’s not half as bad, even the maddening moments. No–no, seriously, my hair’s gone almost white these past years dealing with you. But I’d do it all over again. Thank you–thank you for taking me in, for trusting me with your Frankie, and just for being you.”

The towel on Frankie’s shoulders was warm, and as he padded back towards the bedroom he felt the droplets of water fall from his hair, some escaping the towel and dripping down his neck. A muffled squeal came from the bed, where Camila rested sprawled on her back, Frankie’s phone in her hands as the screen light cast shadows across her face. She was smiling, tilting her head ever so slightly at his coming into the room though her eyes did not wander away from the images playing on the screen.

“Are you seriously watching it again?” he chuckled, climbing on the edge of the bed and carefully straddled her before lowering his frame over hers, threading his head through the needle formed by her arms.

“Yes,” she widened the space between her arms for him to fit in before he leaned fully over her, a quiet oof leaving her at his full weight now on her. He tucked his head in the curve of her neck, nosing gently at her jaw to let her give him more space, a quick kiss to her collarbone before settling down. “You know, I think Alba might become a great filmmaker–she really got your best side.”

“What?” he laughed, pulling his head up just about. “I have a best side?”

“Sure you do,” moving the phone into her left hand, she then proceeded to poke his left side with a quick grin, her eyes darting to the side towards him. The squealing noise came again from his right side, followed by a laughter and a are you fucking kidding me? “Look.”

With one arm wrapped around his shoulders and the other propped up to hold the phone up for both of them, he rested her cheek against hers, making her snort before pressing play again.

Camila didn’t remember the last time she’d been to the beach.

She used to go all the time back home–though home was now Frankie. Had been for a while.

Frankie, a few steps ahead, being dragged by Alba by his hand right towards the shore, his cap sitting slightly askew on his head as he did his best not to drop his shoes. Unable to help herself, Camila laughed at the sight, arms wrapped around herself as the chill of the sunset set in–she didn’t mind it that much.

Frankie lowered himself at Alba’s side, his hands wrapping around her waist as he leaned in and told her something that got lost in the sound of the waves. The kid was looking at him, eyes wide and mouth set in something akin to determination–as much as a 5-year-old could show, really. She nodded at whatever it was her father said, then freed herself from his hold and ran back towards her, kicking up sand as she went.

“Come, mama,” she said, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling her along.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she chuckled, following as quickly as the sand allowed, looking back towards Frankie just once. He’d taken his cap off, shaking his curls a little as he twisted it in his hands, an amused look crossing his face. When she turned back towards Alba, she was heading straight for a large towel set on the sand, the corners held down by rocks. “Sweetie, hold on, that’s not for us,” she warned gently, picking up Alba’s pace.

“It is, actually,” Frankie called, slowly reaching their side. The kid was looking up, her hand still wrapped around Camila’s dress. “Thought it’d be nice to sit and watch it together,” he added, almost bashful, nodding towards the setting sun, sky already tinged of oranges and pinks. Camila grinned, extending her hand towards his.

“Sometimes I think you’re still trying to woo me,” she leaned into his shoulder as he got closer, pressing a kiss to it from above his sleeve. He bowed his head in return, brushing his lips to her temple.

“I absolutely am,” he returned with a firm nod, making her snort.

They dropped their shoes by the towel before sitting down–almost falling, really, Camila the first to drop down and tugging him with her. He made a noise of protest as he landed at her side. Alba moved to Camila's other side, burying her hands and feet in the sand, uninterested in the scene before them.

“Well, it’s working,” she hummed, one last glance towards the child before looking up ahead, tilting her head so that it was resting again on Frankie’s shoulder, inhaling deeply and letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

Frankie shuffled at her side, one hand dropping between them as he shifted a little, and then again, as if trying to find a comfortable position. She threaded her arm with his, tugging it gently to her chest and kissing his shoulder again, hooking her chin over it afterwards.

He sighed, hand coming up to brush down her forearm, thumb drawing circles across her skin. He cleared his throat once, twice, and when Camila opened her eyes he straightened his back almost abruptly, his gaze moving from her quickly to look up ahead.

Frankie was restless–though his angst had dimmed throughout the years, there were times he couldn’t sit still for too long without growing agitated. Camila would hold him then, just a few minutes, until they came up with something to do that would keep him occupied, whether it was going out for a walk or a drive or staying at home to make a more complex meal, each step a rule that ground him.

“We don’t have to stay here, honey,” she hummed, her chin still over his shoulder as she detangled their arms and brought both hands over his back, rubbing up and down in slow soothing motions. “Should we keep walking?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, gaze flickering from her to the red-tinged sea and back again. “Shit–I thought it’d be easier.”

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” her hands moved up to his shoulders, a delicate massage up the tensed curve of his neck that had him hum softly, eyelids fluttering shut for a moment.

“Nothing,” he shook his head again, twisting slightly to face her. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing has been wrong for a while, and I have you to thank for that.”

“Honey–” she called softly, taking off her sunglasses, and he leaned in to kiss her–a quick brush of lips to quieten her.

“I love you,” he murmured, and turned furthermore, “so fucking much. I do. In a way I didn’t think would be possible–would be allowed to someone like me,” she shifted onto her knees, bringing herself closer to his front, the only barrier his crossed legs between them. Her hands fell to his knees, head tilting slightly as her gaze softened. “Every morning I wake up and see you and think that in all that shit I must’ve done something right for you to still be here, and–”

“Frankie,” she almost reprimanded, a small frown knitting her brow.

“Just let me–” he sighed, tipping his head back for a moment before exhaling, turning back to meet her eyes. “I know I want to wake up every day and think that for the rest of my life. I want to wake up to you and go to sleep with you and do everything else in the middle with you, Mila. For the rest of my life, I want–I want–”

From his pocket, Frankie struggled to pick out a small box–Camila’s eyes widened at the sight of the green velvet, a squealing noise leaving her abruptly as he brought it between the two of them. Before he could say anything else, she’d tipped herself forward, arms wrapped around his shoulders that brought them both down towards the sand. Frankie laughed, tightening his grip around the unopened box as he brought his other arm around her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she called, voice muffled by his shirt. “You had me worried!” again he chuckled, brushing her side gently. “Yes–”

“I haven’t even asked you anything yet,” he said softly, but let his lips brush her cheek before she pulled her head back. Camila looked down at him, hair falling down as if to curtain them from the world, eyes wide and face flushed.

“Sorry,” she muttered, then pulled back–as much as Frankie’s arms allowed. “Wait, you were–were you asking–”

“Yes,” he laughed again, moving the box between them and opening its lid. Camila’s gaze flickered down to the ring in it, the opal encased in a white gold thin band popping from the dark case. “I know it doesn’t change much, and it doesn’t have to be right away, we’ve got all the time in the world, I just–” he placed the box on his chest, so as to bring his hand up and tuck her hair behind her ear, touch lingering over her cheek. “I want you to be my wife. I want to grow old with you. I want to do all that’s left to do in life with you, and call myself your husband, and be obnoxious and corny about it.”

“Is this why you wanted to come here?” her smile was wide, making her eyes squint and lines form around her mouth. He brushed his thumb along her cheek, nodding slowly and wrapping a lock of her hair around his finger.

“I wanted–I don’t know, thought I’d make it worth the wait,” he tilted his head to the side, nodding past her shoulder. “Even hired the best cameraman around to record it,” he grinned–Camila sat up and turned her head, watching as Alba struggled to keep Frankie’s phone with both her hands from her corner of the towel.

“You knew?” Camila gasped in mock surprise, and Alba’s toothy grin was accompanied by a fierce nod. Frankie sat up after her, making her shift back so that she was sitting between his legs, knees hooked over his thighs.

“Had to ask for her blessing,” he said, pushing her hair behind her shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to her collarbones. The box was back in his hand, still open, the dusk light reflecting across the ring, painting it with pinks and reds. “I know we joked about it before–how we’ve been practically married since the first time we met,” she chuckled, turning back towards him. “We can just make it official–don’t even have to change your name, and the ceremony can be just us, or no ceremony at all, just–”

“Have I ever told you you’re cute when you’re nervous?” she cut him off, amusement in her voice as she placed both hands on his chest. Frankie huffed, looking down for a moment–she hooked one finger under his chin right away, making him look up again.

There was a flush across her cheeks, and her eyes shimmered somewhere between glee and unshed tears, her smile impossibly wide as she pinched his chin, her thumb brushing his bottom lip in the process.

“What do you say?” he asked softly, lifting the ring just slightly, so that it was in the general range of her vision even though she didn’t look away from him.

“What d’you think?” she retorted, taking his face in her hands and pulling him closer. “Yes, Frankie,” she whispered almost against his lips, and his heavy exhale as if of relief made her laugh again, tilting her head to kiss him–just once before pulling back.

She kept one hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as she brought the other one between them–they weren’t sure who was shaking more, with soft laughter and head bents together as he struggled to pick the ring up and, ever so carefully, slide it on her finger. That was when the tears escaped Camila, before she leaned in again with another squeal, I love yous mumbled between kisses and her arms tight around his shoulders.

From somewhere behind them, sudden hollering and cheering rose broke them apart, both their heads twisting this and that direction to find the source of it, until–

“Tío Santi!” Alba exclaimed, dropping the phone and getting herself up, running–albeit with some difficulty–towards the three men advancing in their direction.

“From your expression I can only assume this was not part of the plan,” Camila chuckled, getting up herself. Frankie scoffed lightly, taking the hands she was offering him–his touch lingered on her ring finger, thumb brushing across the stone.

“It wasn’t,” he confirmed before turning around, just in time to be tackled by an overzealous Benny, both men stumbling back and making her laugh.

With Santi occupied with Alba, though his gaze darted towards them, Will approached Camila and immediately pulled her to his chest. There was an odd look on his face she didn’t have the time to decipher, soft eyes and bright smile mixed with something else.

“Frankie was being weird, so we followed you,” he murmured with a kiss to the top of her head as her own arms wrapped around him, tight. “Benny was the only one who didn’t understand what was going on. He thought we were just crashing a family date.”

“Can you blame me?” Benny protested, while Frankie struggled to escape his hold–he had him locked underneath his arm, the other hand to the top of his head, much like in a fight. “This one has been calling her the wife for years. But proposing? No,” he elongated the o, a huff when Frankie tapped against his forearm. “Gotta ask the wife. Let me tell the wife. No, we’re not married, I’m not asking yet,” he mocked before letting him go, Frankie scoffing and straightening his back as he attempted to fix his ruffled hair, scowling in Benny’s direction.

“Thanks, Ben,” he muttered, glancing in Camila’s direction where she’d tucked herself under Will’s arm. She was beaming, clearly amused.

“It’s true,” the younger Miller shrugged, and then opened his arms towards Camila. “Come here, you,” Will was barely out of the way before he had lifted her off the ground, almost throwing her over his shoulder with a yelp coming from her, shortly followed by laughter as they moved closer to the shore.

“Well, it was about time,” Will grinned, their hands clasping before he pulled Frankie close for a half-hug, half-pat on the back. “I’m surprised it took you this long.”

“Me too, actually,” Frankie chuckled, a little bashful. “I thought about it through the years–multiple times, actually–”

“Oh, I know you did,” Will laughed, looking over his shoulder to where Camila and Benny were. “We all knew. Benny bet you had the ring ready since the moment she moved in but didn’t know how to ask,” Frankie snorted, shaking his head.

“Well, he wasn’t too far off–but don’t tell him,” mock-seriousness on his face, Will nodded. “What about you?”

“I knew it’d happen when you thought the moment was right,” he shrugged, turning ever so slightly. Benny was in the water with Camila still on his shoulder. “Do you think she needs a hand?” he asked at her half-shriek when Benny pretended to drop her in.

“I think he does,” Frankie returned with a chuckle.

“Right,” Will scoffed, shaking his head slightly. He then lifted his hand again, clasping Frankie’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze as he met his gaze. “Congratulations, Frankie.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, and with one last nod Will moved towards the shore–whether to help Benny or Mila, he didn’t know. Santi was the last to approach, Alba sitting on his shoulders with her arms crossed over the top of his head.

“If you get married while I’m away, I’ll be pissed,” he warned, as they both turned towards the sea, Alba wriggling slightly as if wanting to reach for Frankie and then reconsidering it.

“You’re leaving again?” he returned with a light frown.

“Ah, you know me,” Santi shrugged, making Alba giggle–he then repeated the motion, looking up at her as she shrieked with laughter. “Never staying too long,” he added, while she flopped to one side and then forward. “Wanna get down, chiquitita?”

“No,” she retorted, her voice slightly muffled by her upside down position.

“Alright,” he chuckled, one hand resting for support on the top of her head.

“You might give it a try, you know?” Frankie said, eyeing his daughter and then back to Santi. “Settling down at last. You have people waiting for you.”

“Wasn’t one proposal enough for today?” Santi scoffed, glancing side-ways towards him–Frankie tilted his head slightly, already catching the nervous edge in his voice.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said, a little softer, and Santi’s expression wavered for a moment. “Mila and I will always have a place for you with us–”

“Don’t go all homely on me now, Fish,” he quipped, and promptly closed his mouth at Frankie’s reprimanding gaze. He’d spent too much time with Camila.

“But we’re not the ones waiting for you,” he continued, and reached over to take Alba from his arms. “You gotta stop thinking you’re unworthy of this–of her,” Santi’s eyes closed for a moment as he inhaled sharply, hands dropping at his sides. “Just–consider it, for once. Instead of running away again, think about staying.”

“Christ, you’ve gotten soft,” Frankie scoffed, while he started shaking his head, gaze shifting from Alba to Camila, and back–Santi’s stomach twisted, shaking his head again before he sighed. “This ain’t for me. A home, a wife, it’s just–nah,” he cleared his throat, crossing and uncrossing his arms before reaching for Frankie, one hand on his shoulder as he forced a smile–genuine, yet tainted by images of a life he did not get to have. “But I’m glad it’s for you, Frankie. I’m happy for you.”

“Think about it,” Frankie just said, though he offered him a small smile.

“Think about what?” slightly breathless Camila got to Santi’s side, then hopped over his back, making him groan and step forward to refind his balance.

“Did you and your daughter just decide to destroy my knees for good?” he complained, even while he hooked his arms under her knees and fixed her position. With a laugh, Camila placed her chin above his head.

“Think about what?” she asked again.

“My best man’s speech–gotta figure out how to embarrass the both of you,” he retorted.

“Who said you’re gonna be the best man?” Frankie scoffed, and Santi’s brows arched slowly, turning to look at him.

“Oh, I’m gonna.”

Dinner with the Millers had become a staple at their household–firstly, Benny hankered to be with Alba and see Camila (who he ended up hogging all night); secondly, Will liked the routine. And he liked catching the glimpses into their homely lives, too, though he would not say it out loud. The way they’d sit on the couch always in the same spots, the coordination in setting the table, putting away the dishes, the looks they’d exchange with one another when somebody said something specific that clearly had a meaning for them and nobody else.

It was a life that suited Frankie, he thought. A life he deserved.

A life he hoped they’d eventually all get, though he believed there was not another Camila in the world for that to happen.

“What’s on the menu, Mrs. Morales?” he chuckled, getting into the kitchen to get to the fridge, the cake he’d bought–never one to show up empty-handed–carefully balanced in his hands. Camila made a tutting noise from in front of the oven, turning around with the towel in her hand and closed the oven door with her hip.

“I thought we’d agreed that wasn’t going to be a thing,” she scolded, and Will laughed, moving closer. “And anyway it’ll be Garcia-Morales.” “Right, right,” he peeked from over her shoulder to look at the oven, then back at her. “Bet Santi’ll be thrilled to have plentiful of jokes to make around that,” he added with a grin.

“Oh, he’s started already,” she scoffed, shaking her head and leaning back against the counter. “Frankie proposed to get married before he comes back just so we don’t have to hear it in the speeches, too,” Will settled at her side, arms crossed and grin still on. “Which reminds me–I’d like to ask you something.”

“I will not be your maid of honor,” she snorted, rolling her eyes as she turned towards him.

“Of course not, that’s Benny,” Will smiled again, turning his head, too. “And Santi is Frankie’s best man–which leaves us with you.”

“I’m fine not picking sides,” he shrugged slightly. “Gonna sit right in the middle of the aisle–you’re gonna have to walk past me to get there.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to sabotage me, then,” she scrunched up her nose, but then shook her head. “But I wasn’t talking about that, exactly, more–” she tilted her head on one side, then the other, as if pondering her words. “Well, sort of–I was wondering if you’d marry us.”

Will startled a moment, lips parting as he looked at her–her head still slightly tilted, her posture mimicking his, with the way they both leaned back and had their arms crossed. She had to look up to keep his gaze, and when she tapped over her elbow the light above them rippled across the stone of her ring, pulling his attention down.

“I appreciate the offer, Cami, but I’m more of a monogamous guy,” she rolled her eyes again.

“Very funny, William,” she scoffed, brows knitting a little. “I meant–”

“I know what you meant,” he chuckled, and she grimaced in his direction.

“Well, too bad, now you’re getting the speech,” she huffed, and trying to keep his grin at bay, Will mimicked a zipper closing across his lips, then reached over to wrap his hand around her wrist, detangling her arms. “You’ve always been there for Frankie, and I love you for that. And I know you weren’t sure about me in the beginning, which–I get it. I understood even then. And I’m glad you’ve still given me a chance despite that.”

“This is sounding a lot like a confession,” he murmured in clear amusement, and she glared at him. “Sorry–I’m sorry,” he chuckled, shaking her arm lightly.

“We’re not doing anything flashy, it’s just–just gonna be us, in our backyard, like many times before. Maybe I’ll wear white and Alba is gonna make me a flower crown because she says that’s what princesses wear in fairytales, maybe there’ll be a proper cake, some decorations, I don’t know. What I know is that it’ll be beautiful, because it’s gonna stay between us–our family, you guys, which is kind of the same thing,” he smiled at that, unable to help himself, a tingling feeling starting at the base of his nose, up between his eyes. “And I’d very much like it if it’d remain between us–which is why I’d very much like it if you’d be the one to officiate our wedding.”

“Shouldn’t you be saving the speeches for the day?” he mused, turning his gaze away with a quick sniffle. At the corner of his eyes, he saw her smile. “I did think Frankie had lost his mind at first. I definitely thought your timings were… odd, to say the least. Still do, actually–who marries after five years of already living together?” when he turned back to look at her, her shoulders were shaking lightly with laughter, big smile on her face that made his expression soften furthermore. “But I stopped having second thoughts about you long ago, Cami. You–”

“Shouldn’t you be saving that for the wedding?” she echoed, almost mockingly.

“You might be right,” he chuckled, and gave a gentle squeeze to her forearm. “I would like that. Thank you.”

“The tears in your eyes were a clear indicator of that, William,” her smile widened furthermore, if possible, amused.

“It’s the heat from the oven. Why are we standing right here?” he protested instead, making her laugh before she leapt forward, bringing her arms about his shoulders and pulling him towards her. Will melted into the hug right away, his eyes closed, his arms wrapping around her with a sigh–there was a comfort in Camila’s touches, they’d found. “Do we have a date?”

“As soon as Santi brings his ass back here,” she was rubbing his shoulders, something he’d seen her do when out with Frankie, too–slow movements right under the nape of his neck that made him relax. “He’s asked us to stay here a couple of months from now, so maybe then.”

“Spring wedding, then,” he announced, pulling back ever so slightly.

Smiling, Camila looked back up at him and nodded.

“Spring wedding,” she moved her hands from his shoulders and held his face in her hands a moment longer–there was so much left unsaid, not for lack of trying but for lack of words that could express it all. Frankie had gotten lucky, sure–but Camila was there for each and one of them, and vice-versa. The best way to say it was a simple, “I love you.”

Will wasn’t sure he could reply to that without crumbling, and he settled for a nod–knowing she’d understand, knowing she’d hold him again and kiss his cheek and complain about his stubble as she did each time. And he’d hold her a little tighter and pretend like everything was normal and tranquil when Frankie came in, red-faced.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he exhaled, and they slowly detangled each other from the hug, though Camila’s arm remained wound around Will’s waist. “I don’t know where Alba gets all that energy from. Maybe Benny’ll tire her out?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible,” Camila sighed, somewhere between amused and defeated. “Is she still asking you to chase her?”

“Yes,” he sighed, and only then did he manage to focus on them both–Will’s face, specifically. His eyes a little wide and his skin slightly flushed. “So, what’d you say?” he asked, tentatively.

Camila gave a light pinch to Will’s side before moving away from him, reaching for Frankie instead and brushing his hair back from his forehead–there was a smile on her face as she leaned in, chin tilted upwards and neck craned.

“Says he’s monogamous,” she mock-pouted, and the initial perplexity on Frankie’s face melted away with a quick laugh and a glance in Will’s direction. Camila gave him a quick kiss before pulling back. “I’ll let you two talk about it–see if Benny needs a hand. Make sure the dinner doesn’t burn,” she added the last sentence already at the kitchen entrance.

“It’s not odd, right?” Will asked with a little frown, once it was just them two. “Me officiating your wedding.”

“I don’t see why it would,” Frankie shrugged lightly, burying his hands in his pockets. “It’s not, is it?”

“No, no, I just–didn’t expect Cami to think of it,” he murmured, and Frankie’s head tilted.

“I did, actually,” Will’s brows arched carefully. “I mean, I–you’ve always had my back, thought I’d ask you to one more time. Also, I thought you might be the only one who wouldn’t start crying,” the last sentence was added with amusement clear in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, right–what am I supposed to do?” Will scoffed. “You’re getting married.”

“I am,” Frankie gave a lopsided grin at the words, making the other man shake his head. “Look, whatever you decide, I’ll understand–I just thought we could ask.”

“I already decided,” Will hummed, and it was Frankie’s turn to perk up a little. “You thought I was gonna say no to your wife? Come on.”

“That’s exactly why I sent her first,” the man grinned, making Will scoff lightly. “Can’t say no to the wife, right?”

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