#i will miss that mustache a little bit

[keeryhours]

please please please - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! Hopper! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie is no stranger to the Hawkins legal system. It’s no surprise to anyone when he’s dragged in in cuffs again, but it is unexpected when someone catches his eye - the police chief’s daughter.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, a little bit of sub!eddie, delinquent!eddie, talk of drugs, weed use

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N:

I’ve been stuck in the worst writing slump! So glad to finally finish something I feel good about and share with you guys :)

—

You spent most days after school sitting around the Hawkins police station, working on your homework until your dad was ready to take you both home. You weren’t the biggest fan of sitting in the empty house alone, and waiting for him here beat having to walk home since you still didn’t have a car.

You sat at an empty desk, chin in your hand as you tapped the pencil against your paper. The gentle chatter of the station filled your ears. You were bored, tired of fighting with your math homework, wishing you could be off with your friends instead of here.

The sound of the door opening abruptly caught your attention, your eyes moving to the source of the noise. Officer Callahan came in, leading a man in cuffs. A man - as if you ever could have mistaken Eddie Munson. The ‘Freak’ of Hawkins High. With his tall, lanky build, his mess of curly hair, and his metalhead attire, he was hard to miss.

Your dad stepped out of his office, a hand running over his mustache with a sigh. “What are you doing in my station again, Munson? Didn’t you and I have a good talk?”

“Just missed ya so much, Hop,” Eddie quipped back with a grin, looking much too cheerful for his current predicament.

“Caught him trespassing at the old factory,” Officer Callahan supplied, holding onto Eddie by the back of his jacket.

“Drugs?” Jim Hopper asked.

“Just half a joint,” Callahan answered.

Hopper let out another deep sigh. “I’m trying to work with you here, Eddie. This is your fifth arrest this school year alone. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you ending up behind bars for years of your life.”

Eddie shook his head with a grin, curls bouncing wildly. “I hear ya, Hop. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Evidently I do,” Hopper muttered. “How about this? You can spend the night here with us tonight, and you can think about whether that’s how you want to spend your life.” He claps Eddie on the shoulder hard before he’s turning to walk back into his office.

Officer Callahan leads Eddie through the station, Eddie smiling at the other officers as they pass like they’re on a first name basis, which they probably are. When his eyes meet yours, his grin grows even wider. He has a beautiful smile, which is something you’re just now noticing for the first time. He’s really hot in general, you realize. Only when your heart starts beating out of your chest at his attention. He shoots you a flirty wink as he passes, and then Callahan is roughly taking him back to the cells.

You think about Eddie for the rest of the day. Even when your dad comes out, pulling on his coat and says it’s time to head home. Even when you’re riding home in the passenger seat of the police vehicle, Hopper trying to make conversation about your day. When you sit down and eat dinner together. And especially as you’re laying in bed in the silence of the night.

You’re leaving school 2 days later, walking through the parking lot with your backpack slung over your shoulder when you’re stopped by a voice.

“Hey, Hopper!”

You turned at the sound, eyebrows raising at the sight of Eddie Munson walking towards you. “Weird to say that name and not be talking about your dad,” Eddie laughed when he reached you, a hand running through his curls.

You looked at him, confused why he was talking to you in the first place. “Uh, can I help you?”

Eddie gave you that big smile, bowing his head to you. “I was hoping you might do me the honors of spending the afternoon with me.”

You looked at him skeptically. “Me? Why?”

“Why not?” Eddie laughed, and you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful of a smile he had again. “You seem cool. I want to get to know you better.”

That was how you found yourself in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, watching his long fingers rolling up a joint. Some kind of metal blasted from the car’s speakers, some band you definitely weren’t familiar with. Your stomach was in knots as you watched him deftly roll the paper.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked as Eddie finished up, realizing you’d run out of time to stall.

“‘Course it’s okay,” Eddie laughed, running his tongue along the paper. You watched intently as his long tongue poked out to trail along the seam of the joint. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“My dad…”

Eddie waved you off before you even finished your sentence. “Hop’s never gonna know. Calm down.” He produced a lighter from his pocket and handed you both with a flourish. “M’lady.”

You took them from him cautiously, as if they might explode in your hand. You looked over the foreign object. You were pretty sure you knew which side to light.

Your inspection was interrupted by Eddie’s chuckling. “You really haven’t done this before, huh?”

Your eyes met his and you blushed, casting your gaze downwards. “No. I’ve never smoked anything.”

“Ooh, a good girl,” Eddie teased, reaching forward to pluck the joint from your fingers. “I’ll get it started for you, baby.”

Your cheeks heated even more at the pet name, but you watched as Eddie placed the joint between his lips (you were correct about which side gets lit, at least) and flicked the lighter, bringing it to his face. The flame caught evenly, burning perfectly as Eddie breathed in a long drag. Once he’d taken two big puffs, he handed it back to you.

You took it from him with shaking hands. You brought it to your lips and breathed in just like you’d watched Eddie do - only to feel like your throat was on fire and start coughing your lungs out.

Eddie laughed hard, reaching to grab you a bottle of water. “It’s okay. Just try again. You don’t have to take a huge hit.”

Once your coughing fit had ended and you’d wiped the tears off your face, gratefully accepting the water bottle and taking a big sip, you worked up the courage to try again. You breathed in slower this time, following the instructions Eddie was giving you. This time you were able to get the smoke into your lungs and hold it there, letting it out in a shaking breath before you started coughing again.

“Atta girl!” Eddie praised, taking the joint back from you and bringing it back to his own mouth. “You’re a natural. Knew you’d like it.”

It didn’t take long before you began to feel it. The music sounded so good you just had to sway along, and everything Eddie said was so funny. Time felt like it moved in slow motion and life looked like you were watching a movie.

“Enjoying yourself?” Eddie asked, making himself nice and comfortable in the back of the van. His long legs were spread out before him, crossed at the ankles while his hands rested intertwined on his stomach.

You nodded, a dopey smile on your face. “Yeah, I’m…having a great time,” you said before falling into a fit of giggles.

Eddie laughed along with you. “Yeah, looks like it.” He looked you over, like he was admiring every part of your body. “I knew I could get you to loosen up.”

His music sounded heavenly in your ears now. You were so warm and cozy, you could have stayed here all night. You spent most of the night there with Eddie, just talking and laughing about any and everything. You realized it had been a long time since you’d laughed so hard and felt so free.

Eddie drove you home, thankfully early enough that you beat your dad there. Your head still felt fuzzy but you weren’t as blasted as you had been.

“Thanks,” you said shyly as you climbed out of the van. “For the ride home and the, uh…weed.”

Eddie gave you that huge grin again. “Any time, sweetheart.”

You spent yet another night with your thoughts full of Eddie. He was actually a cool person. But you knew your dad would never approve of that friendship, or what you had been up to tonight.

Hopper came home with pizzas in hand. You were relieved, since you’d had the munchies for hours and the snacks you and Eddie had devoured in the back of the van had long since worn off. He looked at you suspiciously when you laughed far too hard at his cheesy dad jokes, but didn’t question you.

You and Eddie were fast friends after that. Spending just about every day after school together, getting high, exploring abandoned buildings you weren’t supposed to be at, sitting in on Corroded Coffin band practice and Hellfire Club meetings. You had become near inseparable, something that was strange to his friends when he first brought you around, but now you were like a package deal. Where Eddie went, you were sure to follow, and vice versa.

Eddie continued having his run-ins with the Hawkins police, including your father. It seemed he was just incapable of staying out of trouble. He got bored, and once that boredom hit, he was sure to be off doing something stupid to entertain himself, no matter how you put your foot down or begged him not to.

You could hardly even be surprised when you were home one night and Hopper walked in, looking pissed as hell and grumbling under his breath as he slid off his jacket.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him, brows furrowed. You hadn’t seen him come home this worked up very often.

Hopper turned towards you, eyes softening as he took in his daughter’s face, not wanting to take his frustration out on you. He sighed again. “It’s that Munson kid. Caught him doing a deal and he ran. Had to put a warrant out for him.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised, but your mouth nearly dropped. You reined it in, however, since your dad isn’t even supposed to know you know Eddie at all. “Wow,” is all you can think to offer.

Hopper began heading towards his bedroom to shower and change before dinner. “I have tried and tried to help that boy,” he muttered, seemingly only to himself. “But he just doesn’t want the damn help.”

Eddie was on your mind as usual that night, but this time it was worry. You tossed and turned in bed once you laid down. What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into this time?

Ping. Ping.

The sound of something hitting your window jolted your attention in that direction. Sure enough, the sound came again, accompanied by a pebble smacking against the glass.

You climbed out of bed in your pajamas, feeling nervous as you approached the window. You pushed it open, leaning your head outside.

“Eddie?”

Sure enough, the metalhead stood beneath your window, looking more disheveled than usual. He gave you a big smile. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair…”

You rolled your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice as low as possible. Because really, how dumb is he to show up to the police chief’s house when there’s a warrant out for his arrest?

“Needed to see you,” Eddie said simply with a shrug of his shoulders. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, eyebrows raised high.

“Does it matter?” Eddie smiled.

You debated on it. You knew this was a terrible idea. But hell, it was more fun than being in your room alone. You held up a finger telling him to give you a minute before you slipped back into the room and threw on a pair of jeans and an oversized hoodie over the t-shirt you were sleeping in. Socks and sneakers on your feet and then you were climbing out your window for the first time ever, falling to the ground safely with Eddie’s assistance. His hands lingered on your hips once you were on the ground, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks.

Eddie had parked his van around the block. The two of you walked together in mostly silence, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves. Once you were safely in the van it felt like you could breathe again. Eddie cranked his music up, and took off.

“Are we fugitives now?” you teased, nighttime breeze blowing through the open window and whipping your hair around your face.

“Just me,” Eddie laughed. You laughed too, even though nothing about the situation was funny, really.

Eddie pulled the van to a stop on a back road, a spot hidden from prying eyes. “I thought we could sit here and just hang out,” Eddie explained as he saw you taking in your surroundings. “Maybe smoke a little, listen to music, whatever you want.”

That’s how you ended up in the back of the van again, a common hangout for the two of you. A joint shared between you and good music playing through the car’s speakers, you were both feeling amazing. You sat next to him, leaned against his shoulder as you enjoyed each other’s company.

“I always thought you were so pretty, you know.”

The words caught you so off guard you suspected you’d imagined them. But you turn to Eddie and he’s looking right at you, like he’s waiting for you to say something. Like he’s nervous.

“Y-you did?” is all you’re able to respond.

Eddie smiled softly. “Yeah, of course.” His hand comes up to cup your cheek gently. “I still do. You are pretty. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your skin felt like it was on fire. You knew you had to be red as a tomato right now, and you hoped the dim lighting in the van was enough to hide it from Eddie’s searching eyes. You knew you needed to say something, but you couldn’t make the words come out of your mouth.

Eddie brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. He was looking at you so intensely now, it made your heart beat out of your chest. He calls your name, and it sounds more beautiful on his tongue than you’ve ever heard it.

“I like you,” he said, looking right into your eyes. “I really like you. You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. And you’re hot, funny, smart. The whole package.”

You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Eddie’s mouth, and you were pretty sure the weed was making your brain work in slow motion. But he wasn’t laughing at his own joke, or saying he didn’t mean it. He was looking into your eyes, waiting for you to say something, anything, back.

“I…” you began, quickly realizing your throat was extremely dry. Eddie handed you a water bottle with a chuckle, and you took it gratefully. Once the water had soothed your throat (and given you a second to stall), you had enough courage to turn back to him. “I…I like you, too.”

Eddie’s face lit up at your words. “Yeah? You do?”

He was so cute, like an excited puppy. It was so easy to forget that this guy saw the police station as a second home and had a warrant out for his arrest that very moment. You briefly wondered if being here with him put yourself in any legal trouble, but you also didn’t really care. “Yeah. I really do.”

Eddie’s hand remained on your cheek, thumb rubbing softly over your skin. He brought his other hand to your other cheek, and then he was pulling you in. Your heart nearly stopped in your chest as you let him pull you until his lips were on yours.

Kissing Eddie felt more natural than you ever could have thought. It felt like you had always been doing this, his lips so familiar to you it was like you knew exactly what to do to drive him wild. Or maybe that was just the effect you had on him.

Eddie’s hands began to wander as you kissed him back deeply, leaving your face to trail up your thigh and to your hips, rubbing your sides over your hoodie.

He reached for the hem of your hoodie and quickly pulled it over your head. You were left in the thin pajama shirt, no bra underneath. You prayed he couldn’t see your nipples through your shirt, but with the way he was staring, you suspected he could.

“So hot,” Eddie moaned, his large hands reaching out to grasp your breasts over your shirt. Chills spread through your body as his fingers trailed over your hard nipples, and he moaned again. He groped at your tits for a while until he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled your shirt over your head, hands going straight back to your now-bare breasts. He leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, his fingers still working the other.

The sensation caught you off guard and you gasped, a hand involuntarily shooting up to grab ahold of Eddie’s curls and accidentally pulling, which made him groan against your skin. Moans spilled from your mouth as he ran his tongue over your nipple, circling around it before puckering his lips around it and sucking. You arched your back into his mouth, wanting more, more of this feeling Eddie was providing that was making you feel like you had died and gone to heaven.

Eddie switched sides, wrapping his hot mouth against your other nipple as he attended to the other with his fingers, rubbing and pinching. The wetness left on your now exposed nipple made the cool air even more noticable against the sensitive bud. Your head leaned back against the wall of the van as Eddie worshiped your tits, his jeans growing uncomfortably tight. He palmed himself, desperate for some relief on his aching cock.

He pulled off your nipple with a pop and moved back to your lips, tongue immediately pushing into your mouth and licking everywhere he could reach, kissing you hungrily, filthily. You were both moaning into each other’s mouths, tongues tangled together, trading heavy breaths between you. You could feel your clit throbbing, you couldn’t remember the last time you had been so turned on.

“I’m so hard for you,” Eddie moaned against you, biting down on your bottom lip harshly. You let out a mix between a gasp and a moan, making Eddie chuckle darkly.

“Can I…feel?” you asked, feeling shy.

Eddie groaned at the question, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “God, baby, you don’t even have to ask.”

Nervous, you reached over towards the bulge in his jeans. It looked intimidating enough from here. The second your palm pressed against it Eddie let out a desperate sounding groan, pushing his hips up against your hand even harder. You could feel that he was absolutely rock hard. It surprised you how hard he was, and you briefly thought he had to be uncomfortable trapped in there. He had too many clothes on, anyway.

You tugged on his shirt, wanting it out of the way. Eddie smirked at you, picking up the hint immediately as he shrugged his leather jacket off his shoulders before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You took in his bare chest in front of you, the pale skin now exposed to you. You rubbed your fingers over his belly and chest, feeling every part of him you could reach. Eddie just let you, head leaning back against the wall as he enjoyed your touch.

“Feels good, baby,” he breathed, eyes closed. He looked so pretty like this, you thought.

You trailed your hands lower, down to the bit of hair leading beneath his jeans. Eddie’s eyes shot open to look at you when your fingertips brushed there. Your hand moved lower, rubbing over his hard on over his jeans again, earning another delicious groan from his lips.

“You seem uncomfortable in here…” you said teasingly as you rubbed him.

He looked up at you, the expression in his eyes nearly pained. “Yeah…I am,” he said, voice quiet and gruff.

“I could help you with that…” you said, giving him a squeeze that dragged an even more delicious sound from him. “If you want me to.”

“Yes, god yes, please,” Eddie begged, sounding as desperate as he felt. “Please touch me, baby.”

You hadn’t realized you would like the sound of him begging, but you absolutely do. Your hands moved to his belt, working open his buckle. Eddie watched you work, big brown eyes focused on your lithe hands undoing his belt before moving to the button and zipper of his jeans.

“Wait-“ Eddie said, causing you to halt your movements immediately and look up at him, concerned. He smiled at you sheepishly. “Can you take yours off first? Wanna enjoy the view.”

You rolled your eyes at the dopey grin on his face, but obliged. You gave him a little show as you wiggled your hips, pushing the denim down your body until you kicked it away. Eddie’s eyes never left you once.

Left in only your panties now, you moved back to Eddie, fingers hooking onto the waistband of his jeans. He lifted his hips off the ground as you pulled them down for him. He was left in nothing but his boxers, your eyes immediately drawn to the very, very large tent in them.

“You look like you need some attention,” you teased.

It took everything in Eddie to resist wrapping his own hand around his cock, pulsing and aching and neglected, but he wanted you to be the one to touch him. “Yeah, uh…could definitely use some,” Eddie said, his cheeks flushing pink. Cute.

You watched him as you leaned forward, licking against the tip of his cock over his boxers.

Eddie shuddered, a shaky groan leaving his lips. “Don’t tease me sweetheart, please,” he begged. You could see his dick twitch beneath the material.

As much fun as you were having, you decided to take mercy on him. Eddie lifted his hips again for you to pull his boxers down, his girth slapping against his abdomen. Your eyes widened at it - long, hard, and needy. Tip red and leaking, cock twitching as he looked at you looking at him.

You wrapped a hand around his base, drawing a hiss from Eddie. You started stroking him slowly, thumb running over his tip and smearing his precum along his length. Eddie groaned, resisting the urge to buck his hips up for more. “God, baby,” he moaned, head thrown back and eyes closed.

“Feel good?” you asked him, eyes darting between your hand moving along his beautiful cock, and his beautiful face, contorted in pleasure.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned, eyes opening to look into your face. “Faster, sweetheart, please.”

You sped up your movements, jerking him faster. You reached your free hand down to grasp his balls, making Eddie whimper. “Fuck, please, your mouth, babe…”

You didn’t think you could deny anything he asked of you right now. You got yourself comfortable on your knees in front of him before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his tip. Swirling your tongue around the head, flicking over the slit and tasting him. Eddie’s hand shot up to grab your hair, his thighs trembling beneath your hands. You sunk your head down his length, determined to take as much of him as possible. You gagged about halfway down, already feeling like you were taking so much.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Eddie said, his voice strained and fist shaking against the back of your head. “You can take all of me. Open that pretty mouth nice and wide for me.”

You moaned around him at his dirty words, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his hips bucked up into your mouth. “Shit! Sorry!” Eddie exclaimed as you came off him quickly, gagging and coughing.

“It’s okay,” you said, wiping the tears from your face once you were breathing normally again. You wrapped your lips around him again and sunk down, opening your jaw as wide as you could. Tears started falling again once you had taken almost all of him, and you nearly gave up, if not for the sinful noises Eddie was making as you took him deeper and deeper. When you finally felt your nose pressed against the brown curls at his base, you felt accomplished. You hummed around him, pleased with your work.

Eddie, however, was hanging on by a thread.

“Shit, shit!” he hissed, fist clenched in your hair and whole body shaking at the feeling of his entire cock buried down your throat. He knew you probably couldn’t breathe, so he only held you there for a few glorious seconds before he let go, resting his hand on your head instead of forcing it.

You began to bob your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could every time. Eddie moaned wantonly above you, fingers brushing through your hair affectionately as you gave him the best head of his life. “God, baby, that’s…fucking incredible, shit…”

You pop off of his cock and move down to lick at his balls, sucking them into your mouth which makes Eddie’s moans go higher. You take his length back in your mouth and suck him messily, saliva dripping down onto his thighs. Neither of you cared. It caught you by surprise when Eddie pulled on your hair, pulling you off of him entirely. You looked at him confused.

“I was about to bust down your throat, babe,” Eddie laughed, completely breathless. “And I wanna fuck that cute little pussy first.”

Eddie pushed you against the floor of the van as he crawled over you, long curls reaching down to tickle your face. You giggled, which Eddie loved, and he dipped his head, shaking it to tickle you with his hair even more.

He dipped his head lower to press kisses to your neck. He started slow, placing kisses across the skin, before he started nipping at your pulse point, biting and sucking the sensitive spot. The feeling drove you crazy, and you arched into him, turning your head to give him full access. Eddie absolutely devoured your skin, moaning as he left dark love bites to remember him by.

His hand slipped beneath the hem of your panties, fingers tracing through your glistening folds. “So wet for me…” Eddie mumbled against your ear, sending chills through your body. He held his hand up to show your wetness covering his long fingers, before sticking them in his mouth and sucking them clean with a groan. “And so sweet.”

Eddie was on his knees between your legs before you even realized what was happening, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties as he slowly began to peel them off your body and down your smooth legs.

He placed his hands on your knees and spread your legs apart, eyes drinking in your pussy spread out before him, all for him. “God…” he muttered to himself, and his cock kicked up with anticipation.

“Want you, Eddie,” you begged him, as he was taking far too long just to stare. You couldn’t really blame him, though, as your eyes lingered on his body a little too long, too.

Eddie smirked at you. “Yeah? Want my cock, sweetheart?” he teased, leaning forward to trail his lips along your jaw.

“Please,” you begged him, pushing your hips up against him, his cock sliding against your slick folds. Eddie groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he rocked his hips against you more.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asked, lifting your legs around his waist and rubbing his cockhead against your throbbing clit, lining himself up at your entrance. “‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

“Please, please,” you begged again, writhing beneath him, so desperate to feel Eddie inside you. You felt your pussy clenching around nothing, your mind running with thoughts of what it will feel like to have all of him.

Eddie needed no further encouragement. He began to push in, groaning as he sunk into you inch by inch. The stretch was intense but also incredible. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock. You grabbed onto his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as he stretched you more and more with every thick inch. Your brow was furrowed, eyes closed tight as he finally bottomed out, keeping himself still despite his every instinct to absolutely ruin you.

“You okay, baby?” Eddie asked, eyes intently on your face. You opened your eyes, letting out a shaky exhale. The pain was starting to fade as you got used to his girth.

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “You can move.”

He pulled his hips back, slowly drawing out of you. Despite the pain you had felt, being empty was worse. You wanted nothing more than for him to fill you again. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long.

Eddie set a steady pace, thrusting into you slowly yet powerfully. You couldn’t help but moan with every thrust, each push inside of you pressing right up against something that felt absolutely incredible. Your body trembled beneath him as Eddie leaned over you, rolling his hips into yours again and again.

“Shit, you’re so tight, baby,” Eddie muttered against your cheek as he pressed deep inside you, causing you to cry out at the intense pressure against your bundle of nerves. “Taking me so well. You’re so good for me.”

You moaned at his praise, wanting to be a good girl for him. “Faster, Eddie, please,” you whined.

With the permission he’d been waiting for, Eddie sped up his hips, fucking into you harder and faster. The van was rocking, windows fogged up, the obscene sound of your skin slapping together and loud, uninhibited moans filling the space and tuning out the music.

Eddie buried his face in your neck, loud whines coming from his pretty lips. You never imagined he could make the noises he was currently making, and it made your clit throb even harder, your pussy clenching tightly around his length.

“So good baby, perfect little cunt,” Eddie rasped out, sounding like he was utterly lost in the feeling of you. He began to babble, mind lost to the pleasure. “That’s my good girl, taking my fat cock like that. Letting me spread her wide and take what’s mine. Filthy little slut, all for me, fuck, so fucking tight and wet, pussy’s perfect.”

All you could do was hold onto his strong shoulders, desperate for some sort of lifeline as he fucked you stupid. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as he began to move even faster, hips snapping into you brutally now as Eddie sets a relentless pace. Desperate moans spilled from your lips uncontrollably. Eddie’s free hand gripped onto your thigh tightly as he rutted into you, his other arm holding all his weight above you.

“So…so good, Eddie, feels so good, you’re so deep, s’big, can’t take it…” you find yourself rambling without a single coherent thought in your brain.

“You can take it, sweetheart, you are taking it, taking me so good,” Eddie encouraged. He bit down on your shoulder, and you cried out, squeezing around him. You felt something building deep inside you, growing rapidly with every move of Eddie’s hips.

“Eddie…’m close…” you whined, and he moaned against your neck.

“Pretty girl, my girl. I want you to come all over my cock,” Eddie begged, hips pistoning into you at a rapid pace. He let go of your thigh and moved his free hand between your bodies instead, pressing down on your swollen clit and rubbing circles against it. “Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

The moans leaving your lips were so whiny, desperate sounding and loud, you hardly even recognized them as coming from you. You didn’t even know you were making noises at all. Eddie shoved you right off the edge, and your release hit hard. You tightened your legs around his waist as you arched beneath him, hips bucking up to meet his movements as you moaned his name over and over again. Eddie pressed his lips onto yours hard, swallowing your moans as he licked into your mouth again, his own moans growing in intensity now.

“Fuck…shit, sweetheart, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m almost there, keep squeezing me just like that, Christ,” Eddie babbled as his thrusts turned quicker, frantic and sloppy with no rhythm as he desperately chased his release. He pumped into you roughly a couple more times before he stilled with a cry, painting your walls with his seed deep inside. He pumped his hips slowly through the last of his orgasm, making sure you got every last drop.

Your bodies were wrapped around one another as you came down from your highs, both trembling and trying to catch your breath. Once Eddie had composed himself enough he began placing kisses all over your neck, up to your cheek until he eventually reached your lips, where he placed a sweet, lingering kiss.

Eddie rolled off of you, not bothering to go farther than the floor of the van next to you. He reached for his cigarettes and pulled one out, placing it between his lips and lighting it. The smoke filled the van, and you scrunched up your nose at the smell.

“That was fucking incredible,” Eddie laughed, breaking the silence. You couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Yeah. It was.”

Eddie draws circles onto the skin of your belly with his free hand as he drags on his cigarette. “Maybe…you should be my girl.”

Your gaze shot to his face, your eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiled, brushing some of your sweaty hair out of your face. “You’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met. I love spending time with you.” A smirk grew across his face. “Perfect pussy, too.”

You smacked him on the arm, making Eddie laugh. “You’re such a perv.”

“I just can’t help myself around you.” Eddie looked at you like you were the best thing he’d ever seen in his life. A revelation. A goddess.

You sighed, noticing the time on the van’s radio. “Shit. I probably need to get back home before dad realizes I’m gone.”

Eddie sighed heavily, too, as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it out. “Yeah. I’ll drive you back.” He didn’t want to see the night end, but he knew you were right. He began to pull his clothes back on as you did the same.

The whole ride home, you thought about Eddie. Not just the incredible night you’d shared, or that he’s your boyfriend now, but thoughts of the warrant creep back into your mind, interrupting the happier thoughts. “What’s going to happen?”

You didn’t have to explain what you were referring to. “I’ll, uh, have to do some time,” he said, like the only thing he was sorry about was that it was hurting you. “I’m sorry, baby.”

You nodded, feeling like tears were going to spill from your eyes at any moment. You had just found this amazing, beautiful thing that made you so happy, and now it was going to be taken away. Locked away.

Eddie reached over and held your hand in his. He gave it a comforting squeeze. “It won’t be long though, promise. You’ll wait for me on the outside, yeah?” he asked, teasing grin on his face.

You mustered up a smile in return. “‘Course I will. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you.”

Eddie smiled at that, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of your knuckles. “I don’t deserve you.”

He stopped the van a safe distance from your house again. After a goodbye kiss that turned into an accidental makeout session, Eddie walked you back to your window.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease as you prepare to sneak back into your bedroom.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist. “Always.” He kissed you again, and just like every time he’s kissed you, you melt right into it. It could have turned into another makeout session if it wasn’t for your dad’s bedroom light turning on, snapping you back to reality.

“Be safe, Eddie,” you told him, kissing him one last time.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he said. He lifted you up to help you reach the window easier and you climbed back inside, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

You turned back to the window when you stood. Eddie gave you a wink, smirk on his face, before he turned and disappeared back into the darkness.

That night as you laid in bed you could still feel him all over you. Tingles all over your body everywhere he touched. You would never be the same, you felt.

Eddie Munson was going to be the death of you.

[happy74827]

One Call Away

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: During one of his "jobs," Deadpool gets a call from his favorite gal [GIF Creds: jdsheart]

WC: 1970

Category: Fluff, Major Comedy {TW: Deadpool’s Humor/Nonfiltered Personality}

This man is so hard to write. I’m always stressing the noggin when it comes to planning and plotting 😔

『••✎••』

"And away we go..."

One neck crack and a couple of hip twists later, he was off like Aladdin and his fucktoy carpet, scaling the building similarly to a chameleon on LSD.

The only thing that was missing was some epic music.

He'd been chasing this baddie around the city for almost two days now. Some big-shot mob boss with ties to Hydra, or the Mafia, or the Yakuza, or some other three-letter-acronym organization. It was hard to keep track of them all at this point. They were all the same, except for the name.

They all had their own agenda.

Kill him, keep him prisoner, pay him off...

Wade never cared enough to listen because it was always the same. He just got hired to do the dirty work, and the pay was good.

The killing was better.

This one, however, was particularly good at eluding him. He'd been trying to get his hands on this man for a few days now. It wasn't as though he was trying to be stealthy or anything, either. He'd walked right up to his front door, knocked, and was greeted with a spray of machine gun bullets.

So, the usual.

But then the guy ran and didn't stop. It was like the fucking Roadrunner met Sonic the Hedgehog, and they decided to fuck around and find out.

Wade was getting real sick and tired of being a Roadrunner, too. He had a reputation to uphold. He wasn't known as the Merc with the Mouth for nothing. He was supposed to be the one doing the running and the killing.

Not the other way around.

Finally, finally, he managed to reach the roof where the guy was currently taking cover behind a small brick shack. The sun was rising, but it was still dark, and there were a couple of floodlights shining on the rooftop. It made him think of the night he'd had that heart-to-heart with Blind Al, even though all she really wanted was for him to bring her some of that special brownie mix.

What a night that had been.

But anyway, this monologue is starting to get too long, and we should probably move things along, eh?

Right.

So, the baddie.

His name was something long and non-English.

Salvatore, or Santino, or Salvation... Whatever the fuck it was, it didn't really matter. What mattered was that it was time to make him dead.

He stepped around the corner and was met with a spray of bullets, all of which lodged themselves into his Kevlar vest.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled over the sound of the gunfire. "This is real leather, you know. I'm tired of all the offscreen sewing and shit."

When the spray finally ended, he took a moment to catch his breath.

"…ow," he whispered to himself.

"You shouldn't have followed me here," the man said.

"Yeah, whatever," Deadpool replied. "Look, I'll make this easy for you. You drop down and give me fifty, and I'll let you keep that hideous mustache you're sporting."

The man's eyes widened in surprise.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Deadpool assured him. "You got a squirrel living in it or something?"

"It's just a little bit of gray, you dick," the man argued. "What about you? What's with the mask? Are you hiding a mustache under there, too, or something? Maybe some acne scars?"

Deadpool shook his head and stepped forward, his guns drawn.

"Don't come any closer!"

"You know, this would be much more intimidating if you didn't look like a cartoon mouse."

"Stop it with the mustache!"

"Alright, alright," Deadpool said. "Enough with the mustache. But what is it about your hairline? I can't put my finger on it."

The man sighed in exasperation and pulled out his pistol, aiming it right at Deadpool's face.

"Hey now, don't point that at me," Deadpool scolded him. "That's not a very nice thing to do."

He ignored him and pulled the trigger, a loud boom ringing out as the bullet fired. It whizzed by him but missed its mark.

"You really are a dick," He grumbled before aiming his gun right between the man's eyes. And he was going to shoot, honest.

He really was.

But then his phone rang, and he was well-reminded of the current song playing through his head.

I'm a buff baby that can dance like a man. I can shake-ah my fanny, I can shake-ah my can!

Needless to say, he was distracted.

He lowered his gun and looked down at his pocket, where his phone was still ringing and still vibrating against his leg.

"Shit, hold that thought," He said to the guy, and he holstered his gun.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Deadpool put his finger up to shush him before pulling his phone out of his pocket to answer it.

If you're an evil witch, I’ll punch you for fu—

"Heyyyy," he said in a sing-songy voice, "you've reached the phone sex hotline. For kinks and fetishes, press one. For booty calls, press two. For your favorite mercenary, press three."

"Ey, pendejo—" His opponent started, but he cut him off by snapping and raising his finger.

"Cut it, Tuco Salamanca. Breaking Bad called and wants its meth-cooking mustache back."

"Wha-I-you-"

"Anyways, this is your favorite merc speaking. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

"Is this a bad time?"

Wade's eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open when he heard her voice on the other end of the line.

"Baby girl! Is that you? Oh, how I've missed your voice. It's like hearing an angel, or an angelic chorus, or a whole bunch of angels, but you're the most important one. Like, the lead singer or something."

"I literally saw you last night." Your voice was always drenched with the most amazing kind of sarcasm, and he'd missed it.

"And?"

"It's only been a few hours."

"And?"

"That's a short amount of time."

"And?"

You sighed, but he knew you weren't really annoyed.

"Anyways, you sounded busy," you continued, "so I'll just let you go."

"What?! No! Don't hang up!" He shouted into the receiver. "I've only fiddled with my pistols! Nothing interesting is happening right now!"

"Your pistols, huh?" You asked a hint of mischief in your voice.

"Well, yeah. They're the most important part of the mission, you know."

In the corner of his eye, he could see his target making his way towards the edge of the building. Quickly and efficiently, without dropping his attention from his conversation with you, he lifted his gun and fired a shot at the man's knee.

"Ah, fuck!" the man screamed in pain. "My knee!"

"Hey! Language!" Deadpool scolded him. "The lady of the house is listening!"

"Lady of the- what the fuck?!"

"I said language, you mustachioed rat!"

"Mustachioed rat?" You asked.

"Sorry, babe," he replied. "You know how excited I get when Downtown Abbey is on."

“There’s gunshots in Downtown Abbey?"

"Gunshots? Oh, no, no. That was… uh, a car alarm. Yeah, the neighbor's car alarm was going off."

"Uh-huh," you said, not sounding very convinced. And, of course, that was right around the time the guy's gun went off again, this time hitting him square in the shoulder. It made the phone fall out of his hand and clatter onto the ground, but the call was still connected.

"Dammit!" He yelled, looking at the fresh blood dripping down his arm. "That's gonna take forever to heal!"

"Who are you talking to?" The man demanded, his gun still aimed at Deadpool's face. "You're working with someone?"

"Hey, now, I don't remember giving you permission to talk," Deadpool told him, holding his bloody arm up to his face. "Look, I've gotta call you back, babe. I know it's been so heartbreakingly long—"

"Again, only a few hours," you said.

"—but duty calls. Love you, bye."

"Love you, bye."

With that, the line disconnected.

"Ugh," he groaned, his heart aching for the loss of your sweet voice. "I miss her already."

"Ey," his opponent growled, drawing his attention. He started speaking in rapid-fire Spanish, which Deadpool didn't really understand, but he didn't have to. The guy was just ranting and raving.

"Alright, alright, chill," Deadpool said. "Just calm down. It’ll all be over soon, little buddy."

"I am not little! I am a giant!" The guy protested, and Wade could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. "And I will not chill!"

"Well, can't argue with that, I guess," Deadpool said with a shrug, and he took aim. But before he could pull the trigger, the guy was running again.

"Hey, what did I tell you about running?!" He yelled, but his voice fell on deaf ears as the guy reached the ledge.

"I am a giant!"

"No, you're a giant asshat!"

"I will not be bested by some masked buffoon!"

"Buff? Me? Why, I never!"

"You're the biggest asshole I've ever met!"

"You know what? I am a big ass! A big, round, bubbly ass." He paused for a second. "Hey, what's your favorite flavor?"

"Fuck you, you red-clad imbecile!"

"You know, I'd ask you out to dinner first, but we're kinda past that now."

"Argh!"

"Alright, enough stalling," Deadpool said. "It's time to end this."

"Yes," the guy said, turning his gun back on Deadpool. "It is."

Of course, Deadpool being the smart-ass he was, he'd already taken a step to the side. As the bullet whizzed past him, he reached for his gun.

"Now, where did I put that thing? Oh, there it is."

He aimed the gun and fired, and the man fell back onto the ground. The bullet hit him right in the middle of his forehead, his blood splattering all over the concrete.

"Ha ha! Fatality. Deadpool wins!" He said, his voice taking on the deep, grounded tone of the narrator from Mortal Kombat. "Flawless Victory."

He stood over the body for a few seconds, reveling in his victory, before he felt the presence of another.

The gun on his right side got ripped from its holster, and the barrel was aimed back into his face, as it always seems to be.

But, he already sensed it was coming, so his fingers wrapped around his other and aimed that right in the golden spot… and let’s just say, The Golden Girls was a little less golden and a lot more crimson.

"Wow, this has got to be a record," He said as he bent down to stare at the new one’s anguish. "Two dead ugly mustaches in the same day. You can call me Sweeney Todd because shit… I just shaved you the fuck up."

He didn’t give the poor bastard a chance to even whimper before he fired another two shots into the man's head. All in all, this had been the easiest payday he'd had in a while.

He picked up his cell phone and slipped it back into its pocket before bending down and scooping up the mustache man's pistol.

"Ooh, lookie here, a nice, shiny new pistol," he said to himself. "Just what I've always wanted. Well, I don't actually need it. It's not like I have any other holes in my body, but you know what they say. The more the merrier."

He stuffed the gun in his holster and turned around, heading back the way he'd come.

"Time to get back to the good stuff," he said. "I have a date with my favorite girl."

He hopped up onto the ledge and looked down, his eyes locking on the window to his apartment.

And when he arrived, bloody and battered, you could only smile while holding up little ole Mary Puppins in all her drooling glory.

God, how he missed his girls.

[swappermanent]

Life In Retrospect

It started, like most things in my life, with a bit of harmless indulgence. I’d been out on the beach, metal detector in hand, just doing my thing. Call it a classic old guy hobby if you want—I know it sounds like one—but there’s something oddly satisfying about it. You spend your whole life accumulating things, working toward something, and yet, in your later years, you find yourself searching for what’s been left behind.

That’s when I found it. The detector beeped, low and insistent, over something solid buried in the sand. Brushing it off, I uncovered a necklace—a little tarnished but still striking. The pendant was shaped like a bird, wings spread wide, with an intricate design that caught the light just so. It looked old. And valuable, maybe. Not the kind of thing you’d expect to find washed up on a beach in a sleepy town like mine.

Being the curious sort, I took it home and started looking into it. I’m no stranger to the internet, mind you. For an old guy, I know my way around a reverse image search. After a bit of digging, I finally found a match, buried in an obscure corner of the web. Turns out, this wasn’t just any necklace. According to the article, it had magical properties—something about granting the deepest, most hidden wishes. But there was a catch: the wishes had to be subconscious. Wear it, the story claimed, and the wish would find you.

remember chuckling at the idea. It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. But then I paused, looking at the necklace in my hand, and wondered what exactly my subconscious would want, if it had the chance. Money? I wasn’t exactly rich, but I got by just fine. Love? I’d missed that boat, never found someone to share my life with. Fame? Ha, the idea made me laugh—what would an old man like me even do with fame?

I didn’t expect much from it, but it was an interesting enough piece, and it looked good against a sweater or tucked under a jacket, so I wore it. Weeks went by, and honestly, I forgot about it.

---

One day, I found myself at the gym. It was a bit of a routine for me—not the way it used to be when I was younger, of course, but I kept at it, lifting lighter weights and trying to stay active. This wasn’t just any gym, either; it had a reputation around town. People called it the “gay gym”—not officially, of course, but you could tell. The men here were fit, stylish, and, well, meticulous about their bodies in a way I could only admire from a distance. They looked like they belonged in magazines, and I’ll admit, I liked to let my eyes wander now and then.

Still, I kept to myself. At my age, I wasn’t exactly in the social scene here, and I’d long since learned to stay on the sidelines. I came, did my exercises, enjoyed the view, and went home.

But that day, for the first time, someone came up to me. His name was Mikey, and I’d noticed him before, of course. Hard not to, really. He was exactly the kind of man I might've dreamed of being, if I ever let myself dream about that sort of thing. He was young, muscular, with a powerful, chiseled build that made his plain T-shirts look sculpted onto him. His dark hair was perfectly styled, a casual yet intentional wave falling over his forehead. And that mustache—thick, neatly trimmed, lending him a rugged, almost classic appeal, like he could’ve stepped out of a 1970s action movie. He even wore glasses, tortoiseshell frames that gave him an unexpected touch of charm and sophistication. I'd managed to snap a few photos of him before at the gym when he wasn't looking.

I’d seen him around for months, usually catching glimpses of him bench-pressing absurd weights or chatting with friends, his laughter deep and easy. He looked like the kind of guy who owned his confidence, who walked through life knowing that people admired him. And, hell, I was no exception. I'd spent enough stolen moments sneaking glances at those bulging arms, that thick neck, the way his shoulders seemed to strain the fabric of whatever he wore. Every time, I felt a little flutter inside—a mix of envy and something more primal, something I barely let myself think about.

So imagine my surprise when he came up to me. Even he seemed a little surprised, his brow creasing just slightly like he didn’t quite know what had prompted him to approach. And then, he asked me about my necklace.

“Hey, where’d you get that necklace?” he said, eyes flicking from my face to the pendant hanging over my chest. “It’s… different. Kind of cool.”

I felt a little jolt of something—excitement, nerves, maybe both—at the attention. He wanted to know about my necklace? Of all things? I opened my mouth to respond, and then something strange happened. The words just… flowed. I started telling him all about it—how it had been crafted in some long-ago time by hands that shaped it with care, about the artisan who’d worked on it and how they were renowned for imbuing special powers into their pieces. I talked about the mystical properties, the magic of wishes hidden deep in one’s subconscious, waiting to be drawn out by the wearer.

Thing is, I didn’t know any of that. Not consciously. But as I spoke, it felt like I was reading from some invisible script, like the knowledge was being given to me as I said it out loud.

Mikey listened, his gaze locked onto the pendant, almost entranced. Then, he looked back up at me, that curiosity still burning in his eyes.

“Would you mind if I tried it on?” he asked, his voice a little softer, like he was almost embarrassed by the question.

Without a second thought, I nodded, slipping the necklace off and handing it over to him. He took it carefully, his fingers brushing mine—warm, rough skin, the kind that spoke of hard work and hours in the gym. He put it on, and I swear, the thing looked like it was made for him. It hung perfectly against his chest, the bird pendant resting right in the middle of that strong, solid frame.

As I watched him, something stirred in me. I felt a warmth spreading through my body, a tingling that started low and radiated outward, like a current of energy. I caught myself glancing down, noticing with a bit of embarrassment that I was half-hard. But I couldn’t help it—the sight of him, my necklace gleaming against his chest, his broad shoulders framed by that perfectly fitted T-shirt, was… well, let’s just say it was doing things to me.

“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat and giving him an appreciative once-over, “it suits you. Why don’t you keep it?”

Mikey’s eyebrows lifted, surprised but clearly pleased. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little unsteady, trying to hide the flush of heat that was working its way up my neck. “Consider it a gift.”

---

That night, I felt warmer than I had in years—almost feverish, but not quite. I thought maybe I was coming down with something; I’d spent enough winters nursing colds to recognize that slight ache, the subtle throbbing behind my eyes. I drank water, tried to stay hydrated, but there was something strange about the feeling. It wasn’t just heat; it was a tingling sensation that seemed to move through my limbs, settling into every muscle and joint.

I told myself it was just exhaustion. Maybe I’d pushed myself too hard at the gym, or maybe the excitement of talking to Mikey had rattled my old bones more than I wanted to admit. Either way, I decided to call it a night, pulling the covers up and letting myself drift off to sleep.

But somewhere in the dead of night, I woke up drenched in sweat, sheets tangled around my legs. My skin felt hot, almost burning, and my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted a mile. I lay there in the dark, trying to orient myself, but nothing felt right. My arms, stretched out beside me, felt heavier, thicker somehow. I pushed up to sit, but even that felt… different.

For a moment, I thought I might be having a stroke or some other senior moment, and the thought made my stomach twist. Taking a few deep breaths, I tried to shake off the dizziness, to piece together where I was and what was happening.

But as I sat up and tried to get my bearings, the space around me looked foreign. Strange shadows fell across walls I didn’t recognize. There was a faint streetlight glow filtering through blinds that weren’t mine, casting an odd light over an unfamiliar dresser, scattered clothes, and a large mirror across the room.

Where am I?

I swung my legs out of bed, almost stumbling under my own weight. The muscles in my legs tensed and shifted in a way that felt… powerful, but wrong. Instinctively, I reached for the light switch, my fingers brushing over the unfamiliar nightstand before finding it. The room flooded with light, revealing more alien surroundings. Posters on the wall. Dumbbells in the corner. This wasn’t my bedroom. I didn’t own posters. Or dumbbells.

Disoriented, I took a few steps, bare feet touching cool, unfamiliar carpet, as I wandered toward the bathroom. I had to steady myself on the doorframe—the sheer strength I felt in my grip, in the size of my hand, jolted through me. I flipped on the bathroom light and looked up, squinting against the sudden brightness.

And then I saw him. Mikey.

In the mirror was his face, his body—muscular and tanned, dark hair tousled and falling forward slightly. I could feel my heart hammering in his broad chest, watched his—my—eyes go wide as I touched my face, tracing over a jawline sharper than I’d ever had, rough stubble under my fingers.

“Oh… my god,” I whispered, hearing Mikey’s voice, deep and smooth, coming from my own mouth. The face in the mirror looked just as shocked as I felt, my hands gripping the edges of the sink to steady myself as I took in the sight of every inch of him—of me.

A thrill shot through me, warmth bubbling up from my stomach as I ran my hand over the expanse of his—my—shoulders, over the swell of the chest, down to the ridged abs, and finally feeling up his impressive package. I couldn’t stop the smirk creeping onto his—my—face, couldn’t stop the pulse of excitement thrumming through me. Holy hell. This was real. I was Mikey.

And then, with a jolt, I realized something was missing. My hand went up to my neck instinctively, searching for the familiar weight of the necklace, but my fingers brushed only bare skin. No chain. No pendant.

A part of me, somewhere deep down, was concerned—confused and alarmed, really—but right now, looking at the smirking, shirtless, muscular guy in the mirror, the overwhelming feeling was… arousal. I’d never looked like this. I’d never felt like this.

Stay Tuned For Part 2.  

[honeyedmiller]

When in Positano | Javier Peña

javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: light alcohol consumption, smut (fingering, f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, major breeding kink, ass slaps), talks of starting a family, an insane amount of fluff, javi is a romantic at heart, bits of spanish with translation, frequent pov switching, no use of y/n.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: honeymooning in italy with your husband is a dream, especially when he reveals he wants to start a family with you.

a/n: this has been in my wips / drafts since january- and then i ultimately decided to change the whole plot of this bc i've been in a soft mushy mood for husband x reader lately. shoutout to @ilovepedro (ily) for beta'ing this baby for me. hope you enjoy <3

It was times like this that you could hardly believe this was your life.

The morning sun had shown her golden rays through the linen curtains that danced with the wind, illuminating your villa brilliantly. The first thing you get to see when your eyes flutter open is your husband, unknowingly basking in the golden light of the morning. 

You stretch your sore limbs, the glint of your wedding ring in the light catching your attention. You can't help the smile that spreads across your lips, eyes shifting down to the man next to you once again. 

You study his peaceful features as if you were sketching him from memory — tan, warm skin; dark, thick hair; a mustache that always tickles the tiniest bit when he’d kiss you anywhere on your body; a strong, angular nose; long lashes that fan his cheeks; and plush, pink lips that were slightly parted as he breathed steadily. 

The only thing you miss dearly in sight at that very moment are his beautiful brown eyes. The same eyes that had you hooked from the very first time your gaze fell upon them. 

Your eyes travel down to his muscular arms — the same arms that always hold you tight and protect you, all the way down to his torso and his naked, but covered, lower half. 

Your eyes snap up to his gorgeous face once more, reaching your hand out to trace featherlight lines over his smooth skin. You cup his cheek, leaning forward in the slightest to kiss his nose. His brows scrunch in reaction as he finally stirs awake. 

He groans softly as he instinctively wraps an arm around you, bringing your bare body flush to his. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, taking advantage of your proximity to him as you start peppering kisses all over his face. 

You pull back and he peeks one sleepy eye open, a half smile immediately forming on his face. 

“Buenos días, mi amor.” [good morning, my love] He whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead. 

“Buenos días, mi esposo.” [good morning, my husband] You beam, and he gently grabs your left hand — the one that decided to caress his face once more — and looks down at it with pride, seeing the wedding band and engagement ring together. It’s something he’ll never tire of. 

“Still can’t believe you said ‘I do’.” He chuckles, bringing your hand up to his lips so he can kiss your ring. 

“I’d say those two words in a million lifetimes with you, Javier.” You whisper, and his soft brown eyes look up at you in pure adoration. 

“Mi vida.” [my life] He shakes his head in disbelief, an undeniable grin etching itself upon his plush lips. 

You said I do to each other just seventy-two hours ago, and you both have been luxuriating in the blissful feeling of forever. 

Javier surprised you with your dream vacation destination as your honeymoon, and you cried in happiness on your twelve hour flight as you both made your way to Italy. 

You don’t know what you did to deserve such a man as Javier, and you truly don’t think you’ll ever comprehend how you got to marry him. What you do know, is that you’re the luckiest woman alive. 

Little do you also know, he feels the same exact way about you. 

“I love you.” The words flow naturally, easily, and he gives you a look that makes you want to give him the whole universe. Fuck, if you could, you would. 

This man—the man that has endured so much in his past, only to open up his heart to you and only you—to protect you, cherish you, and love you the way he does, is a man that deserves everything gracious and peaceful this world has to offer. 

And if you told him those exact words, he’d kiss you searingly and tell you that you are his grace, his peace, his god-given solace. You are the reason his heart beats, his days are brighter, his world spins on its axis. You’re everything to him and he’d show you time and time again just so. 

“I love you too, cariño.” [honey] His voice is softer, a voice only reserved for you. Underneath the harsh exterior and the stern brow he always wears, there’s a softness that he carries when it’s just you two in the confines of your own space. You always greet him at the door when he comes home, pressing a kiss between his furrowed brows, wrapping your arms around him before telling him “welcome home.” He always relaxes under your touch, and knowing you’re his peace makes pride bloom in your chest. 

Your heart aches in the best way possible with how much you love your husband, and your faithfulness and devotion to him will never, ever waver. 

Javi buries his face into your neck and leaves a trail of kisses up to your jaw, mustache hairs tickling your skin as he nibbles on your chin playfully. 

“What’s on the agenda today, baby?” He asks, hand gliding up the soft skin of your torso, thumb brushing just beneath your breast. The ghost of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you grin lazily as you look at him. 

“I was thinking about the street market we passed yesterday, and maybe a new restaurant?” You say, running a hand through his thick brown locks. You twirl a longer piece at the nape of his neck around your finger, and he begins to kiss your collarbone languidly. 

He hums in thought, kisses trailing down to the swell of your breasts. You cradle the back of his head gently, not particularly wanting him to stop, but also aware that you should really get out of bed and enjoy the beauty of Positano while you can. Your fingers release his head and skate down to his back, gently double tapping the space between his shoulder blades. 

“We should really get up, amor.” [love] Your tone isn’t convincing enough even to yourself, and Javi rests his chin on your sternum as he looks at you with a glimpse of mischief in his eyes. 

“Can I enjoy the sweet taste of my wife first?” His tone is more of a statement than a question, and you can’t help but laugh at his eagerness. Truthfully, if it were up to him, you two probably wouldn’t leave the bedroom very much in the week and a half you get to spend here. To you, Italy was paradise, but to Javier, you were his. 

He could spend days with his face – or cock – buried between your thighs, savoring every moment of your addicting taste and tight cunt. 

“Only if you let me pick the restaurant.” You negotiate poorly, and even then, Javier sports a grin that lights up the whole room. The sun and her radiance doesn’t even nearly hold a candle to your husband’s smile. 

“Deal.” He murmurs, lips marking their territory down your sternum. Before he gets any further, he kisses both of your breasts before enveloping a nipple into his mouth. You suck in a breath at the feeling, the sensation shooting straight down to your already needy and aching core. 

Something of a whine escapes you, tugging on his hair as you arch your back off the mattress. You can feel his smug smirk against your skin before he switches sides, relishing the other pert bud before letting go with a small pop. 

The anticipation is building up much quicker than you expected, and you’re squirming beneath Javi as his lips ghost your stomach, moving down the bed before uncovering your bottom half. 

A lazy grin appears on his lips as he takes in the sight of your puffy, glistening pussy, ready for his tongue to drink you up like you’re the finest nectar on the planet. 

Javier tsks at the sight teasingly, swiping his middle finger through your folds, preening at your receptiveness to his touch as your hips buck toward his mouth involuntarily. “Now who made my beautiful wife this wet and needy, hm?” He asks, moving his face down to kiss the supple skin of your thigh before biting down gently. 

You yelp in surprise, looking down at him only to find him sporting a shit-eating grin. The word wife makes you even needier, loving the fact that you belong to him. 

“You, mi corazón [my heart]. Solo tú.” [only you]

Javi closes his eyes at the endearment, nestling his cheek to your thigh as he breathes in a few times. He feels like he’s in an alternate reality where his dream woman just dropped out of the sky, and he gets to spend the rest of his life with her. 

But this is real, you’re real, and he nearly has to pinch himself to prove that you aren’t a figment of his imagination. He gets to spend eternity with you, and he deems himself the luckiest son of a bitch alive. 

He opens his eyes and his gaze meets yours once more, and you can’t help but reach out for his face. You look so ethereal to him as the golden rays fall upon your body, making you glow like a goddess. Your head is back against the pillows as you watch him with an adoring gaze from above, and he truly has no words to ever conjure up just how much he loves you. 

And, for a moment, as he’s watching you watch him, his eyes flicker down to your stomach. Javier never thought he’d be a man who wants to have kids in his life. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d ever be able to get married, let alone to a gem such as yourself. 

You’ve given him a softer life; a life full of love and happiness—a complete one-eighty from his time in Colombia—and a house to call a home, albeit you being his home no matter where you two are. You’d also be the one to be able to give him the ultimate gift: fatherhood. 

He sweeps his reeling thoughts to the back of his mind for now, his main focus averting back to you and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name. 

With that thought in mind, he wastes no more time before he gives your pretty, glistening pussy a kiss, delving his tongue into your folds right after. 

You gasp at the sensation, eyebrows pinching together as his muscle works your nerves expertly as he’s done countless times before. He traces the tip of his tongue through your folds, up to your clit and flicks it a few times before moving back down to your entrance. He prods the muscle inside and dutifully fucks you with his tongue, the pace delicious as his nose bumps your clit repeatedly in the process. 

You grip onto his hair, hips bucking into his face in tandem with the stroke of his tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out his name repeatedly, and he feels prideful that he’s the only one that can make you feel this good. 

Javi’s mouth separates from your dripping cunt, bottom half of his face shiny with the taste he loves oh so much. 

“Taste like a dream, muñequita.” [doll] He breathes, sliding his hand down to grip your thigh as the other toys with the slick on your pussy. He kisses your thigh again and he looks up at you trying to catch your breath. Your head already feels fuzzy at the immense pleasure your husband’s tongue brings you, and to top it off, he slides his middle and ring finger into you. 

He keeps his eyes on your face and watches as you unravel, pumping his fingers in and out of you. He makes sure to curl his fingers to hit the very specific spot he knows you like, and when he does, you lose all resolve. You crumble under his touch as your arousal seeps out of you and down his fingers, coating his wedding band in your juices as they flow down to his wrist. 

“So fucking pretty, baby. You like when I fuck you with my fingers?” He asks, and you nod without hesitation. 

“Words, corazón.” [heart] 

“Fuck–fuck, yes, Javi, oh, god-” You cry, and he squeezes your thigh before diving back down to lap up your pussy once more. The combination of his tongue and fingers is absolutely lethal—you know you aren’t going to last much longer. 

Javier is the matchbox to your match, dragging, dragging, dragging you along. The coil in your core is wound up so tight that within seconds, you break and light aflame. 

You cry out his name, the sound of your own desperate plea reverberating off of the four walls of the villa’s bedroom eagerly. 

You feel like you’re gushing everywhere—his fingers, his mouth, the bedsheets—and it’s pure ecstasy when he blows out the flame, your body the smoke as you dissipate into the luxury of a devastatingly euphoric bliss. 

Javi drags his lips up your thigh, to your torso, all the way up to your jaw before capturing your lips in a searing kiss as you both share the taste of you on his tongue. 

He hums into the kiss and separates from you, bringing his slick-coated fingers to your mouth. You huff a laugh as you eagerly lick the arousal off of his wedding ring and up his digit, popping both of them into your mouth and suck them until they’re clean. 

Javi’s cock is impossibly hard now, but he knows how badly you want to explore the beautiful city. So, he pushes his urges down for now, though you’d likely gladly take his cock into that pretty mouth of yours and suck him dry. 

He groans as he gets up from the bed, giving you another chaste kiss before he trudges to the bathroom to retrieve a towel to clean you up. Your eyes follow him as you lay on your side, head propped up by your hand. You study his figure unashamedly, admiring your husband and his bare form in all of its glory. Long legs, toned arms, tan skin, and of course, that insanely cute ass of his—and he’s all yours. Every inch of his beautiful body, face, and mind is yours. 

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel in hand, and you can’t help but admire his impressive length. He teasingly throws the towel at you and you catch it, and before you can protest, his body is hovering over yours. 

“Someone can’t keep their eyes to themselves, hm?” He quirks a brow at you. 

“Well excuse me for admiring my husband and how sexy he is.” You retort, and he can’t help the guttural laugh that escapes his belly. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” His tone is playful, snatching the towel from you as he cleans you up. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows as you give him a stern look, and he meets your gaze with a boyish grin. 

“You’re the one who married me. That’s on you.” You say, and he grabs your shoulders after tossing the towel onto the floor before giving you a light shake. 

“And it’s been the best decision of my life, muchas gracias.” [thank you very much]

You roll your eyes before leaning up and giving him a kiss, tapping his thigh as you pull apart. 

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Italy is waiting for us.” 

-

You watched Javi as he bought some fresh fruit from a vendor at the street market, patrons bustling on the side as they enjoyed the beautiful weather and scenery before them. The water was a brilliant hue of blue, tying in the bright colors and coastal landscaping Positano had to offer. 

Javi holds out his arm for you after he purchases the fruit, and you gladly cling onto his bicep as you make your way down the street. You stop for a moment to look at him and admire his outfit—bright blue shirt that contrasted beautifully against his tan skin, and some white pants paired with brown loafers.

 He gave you a face when you originally suggested the shoes to him because it simply wasn’t something he’d ever wear, but they were insanely comfortable and undoubtedly great for walking, deeming you right once more. 

“Mi esposa always knows what’s best,” [my wife] He’d said. 

Javi peels an orange for you both to share, splitting it in half and hand feeding you the slices. You bite the tip of his finger playfully, and he can’t help but admire the buttery sweet sound of the laugh that emanates you. 

You hum at the citrus taste of the orange, closing your eyes in delight at how fresh it is. 

“That’s delicious.” You say aloud, and Javi looks at you while sliding his aviators down the bridge of his nose. 

“It is, but nothing compares to the taste of you.”

Your face heats up at his words, hiding it in the crook of his neck for a second while letting out a mumbled ‘behave’ from you. 

He’s smug when you pull your face back from the warmth of his body, and you lightly swat his chest in mock-chastise. 

“You hungry, mamí?” He pulls a food guide of local restaurants out from his back pocket, and you nod eagerly. 

“For more than just food.” You murmur, slotting your arms onto his broad shoulders, letting one hand dangle and the other play with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands instinctively grab onto your waist and he pulls your body flush to his. 

“Now who needs to behave, hm?” 

“Still you.” You beam.

“Smartass.” He retorts with a chuckle. 

“Maybe. But you love me.”

“That I do, bebita,” [baby girl] He leans in for a kiss before handing you the food guide, and you briefly scan the options. 

 “How about some pizza?” 

-

The restaurant reminds you of your first date with Javier. You remember how much he tried to impress you, and even then, you knew he was someone special. To end up here with him in Italy eating the most delicious pizza and drinking the crispest glass of wine four years later seems like a total fever dream. 

Javi raises his glass up to you, giving you his infamous puppy dog eyes and the softest smile you think you’ve ever seen on him. “Cheers to you, amor de me vida,” [love of my life] “You make me the happiest man alive. You’ve given me everything I could wish for and then some, and your beautiful heart and soul never ceases to amaze me.” 

Tears prick your eyes as you raise your glass to clink against his, sipping the Prosecco in your glass. You reach for his left hand across the table, bringing his knuckles up to your lips as you kiss them and his wedding band repeatedly. 

“I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for giving me a life well beyond my wildest dreams. I’d do anything for you. It’s me and you against the world, baby.” 

“I’ll never know how a bastard like me got so goddamn lucky. You’re a godsend, corazón,” [heart] “What if we had an addition to our world?” He asks, voice almost shy as he tries to gauge your reaction. 

“What do you mean, mi amor?” [my love]

”How do you feel about starting a family? With me?” 

He’s hopeful with the way he stares at you, squeezing your hand as he awaits your answer. 

“Is that something you want, baby? I know a while back you said you weren’t too sure.” 

You’d love to have a family with Javier. The thing was, he wasn’t too sure of that awhile back when things really got serious between you two. You were a little crushed by the prospect of not having kids with the love of your life, but you’d learn to make do. It was never a dealbreaker for you specifically, but you’ve always felt like you were meant to be a mom. 

“I’m sure now. I love the sound of having a little one of us running around. We don’t need to rush into it, though. I just—I want this with you, and I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Well, besides asking you to be mine para siempre.” [forever]

You try to not let your emotions overwhelm you in the moment. The man sitting in front of you has you in pure awe, with the way a softness has wrapped itself around his heart, showing him that this side of life is full of warmth and love. He’s gradually learned to accept it, unlearning all of the harsh stoicism that seized his being in the past. 

“You’d be the best daddy, Javier Peña. No doubt in my mind.” 

His face gleams with joy as he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle individually. 

“And you’d be the best mommy, Mrs. Peña.” 

Your heart flutters at the sound of your new last name. You still genuinely cannot believe you’re married to this man. 

“Chucho is probably going to ask when we’re going to give him grandbabies.” 

Javier can’t help but laugh, knowing full well his father would undoubtedly ask that question as soon as you two get back to Texas. 

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you. “We should start practicing now then, mamí. Wouldn’t wanna keep him or the rest of the family waiting.” 

-

A sheen of sweat coats your brow and chest as you arrive back to your villa with Javi. The walk itself wasn’t far but the warm weather was starting to get to you. And yet, as soon as you walked through the doors of the bedroom, he was on you. 

He was kissing your pulse point while his hands roamed over your body with fervor, skimming over the cotton material of the sundress you were wearing. You giggle as his mustache tickles your neck, playfully nudging him.

“Javi, baby, I’m all sticky and sweaty. Let me take a shower first.”

He hums at your words, continuing the assault of his lips down your jugular before nibbling on your hot skin. His grip on your waist tightens before he leads you backwards into the bathroom, hands moving down to your ass before giving it a playful slap. He spins you around so you’re both facing the huge mirror above the double vanity, and his hands settle onto your stomach. 

His eyes travel down to where his hands are as he starts to rub his thumbs back and forth. The look of pure love in his eyes was enough to tell you how badly he really wants to be a father. You reach an arm back to cradle the side of his face, craning your neck to the side to give his cheek a kiss. 

“Can you just imagine growing a life that’s half you and half me in here? Nuestro hijo o hija. You’d be glowing even more than you do now, mi amor.” [our son or daughter ; my love]

Your gaze snaps back up to his face, his usual stoic brow softened at the idea of you carrying his child. You didn’t think you could fall in love with this man even more, but picturing him taking your newborn baby out of the carseat after coming home from the hospital and seeing their tiny body resting against his chest in comfort, against someone so loving and so familiar, gives you an indescribable amount of butterflies. 

His eyes meet yours in the mirror once more, and you can’t help but give him a soft smile. Both of you are well aware that no words can ever come close to describing the emotions that flow through your minds and hearts, but somehow still connect perfectly like a puzzle piece.

It’s sacred, your love with Javi, and it’s something you’ll both pour into your future child endlessly. 

Javi’s lips find your neck once more, fingertips skating over the sticky flesh of your arms before settling on the straps of your dress. His lips move to your shoulder as he slips one strap off, then the other, and tugs down gently so the fabric falls and pools at your feet. 

You’re bare on top, and Javi takes advantage of the beautiful sight and kneads your breasts with his hands. You can’t help the way your head lolls back onto his shoulder, biting your lip as he tweaks both nipples simultaneously. 

“My beautiful wife.” He whispers, trailing a hand down your torso and over the fabric of your panties, teasingly rubbing you through the thin material. A gasp evades you as the familiar low ache bubbles in your core once again. 

“Javi,” You gasp, hand flying up to steady yourself as you grab the side of his neck. 

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.”

Your ass presses against his front, and you feel his cock harden in his pants. You turn around to face him and he grabs your hips instinctively before pulling you forward so you’re flush to his body. He leans in to kiss you ferociously, hands sliding down to grab your ass as you toss your arms over his shoulders. 

You stay like that for a minute just enjoying the simplicity in the art of kissing your husband before reaching down to unbutton his shirt. You slide the material off of his shoulders before moving down to his pants, palming his cock teasingly. He groans into your mouth and kisses you like a starved man, backing you toward the shower. You slide his jeans off of his hips once he’s stagnant and he steps out of them, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

Before you two can continue your escapades, he gives your forehead a kiss before turning on the shower to a temperature comfortable for you both. You slide your panties off and he mirrors your actions, sliding his boxers off before you both step inside. 

The lukewarm water cools your skin briefly before Javi steps under the stream, face up toward the water. You watch as the droplets stream down his face, to his neck and shoulders, down his torso and down down down into the dark, wiry hairs that sit below his navel and above his delicious length. 

Your mouth is practically salivating at the sight before you, and you need to have a taste of your husband. 

Your hands are gentle on his torso before they drag down, your body lowering with them until you’re on your knees. Javi looks down at you with his lips parted and a wild look in his eye. 

You lick your lips and smirk at him before pushing on his thighs, backing him up so he sits down onto the bench in the shower. You scoot forward on your knees, admiring your man from below as his thighs spread wide and his hard cock is already furious and leaking pre-come, slathering itself onto his torso. 

Your nails scratch his thighs lightly before you lean down to kiss them each once, looking back up at him before taking his cock into your hand. You pump his silky flesh a few times before swiping your thumb over his slit, spreading his arousal over the head of his cock before lowering your mouth. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the taste, absolutely entranced by this man and his cock that you love oh so much. 

“My wife is so pretty with my cock in her mouth.” He says, stroking the side of your face with his thumb. 

You separate from him as you sit back on your heels, pumping his length as you quirk a brow. “I think I look prettier when your cock is in me, papí.” 

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, thumping his head against the shower wall. “Got a dirty fucking mouth, bebita. Christ.” [baby girl]

“Just wait to see what it’ll do to your cock.” You can’t help but giggle at the way your words were easily affecting him, but you decide to cease your teasing. 

You slowly take him into your mouth, gagging as you reach the hilt. You swallow around him as best as you can manage before bringing your mouth up once more, swirling your tongue around his tip before taking him all the way into your mouth again. 

He’s heavy and warm against your tongue, twitching with every bob of your head as you set a steady rhythm. You squeeze your lips around him and he cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements up and down his cock in haste. 

“Your mouth feels so– fuck– fucking good, corazón.” [heart] 

He struggles to vocalize a coherent thought, babbling on about how good you make him feel and how much he loves you. 

The broken praises only spur you on further as you begin to deepthroat him with every pass, tears pricking your waterline as you control your gag reflex. He’s nearly bucking his hips up into you at this point, fucking your mouth at a pace that drives him insane. 

“Shit– yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck you’re so perfect, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You hum around him and squeeze your lips even tighter, gripping his thighs as he tenses up. His spend shoots onto your tongue and he can’t help the loud groan that rumbles through his chest, the feeling of your mouth so heavenly around his cock. You swallow everything he gives you, enjoying the view of your husband’s post-orgasm glow. 

The late afternoon sun seeps into the bathroom and illuminates him in such a way that even the Greek Gods have nothing against. He looks picturesque like this; mouth parted and panting—a wild and untamable rasp, eyes shut as he comes down from the orgasm he’s been pining after all day long. His wet curls stick to his forehead in disarray, but it suits him. 

His eyes slowly peel open and peer down at you, and you know better than to give him a smug smile. Instead, you lean down and kiss his inner thigh a few times without breaking his heady gaze. 

“C’mere.” He murmurs, pulling you up by your elbows. You’re standing now, and he leans forward to kiss your stomach a few times before he pats his thighs. You straddle his hips, hands landing on his chest as you trace small patterns. 

His hand slides down and in between your thighs where it’s slick with your arousal. You were so lost in pleasing your husband that you didn’t notice the incessant need growing stronger by the minute. It wasn’t a low, bubbling thing anymore—it was a full-fledged monstress clawing her way to the surface, begging to be tamed. 

The carnal desire for Javi couldn’t be held off anymore. You leaned in to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as your hips rock against nothing in particular. Javi is already half-hard again, and ever the gentleman that he is, he angles you down to where your dripping core is gliding against his warm, thick length. 

A strangled moan leaves your lips as you toss your head back, and Javi leans forward to nose at your jaw before peppering your neck in kisses. He nibbles on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips up onto you simultaneously. 

You whine his name as you loll your head forward, eyes blinking open and gaze locking with his. 

You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to say your next words—maybe it’s the look in his eye, maybe it’s a mixture of desperation and desire, maybe it’s just pure, honest truth. Hell, maybe it was all of the above. 

“I want to make you a daddy, Javi.” Your voice is sultry and sickeningly sweet, dripping like honey. 

And from that point, he was determined. Determined to make you the mother of his child, determined to start a family with you and grow it to both your heart's content, and determined to love and cherish you and your future child, or children—always—and Javier Peña was a man of his word. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you forward so you both are chest to chest, and you’re reeling over the look he’s giving you. He notches his tip at your entrance, fully hard once again with the promising tone behind your words. 

“Say it again.” He says.

“I want to make you,” You pause, moving your lips down to slot between his, pulling back just enough to whisper the rest of your sentence. “A daddy.” You sink down slowly onto him, and you kiss him again as you slowly adjust yourself to him. 

You both moan into each other, pulling apart as he fully sheathes himself into you. You’re so full like this, content in every way possible at the feeling of your husband’s cock stretching you out so deliciously. You rock your hips slightly as a test, moaning at the sensation that surges through you. 

You do it again, this time with more intent, and slowly set a rhythm with your hips. The feeling of his cock is otherworldly. A greedy, selfish part of you thinks that you’ll never be able to get enough of him or the feeling of this—being connected as so. 

You fist a hand into his thick wet locks as the other grabs onto his shoulder, ensuring you can keep your balance as you rock your hips back and forth. He captures your mouth in a blazing kiss, groping your ass before slapping it once as he picks up the pace for you. 

You’re panting into each other’s mouths as he increases the pace, now pounding his hips up into you. You cry out his name as your fingernails claw their way down his back and he hisses in pleasure, cradling the back of your head. 

Your mind is fuzzy and your lungs are on fire from kissing him desperately, and the white hot feeling in your core is blazing. 

“I–I love you, Javi– oh, god, I fucking love you. I love you and I want you to be the father of my child and I—” You’re babbling so much that you don’t even have a clue as to what it is that you’re really trying to say, but Javi gets the message, you think. 

He kisses your jaw as you try and match the movement of your hips to each thrust up into you, but it’s genuinely no use. Your body wants to succumb to Javier and his strong body and delicious cock and beautiful face and his big, loving heart—so you let it. You fall limp in his hold, leaning onto him as your orgasm surges through you unexpectedly. 

He can feel you pulsating around him and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. 

“Gonna make you a mama. Gonna be so good to our baby, the best mama ever.” He’s losing all self control, and you cradle his head as you ride out your prolonged orgasm. 

“Please, Javi.” You beg, and that’s enough for him to completely come undone. His hips still as he comes in you, a string of ‘I love you’s’ spilling from his mouth. You’re both breathless and completely dazed, immersed in post-coital bliss. The sound of the shower water hitting the tile floor is a relaxing constant as you both try to control your breathing. 

You sit like this for a while; you're perched in his lap as he leans against the wall, face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

You smatter kisses along his pulse point as a silent plea of love. You’re both pruny and fucked-out, but being here with each other like this is truly a dream in itself. 

The prospect of his dream woman giving him a child has him reeling, so perhaps leaving the room this week is an empty promise that flew out of the door the minute you told him you’d make him a daddy. 

Even if nothing happens right away for the two of you, that’s okay, too. You’d get to relish in the unbelievable life you already share with him a bit longer, built from the ground up by you and a man who loves you unconditionally. A man that would individually pick out the stars from the brilliant night sky for you. A man that still cannot fathom that he gets to share this life with you. 

And if that’s the case, you really wouldn’t mind at all. 

tags: @punkshort @endlessthxxghts @javierpena-inatacvest @ovaryacted @northernbluess @clawdee @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 (since all of you were excited about me posting this. ily)

divider by @saradika-graphics

[noira-l]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Megumi awkwardly asks Satoru for help with his first shave after weeks of hesitation. Despite the teasing, Satoru patiently guides him, creating an unexpected bonding moment between them.

warnings: fluff, father / son moment, slice of life, first shaving, hitting puberty, razors, a little cut (blood, just a tiny bit), teasing, Megumi is kinda awkward and Satoru is proud to be a father figure.

author's note: Oke! So! I haven't seen a fic like this anywhere (might be wrong, correct me if so), and I found the concept totally adorable and couldn't resist writing this as soon as the thought popped into my head. Hope you like interactions between them ;3

It had been a long couple of weeks for Megumi.

Every morning, he stared at the mirror, glaring at the small, stubborn patch of facial hair growing on his upper lip and chin.

At first, he tried to ignore it, thinking it might just be a phase, something that would disappear as quickly as it had appeared. But each day, it seemed to taunt him, getting thicker and darker. It was an undeniable sign that puberty, the inevitable storm he’d been trying to dodge, had arrived.

Megumi wasn’t one for asking for help, especially with personal things like this. He liked his independence, his ability to figure things out on his own.

But this?

Shaving?

This was unfamiliar territory, and though he hated to admit it, he needed guidance. He had stared at the razor his guardian had left out on the bathroom counter for a few days, feeling its weight in his hand as he practiced slow, cautious strokes in the air, too nervous to actually try it on his face. The thought of cutting himself was embarrassing enough. The last thing he needed was to walk around with a face full of tiny nicks and razor burns.

After much internal debate, he came to an uncomfortable conclusion: the only person who could help him with this was Satoru Gojo.

That realization didn’t sit well with Megumi. Of all the people to turn to, it had to be him.

Satoru was playful, unpredictable, and never missed an opportunity to tease Megumi about anything remotely personal. The idea of standing in front of a mirror with Satoru beside him, cracking jokes and treating it like some kind of bonding experience, made Megumi cringe. But, as much as he wanted to avoid it, he didn’t have a choice. If he didn’t ask Satoru, he’d have to figure it out himself - and that was a gamble Megumi wasn’t willing to take.

So, he waited.

He waited through the days when Satoru went on missions, or came home so late that he didn't manage to reach him, waited through the long silences when the house seemed even emptier without him. When Satoru was finally home at his normal evening time, Megumi knew he was out of time. He had run out of excuses.

Tonight was the night.

With a mix of reluctance and awkwardness, black haired one found himself standing outside the bathroom door, his hand hovering over it.

Inside, the sound of running water splashed against the sink. Satoru had disappeared into the bathroom minutes earlier, likely getting ready for bed after a long day. Megumi shifted on his feet, internally debating whether to knock or to just turn around and pretend like none of this mattered.

But the patchy mustache on his face wouldn’t let him ignore reality any longer.

He raised his hand to knock, hesitated, then finally let out a quiet tap against the door, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of water. For a brief second, Megumi hoped maybe Satoru hadn’t heard it, and he could walk away. Maybe he could figure this out some other time, when it didn’t feel quite so embarrassing.

The hope didn’t last long.

There was a pause before the door swung open.

Satoru stood there, relaxed as usual, with a long shirt on and a towel slung over his shoulder. His white hair was still damp from the shower, with a few strands falling sloppily across his forehead. A small smile appeared on his face when he saw Megumi standing with her hands clumsily folded, trying to look indifferent.

"Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brooding teenager." Satoru greeted, leaning casually against the doorframe, he mischief in his voice unmistakable "What’s up?"

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor before looking up at Satoru with a faint scowl.

"I, uh… I need your help with something."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued "My help? With what exactly?" his grin widened as if sensing the awkwardness radiating off the kid "Come on, spill it. What’s the big deal?"

Eyes lowered to the floor, a faint scowl replacing any response. Megumi let out a frustrated breath, clearly uncomfortable "I… I need to learn how to shave."

For a second, there was silence. Then, predictably, Satoru's grin morphed into a wide, amused smile.

"Oh, this is amazing." he said, unable to contain his laughter "You, Megumi Fushiguro, the kid who broods his way through everything, needs my help with shaving? Oh, this is great. Really great."

Megumi rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest "I knew this was a mistake." he grumbled, turning as if to walk away "Forget it, I’ll figure it out myself."

But before Megumi could take a step, Satoru reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back toward the bathroom.

"No, no, wait, don’t be like that. I’m just messing with you!" he said, though the smirk hadn’t left his face "Come on, let’s do this. It'll be fun."

Megumi frowned, but he didn’t resist as Satoru ushered him into the bathroom.

The space was bright and the counter was cluttered with Satoru's various personal care products, though half of them looked like they hadn't been touched in months. The smell of shower gel was in the air. The older one crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself as he eyed the younger one’s face with exaggerated seriousness.

"Alright, kiddo, let’s start by taking a look." the older said with exaggerated seriousness, leaning in to inspect Megumi's face "Ah yes, a fine crop of peach fuzz, right here." he teased, poking lightly at his upper lip.

Fushiguro scowled, batting his hand away "It’s not that bad."

"Relax, it’s a rite of passage." Gojo replied, turning to rummage through the cabinet "Ah, here we go! Shaving cream, razor, aftershave… hmm, now do I trust you with a razor, or do I need to call in a professional?"

"Just get on with it." Megumi glared at him, exasperated.

Satoru chuckled, but didn’t push it further. He grabbed one of many razors in a multipack from the cabinet and handed it to Fushiguro with a grin.

Black haired stood in front of the bathroom mirror, now smeared with a bit of condensation from Gojo's recent shower. The weight of the razor in his hand felt strangely significant, like it was a test of maturity that he wasn’t quite ready for.

Awkwardness lingered, thick and undeniable. Satoru stood beside him, fiddling with his own razor as if this were a casual activity they did every day, his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"So! Just like there are many cursed techniques..." he began, his voice dramatic "... there are also many techniques for shaving. Some are more efficient than others, but today, I’m going to reveal to you my own secret shaving technique."

He turned the faucet on, letting the water warm up before grabbing a washcloth and handing it to Megumi "Okay, first, wet your face with warm water. Opens up the pores or whatever."

He followed Satoru’s instructions, wetting his face, though he still looked like he wasn’t entirely convinced this was necessary.

White haired one then shook the can of shaving cream dramatically before squeezed some into his palm and handing it to kid next to him "Now, the magic foam. Lather it up."

Fushiguro did as he was told, applying shaving cream to his face while Satoru stood beside him, doing exactly the same thing as he did.

"Don’t go too heavy. Just enough to cover your face, but not so much that you can’t see what you’re doing." he spread the foam evenly across his own face, demonstrating as he spoke "See? A nice, thin layer. You wanna feel the razor, not get lost in a mountain of foam."

He felt so awkward, like he was painting his face, but Gojo was watching him with a surprising amount of patience.

"Not bad, not bad." Satoru said, nodding approvingly "But don’t forget the neck, unless you’re planning on walking around with half your face looking clean and the other half looking like a scruffy mess."

"Can you be serious for once?" Megumi muttered, focusing on spreading the cream evenly to his neck as well, trying to remember all the steps Satoru had demonstrated earlier.

Satoru just grinned wider.

"Where’s the fun in that? Alright, now for the tricky part. The razor. You wanna go with the grain, not against it, or else you’ll end up with cuts and looking like you’ve been attacked by an army of tiny knives. That's funny, I had a situation like that in real life!"

Gojo demonstrated by making movements in the air, not yet applying a piece of plastic to his face. Megumi tried to feel with his hand how he should turn the tool, so that it would go as smoothly as the older one next to him.

"Always go slow. If you rush, you’ll look like you’ve been in a fight with a cat and lost. Here’s the trick." Satoru said, lifting the razor and positioning it carefully against his neck.

"Start with the neck. It’s the easiest place to mess up, but also the easiest place to correct." Satoru explained, his tone suddenly more serious, as though he was giving instructions for something far more important than shaving "Just avoid too much pressure on Adam's apple and move slowly."

Megumi watched intently as Gojo carefully and precisely glided the razor down his neck, avoiding the sensitive area with practiced ease. Fushiguro, feeling a little more confident, brought the razor up to his own neck and mimicked the movements.

"Like this?" he asked, his brow furrowing in concentration as he worked alongside the white haired one, both of them standing side by side in front of the mirror.

"Exactly. Nice and steady." Satoru said, casting a sidelong glance at the younger one "Not bad, kid. Now, once you’ve got the neck down, you can move on to more complicated terrain." he watched as Megumi did a few strokes across his neck, he waited patiently for him to finish.

Satoru finished shaving his neck with ease "Don’t forget to rinse the blade after a couple of strokes." he did just that, risning the razor in boiling hot water. Then turned his attention to his chin. He lifted the razor, positioning it just below his lower lip.

"Now we move on to the chin. Gotta be careful here too, or you’ll end up looking like you lost a fight to a particularly angry porcupine."

Fushiguro followed suit, doing his best to replicate the careful movements his guardian was demonstrating. The two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, both razor-clad hands gliding across their skin.

It felt oddly… normal. Like this was something they did all the time, though it was far from their usual interactions.

"You know, I wasn’t really blessed with much facial hair. Genetics didn’t think I needed a full beard to complement my already perfect looks. But who knows, Megumi - you might end up with more to shave than I do."

Fushiguro huffed, concentrating on his strokes "Yeah, lucky me."

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he continued to shave "Maybe you’ll be able to pull off that rugged look, huh? The ladies love that. But me, well, everything went into my other attributes." he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Can you just focus?" he nearly nicked himself.

Gojo chuckled "That’s what I should told you, you need to stay focused. Look at that - you’re getting distracted."

Black haired one glanced down and saw that he’d missed a spot on his chin. He muttered something under his breath, but quickly corrected his mistake, his movements now a little more cautious.

Gojo finished faster than him, completely avoiding the cheek area, as he mentioned he had absolutely nothing to shave there, so he washed his face straight away, wiping it with a towel.

Fushiguro, on the other hand, had a few randomly distributed hairs in different areas that he managed to shave off quickly, starting to catch on to how he should direct the blade to get the best effect.

"You know..." his guardian said, leaning against the counter "... you’ll be doing this more and more. Puberty’s a relentless thing. Before you know it, you’ll be shaving almost every day."

Megumi sighed "Great. Just what I wanted."

He was almost finished, but just as he reached a particularly tricky spot, the razor snagged slightly, catching on his skin. He stuttered in his movement, flinching slightly as the blade nicked him.

"Hold up." Satoru said immediately, catching the motion out of the corner of his eye "I told you. You’re not fighting a curse here, no need to rush."

Megumi frowned, frustrated with himself, dabbing at the small cut "Yeah, yeah. I’m fine."

Gojo gave him a knowing smile, though it was softer this time "Just a small nick, no big deal. Happens to everyone the first time."

"Even you?" Fushiguro asked, though there was a hint of skepticism in his tone.

"Especially me. You should’ve seen my first shave. Looked like I went head-to-head with a blender." a wide grin appeared on the pale face.

"I doubt that."

The last bit of cream disappeared from the young teenager's face. He turned on the tap and rinsed off the rest of the little white lines that remained on his face. The towel absorbed the drops of water that ran down his neck.

He glanced at himself in the mirror. Instantly better. Although he reproached himself for the little scratch, Megumi was genuinely pleased with the effect he had achieved. Finally he wouldn't have to be embarrassed at school about how he looked.

Satoru, standing beside him, seemed far too proud.

"Look at that! Clean as a whistle." he said, examining his face with exaggerated approval "Not bad for your first time. But we’re not done yet."

"Huh? What now?" Fushiguro groaned internally, shooting his guardian a sideways glance.

He didn't understand a bit, after all he had just finished, what does this annoying type still want from him? It's enough that he feels stupid sitting here with him anyway, asking him for help.

"The grand finale." Satoru announced, picking up a small bottle of aftershave from the counter. He wiggled the bottle in front of the teen's face like it was some kind of treasure "Aftershave cream!"

"What’s it for?"

Gojo uncapped the bottle, squeezing a small dollop of the aftershave cream onto his palm "It’s for soothing the skin after you’ve shaved, kid. Makes sure you don’t end up with razor burn. Plus, it smells nice - very sophisticated, like you’re someone important."

Megumi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced "You sure it’s not just another way for you to mess with me?"

Satoru gave a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. "You wound me, Megumi. This is the real deal. You’ll thank me later."

He rubbed the aftershave cream between his hands and then gently applied it to his own face, patting it onto his freshly shaven skin with practiced ease.

"You don’t need too much, just a little to cover the areas you shaved. Trust me, it’s important. Otherwise, your face will feel like it’s on fire later."

Fushiguro eyed the bottle warily but took it from Gojo’s hand. He squeezed a small amount into his palm, hesitating for a moment before rubbing it between his hands and awkwardly patting it onto his face like the older one had done.

"Don't rub it in like you're washing your face." the older one said, grinning as he observed his technique "Just tap it on. Light touch. Gotta treat your skin like it's worth something."

Megumi muttered something under his breath, but adjusted his approach, patting the aftershave onto his cheeks and chin. The cooling sensation spread across his skin, soothing the slight irritation left from the razor.

"See?" Satoru said, giving a nod of approval "Nice and smooth. And now you smell like a responsible young adult."

"It’s... strong." black haired couldn’t help, but wrinkle his nose at the scent

White haired laughed, clapping Megumi on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but it fades pretty quickly. Besides, it’s part of the process. Get used to it - you’ll be doing this more and more."

Megumi wiped his hands on a towel, his face still tingling slightly from the aftershave. He looked in the mirror, taking in the results of his first proper shave. He looked good, like his normal self he was used to.

Satoru stood beside him, admiring his own reflection with a satisfied grin.

"Now you’re officially a man. Or at least, a step closer to it."

There was no respond to that, just flicker in younger eyes, as if he realised something.

Satoru grabbed the aftershave bottle and put it back on the counter, then turned to Megumi with a grin.

"Next time, we’ll get into the more advanced stuff. Maybe I’ll even teach you about beard shaping."

"I’m never growing a beard." Fushiguro shot him a flat look.

Gojo chuckled in respond.

"That’s what they all say. Just wait until it sneaks up on you."

The teen shook his head, already done with the conversation, but despite himself, he felt a small sense of relief. This whole shaving thing wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be, and Satoru - teasing aside - had actually been helpful. Weirdly enough, it was kind of nice having him around for things like this.

"Alright, shaving master..." Satoru said, throwing his arm around his shoulders as they left the bathroom "...let’s go show off that baby face to the world. And remember, every time you shave, think of it as another step toward adulthood."

"Pretty sure it’s just a step toward more chores." he snorted in respond.

Gojo grinned "Exactly! You’re getting it."

Megumi, now freshly shaved stood at the door of his bedroom, watching as his guardian stretch his arms above his head with a satisfied grin.

"Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?" Satoru asked, still clearly pleased with himself as he prepared to head to your shared bedroom.

Fushiguro shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes flicking down to the floor as he cleared his throat.

"Yeah, it was… fine." he muttered, glancing up briefly before looking away again.

There was a pause, then he added, barely audible "Thanks for the help."

Satoru turned toward him, his grin softening into something more genuine. He walked over to Megumi and gave him a playful pat on the shoulder, though his tone had a rare warmth to it "Anytime, kid. And hey - don't be embarrassed. You did good."

Megumi's face flushed slightly, and he gave a small nod before opening the door "Good night, Gojo."

Satoru smirked, watching him go.

"Good night, Megumi." he called after him, amusement dancing in his voice.

As Satoru lay back on the bed, a quiet sense of softness washed over him.

He hadn’t expected Megumi asking for help with something as simple as shaving to hit him like this. For all the teasing and playful banter, there was something deeper - Megumi was growing up and Satoru felt like he was more than just a protector, guardian or teacher.

He was part of that growth.

And he couldn't be more proud.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl: @kalopsia-flaneur

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART I

—invisible string

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: angst..? cussing, age gap, smut, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: enjoy and please let me know if you'd like a part two! i'm already writing it lol but i'd like to know anyways <3

masterlist with next parts!

You’d always been good friends, taking to each other without much of a second thought after Oscar had introduced you two just in passing a few years ago—eight years ago, to be exact—at some party at his house.

New York, New York

September 4th, 2015

You were outside in the backyard, dressed far more casually than the occasion called for. It was a chilly night, and the music was blasting from inside the house.

You were tired from all the traveling, touring, and filming. You loved your job and were extremely grateful that things were working in your favor, but boy, did it leave you drained. You hadn't spent time with Oscar, or really any of your friends, in quite some time, so you thought a night out wouldn't hurt after working too much.

So there you were, enjoying the chill night air, when a familiar voice reached your ears.

“There you are!" Oscar said cheerfully, "I've been looking for you for like 20 minutes; I thought you left!" he continued, in a very dramatic manner, you must add.

You couldn't help but smile at his theatrics as you welcomed him with a hug. "Oh, I could never leave a party of yours without saying goodbye. You know I'm better than that." you speak softly, suddenly noticing another person behind him.

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Pedro,” he says this as he turns to face Pedro. "He's a fan," Oscar says in a singsong manner.

Pedro is standing there with his cheeks flushed and a smile forming on his lips. Although part of you wanted to be cocky about it and torture him a little, you bit your tongue, not wanting to make this worse for him.

Of course you knew who Pedro was. And not because he was in two of the most famous TV shows at the moment; it was because Oscar and Sarah wouldn't shut up about him. In every conversation you had over the phone with either of them, Pedro's name always found a way to come up. It seemed that no matter how hard they tried, they could not hide their enthusiasm for him.

So to say you were interested in meeting him was an understatement. You wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

Before you could properly introduce yourself, Oscar's name was called from inside the house. "Alright, I'll leave you two to it." he says, "Please be nice to each other!" he yells as he walks back inside. You shake your head in amusement.

"You are more beautiful in person," Pedro says in his very captivating, deep voice, catching you by surprise.

Now you are the one with the flushed cheeks.

“I thought you were shorter," you say back, daringly. Although it was an honest comment, it was also a way to deflect attention from the fact that he just called you beautiful.

Pedro laughs loudly, as if you had just told him the funniest joke ever.

"I am not trying to be mean or rude; I really thought you were like 5'3." you continued, putting your hands inside the pockets of your jacket.

"So you know who I am?" he asks, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Yeah, I like to enjoy good television in my free time." you tell him, focusing on his face.

He was more beautiful in person, too. To your relief, he was dressed similarly to you. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, tucked into dark jeans that fit him in all the right places. His hair was a bit tousled, and his mustache looked like it had been recently groomed. He must be filming Narcos, you thought. You also noticed his kind brown eyes. He had a warmth and friendliness about him that was immediately apparent.

"Also, our friends don't seem to know how to shut up about you. You are quite the talk of the town lately."

Your words made him smile. He doesn’t say anything but narrows his eyes, and you can practically hear his thoughts clamoring around in his head. "Alright, back to me being short, " you rolled your eyes as he continued with his speech, "Contrary to popular belief, I'm actually 5'11." He takes a seat on one of the small couches that have been set up in the backyard, prompting you to follow suit and take a seat as well.

"Like I said, I didn't mean it in a bad wa—" he cuts you off before you finish your sentence. "Ah, don't worry about it. Plus, if you still think that's short, I'll make up for my height with my other great qualities."

You let out a small laugh, relieved that he didn't take offense to your remark. Again. You look at him and reply, "Oh, I can't wait to see these other great qualities."

The transition from acquaintances to close enough to hang out alone without friends was just as easy, and you quickly became an unlikely pair of sorts.

You did everything you could together. From having movie marathons whenever you both happened to be in the same city to visiting different coffee shops and ordering the same thing every time—you anything that involved caramel and him four shots of black coffee over ice—it felt as if you had known each other your whole lives.

You were inseparable, and it felt effortless, like a piece of a puzzle that had been missing for so long finally fitting just right.

Given that you were in a serious, long-term relationship when you met, the tabloids didn't dig too much. All of the articles referred to you as friends, which saved you from having awkward conversations or even thinking too deeply about the whole thing.

There was also the age thing. Pedro was older than you, so everyone just assumed you'd never go there. Your boyfriend at the time never questioned your friendship with Pedro, either.

However, you now wish he had. It would've implied he was concerned, which you now know he wasn't. He was busy with other things. You don't exactly remember when things started to fall apart between the two of you. But you do remember how it felt when you found out he was cheating. It felt like a gut punch. The fact that the whole world also knew it didn't make it any better, either. You felt completely betrayed and exposed, not just by your boyfriend but by the whole world that seemed to be privy to your pain.

As any rational person would, you succumbed to work. If you were working, you wouldn't really have time to deal with all the viscerally painful emotions that have flooded your body ever since everything went to shit. You kept filming, and you kept making music. Endless hours spent at the piano provided you with incomparable peace and tranquility. Who knew a life-altering breakup was what you needed to write the best music of your career? At least something good had to come out of this disaster.

Of course your friends and family helped you navigate this process as well. However, one person stands out above the rest: Pedro.

It's like he made it his life mission to put you back together. He'd call just to check up on you, tell you random stuff about his day just to keep your mind off things, ask what book you were currently invested in, or simply say he missed you because months had passed and you couldn't see each other because of work.

"What time is it over there?" he asks, his voice was hoarse, as if he had just woken up.

"1:30 AM," you reply, glancing at your phone, "we're still shooting some stuff."

He groans into the phone, "I fucking hate it when filming drags on for too long."

"Yeah, tell me about it." you say this as you were stretching your back. You had been filming since the afternoon; it was currently past midnight, and production was still going. To say you were exhausted was an understatement. "Alright, I'll text you later. My break's sadly over."

"Yeah, sure. Good luck, princesa."

In other circumstances, you two happened to be in the same place at the same time. The parties were the best part of awards season. The entire purpose of the parties was to campaign for whatever projects were gaining traction, but for you, it meant spending time with friends you hadn't seen in a long time and having fun.

That explains why, four cosmos down, you were dancing and laughing in the middle of the dance floor with some of your friends. Or maybe it was five cosmos down. Truth be told, you stopped counting after the second one. You weren't the type to get wasted, but your goal for the night was to have fun, and alcohol definitely helped with that.

You start to get a little tired from all the dancing, so you head to the nearest couch. Sitting next to Sarah, she opens her arms to embrace you. "My little dirty dancer!" she says loudly, making everyone around you laugh. "Oh shut up, can't a girl have some harmless fun?" you say, a smirk on your face. You glance around the room at the grinning faces and shrug.

"It's karaoke time!" Jen, your friend and hostess for the evening, announced cheerfully, "Who wants to go first?"

"Oh, fuck me," Pedro groans, dragging his hand down his face. "I hate karaoke. I hate it. I don't want to sing karaoke, and I don’t want to listen to people sing karaoke."

He's sitting across from you with a beer in his hand and looking a little more drunk than you were. You chuckle as you watch him slump against the back of the chair during his karaoke rant.

This was no secret; after the first few weeks, when you began to hang out more frequently, he made sure to let you know this very important piece of information. That's why you took pleasure in doing it solely to irritate him.

"I will go first." You say this while looking him in the eyes. He rolls his eyes and sighs, knowing that you understand exactly why he's been so adamant about it.

"Why do you like to torture me, kid?"

"I can't help it; you're fun to mess with, Pedrito."

Even though he hated karaoke, you knew you were the only person he enjoyed listening to. You could tell by the way his eyes lit up whenever you hit the right note, the way he'd shake his head and chuckle when you made a mistake, and the smile that crept onto his face when you'd finished the song. Despite this, he would never admit to enjoying it.

You were busy listening to some of your friends talk about how you didn't completely butcher your rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" when hands landed on your waist from behind and you felt a hot breath on your neck. "That was terrible, mi amor."

Spinning around to face him as he straightens up, you spot his beautiful brown eyes. "When will you admit how much you enjoy my karaoke performances?" you try to pretend you're mad, but you can't help the corners of your mouth turning up in a smirk.

Pedro chuckles, his body vibrating against yours. He leans down, his lips barely brushing yours, his breath ghosting across your skin. "Never," he says, almost in a whisper.

Your body is buzzing from the proximity. No, it's the alcohol. Without a doubt, the alcohol. You're unbothered by the proximity. The same way you're unbothered by the way he's smiling down at you.

"You're insufferable," you say, keeping the conversation moving so you don't have time to spiral.

He brings his beer to his lips, smirking as he sips. "If by insufferable you mean utterly charming, then you are right."

Just like he made it his mission to put you back together after your life fell apart, sometimes it was your turn to put him back together, too. No matter how hard he tried to bottle up his feelings, you were always the one who could get through to him, able to make him smile or make him think with just a few simple words.

Pedro was no longer a mystery to you. He's a contradiction in motion. He withdraws into the distance that comes with fame, but he also wants to connect. Despite having a tendency to be open, he tends to hold a lot of himself back. He cares so much and yet he's also uncomfortable caring so much.

You were both in London for different reasons but were staying in the same hotel. One night, you decide to stop by his room before leaving for an event. You knock three times before he opens the door.

"Have you been crying?" you ask him, immediately concerned.

He is initially hesitant to respond, but eventually caves. "Well, yeah."

"What happened?"

"It's kind of pathetic, really."

"Then let's be pathetic together. Tell me." you respond as you push your way into the room.

"Prince died," he says, his voice hoarse from the crying.

"Pedro..." you say quietly, not really knowing what to say.

"I know, I know. It's stupid."

"Of course not." you quickly reply, "There's no shame in crying, I know how much you love him." you take a deep breath and approach him, offering him your hand. "C'mere, let's sit down."

You started lowering yourself to the floor, and he followed. "You don't have to do this...you look like you've probably got somewhere else to be."

"I've got nowhere else to be."

The two of you just sat there, not saying a word. You held him while he cried, his head on your shoulder as you ran your hand through his hair. If you could go and bring Prince back from the dead just so he wouldn't hurt like this, you would do it in a heartbeat. But you knew that was impossible, so all you could do was sit there and comfort him.

"You two should date."

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Sarah?"

"What!" she laughs. "You're basically dating already."

Since you hadn't seen each other in a while, Sarah had extended an invitation for you to have breakfast at her house. She had questioned you about your love life after discussing a number of other topics, and when you replied that you were still single, she made that absolutely ridiculous remark.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means," she says, almost giggling, "that you two are doing the things that couples do, like going on dates and spending time together."

"We don't go on dates," you quickly reply, "and I don't like him like that."

She rolls her eyes, unconvinced, and asks, "Why?"

"Because..." you trail off, "Because he's Pedro... and I am me."  Even though you were aware that what you were saying made no sense, you refrained from going into detail.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

"There's nothing to see, Sarah."

It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment you first realized that occasionally, completely unprompted, your thoughts would turn to Pedro.

This was similar to how you two became friends without ever consciously choosing to do so. The mere thought of his loud, booming laugh and the way he beams at you when you crack a joke would make the corner of your mouth twitch into a small smile. Eventually, you understood that those thoughts of Pedro and the slight thrill they gave you were very different from friendship.

Yet you decided not to go there. You both enjoyed your friendship, and he never said or did anything to make you believe he felt otherwise. Or that was just a bunch of bullshit you came up with to not deal with it anyway.

You were friends, close friends, and you didn't want to jeopardize the best friendship you'd ever had by listening to that little voice in your head that occasionally whispered, "What if...?"

It wasn't until one night that everything changed. You're still unsure if it was for better or worse.

You were changing into far more comfortable clothes than you'd been wearing all day. It was finally Friday, something you were very grateful for since work had been nothing but tedious lately. You had the weekend off; it seemed like an eternity since you had been free for a couple of days.

As you slipped on your favorite and very worn-out t-shirt, your phone rang. "Ugh, what now?" you whined. You were suddenly regretting your words as you picked up the phone; his throaty voice filled your ears, and you felt instantly better. It was almost embarrassing.

"I heard you had a shitty week," he says, "I am coming over."

"How'd you know that?"

"The more important question here is why have you been in New York for days and didn't tell me? I'm actually hurt, love."  

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just been a little rough."

The guilt immediately washes over you. You knew that you should have called or even sent him a quick text, but your mind was only focused on getting through the week. It was like you were on autopilot.

"I will be there in 20 minutes." he replies, hanging up.

Without anything better to do, you decide to wash some dishes that have been sitting in the sink since last night while you wait for Pedro to arrive. You quickly finish that and then decide to pass the remaining time by reading a book you started a couple of weeks ago. You flip through the book's pages, trying to recall where you left off because the earmarked corner you'd marked seemed to have disappeared.

Before you can find the page, your cellphone screen lights up again, catching your attention out of the corner of your eye, and though it feels silly and childish, you can feel the way your heart leaps and your chest tightens just a fraction when you read the notification and see Pedro's name. "I'm here."

You rush to the door, flinging it open with a gust of energy, and you find him standing there, one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other holding a bag, a crooked smile on his lips. "I brought wine and takeout from that place you love down on 54th." It had been months since you'd last seen him, and it was like no time had passed at all. He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and you take the bag, allowing your eyes to meet his with a smile. Fuck.

As you set everything on the kitchen counter, you both decide to eat right away. The warm, inviting scent of the food spread throughout the kitchen, and it was as if all your worries and tiredness had disappeared. The conversation flowed perfectly as you both devoured the delicious food, and you were grateful for the moment of peace.

After finishing your meal, he helps you collect everything and clean up the kitchen.

"You’ll get wrinkles if you keep working that hard, mama," he tells you as he throws something in the trash can, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Don't call me that," you giggle, a little tipsy from the wine. "It makes me feel—" you stop yourself before you finish the sentence. Fuck.

"It makes you feel what?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Well, it makes you feel embarrassed, as if you have let your guard down and revealed too much of your innermost thoughts. And it gives you butterflies. But you don't tell him that. "Nothing," you say, "it's just funny."

You knew you didn't have it in you to keep your thoughts, body, and face under control, especially when he was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded, looking like he just stepped out of a movie. You were feeling exposed and vulnerable, as if your thoughts were written all over your face, so you did what you do best: you changed the subject.

"Remember that one time we got high on edibles to go see The Incredibles 2?" you blurt, hoping he would forget what just came out of your mouth. He looked at you for a moment, as if he were considering your question, before bursting out in laughter.

"How could I forget?" he says. "It's one of our finest moments."

"Would you like to repeat the occasion?"

"Don't threaten me with a good time, baby."

You go to one of the kitchen drawers and pull out the box of cookies. "I can't believe you're offering me drugs." Pedro says in a dramatic tone.

"Oh shut up, do I need to remind you whose idea it was last time?" you roll your eyes, grabbing two cookies and throwing one at him.

"Should we honor last time and watch a movie?" he says as he takes a bite of the cookie.

To be entirely honest, you should have known that things were about to go off the rails the very moment the man at the other end of the couch, in that impossibly confident and seductive voice, asked you to come closer. "You're miles away from me, princesa."

If you had been wise, you would have politely declined. If you had any sense of self-preservation when it came to Pedro, you would have declined his offer and avoided thinking about him fucking you into this very couch. But you weren't wise, which is why your legs are thrown over his lap and his fingers are drawing circles in your thighs. Pedro’s gaze feels like a caress, and his voice is thick, "You look like you're thinking too hard."

"What?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"I said you looked like you were thinking too hard." he replies, "What's running through that pretty head of yours?"

Your teeth are tugging at your bottom lip in a way that Pedro seems to find distracting because he nearly slips up and breaks the carefully maintained eye contact, his gaze darting down just a fraction of an inch. You don't know where the courage came from, but you lean in on your elbows, lifting yourself from the laying position you were in, closing the gap even further until it's impossibly small.

You can tell you know what you've been doing when you pause with only a breath of space between your mouth and his, worrying at your lip with the intention of getting him to break first, like you’re challenging him to decide where this goes next. "What do you think I'm thinking about?" you finally reply, your gaze not wavering for a second. Pedro's hesitation is just a second before his mouth parts, leaning in just enough to touch your forehead and close his eyes.

"I think you're thinking about all the wrong things we could be doing right now instead of watching this boring movie."

"I think you're correct."

His lips curl into a smile, pulling away only slightly to look you in the eye, his voice barely above a whisper, "Can I kiss you?"  

And that's when it happens. You lean in, your lips slamming into his so quickly that your thumb gets caught in the middle. He nips at it, biting down a little harder than he wanted to, but you don't mind and simply move it out of the way, sliding it away from his mouth and resting it across his cheekbone. You straddle his lap, and as his hands find their way to your waist and his lips move ever so hungrily against yours, you feel a fire inside.

Everything is happening so fast, and the room is spinning around you. You're not sure if you're feeling this way because of the drugs or because of Pedro. You can feel the pressure of his hands against your skin and a warmth radiating through you; all you know is that you don't want it to end. As you begin to grind against his hard on, he moves his hands to your ass and grips it tightly.

"You like that, hm?" he rasps, between kisses. You moan in agreement, and one of his free hands travels up your body to the nape of your neck and squeezes it tightly. You gasp at the sensation and move your body to match his movements, pushing yourself closer against him.

It's rough and messy. You're both desperate, as if you've been waiting your entire lives to do this. Pedro's hands covered your entire body, and his mouth kissed your neck and mouth roughly, as if trying to make up for the years of anticipation.

"Fuck, P," you moan; he wasn't giving you even a second to breathe.

"Tell me what you need, princesa."

"I need you to touch me."

"Your wish is my command."

Pedro moved quickly, his fingers caressing and teasing your body as he worshipped you with each touch until he finally reached your shorts.

He slides his hand down your panties and groans. "I haven't even touched you properly, and you're already wet, baby." His fingers pressed down softly as he moved around your clit, rubbing and massaging it until you felt yourself close to the edge. He manages to get his free hand under your shirt, and he massages your breasts, pinching your nipples softly as you moan in pleasure.

"Are you gonna come for me, princesa, hm?"

"Y-yeah..." you gasp, not even ashamed of how quickly your orgasm was approaching, "I can't... hold it..."

He took that as a sign to go faster and harder, and as he continued to draw circles on your clit, a wave of pleasure swept through your body, culminating in a moan that signaled your impending climax.

"Fuck!" you screamed as you came suddenly, body trembling and hips bucking once more. Pedro let out a groan at the sight and sounds you were making. You're both gasping for air, one of his hands on one side of your face, your foreheads touching.

And that's when it happens. Instant regret.

Oh my god.

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

What have you done?

reblog or like if you enjoyed it!

[justevelynnnn]

Being plug!connie’s sneaky link🤫🤭

Plug!Connie x Fem/blk!reader

Summary: just u ‘n connie sneakinnn around…

Cw: Some cussing, a lot of mentioning of being high, nsfw

- Plug!Connie knew you since high school. You were friends with Armin and Eren who were friends with Sasha, Jean and him. He thought u were fine asf too but didn’t make a move on you until a while ago.

-You started trying out weed to take the stress off form college your first year and Plug!Connie was the only person you knew who had his hands on some. Y’all stayed together while he taught you how to inhale and all the basics of smoking. He honestly kept getting distracted by how good you looked in you biker shorts and crop top you wore that day.

- “You got a man’s yet mama?” He’d ask as you puffed out a bit of smoke, coughing a bit.

-“Uh, nah, *cough* why?” You’d ask looking at him. It could’ve been the weed but this man was starting to look real fine. You stared into his intense hazel eyes as he just smirked. “No reason…..” He’d trail off.

-And that was the start of it all. You started really getting to know him but once y’all got serious y’all decided to keep it secret.

-Now it’s been a year and honestly you both don’t know how none of y’all friends found out abt y’all?? (I mean Armin was very suspicious at this point but he didn’t have enough proof so he stayed quiet…)

- Plug!Connie would call you after he was done selling all this orders for the day and just sit in his car smoking a blunt as you rambled about your day and how much you missed him. You were in college but it was your 3rd yr so you didn’t have to stay on campus and had your own little loft apartment but you were still very busy all the time so y’all’s schedules didn’t really match up.

- “I miss uuu! I cant wait to see u this saturday.” You said laying on you bed.

- “I know mama. Me too.” Connie said blowing smoke out the window.

- Plug!Connie and you could only meet up about once or twice a week most of the time. And when y’all did…y’all had a mf ball🤭

- Onyankopon and Jean saw y’all at the mall once and swore they saw him holding your hand but Connie denied it.

- “Bro, we aren’t gonna laugh at you if y’all fuckin’ for real.” Jean said one day hanging out at Connie’s place.

- “Nah. I aint fuckin her. Ion even know what y’all are talkin’ bout anyways cause i wasn’t at no mall.” Connie said nonchalantly and focusing on the game he was playing.

-Plug!Connie regularly would take you on shopping sprees with all the extra money he had. He would buy you almost anything you’d want but y’all gotta be more careful from here on out now.

- He honestly didn’t care if anyone found y’all out in y’all friend circle by now but he definitely didn’t need his regulars finding out about y’all.

- Plug!Connie sometimes facetimed you if y’all missed your weekly meet up and he was feeling needy. “Come on ma, i wanna see u….” He’d say softly as his tatted hand stroked himself in his dim lit bedroom.

- It was pitch black in your room as it was 1:03am and you were half awake and did not feel like turning no lights on. But after a while of begging from Connie you turned your bedside lamp on anyways cause you were just as needy to see him. Y’all would be on the phone for hours on nights like this, missing each other deeply.

-Sometimes you wanted to break and tell your friends Mikasa or Sasha but you promised Connie you’d wait until he was ready to tell everyone too. Mikasa acted like already knew tho which fr threw you off sometimes. You’d casually mention Connie and she’d side eye you and smirk a little and you would just be like, “…What?” and she’d just say, ���Oh, nothing.”

- Plug!Connie’s contact for you in his phone was - Princesa👸🏾 and for him you just had him as - 💋❤️

- When y’all finally had free time to meet up he’d pull up to your house and be in some silly disguise it was kinda funny. You’d walk out your apartment and get in and just laugh a bit.

- “Why you got sunglasses and a mustache on Con?”

- “…..Cause.”

- He’d do it mainly to see you laugh.

- Most of the time, especially after y’all got caught at the mall, y’all had to get smart and stop going to places like stores and parks where familiar faces would regularly be and could see y’all. Sometimes late at night tho y’all would go to a park and either walk around and talk or just smoke some blunts in silence.

- Sometimes y’all went to movies that started late like 11pm or midnight high as hell. Y’all would share a big bucket of popcorn and eat a lot of candy.

- Other times y’all would just hang out at each others place, most of the time Connie’s tho cause your place wasn’t too big.

-Y’all’s hang outs always concluded with a make out sesh and then the devils tango ofc.

-Plug!Connie would sit you in his lap while y’all was on the couch, stareing deep into your eyes with his slight tinted red ones. His hands would roam from your lower back to your ass and thighs just rubbing and squeezing the plushness. He’d admire you forever if you let him cause he truly loved you that much.

- Connie would slowly kiss you, your lipgloss getting onto his on lips in the process. “Mmm, this strawberry, ma?” He’d whisper while licking his lips and you would just nod and start to kiss him again before he said anything else.

- Sometimes y’all would stay on the couch as y’all did the deed but other times Connie would take you into his room so y’all didn’t stink up the living room in case he was gonna have guest over later.

-He loved doggy style the most, watching your ass meet his hips as he held your hips pulling you back over and over. Entranced and high, watching where y’all met as the slick, wet sounds and your addicting moans filled his ears.

- When y’all were done it was either time to eat or sleep. Sometimes when y’all met midday though Connie would just tell you to stay in his room if he was having people over or had to leave to handle business. You didn’t like when he would leave you there but he always came back within at least 3ish hours and he said it was, “For safety, ma.”

- It was rare y’all could spend a whole day together. Most of the time y’all met at night after either you or connie got off work.

- Plug!Connie always kissed you bye when you had to go in the mornings or when he dropped you off. He would hold your hand and stare into your eyes once more like he was never gonna see you again. He’d tell you, “I love you, princesa. Stay safe, i’ll see you later.”

- You didn’t know how much longer you could handle this sneaking around but lord did you love the mf thrill.

(I’ve had this in my drafts since July last year😭😭 i don’t have anything to write lately so ig i’ll just be clearing out my drafts. I’m down with school so at least i have time to write anywaysss. Reminder that my requests are open too!)

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley starts building his daughter's playset with a little help from an unexpected visitor. He wants to finish all of his projects and take care of you and do as much as he can now that he's home. There's so much he wants to get done, it might be time to make a to-do list.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, oral, pregnancy, bit of angst

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was up at the crack of dawn on Saturday. His afternoon nap the previous day turned into one that lasted into the evening when you got up with him and cooked him dinner before going back to bed. His plan was to come home and take care of everything so you didn't have to, but so far you made him homemade chicken fajitas and lulled him to sleep with your fingers in his hair, twice. 

But today, he was determined to return the favor. He wanted to get started on building the jungle gym, and he wanted to get in a few reps on his own workout equipment in the garage. He'd clean up the kitchen and take Tramp for a walk later, too. If he got started now, he might be able to build the entire jungle gym frame for his daughter. His daughter. He ran his hands over his face as you snoozed right next to him in bed. Would he ever stop being on the verge of tears when he thought about it?

There was a list of names he liked in the Nugget notebook which was still tucked away in his duffle bag. He had a favorite, but he didn't want to try to convince you that it was perfect until he heard which ones you liked. But he knew it would be perfect.

"Roo?"

He was just about to slip out of bed when you rolled toward him, reaching for him groggily like you couldn't quite believe he was really home. "There's my Baby Girl," he whispered, letting his hand settle on your belly now that you were awake. "And my Nugget."

In an instant, you pushed him onto his back, kissing him as he cradled you with both hands. Your bump wasn't very big yet, but it was noticeable, and he didn't want to hurt you. God he missed waking up next to you, and it was obvious you'd missed him, too. You deepened the kiss, your tongue dipping between his parted lips until you were tasting his mouth. He could feel your nipples harden against his chest through a layer of cotton as you dragged your fingers through his hair before letting them trail down his body to the waistband of the shorts he fell asleep in. 

"Okay," he grunted, already hard for you as you ran your index finger inside the elastic. "Take it easy, Sweetheart. Wanna make this last." He rolled you gently onto your back as you cupped him inside his shorts, your thumb stroking his length. You squeezed his balls gently, spreading your legs wide. He glanced down your body as you smirked at him. "If you're gonna show off that pretty pussy, I'll put my mouth all over it."

"Bradley," you moaned, turning your head to the side. How on earth that bashful smile could make him even wilder, he had no idea. But just when he ran his thumb along your wet slit and tickled your ear with his mustache, someone started pounding on the front door.

You squeaked and jolted beneath him, but not in the way he wanted. "What the fuck?" he growled, easing his body off of yours. Once he was standing, he tried to adjust himself in his shorts, but it was obvious he was hard. Then there was more pounding.

"It's your first weekend home. Did you seriously invite someone over here this early, Bradley?" you asked, squinting as you reached for your phone. "It's seven o'clock!"

"No," he grunted. "I didn't even talk to anyone! I just wanted to eat your pussy in peace."

He stormed out of the bedroom, adjusting himself as he went. Tramp was already pacing back and forth and whimpering at the front door when Bradley saw Jake's car parked in front of the house. "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me." He wrenched the door open and found Jake standing there with some grocery bags and a box of donuts. "What do you want?" Bradley barked while Tramp started licking the unwanted visitor's leg.

Jake strolled inside like he wasn't interrupting Bradley's blissful weekend of giving his wife head and finding out his Nugget is a girl. "I brought all of the groceries and everything," Jake answered, heading for the kitchen, completely unfazed by Bradley in nothing but his compression shorts. "Welcome home, by the way. Looks like the perfect day to start on that playset."

Bradley didn't particularly want to jump down his throat, especially since Jake had been the one to promise to get the damn thing built for the baby if he didn't make it home in one piece. "Why are you here exactly?" he asked, and then he heard your voice from down the hallway.

"Is that Jake?"

"Yes," Bradley and Jake replied at the same time. And then you appeared wearing that old shirt and a pair of Bradley's gym shorts and your glasses, and he wanted to drag you back to bed and put his mouth everywhere.

"What the hell?" you asked, stomping right up to Jake, clearly annoyed that Bradley's face wasn't between your thighs. "You practically woke us up!"

"Well, that's not completely true," Bradley muttered with a smirk, earning a glare from you. 

Jake checked the clock on the microwave. "It's 7:18. When you texted me last night and said Rooster was home, you told me to come over around seven."

"I meant seven in the evening!" you said, flailing your arms. "Like a normal person!"

Jake just shrugged and bit into a donut. "I brought the groceries you asked for."

Bradley watched you and saw the exact moment you caved. The annoyance on your face melted away as you grabbed a cream donut from the box. "Wait, why did you ask Jake to bring groceries over?"

You nibbled on the donut and snuggled up against Bradley, looking up at him as you said, "I wanted to make Reuben his cookies today, but I didn't want to leave you to go to the store."

He kissed some powdered sugar from your lips and whispered, "You're the sweetest thing."

You pressed your cheek to his chest and said, "Since he's here, you might as well get Jake to help you with the pallets on the driveway since I can't lift anything that heavy."

Bradley cringed just thinking about it. "You will not be lifting a fucking finger, Sweetheart. I'll take care of everything." He looked at Jake over your head and asked, "Feel like helping me get started on the playset?"

He had half of a second donut in his mouth as he mumbled, "I thought that's why I was here."

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

Bradley didn't put any more clothing on, and that was a-okay with you. He just added his work boots to the mix. Those black compression shorts were working overtime as he and an equally shirtless Jake hauled everything from the driveway to the backyard. He already cleared out the area where the playset would go, framed it in with long wood planks and filled it with gravel, and today they would start assembling the frame.

Your plan to make five dozen cookies for Reuben kept getting derailed as you wandered over to the sliding glass door every five minutes or so. The yard wasn't very big, and now most of it would be taken up by the patio, shed and playset, but you'd let your husband build anything he wanted back there. He was so excited about the baby, it made you feel lightheaded. 

You were pregnant with a girl. Maybe she'd have Bradley's wavy hair. Maybe she would look just like him. You leaned against the open door frame and watched the guys as they argued about a drill bit setting and smiled. When you caught Bradley's eye, he shouted out, "I love you," before continuing with his discussion. He loved you so well, you already knew he'd be just as devoted to his daughter.

The oven started beeping, letting you know it had preheated. You ran your hand down your body and whispered, "Your father is going to spoil you rotten." Then you put the first tray of chocolate chip cookie dough in the oven, and within minutes your entire house smelled amazing. You baked so many cookies for Reuben, you didn't see how he would even be able to eat all of them before they got stale, so you shaped the last batch into little heart cookies with your fingers before tossing them in the oven.

Then when you took a bite out of one of the cookies that was cooling on the counter, you felt her. It was that same light, fluttering sensation as last time when you tried to eat a piece of candy on Halloween. "Hi," you whispered, voice laced with excitement. "Do you have a sweet tooth?" There was more fluttering, and you grabbed at the edge of the counter as you laughed. "You do! Are you going to eat everything I bake just like your dad?"

You closed your eyes and chewed the cookie slowly, letting yourself linger in the kitchen over the feel of your daughter doing some kind of a wild somersault for you. 

"It's getting hot out," came Bradley's voice through the open door. "Let's grab some drinks before we drill the brackets into place." Once he was inside with Jake, he started digging around in the refrigerator, retrieving two cans of beer and two water bottles. "You okay, Sweetheart?" he asked as he handed Jake a bottle and a can. He was eyeing you cautiously where you stood with your hand on your belly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you whispered, and now both men were looking at you. "The Nugget was just doing some backflips."

"She was?" Bradley asked in excitement, leaving his forgotten drinks on the counter next to the refrigerator. In an instant, he was on his knees in front of you, yanking your shirt up and kissing your belly button while his big, warm hands settled against you. "Is she still?"

"She?" Jake asked with a smile, and you smiled back while Bradley shushed him.

"I think it's still too early for you to feel anything this way," you whispered, tugging your fingers through Bradley's sweaty hair as his stubbled cheek came to rest on your bump.

"Hey, little Nugget," he murmured while Jake took his drinks and slipped back outside. "Can you let Daddy feel like one little thump?" You could feel her squirming around while he talked, but she was probably still too small for him to get what he wanted. "Please?"

You didn't rush him. Bradley just knelt there with his eyes closed for a few minutes while you played with his hair. Now that Jake knew you were having a girl, you may as well just call your parents this week and tell all of your friends as well.

Bradley groaned and hopped to his feet as soon as Jake started up one of his power tools on the patio. He kissed you, his sun-warmed torso pressed against you as he said, "I need to make sure he doesn't break anything." You were still laughing as he rushed outside.

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

The backyard was coming together nicely. After you fed Jake dinner and he finally left, Bradley undressed you and picked you up, setting you down on the edge of the counter where you could look out the window as the sky darkened. "You got a lot done today," you moaned while Bradley spread your legs and ate your pussy, picking up where he left off this morning. "Such a dedicated Daddy."

"Anything for the Nugget," he groaned before licking a long stripe up to your clit. His forehead bumped your growing belly which thrilled him as he slowly, meticulously brought you every bit of pleasure you should have had in bed earlier. His mind was swirling with all of the projects he had to do and the torn apart attic, and he was still exhausted from being away for so long. But he got lost in your taste and the sounds you were making as soon as he started sucking gently on your clit.

"You know what that fucking mustache does to me," you gasped while he tried not to grin. His fingers found your dainty tattoo, and he sucked on your clit a little harder until you were begging him to fuck you. He wanted to tell you no and draw your orgasm out of you on the kitchen counter, but then you demanded, "I want to come on your cock."

Carefully, so he didn't dare hurt you, he helped you slide off the counter and into his arms. "If this is uncomfortable for you, then you need to tell me, Baby Girl." But you were already spinning around and pressing your gorgeous ass back against him.

"Fuck me," you whined, and Bradley was more than happy to oblige.

He lined himself up with your slick entrance and pushed himself deep as he said, "I thought you told me you weren't as horny in the second trimester."

You were whimpering his name before you got control. "Well now that you're home, I guess I am."

"Music to my ears." 

He went slowly, making sure you felt everything, and he cupped your belly and your fucking delicious breasts while you held onto the counter. Your body felt different to him, but in so many ways it was exactly the same. Your response never changed; you always welcomed him knowing he'd get you there no matter what. And you gripped him tight, rolling your hips back to meet him, stroke for stroke. 

When he plucked at your nipples, you arched your back, and when he rolled your clit between his fingers, you started to come. He was right there, too, and you pushed him over the edge when you said, "Make a mess of my pussy, Roo."

"Damn it," he growled, lips pressed to your shoulder as he filled you up and kept himself thrust deep to enjoy the squeeze of your orgasm around him. When you straightened up but held him snug inside you, your head tipped back against his shoulder. "How was that, Sweetheart?" he crooned, and you moaned. Then your stomach growled loudly, and he chuckled. 

"I'm so hungry. Didn't we just eat dinner?"

"My little Nugget is growing," he whispered, letting his chin rest on your shoulder so he could look at your tits. He brought his hands up so he could swipe his thumbs along your nipples. "I swear these fucking thing are getting bigger by the day," he mused while you reached for the plastic container of chocolate chip cookies. You held it up and let him take a bite before finishing the rest of it yourself. "Weren't these supposed to be for Reuben?" he asked.

You pointed to the island where several gallon sized bags were filled with cookies. "His are regular. The little heart shaped ones in this container are for you."

Bradley could have stood there forever with his hands all over the front of you and his softening cock still inside your pussy while you fed him heart shaped cookies and told him the baby was moving around again. "I want to feel her," he whispered.

Your head tipped back again as you said, "I know, Roo. Pretty soon she'll be kicking up a storm, excited about meeting her dad." 

Then you started yawning and he finally took a reluctant step away from you. "It's time for bed," he said, patting your ass. "It was an early morning with Jake showing up and everything." He followed you to the bathroom and helped you clean up his cum from your legs, and then he waited until you were done washing your face and brushing your teeth to lead you to bed. He handed you a clean pair of his boxer briefs and watched you pull them up so the elastic sat just below your bump. He smiled, and before you could pull on his ancient UVA shirt, he pulled you closer.

"Can I help you with something?" you asked, giving him a coy look. "You ready to go for round two?"

He raised one eyebrow. "Are you ready to go for round two?" You were smiling but already stifling another yawn when he guided you toward the bed and tugged his shirt over your head. "You need to rest. I'll fuck you twice tomorrow."

You pulled the blanket up and whispered, "This is all Jake's fault."

Bradley snorted as he pulled the blanket back down, yanked up the shirt and leaned down to press his lips to your warm breasts. You whimpered as he kissed both nipples and ran his nose along your perfectly soft skin. "I can't get enough of these fucking things. My god, Sweetheart." He forced himself to pull the shirt back into place when you started to squirm, quickly kissing your bump first. After he removed your glasses and set them aside, he reached for the lamp on your nightstand.

"Aren't you getting in bed?"

He shook his head. "I'll clean the kitchen and let Tramp out first, and then I'll be in. I love you both."

"Love you, Roo," you curled up on your side, already falling asleep when you added, "You know what I'm hungry for?"

"What's that, Baby Girl?"

"Hot sauce."

He had to stifle his laughter as he whispered, "Finally. I'll take care of that tomorrow, too. I'll just add it to my list. Two rounds of sex, more playset building, and some hot sauce."

You were already sound asleep.

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

When you got up on Sunday morning, Bradley and Tramp were nowhere to be found, but both Broncos were in the driveway. "Roo?" You were met with silence as you made yourself some coffee and filled a glass with water. He had covered the refrigerator in rows of ultrasound photos, and you couldn't help but laugh at the way he used up all of the magnets. You picked up one of the now stale donuts that Jake left, and that's when you found a note from your husband.

Walking Tramp to the beach. Back soon. I have my phone. Tell the Nugget I love her.

You smiled, looked down at your belly and said, "Your Daddy loves you." The way she immediately started to squirm and flutter around had you reaching for the counter. "Feels like you love him, too." 

You moved his note to the side, and your fingers brushed a handwritten list, partially folded up and sitting on top of all of Bradley's unopened mail that you'd collected. The last time you went through his things, you ended up in a very dark place after you saw the results from the sperm test he took. You didn't want to do that again. You could just want until he got home. He wouldn't be long now. 

But you stood there and read the first two things written which weren't hidden from your view. Contact lawyer. Send check to Nicole.

Who was Nicole? And why was Bradley contacting a lawyer without you? Your skin prickled as you reached for the piece of paper before pushing it further away. You considered going to get your phone from the bedroom to call him and tell him to come home, but instead you stood there and got frustrated. You did not want to do this to yourself again.

When he walked inside a few minutes later wearing snug gym shorts and a white tank, he was all smiles as Tramp ran for his water bowl. "Morning," he rasped, yanking his aviators down lower on his nose as he hung up the leash. "You look cute."

You didn't though. You hadn't showered, and you didn't even brush your teeth yet. "Can we talk about what's on this list?"

His brow furrowed and he froze. "What list?"

"This one," you said as calmly as you could. "The one where you wrote about contacting a lawyer and someone named Nicole."

He made his way over to you and asked, "How much did you read?" as he tossed his sunglasses on the counter.

You crossed your arms over your bump and frowned. "That's all I read."

"Good." He snatched it up, unfolded it and handed it to you. "It's my list of things I want to take care of today or tomorrow."

You read the list from top to bottom.

Contact lawyer

Send check to Nicole for permit

Order album for ultrasounds

Call Bradley Ross

Hot sauce reservation for my Baby Girl

Text Reuben

Offer to babysit Jeremiah

Order a new drill bit to replace the one Jake broke

Decide on Thanksgiving plans

"Oh," you said, meeting his eyes as you handed it back to him. "Who's Bradley Ross?"

He folded up the list again as he said, "The contractor who is going to re-do our attic however you want it."

"Oh." You pressed your lips together before you asked, "Are you going to tell me why you want to talk to a lawyer and who Nicole is?"

"Come here," he rasped, and you tucked yourself into his arms, your lips brushing his paper airplane tattoo. "I want a lawyer to add the Nugget to my will. And I think you should come with me to make sure literally everything is in order. for yourself, too." You nodded against him, and then he added, "And I really don't want to tell you who Nicole is, because it will ruin the surprise. But I've never even met her, and I have no idea who she actually is."

"That sounds weird."

"It's not, I promise, Sweetheart."

You looked up into his eyes, his gaze soft as he ran his hand slowly up and down your back. You already felt better just talking to him. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But the surprise had better be a good one."

He nodded. "It's something for our anniversary. You'll love it. Now why don't you bring your coffee outside and keep me company while I work on the playset?"

You were starting to melt. "I could do that."

"Then we can take a shower together?" he asked hopefully. "You can wash my hair?"

You melted a little bit more. "I would love that."

"And then I'll take you out to dinner."

You sat out on the patio in the sun for a while, not doing much to help Bradley other than occasionally catcall and make sure he drank enough water. Then you took a luxurious shower, complete with hair washing and sex against the wall. He was taking you up to the hot sauce restaurant in Del Mar where you had your first date, and you squeezed yourself into the red dress you wore that night.

Bradley was acting like his brain was short circuiting, and maybe it was. "Holy fucking hell," he groaned, gripping the edge of the dresser when he came to check to see if you were ready to go. He was staring at you like he was in agony as he bit down on his knuckle. He let out a soft wheezing sound before he said, "You're pregnant. In your red dress."

You looked down at yourself; you didn't think it looked that bad. "Yes?"

He rushed forward and grabbed your hand. "That's so fucking sexy. We've gotta go. Now. Or else we'll never leave the house."

"Roo!" you laughed as he pulled you along. "I don't even have shoes on."

He threatened to carry you everywhere before you successfully put on a cute pair of shoes. Then you and he dropped the cookies off at Reuben's place, and you gave the other aviator a kiss on the cheek and thanked him for looking after Bradley. And then the two of you were back in the blue Bronco, winding up the coastal highway as the sun set over the ocean. It was nearly Thanksgiving. It was almost your first wedding anniversary. The Nugget was back to doing somersaults. And finally, you were craving hot sauce again.

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

This man already loves his kiddo. BG is about to have a do over for the steak dinner that got ruined when she was in Annapolis. I still don't know what they are doing for Thanksgiving (good thing it's on his to-do list), but they will definitely be celebrating their first anniversary very soon! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons ..!

warnings : literally none, perfectly sfw 😍😍

content: loser!ellie x reader, more ellie-focused than relationship focused (sorryyyy 😞😞)

authors note: i’ve literally never done headcanons omg 😓 this is js my random ramblings 🔥🔥🔥

pt. 2 ! taglist!!!! masterlist!!

- send you an excessive amount of reels. every 5 seconds. cute cats, random facts about space, stuff she thinks is funny, it all goes to you.

- definitely had a “rock collection” when she was little, but she was so ???? excessive with it??? like every time she saw a rock she picked it up. she walked so weird bc her pockets were just FULL OF ROCKS.

- also, was literally the grimiest kid ever. playing in ROLLING IN the mud, going snail hunting when it rained!!! she was the kid that would go in the bushes and mess w rolly pollies all the time for NO REASON.

- is weirdly good at fishing?? joel took her all the time, and shes a self proclaimed “fishing master”

- WAYYY clumsy. always running into a wall, tripping on air, or missing steps on the stairs (smh its cuz of that damn phone 😒😒)

- im so into the whole “adam sandler” fits cuz its so true. esp during the summer, its some stupid t shirt that says “master baiter” and a pair of old basketball shorts.

- speaking of t shirts, she’s def the type to own an absurd amount of dumb t shirts.

- gets all her clothes from like, walmart and goodwill. she does not CARE!!!

- cuts her own hair too 🤞🏽🤞🏽 shes soooo self sufficient 😍😍😍

- bites. she is such a biter.

- speaking of, i feel like she js has to have something in her mouth constantly. gum, random pieces of plastic, bottle caps, pens, anything 😞

- speaking of mouths (wow sierra so many connections!!!) she def had braces , but she hates wearing her retainer so her teeth are like ever-so-slightly fucked up

- is AMAZING at committing to the bit. she will drag it for DAYSSS if you don’t tell her to stop. once did a (awful) british accent for 4 days until you threw something at her and told her to shut the fuck up

- definitely not shy, just kind of…odd. she’ll talk to anyone that talks to her, she just doesn’t really approach people.

- weird obsession with pickles. has a pickle stuffed animal with a mustache and glasses that she bought from goodwill

- hangs up so much stuff on her walls!!!! tickets, old notes, cards, pictures of people, drawings, old tickets, literally anything she thinks looks cool

- obsessed with rollercoasters!!! she took you to the fair for your first date

- also like- very good at fair games. she’s so cocky about it too, you’ll go home with like 20 stuffed animals she won for you and she’ll carry ALL OF THEM with the stupidest smile on her face

- wears all of joels old contractor-workwear clothes during the colder months

- trys so hard to be “mysterious” but she’s never actually doing anything so she just does stuff like not telling you what movie she’s watching or what she’s eating

- also just texts you 24-7!!! like every time she’s doing something she’s like “i made a quesadilla” “i went to the store” “i took a shower” she just looooves keeping you updated

- tries to raise one eyebrow but ends up just squinting one eye. so funny 😞😞

- really good at solving rubix cubes???

- definitely had a fuck ass bob at one point

- GLASSES. that is all. glasses.

- listens to so much dad rock, midwest emo, indie, she LOVES male manipulator music!! but like she isn’t like thatttt shes so niceeee 😞😞

- mostly calls you babe/baby, she’ll call you really dumb pet names as a joke like “pookie” 😭😭

[achilles-rage]

Can’t Hold Back

summary: the three times you almost jump eddie, and the one time you do.

word count: 3.7k

request: anon- I NEEEED something about reader being obsessed with Eddies moustache, just her wanting to jump him constantly cos she finds it so hot. Sorry I am so obsessed with the stache it’s unhealthy.

a/n: this was longer than i originally intended, but when i was writing the last part, the urge i have to suck the soul out of this man took over and we got this. i kept thinking about the ring pop scene when he tilts his head back okay?? sue me!! anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, tiny comb slander (affectionately<3), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

You remember the first time you saw Eddie’s mustache. You were extremely busy with work, so you hadn’t seen him for a couple weeks. When you finally had time to see each other, he invited you over for dinner, and when he opened the door, you weren’t sure what to do. 

He seemed a little nervous to show you, but you quickly reassured him that you liked it. Actually, you fucking loved it, but you felt a little weird about telling him that it made you want to drag him to the bedroom and not come out until the next day.

When he sets down the plate of food in front of you, your mouth waters. With so much newfound free time, he finally forced himself to learn to cook better, and it was definitely paying off. He seems so proud of himself when you take a bite and have to fight back a moan, and as amazing as the food is, you still struggle to finish your plate instead of skipping right to the end of the night.

It doesn’t help that the entire dinner, he’s extremely interested in everything you have to say; excited to finally catch up on everything going on the past few weeks that you insisted you “just had to tell him in person.” 

He’s being so attentive and sweet, and you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

Everytime he touches his mustache, or brings his napkin up to wipe his face, your eyes are glued to his lips. Frankly, you feel a little bit insane for how much you love the new addition to his face. You wonder if he’d be willing to grow a beard as well?

Once dinner is finished, you help him clear the table, and as he rinses the plates in the sink, you lean against the counter beside him. God, he’s even more attractive when he’s not paying attention, you think. He’s rambling on about a call he got the other day at work, and you try to listen intently, but with the way his mouth is moving, every word is pretty much in one ear and out the other.

When he reaches for the dish towel to dry his hands, you move to stand in front of him, slipping your arms around his neck and pulling him against you. Your lips find his quickly, and after he lets out a quiet hum of surprise, his arms are wrapping around your plush middle, keeping you against him as you deepen the kiss.

Just as you start to trail one hand down his chest, desperate to get to his belt, he breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead against yours as he takes in a big breath of air, his eyes sparkling and a big smile on his face. God, he’s missed this.

“I have a surprise.” he tells you softly, as if afraid to disturb the calmness surrounding you two.

“What?” you ask with a grin, although the question begging to fall from your lips is “what the hell could be better than this surprise?” 

“They’re playing your favourite movie at the theatre downtown; some kind of anniversary special. I got us tickets.” he tells you excitedly, giddy to see your reaction. 

Your smile widens, and you laugh quietly before you pull him back in for a kiss. You mumble a “thank you” against his lips, and when you pull away, he’s grinning almost as widely as you are.

“Anything for you, mi amor.” he tells you earnestly, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the sentiment. You’re a little disappointed; all you wanted was to drag him to bed, or the couch, or honestly, the kitchen counter. But, you are excited about being able to see your favourite movie in the theatre, and he’s so proud of himself. You know you can’t do what you’ve been waiting for since he let you into his house, but that doesn’t mean you’re any less excited about going out with Eddie for the night. Your plans will just have to wait.

You watch with a small smile as Eddie frantically moves around the house, trying to find his wallet and keys so he can get to work. You can see both items from where you’re leaning against the wall near the front door, waiting to see him off. You let him search for a minute before you call his name, and when he turns, his shoulders relax upon setting site on you holding his wallet in one hand, and his keys in the other.

He closes the distance between you and grabs the keys from your hand, then raises his other hand to cup your cheek and bring his lips to your forehead. You close your eyes for a moment as he presses a soft kiss to your skin, wishing he didn’t have to leave so soon.

“What would I do without you, mi amor?” he murmurs fondly when he pulls away. He takes a moment to scan your face, taking in the small smile on your lips, and the sparkle in your eyes, and he silently thanks God that you’re in his life.

“I love you.” he finally says, then drops his hand from your cheek and makes his way toward the front door.

“Forgetting something?” you ask with a smirk when he opens the front door. He turns to you with a confused look, then makes his way back over to you slowly. He pulls you into him by the flesh of your hips, giving you a deep kiss. You feel his mustache tickle your skin, and you smile into the kiss, feeling his panic about being late temporarily melt away as he focuses on you.

When he pulls away, he gives you a wink, then turns again towards the door. You laugh softly as you roll your eyes; is that seriously what he thought he forgot? If he weren’t actually so late, you’d let him get all the way to his truck before you speak up again.

“Eddie,” you say with a laugh, trying to get his attention. “I meant your wallet, but I love where your mind went.” you tease when he turns to you again. His brows are furrowed, and when he sees you still holding his wallet in your hand, you see the redness appear in his cheeks. He covers his slight embarrassment up with a chuckle, then reaches out and takes his wallet. 

“Then I guess I forgot two things.” he says, trying to cover up his mistake with a cocky smirk. You shake your head, the smile stuck on your face as you narrow your eyes. 

He takes the extra time to press another kiss to your lips, this one deeper, and your knees almost buckle when his hand comes up to lightly grip your throat. You try to chase his lips when he pulls back, but he holds your head back with that same smirk etched on his face. 

God, if it weren’t for his shift in 10 minutes, you’d be pushing him over to the couch and sinking to your knees in front of him. How the hell was he able to turn the tables so quickly? One second he’s embarrassed, and the next he has the heat rushing to your cheeks and your heart hammering in your chest.

“I love you.” he tells you again, and you nod, swallowing as you stare into his eyes. Your eyes trail down to the hair above his upper lip, and you lick your lips. How can a mustache be this attractive? All you want to do is keep him home all day and show him just how much you like the new facial hair he’s sporting.

“I love you.” you murmur, and then he’s gone; out the door and in his truck before you can react. Motherfucker, you think, he knows what he’s doing.

“Eds, have you seen my necklace?” you call from the bedroom. You know you wore it to his house; you remember making sure it was facing the right way last night when you were in his bathroom before dinner. Even so, you’ve looked everywhere, and it’s nowhere to be found.

“It’s in here!” he calls back from his bathroom, and you let out a relieved sigh. The necklace isn’t expensive or sentimental or anything, but it is one of your favourites.

You let out a laugh when you walk into the bathroom, seeing the smallest comb you think you’ve ever seen, looking even smaller in Eddie’s large hands. He turns to you with a frown, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, keep laughing. I’ll remember this the next time you tell me how much you love how soft it is.” he says with a scoff, a teasing glint in his eyes. You laugh softly, shaking your head as you walk further into the bathroom and grab your necklace off the counter.

He has a point, you guess. You do love how it feels against your skin when his lips are on yours, or when he’s nipping at your neck, or when he’s pressing open mouth kisses to your inner thighs.

You feel desire pooling in your stomach as you think about it, but you try to ignore it as you look at yourself in the mirror and clasp your necklace around your neck. 

You’re very sure that he keeps using the stupid little comb for longer than he should as you stand there fiddling with your necklace. Surely it doesn’t take more than 3 swipes with the comb to do whatever the hell he thinks he’ll accomplish with it.

You can’t help the small laugh that tumbles out of your mouth as you shake your head, trying to snap out of the weird trance Eddie has you in. How can him using a goddamn mini comb be so attractive? It doesn’t help that he’s wearing his LAFD shirt, and it’s just tight enough to show the outline of his chest.

“What?” he asks when your laugh hits his ears. You hum softly, shaking your head as you fight back a smile. 

“Nothing, nothing.” you try to wave him off, finally tearing your attention back to your necklace and securing it around your neck.

He narrows his eyes at you, and you both make eye contact through the mirror, but neither of you say another word. You take a step back as he leans away from the mirror and stands up straight, and you can’t fight the loud giggle you let out when you see that he not only has a tiny comb, but a tiny holder for his tiny comb.

“What the hell is that?” you ask through giggles, and he sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Well, I don’t wanna lose it, do I?” he replies, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable answer.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how important your little comb is.” you tease. Tiny comb and holder aside, he looks incredibly good today. The worst part is, you have a while before either of you have to leave for the day, and you can’t even take advantage of the situation. If you were to throw yourself at him right now, he’d never let you forget that his tiny comb that you made fun of him for couldn’t even stop you from still wanting him.

You’re at the grocery store with Eddie when you hear a scream from a few aisles over, then a frantic voice yelling for help. You freeze for a moment, your heart rate spiking and your hair standing on end, but when Eddie races out of the aisle and towards the situation, you snap out of it. 

You follow him, cart momentarily forgotten as you jog in the direction Eddie ran in. When you make it to the aisle, you see an older man passed out on the floor, and a woman is standing over him in tears while Eddie checks his pulse. 

You can hardly hear anything when Eddie turns to you, and it’s only when he waves his hand in front of his face that you can hear him. You blink a few times, then reach into your purse with shaky hands to grab your phone and dial 9-1-1 like Eddie asked. 

You kneel beside him and put the phone on speaker, holding it out in front of him so he can speak to the dispatcher. As Eddie continues to assess the man while speaking to the dispatcher, another man kneels down on the other side of the older man, trying to tell Eddie what to do. 

Eddie explains to him that he doesn’t need help calmly, and you’re not sure how he can remain so mellow right now, even if this is his job. Your hands are shaking, and all you’re doing is holding the phone.

The man continues to try to help, doing what you assume is everything wrong, because after a moment, Eddie erupts.

“Back up. You’re making it worse. I’m not gonna let him die because of you.” The man raises his hands in surrender, then slowly stands up and backs up. You watch as Eddie goes back to tending to the man, licking your lips in a desperate attempt to wet your dry lips. 

You feel extremely guilty, but the way Eddie just takes over has you too aware of everything around you. You can feel the thin layer of sweat on your skin from the stress, you can feel your heart beating in your chest, and you can feel the way Eddie’s thigh is touching the outside of yours. This is definitely not the time, but he’s just so smart, so capable.

You finally snap out of it when the paramedics come in, tapping your shoulder gently to urge you to move out of their way. You hang up the phone haphazardly as you stand up, feeling Eddie’s arm wrap around your waist, his hand resting on your hip and pulling you against him as he backs the both of you up to give the paramedics even more room.

You can feel Eddie’s breath on your neck when he leans his head towards you and whispers into your ear.

“Are you okay, baby?” You shiver at the sensation, nodding quickly as you blink a few times. “He’s gonna be okay. He just has low blood sugar, he just needs a glucagon shot.”

He thinks you’re on edge because of the man, and while you are worried about him, you know that Eddie knows what to do, that he’d be able to help him.

You both make your way back to the aisle you were in when you heard the scream and bring your cart up to the front in silence, neither of you remembering that you still have a few more groceries to get.

When you’re finally out of the store and the groceries are in his car, you check around you, smirking to yourself when you see no one in sight. You’re lucky that Eddie parks so far away from the doors; not wanting to risk anyone hitting his car and damaging the paint. You definitely don’t want anyone to see this.

Your lips are on his in an instant, your hands cupping his face as you push him back a step so his back hits the side of his truck. He hums in surprise, then melts into the kiss, raising one hand to your jaw while the other holds you by the waist.

“That was so hot.” you whisper against his lips, your kiss growing sloppy and needy. He chuckles against your lips, then slips his tongue past your lips to explore your mouth, savouring your taste. You can feel his facial hair along your skin, and it makes you shiver. He was right about that stupid comb. His mustache is extremely soft, with just the right amount of scratchiness that makes your head spin.

“Yeah?” he asks in a cocky tone against your lips, barely registering that you’re practically throwing yourself at him in the middle of the grocery store parking lot. You hum softly, nodding as much as you can with your lips glued to his.

The only thing that snaps him out of his daze is your hands moving down to his belt. He pulls back, chest heaving as he looks into your hooded eyes, pupils blown and full of lust.

“I think we should get home before we get arrested.” he teases you softly, and although you know he’s right, the thought of having to wait makes you whine softly.

You part from him reluctantly, then get into the passenger seat while Eddie returns the cart. When he’s back in the car and on the way back to your place, you reach over and place a hand on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his pants.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks lowly, a playful smirk on his face as he glances over at you, his eyes narrowed. You shrug, humming softly as you drag your nails up and down the fabric of his jeans.

He’s about to respond when you move your hand directly over his cock, growing harder with each passing moment. A strangled gasp escapes his throat, and his grip tightens on the wheel, knuckles white as you slowly palm him through his jeans.

“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?” he asks, his breathing growing more ragged and his tone changing to one of warning. You bite your lip, a small smile peeking out as you add more pressure, moving your palm against him achingly slowly.

“Just wanna show you how much I love you.” you reply sweetly. He knows he shouldn’t be letting you do this, he has to get you both home safely, but he can’t seem to say the words, or pull your hand away. You know exactly what to do to get him worked up, and right now, he’s cursing that fact.

He lets out a low groan when you reach your other hand over the centre console, now working on undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. He keeps his eyes glued to the road, his grip on the wheel as tight as it can be as you pull out his leaking cock. 

You spit into your hand before you grip the base of his cock, pumping him a few times as you watch the way his face twists in pleasure. You can tell he’s torn between wanting you to continue, and knowing you shouldn’t, and that’s what makes it fun. 

He shivers when you ghost your thumb over the tip of his cock, then increase the pace of your movements, pumping him in a way that makes him sure that he won’t be able to stop you even if he tries.

“You think I can get you to cum before we get home?” you ask in a teasing tone, a hint of condescension in your voice that has him fighting hard to keep his eyes open and on the road.

“I know you can.” he mumbles, and you laugh softly, keeping up the pace as you look down at his leaking cock. 

Your mouth waters at the sight, and after a few more pumps, you unbuckle your seatbelt with the other hand, then lean over the centre console and bring the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him greedily. 

He lets out a shuddered moan, and one of his hands comes down to rest on the back of your head. With your mouth and your hand on him, he’s sure he won’t last much longer, especially when the possibility of being caught is looming in the back of his mind.

You hum softly as you taste the bit of precum on your tongue, and he lets out a quiet growl as the vibrations shoot up his spine. He can feel his balls tighten as you take more of him into your mouth, switching between moving further down his cock and giving the tip of his cock soft licks. 

As he pulls onto your street, he cums hard with no warning, making you gag slightly around him as you try to catch all of your release in your mouth. You slow the movements of your hand as you swallow his load, and when you’re sure you’ve gotten it all, you sit back up, a big grin on your face. 

When he finally parks in your driveway, he looks over at you in a daze, a smirk on his face as he takes in your puffy lips. He reaches over with one hand and wipes off a bit of his cum on your chin, then raises his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth eagerly, licking his thumb clean before you smile again, and he feels his heart hammering in his chest at the sight.

“Told you that was hot.” you tell him, and he chuckles, shaking his head at how proud of yourself you look. And for good reason.

“Almost as hot as that was.” he replies with a cocky smirk, and you lick your lips, feeling the desire pooling between your legs growing with each passing moment. 

“I think we should skip dinner tonight.” Eddie says after a moment of just you two staring at each other. 

Once he’s tucked himself back into his pants, you’re both out of the car in an instant, groceries long forgotten as you both make your way inside, trying and failing to keep your hands to yourself until you’re behind closed doors. 

When you finally get inside, Eddie has you against the wall, pressing hot kisses to your neck as he works to unbutton your jeans. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” he whispers against your neck, the hairs of his mustache tickling you as he gives your jeans a firm tug. 

When you finally make it to the bed, you feel overwhelmed with his touch, and his kisses, and his praise, and you’re silently thanking anyone that will listen for making him grow that mustache, stupid comb and all.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[dc418writes]

Welcomed Distraction

Summary🪄: Both you and Frankie need comforting after a tough day

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS, happy adult fun times (be safe out there!), breeding kink, unprotected p-in-v, language, unclothed female-semi clothed male, mention of pregnancy/trying for baby

A/N🎤: Hello🌸 long time no see (*ahem sorry🥴) lol. So firstly, this is my very first Pedro boy fic and I’m v nervous (then again when am I not 🙃). Also, this is my submission for the #hotdilfsummerchallenge by @hellishjoel and I’m hoping you guys enjoy what I came up with, as well as read the other works (or even submit something yourself!✨)

*DISCLAIMER(S)!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they all were found via Pinterest. Although my works are typically imagined with a black!reader, everyone is welcome to read*

At the sound of your sigh as you locked the door behind you, Frankie knew what kind of day you had. Not to mention the way you took off your shoes.

If you gently toed them off next to the others, taking your sweet time, you were exhausted and would more than likely crash on the couch once you eventually sat down. Left them scattered making your own little trail from the door? You were excited about something. He was man enough to admit that although he knew you were very happy to see him, - flashing your bright smile before pecking his lips and updating him on what your day entailed - that excitement was mostly for his son. “How was your day huh?,” you’d ask the adorable eight month old making him giggle from all the kisses you’d leave on his juicy cheeks. “I missed you!”

When you’d kick off your shoes though, not caring when they’d knock against the wall - like you did tonight - you were pissed. And Frankie just hoped it wasn’t something he’d done or forgotten to do.

“Everything alright?,” he asks over his shoulder while he mutes the football game currently on tv.

“I secretly hope that place burns down overnight so I won’t have to step foot in it ever again.”

“So no,” Frankie states as you finally make it to the couch with a beer in hand. A much needed smile curls along your lips - and in turn loosens a bit of the tension still plaguing you from earlier - noticing the boxes of takeout from your favorite restaurant on the coffee table in front of him. Before you can say anything, his strong hands are gripping your hips guiding you towards his lap. Both sets of your lips automatically being drawn towards each other as you settle in your favorite seat.

Well second favorite.

“Francisco Morales I’d marry you right now if I could.” He only chuckles leaving a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Well, first it started with a couple calls from patients upset they needed to be seen before getting a refill. Like I’m sorry you haven’t shown up for your appointments in two years!” A grin spreads on his pink lips as he gently shakes his head of envy inducing chocolate curls.

“Then for a while now I’ve been getting calls when the phones are supposed to be on downtime. It’s also happened to the lady that sits next to me a couple times, so she decides to say something. My manager just says ‘well if you’ve given your extension out or if it’s transferred to you, then the phone’s gonna ring’.”

“But if the phones are down in the first place, either way that shouldn’t happen,” your boyfriend finishes practically reading your mind.

“Exactly! But nooo it has to be something I’m doing, it can’t be the shitty phone system.” Frankie knows you’re angry - and reasonably so- but he can’t help the way his stomach flutters at your cute little groan. How he wants to kiss that pout away until you can’t remember why you were mad in the first place. “Maybe he’ll listen to you since you have a penis.”

“Just tell me when and I’m there baby,” he murmurs against your neck trailing kisses from your pulse to your jaw. His mustache prickling your skin and making you softly giggle.

Even if you didn’t say, you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a little visit to the clinic within the coming week. Standard manners and gentle smile to everyone else as if he was just innocently coming by to see his girl when you both knew he was liable to strangle the slender, uptight man once he set his eyes on him at the mere mention of making you upset.

“Then, as the cherry on top, the last call I get today is this guy getting mad at me because his results aren’t ready, which I have no control over since I don’t work with that doctor,” you explain taking a quick pull from the sweating bottle in your hand. “I keep trying to tell him there’s nothing I can really do, but then he has the audacity to say ‘You’re not understanding me. I need this for another appointment and now I’m not sure if I’ll make it!’ Sir I understand fine; don’t insult my intelligence. Still won’t get you your results sooner.”

The stranger’s words and harsh tone repeats in your mind only making you upset all over again. And not only could Frankie see it, but he could feel the effect such a short interaction had on you. Your back practically going rigid with tightness and prompting him to rub soothing circles over your shirt trying to relax the muscles there. That vein near the pulse in your neck on full display as if standing in solidarity with you.

A stream of frustrated air leaves your nostrils trying to remind yourself that everything was in the past now. How tomorrow would be a new day with, hopefully, little to no rude patients. “Sorry, I know that’s probably my ego talking-,”

“Still doesn’t give him, or anybody else, the right to talk to you like that.” So two men he now needed to hunt down. No problem. “I’m sorry you had a rough day.”

You simply shrug - your attempt to brush it off feeling like you need to be strong and just forget - as his lips softly press against your temple. “Comes with the territory. How was your day though? Hopefully better than mine.”

“It was alright. Elaine came by with ‘hot shot’ to get Isaiah.” Hot shot being her new fiancé that was some fancy lawyer based out of Los Angeles. They met a few months after she broke up with Frankie and got engaged not long after.

“And how did that go?”

Now was Frankie’s turn to shrug taking the offered beer from your hand to get a pull. “Fine. Said hello, made sure she had everything, then left a few minutes later. Short and sweet.”

Although they’ve had this arrangement since baby Isaiah was just a couple months old, it always hurt Frankie having to let his son go. The apartment was uncomfortably quieter without the little babbles and gurgles, and no longer felt like home. Given he’d see him again next week, but he’d began to worry if his ex would move away now she was engaged. Wanting to start fresh with the ‘man of her dreams’ and start their own family.

And if that happened, who knows when he’d see his son again.

The thought’s kept him up plenty of nights unknown to you, but his solemn mood is easily read looking into his brown eyes. Your palm caresses his cheek bringing his attention back to you on his lap. Thumb softly tracing over the worry line between his brows before leaning in to tap your nose against his. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

Your boyfriend just nods flashing a glimpse of a soft smile. A quiet, “I know,” falling from his lips after pecking your full, bottom one.

“If it’d make you feel better, I’ll give you one.”

Any time you said that in the past, he’d just chuckle and shake his head. Maybe even click his tongue before he’d reply with, “let’s focus on this one for now.” It’s not that you were trying to give him a replacement kid, you just hated to see him sad. And similar to how Frankie was willing to do anything for you, you were easily as smitten for the former military pilot.

His larger hands - slightly rough from years of work - grip your hips gently moving you so your thighs now straddle his hips. A glint in his darkening eyes that surprises you, but also has a familiar sensation building between your legs. “You mean it?”

The husky way he whispers near your mouth has an embarrassing moan slipping past your lips that even catches you off guard. A wet patch growing in your panties already as you nod nearly dumb just from his voice alone.

His lips crash into yours rhythmically moving together as if one was complimenting the other. Your fingers tangle in his silky strands while his tongue glides over yours and hands knead at your lower cheeks. You can’t help but grind and shift trying to find some sort of friction as your core throbs incessantly.

“Frankie please,” you pant. His mouth descends to your heated neck nipping at your skin while his hand moves to toy with your achy nipple through your top.

“Have to tell me what you want baby.” He sounds nearly gone himself - hardness poking you through his jeans - but he chooses to tease instead. Any other time you might play back with a smart reply, maybe a little edging, but tonight your need is too strong and mind too hazy with lust and the man beneath you for games.

“N-Need you in me..now Frankie.”

A deep groan vibrates in his chest when you bump against the now prominent bulge becoming painful from the quick rush of blood. “Can’t say no to that now can I?”

In a flurry of movements, Frankie’s removing your scrubs and underwear between deep, hurried kisses, and soon you’re bare; quickly unlatching his buckle to remove his stiff and reddened member leaking and more than ready for you. The mess between your thighs makes it easy to slide down, taking him inch by inch until you’re both connected and moaning from the tightness.

“Fuck don’t think I’ll last,” Frankie grits shifting to taste one breast while his hand plucks and squeezes the other making you whimper. “Feels so good baby.”

Adjusted enough, your hips begin to move and bounce filling the living room with slaps of skin and moans. You try to contain yourself - worried about being that couple - but when Frankie plants his feet on the plush carpet below bucking up into you so hard you have to grab the armrest while your other hand grabs his broad shoulder, you can’t control what leaves your mouth.

“Wanna give me a baby huh? Want me to fill you up?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Want everybody to know you’re mine?” His grip on you is sure to leave bruises in the morning. “That I’m the only one that makes you feel this good?”

“Yes!” The faster you both move, you can see and feel stars. Feel hundreds, maybe thousands, of them tickle and prick your skin that have you believing you have to be experiencing something other worldly. Your spirit ascending to some sort of nirvana that you’d never want to come down from.

“Shit - might have to just keep you on my cock. You like that idea?,” he grins biting at your earlobe.

You frantically nod. “D-Don’t stop, please baby! Mm there..Frankie..Frankie!”

Gripping the back of your neck bringing you as close as he can, Frankie buries his face in your neck letting your noises and babbling spur him on. You’re both painfully close - panting and sticky with sweat - just needing that extra push only you could give each other.

“Shit, feel you squeezin’ me. Cmon let go I got you.” Shifting to the edge of the couch, he angles just right where your swollen nub gets the nudge and pressure that has your back arching and toes curling. You feel teeth and curses growled against your neck along with the spurts of his release inside you as his pumps become staggered and slower.

All that can be heard now is you both catching your breaths and holding onto each other as if afraid to somehow float away from the post orgasmic high.

“You okay? Still with me?,” Frankie asks tracing his thick fingers up and down your spine. You merely hum in response making the man you love chuckle. His pride loved how sleepy and clingy you got in the midst of your afterglow.

“Alright let’s get you cleaned up.”

His strong arms easily keep you attached to his sturdy chest as he stands ready to take you to the bathroom. Your nose automatically nuzzling and running along the side of his neck loving the smell of his cologne mixed with his sweat. “Wait!”

He halts just before stepping into the hall. “What’s wrong?”

“The food,” you sleepily reply making him grin kissing your shoulder.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“M’kay,” you yawn comfortably closing your eyes as you’re gently rocked from him beginning to move again. “Have a baby.”

He knew it wouldn’t happen that quickly, especially with you still actively on birth control, but the thought of you carrying his child had a warmth spreading along his bones. He could vividly see you with a hand on your extended belly smiling and glowing like the sweetest angel. Isaiah would nearly be two, but walking around keeping a close eye on his sibling.

Did it also make Frankie nervous? Of course, but he couldn’t lie that his excitement of seeing a bright eyed bundle that looked exactly like you outweighed the fear.

“Yea, we’re having a baby.”

-

Loosely inspired by the rough day I had at work some time ago🥲 lol. But again I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know if I missed any warnings!

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 20

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: A little AI assistant informed you of a certain someone's birthday! Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: little mentions of being alone, but nothing too serious; an unexpected cameo, even I didn't know about; honestly, Miguel and us need to kiss already - we're so cute 🥹😫; someone cries; mischievous Lyla plotting; fluff and fluff and fluff Music (Spotify playlist): No music for this one, pookies. I didn't have time to find music appropriate for it. Masterlist

Part 20

“Are you ready?” you ask with a smile, filled with excitement about today. You try to tone it down, knowing you can’t show your full excitement to avoid raising suspicions.

Miguel chuckles and nods. “I am. You said it’s around the corner?”

“Mhm, just around the corner,” you reply, the tote bag Miguel gifted you for Christmas in your hand. You smile subtly and glance at the trees, noticing the autumnal hues now that it’s October and officially fall. You grin at the sight, appreciating the view and time of year while Miguel and you walk side by side on the sidewalk in your universe.

You turn to look at Miguel again, knowing he has no idea you know what today is — his birthday!

You would’ve missed it if it wasn’t for Lyla, who told you about it two weeks ago by accident when she was sharing who had birthdays in October at HQ, giving you plenty of time to plan and ask Miguel if he wanted to hang out today without raising his suspicions.

As far as Miguel knows, today is a regular Sunday to you and you just happened to plan the day’s activities on his birthday without knowing.

You look away, still smiling to yourself as you round the corner and walk just a bit before reaching your first destination of the day: your favorite record shop.

“Here is it! The best record shop, in my humble opinion, in the whole city,” you cheerfully say, presenting it to Miguel like it’s someone very dear to you.

Miguel grins at you before his eyes take in the small shop, feeling a coziness from it before he even walks through the door.

“It looks welcoming,” he says, feeling excitement at the possibility of finding some new records to add to his growing collection. Ever since you gifted him the record player for Christmas, Miguel has been slowly been buying more records, but it’s not always easy. Being from a highly advanced society means that it’s harder to find such items. Thankfully, there’s a small market for those who do enjoy collecting them and that's how Miguel has been able to collect a few.

Still, his access to records is not the same as yours. You have multiple shops with hundreds of records available, and that's just in your city.

“Come on,” you say, pushing the door open and holding it for Miguel. “Better get started because there’s sooooo much to see and we still have another shop to go.”

Miguel chuckles and nods. “Let’s go, after you.”

You step in first because, as always, Miguel is a gentleman. You’re both greeted by the owner, an older man in his seventies or so, but still moving as if he was in his forties. Miguel notes his simple yet elegant outfit consisting of a green sweater with a white button-up beneath, the latter’s collar perfectly styled. Dark tinted glasses sit on his nose, which are a contrast to his white hair and mustache. Miguel can’t help but feel like he knows him from somewhere.

“Hey, kid! It’s been sometime since I’ve seen you,” the man says to you, smiling.

“I’ve been a little busy, sir,” you reply, offering him a smile. “But it’s great to be back and to see you.”

“Always great to see you, too, kid! I see you’ve brought your boyfriend along this time, too. Welcome to our Earth, young man!” the owner says cheerfully, turning to look at him.

Miguel and you freeze at the man’s words for a second or two.

“Oh we -” you start, shocked.

“We’re -” Miguel only manages to say at the same time.

“Hold that thought, young folks, I have to check something in the back,” the owner says with a laugh before slipping to the back room, leaving you both alone.

Miguel scratches his neck, and you stare at the spot where Mr. Stanley was just standing. Your cheeks feel hot suddenly while you fidget with your tote bag before you look at Miguel.

“I hope um… I hope that - I’m sorry that Mr. Stanley assumed we’re - you know,” you say, not able to form a coherent sentence due to your shock.

Miguel finally turns to you, his cheeks red. This isn’t the first time someone has assumed you’re both dating, but this is certainly the first time you have both being told about it, at least as far as Miguel knows. He clears his throat, noticing your shy yet apologetic demeanor.

“I uh - I hope it doesn’t - I’m sorry,” you try again because Miguel might take offense.

“Hey, hey,” Miguel says calmly, gently. “You have no reason to apologize, Dulzura. It was a,” he pauses, still feeling shocked but having to push through his own surprise for your sake because he can see you’re far more in shock than him. He’s gone through this more than you. “It’s an innocent assumption, right?” he asks softly.

You nod slowly. “Yes… but you’re not upset?”

“Why - why would I be upset?” Miguel asks.

“I don’t know… I just - I thought - I don’t know,” you say again, shaking your head in an attempt to get your brain to think right again. “Let’s go see the records?”

“Lets,” Miguel replies, also pushing past his own shock that once again someone has assumed you’re a couple. He notes that this is the third time, which makes him briefly think that maybe you two really give off that impression. Miguel shakes his head and focuses on the store instead, deciding that if some people think that, he doesn't mind. It's not an offense to him as you insinuated just now. It's an innocent assumption and that's that.

Pushing past Mr. Stanley’s comment, Miguel and you walk to one side of the shop to browse records. Miguel stops and does a turn, his eyes taking in the great number of records greeting his eyes. There’s so many! So, so, so many options to go through and check out. He feels giddy, knowing he’ll get to explore the entire shop with you.

“Look, here’s pop and hip hop, over there rock, jazz is on that side…” you say, gesturing to each genre.

The two of you start browsing, talking about the records you find interesting, or when you find artists you both know. You lift records to show each other, finding some goofy covers at times and making each other laugh. In the end, you both walk around the shop holding your tote bag, each of you holding a handle to support the weight of the records you’ve both decided to take home.

You notice Miguel gazing at a vinyl, gaining his attention, so you stop walking. Miguel, realizing you’ve stopped moving, turns to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I see you eyeing that record,” you say.

Miguel smiles. “The cover just looks interesting, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you check it out?” you suggest.

“Alright,” he replies, still smiling. He picks up the item with his free hand and inspects it, reading the back for the song titles. He hums before placing it back on the shelf. “It sounds alright,” he says with a shrug, but you can see he really seems to like it. “What’s at the back?”

You look away from the record and turn to the back. “Mr. Stanley also sells a few pop culture things, so you’ll find key chains, t-shirts — that sort of stuff. Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Miguel says as you both walk to the back of the store, but not before you subtly pull the record Miguel just placed back on the shelf with your webs.

You easily slip it into the bag when you reach the section and notice Miguel’s eyes taking in everything that’s currently popular in your universe. His gaze settles on something that catches his attention immediately: Spider-Woman merch, a sight that makes him smile.

“What do we have here?” he asks, gently picking up a key chain of you as Spider-Woman.

You smile, looking at the item. “It seems some Spider-Woman merch. It’s cute,” you say.

“It is,” Miguel agrees, observing it intently. He keeps it in his hand before turning to look at hoodies and sweatshirts. “Seems like Mr. Stanley is stocked for the colder months, hm?”

“It seems so,” you reply with a grin, watching Miguel pick up a sweatshirt with your symbol on it. He traces it softly before he starts looking through the others, searching. You raise an eyebrow before you realize he’s looking for his size, a thought that brings you immediate delight. You smile happily when he finds one and holds it against his chest.

“What do you think?” he asks.

You chuckle and nod. “Perfect choice. It’s going to keep you warm for the winter.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Plus,” Miguel stops and then in a whisper continues, “it’s another way to support my best friend.”

“What a supportive best friend you are,” you respond, smiling. “Spider-Woman would be proud of you.”

“Is that so?” Miguel asks with a soft smirk. “Do you think I’ll get the chance to meet her sometime?”

“She’s always around, so if you stick around, you might just get to.”

“I hope so, I’ve been meaning to get an autograph of hers,” Miguel says with a grin before he smiles much more tenderly at you, serious now. “I admire her very much, you know.”

“She equally admires you,” you reply, smiling warmly at him. “She’d be happy to wear your merch, too.”

Miguel chuckles. “I’ll happily make sure she gets a sweatshirt of mine, that’s no issue,” he says, already thinking of the few small businesses he can buy some merch of himself.

“Sounds like a deal,” you reply.

“Are you two lovebirds finding everything okay?” Mr. Stanley says, stepping out of nowhere.

Miguel and you continue to look at each other, the word ‘lovebirds’ not missed by your ears, but this time instead of letting the shock linger, you both smile and chuckle before you reply.

“Yes, sir,” you answer. “I think we’re ready to check out, no?”

Miguel nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen everything. Let me just step into the bathroom real quick, okay?”

“Go ahead,” you say, grinning at the opportunity. As soon as Miguel closes the door, you head straight for the cash register to pay for everything, since you want to treat Miguel on his birthday.

“All done? Found everything okay?” Mr. Stanley says, as you unload the tote bag.

“Yes, sir. And yes, we did, thank you.”

The older man grins as he begins the transaction, noticing the records selected. Meanwhile, you look around the store, noticing the decorations Mr. Stanley has behind the counter, which all look cool and interesting, but your eyes stop on something in particular. Fan art of you and someone else.

“Excuse me, sir, is that — Fan art of Spider-Woman?” you ask.

“That? Oh yes, yes,” Mr. Stanley answers. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s lovely,” you reply, staring at the unknown figure next to it. You look closer, realizing there’s little shapes around the heads. “Who is the other person next to her?”

“Why don’t I let you see it closer, huh? Just be careful with it, I paid good money for this,” he says, stepping away to retrieve the framed art. He hands it to you with a proud smile. “Spider-Woman and her Spider-Man.”

You nearly choke at that, especially when you see what he’s referring to. The fan art has you, drawn perfect if you say so yourself, but next to you is… Miguel, dressed in his Spider-Man 2099 suit. The two figures seem to be holding hands while swinging through the city’s downtown with little red hearts around your heads.

“Oh, wow,” you say a little breathless. “Where did you — How did you think of this, Mr. Stanley?”

“Well,” the man says as he continues with the transaction, putting the records he’s checked back into your tote bag. He slips one inside, careful, before looking up at you with a knowing grin. “Spider-Woman needs someone to lean on, too, right? What better than her Spider-Man, someone who understands her? A perfect couple, if I must say so myself.”

You nod, still staring at the fan art. “Yes, I guess you could say that,” you reply, going along with him before you hand it back. “Thank you for letting me see it up close. It’s wonderful.”

“Of course, of course. If that’s all, young lady, your total is…” he pauses before telling you the amount.

You quickly pay and thank Mr. Stanley just as Miguel reaches your side.

“Wait — you already paid?” Miguel asks because he had full intentions of paying everything himself.

“Yep,” you answer simply with a smile. “Come on, we have places to be. Bye, Mr. Stanley!”

You exit, Miguel following behind. “Thank you, sir,” Miguel says before he reaches the door, but stopping when he hears the older man speak.

“You take care of that girl. She’s a good one,” Mr. Stanley says to him. “Make sure you’re there for her, be someone she can lean on, you hear me?”

Miguel nods, smiling slowly. “Yes, sir. I will.”

“Good, now, go on!”

Miguel says goodbye and steps out. The door closes, but Miguel swears he still heard the man say ‘ex- something’ though he didn’t hear the entire thing. He sighs and turns to you, finding you holding the tote bag.

“Here, I can hold that,” Miguel offers.

“No, it’s alright,” you reply as you gesture for him to start walking with you.

“Come on,” Miguel says as he walks next to you, picking up the bag from one side and taking one of the handles again.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I told you I got it.”

“I know, but still. It’s the thought that counts, right?” he asks. “It’s the thing a gentleman does, and I — well, I try to be one,” Miguel says, glancing at you while you walk, heading God knows where.

“You are one,” you confirm, smiling. “But fine, I’ll let you hold that handle while I hold the other one. Team work.”

Miguel scoffs playfully. “Fine, team work, Dulzura.” He sighs and looks around, thinking it’s a great day so far. “Where are we going next?”

“It’s a surprise,” you reply, not wanting to share.

Miguel hums, knowing you won’t share your plans, so he walks with you, ready to follow wherever you go.

While you head to your next destination, you show and point out different things along the way, further introducing your city to Miguel, who appreciates the much slower pace compared to Nueva York’s. While you two continue to walk, he finds himself silently thinking that he could get used to it, this slower pace. It’s funny, he thinks. You seemed to have adapted to his universe easily and he can see himself adapting to yours the same way. He shakes the thought away when you eagerly nod to a small building, a book shop.

“One of the best book shops in the city,” you say as you open the door for him. “One of my favorites.”

Miguel sighs at the sight of you holding the door. He just told you he’s trying to be a gentleman.

Noticing his sigh and a little pout, you chuckle. “I’m trying to be a gentle lady,” you say, joking.

“Very funny,” Miguel says playfully. “Poking fun at me, are you?”

“I would never,” you respond as he finally steps in.

“Right, gentle lady,” Miguel says, unable to stop himself from finally grinning. He can’t help it. He never can when he’s around you, if he’s honest.

“I know you like sci-fi, Migs. The section is this way,” you eagerly report, tugging him along due to his hold on the bag.

Starting with the sci-fi section, the two of you browse the shop. You look through every genre you both enjoy, trying to find good reads, especially now that it’s autumn, the coziest time to read. Between you, you both manage to get a stack of ten books, which Miguel holds because he insisted earlier. Despite his protests, you pay for everything.

“Hey, when I’m at your universe, you always want to pay. It’s only fair I get to do the same,” you say, once you’re both out of the shop. “It’s just a little treat, you know.” You glance at Miguel, hoping he doesn’t catch on. “It’s a little thank you for letting me stay at your place for so long. And also, I got to see so much of your universe, so I want you to see more of mine, too,” you add, smiling.

Miguel nods, even though he still wishes he was the one paying. “Alright, if you insist, but you really don’t have to thank me for opening my home to you. I already told you, my home is your home,” Miguel says, and after a few seconds he adds, “Always.”

You smile and nod, knowing he really means it. Miguel firmly stated the same thing several weeks ago, when the two of you woke up leaning on each other hours later after meeting on that rooftop on Earth-42 by pure coincidence. You were a little worried when you woke up because you found yourself in such position, with your head resting on his shoulder since he had shifted over the hours to be more comfortable. You wondered if you made Miguel uncomfortable, if the only reason he didn’t say anything was to avoid being rude, but when you searched his face for signs of discomfort or irritation, you found none. At least, not visible ones.

The two of you woke up feeling rested despite the strange sleeping positions and it was only a few minutes after waking up that you finally shifted away to give Miguel some space, thinking that you had pushed his boundaries enough.

While you fixed the blanket over you, you failed to notice the little pout on Miguel’s lips when you scooted away. Neither did he. He watched you moved, noting the loss of your warmth immediately.

You had breakfast a short while after that and then finally discussed that ‘something’ Miguel had mentioned hours ago.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, you both knew a few things.

Neither of you wanted you to move out.

Your homes felt different to you now; something had changed.

You grew used to living with each other and to the routines you easily and quickly established.

And, you missed each other so much that neither of you could sleep.

So, you both decided that it would be nice if you stayed at the penthouse on some nights throughout the week, at least. Miguel even offered to sleep on your couch if you don’t want to stay at the penthouse, but you warned him he might be getting back pain from it. You told him you rather go to the penthouse than have him deal with that issue. Ever since then, you’ve spent about three nights out of the week at his penthouse, sometimes four, and it seems to be working well for the two of you.

Yet…

You both wish that you could go back to the way it was before, to being roommates full-time. Of course, neither of you shared that bit to avoid pushing each other’s boundaries. There’s also your apartment. Miguel fully understands what the apartment means to you, so he knows he cannot propose being roommates because that would put you in a difficult dilemma. And you, well, you still hold on to the apartment, even if it stills feels different now. You can’t pinpoint what it is, but you know it’s a good difference.

With a sigh, you push the thought away and focus on the birthday man walking next to you instead, and thank him for his kind words. “I appreciate it, Migs. So is my home, you know. My home is your home. You’re always welcomed.”

Miguel grins. “Thank you, Dulzura.”

You return the grin, feeling giddy. “I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of hungry now.”

“You know, me, too,” Miguel answers. “I guess the walking is making us hungry. Should we head to the penthouse to eat? I can cook something.”

“I was thinking, I actually want to try a new recipe, if you don’t mind,” you start softly. “You can help me if you want?” you offer. “We can pick up the groceries from my apartment since I have everything already.”

“That sounds great to me,” Miguel answers with a smile, unaware of your plans.

♡

After picking up the groceries from your apartment, Miguel and you travel back to Nueva York. You quickly split up tasks and begin to cook an early dinner, even though you would’ve preferred to cook everything yourself to spoil Miguel a bit.

You decided to let him help you, however, for two reasons. One, to avoid raising his suspicions, and two, because you know that Miguel appreciates quality time and loves cooking. You simply didn’t have it in you to exclude him, not when you know he enjoys cooking with you so much.

While prepping dinner, you happily listen to Miguel talk about how much he loved going to the little shops you went, especially the record player store.

“There’s so many records,” Miguel says as he seasons steaks. “For a moment, I didn’t even know where to look because of how many there were.”

You laugh softly while dicing vegetables. “And it’s just one store. There’s a few others around the area, but that one is my favorite. If you want, we can go check out the other ones next weekend. Maybe even go to the ones that are new to me, too.”

“Really?” Miguel asks, looking up from the steaks and at you with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Of course,” you reply, finding his excitement sweet. “We can have breakfast, or lunch somewhere in my universe like we did today, and then spend the rest of the day exploring those stores.”

“That sounds really nice,” Miguel admits softly, smiling. “I’d like that, but this time I pay for my records,” he says with a little frown, his lips pouting.

You tilt your head a little. “Alright, alright,” you reply with a grin, knowing that the possibility exists now because Miguel and Lyla came up with a way to convert money easily.

“Good,” Miguel says, returning his attention to the steaks, making sure they’re properly seasoned before cooking them. “Then, I’d like to, if you’re open to it.”

“I’m already looking forward to it,” you respond, meaning it. Nothing sounds better than spending a day shopping for records with your best friend and showing him more of your city.

A while later, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom while the food is finishing cooking, but in reality, you leave Nueva York entirely and return to your universe. In minutes, you’re back to Miguel’s penthouse with something. A birthday cake you’ve baked yourself, of course.

“Lyla,” you say when you arrive upstairs.

“Reporting for duty,” she says as soon as she appears, grinning.

“Is there any way you can distract Miguel? I just need a few seconds to sneak the cake into the kitchen.”

“Hmm… I can access the door bell and make it seem like someone’s here!” she eagerly informs you. “Let me do my thing. Be ready at the end of the stairs, I’ll send you a signal when he’s at the door,” Lyla adds, giddily.

You thank her before she disappears, hurrying out of your room and climbing down the stairs. As soon as you reach the bottom, you hear the front door bell ring. A few seconds later, you hear Miguel’s footsteps and then the door that leads to that side of the penthouse opening.

Not even a second later, Lyla sends you a message to let you know you’re in the clear. You quietly but quickly sneak the cake into the kitchen and hide it, already eager to see Miguel’s face when you take it out with the candles and everything.

Hearing Miguel’s footsteps coming your way again, you return to the stove and check on the food, pretending that nothing is amiss.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yes, the door bell rang but there was no one. I think the system may need an update, or something. I’ll have to check it out,” Miguel says as he reaches the sink to wash his hands, but not before taking off his bracelet and hair tie, which he has worn all day. “I’ll do that later,” he adds, deciding that he’ll leave it for tomorrow.

Today, Miguel simply wants to enjoy your company as much as he can. So far, it’s been a wonderful Sunday that started with him arriving to your apartment before the two of you headed out to have lunch at a small and quaint diner. You headed to the shops after that, your stomachs full and satisfied.

Now, you’re here cooking together and will probably spend some time in the living room, enjoying each other’s company. He couldn’t wish for a better Sunday, nor a better birthday.

Drying his hands with a towel, Miguel thinks about how you have no idea that today is his birthday. Despite not knowing, you’ve easily made it one of the best ones he’s ever had. He silently remembers the last few ones, when he was alone, and the fact that he hasn’t celebrated in years. In fact, the last time he celebrated his birthday was when Gabriel was alive. Since then, Miguel has found it easier to pretend his birthday is like every other day, nothing to celebrate.

Due to that, Miguel hasn’t told anyone at HQ his birth date. The only person that knows about it is Lyla, but she’s been instructed not to reveal it to anyone.

Miguel turns to face you, silently wondering if he should tell you now. You’re best friends after all, right? But then, he frowns a little, realizing that if he tells you now so late in the day, you’ll probably feel guilty. You’ll probably say you wished you knew sooner and apologize, even if it’s not your fault, but his for not telling you.

He decides not to say anything. There’s always next year, right?

“Food is almost ready,” you say happily, bringing Miguel’s attention back to the moment.

“It smells amazing,” he replies, coming to your side to get a closer look.

♡

“That was amazing,” Miguel says once he places his fork down, finished with his meal.

You hum as you finish as well, wiping your mouth clean. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it! We did a great job.”

Miguel smiles. “It was mostly you, but thank you. Today…” Miguel starts, feeling truly happy. “Has been great. I’ve enjoyed it a lot, thank you, Dulzura.”

You smile, nodding. “I’m so happy you’ve enjoyed it. I’ve enjoyed it so much, too.” You stand up and pick up your plate before walking to retrieve Miguel’s, but he tries to pick it up himself. “It’s okay, I got it, Miguel,” you tell him gently. “Please. It’s nothing.”

Miguel slowly lets go. “Alright, thank you.”

You nod and take the dishes to the sink, deciding to leave them for later. For now, you want to move on with your surprise.

“Hey, do you mind getting the sweatshirt I bought you from the tote bag? I just remembered something and I want to make sure,” you say, using that as an excuse since you left the bag in the living room.

Miguel stands up, nodding. “Of course. Hold on,” he says, heading straight for the living room.

You giddily get the cake out and quickly light up the candles.

“Here it is. What did you remember?” Miguel asks, stepping back into the kitchen.

You prepare yourself with a little sigh, your back to Miguel, before you turn around with the cake in your hands.

Miguel stops in his tracks, his lips parting in surprise. He slowly lowers the sweatshirt, watching you bring the cake to the main counter with a sweet smile.

“A little bird,” you start.

“Me!” Lyla says, appearing out of nowhere with a grin, equally giddy.

“Told me today is someone’s birthday,” you continue. “It was by pure accident and once I knew, well, I couldn’t simply ignore it. You can’t ignore your best friend’s birthday, you know? I couldn’t ignore the birthday of someone who means so much to me, so…” You grin at Miguel, whose eyes have soften at the sight. “I hope that you’ve truly enjoyed today. As I said, it was to thank you for letting me stay here and to show you more of my universe, but primarily because I wanted to spend the day with you. Today, your birthday.”

You gently glide the cake over the counter, the candles flickering. “Happy Birthday, Miguel. I hope your day has been a good one so far and I wish you many, many, many more birthdays to come, blessed with health and happiness.”

“You - you baked a cake? For me?” Miguel asks softly and slowly, still surprised.

“Yes, I hope you like it. I know your preferences, so I baked one with those details in mind,” you reply proudly, so sweetly.

Miguel smiles, his eyes filling up with tears. He clears his throat and looks away to quickly wipe a tear away. It’s been so long since he’s celebrated his birthday and it feels so nice to have someone remember, someone other than his AI assistant. He walks over, placing the sweatshirt over a chair to look at the wonderful cake.

You swear his smile grows when he sees his name on it in your cute handwriting. He places his hands on the counter, almost like he can’t believe it. He clears his throat again. “Thank you,” he says softly, another tear slipping down his beautiful chiseled face.

You smile tenderly, noticing Miguel’s teary eyes. You grab a clean linen napkin and come to his side, sitting up on the chair to reach him. He turns to face you and that’s when you take the opportunity to gently dry his tears like he once did for you. “There,” you whisper.

“Thank you, Dulzura,” Miguel whispers, staring at you, his eyes still tearing up. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I celebrated my birthday.”

You nod, realizing that makes sense. Gabriel has been deceased for several years now and Miguel has kept his birthday a secret at HQ, so no one has had a chance to even wish him a good one. “I know,” you reply and then smile. “From now on, if you’ll let me… I’d like to celebrate your birthday.”

Miguel nods, a few tears rolling down his face despite himself. You carefully dry them away, being so gentle. Miguel is reminded of how tender you were to him when he was injured, as if he was some delicate thing worth of such treatment. He clears his throat, sniffling quietly.

“You know, the birthday person shouldn’t be crying,” you add, with a playful yet tender smile.

Miguel chuckles, finally calming down a little. “They’re happy tears as someone very special to me once said,” he states, looking at you with equal tenderness, if not more.

“Happy tears, hm? I can’t argue with that, but still. I rather see you smiling,” you say gently, meaning it.

“Same goes to you,” Miguel replies, remembering the times he has seen you crying. It always tugs at his heart, makes him ache.

“I’ll keep that in mind from now on,” you respond, lowering the napkin. You turn to the cake, remembering the candles. You quickly make sure the wax isn’t melting severely before turning back to him with a sigh of relief. “I forgot about the candles.”

Miguel chuckles. “That’s my fault.” He puts himself together. “I’m ready,” he says.

You grin and go around the counter. “Lyla, please do the honors.”

Miguel’s eyebrows raise at that before Lyla and you begin to sing happy birthday to him, both in English and Spanish, though you stick to a shorter version of the latter once you notice the candles begin to drip.

While you both sing, Miguel stands in front of the cake grinning at the sight, his gentle heart more than content.

“Cha, cha, cha!” Lyla and you add cheering for Miguel, who gives you an endearing smile because you remembered the ‘cha, cha, cha’ he mentioned on Gabby’s birthday, a family tradition.

“Happy Birthday, Miguel!” you say, clapping with Lyla. “Make a wish before you blow the candles!”

“I’m ready to take pictures,” Lyla says.

Miguel chuckles and leans down, thinking about his wish. God, it has been so long since he’s done this, since he’s made a birthday wish. He gazes at the beautiful cake you’ve baked for him, already knowing that it’ll taste amazing. He can’t help but look at it with awe since you managed to decorate it as if it’s a record player, the ‘Happy Birthday, Miguel!!’ being the record’s title. You put so much thought to the cake and that alone makes Miguel want to shed a few tears again, but he focuses on making a birthday wish, or else there will be candle wax on the lovely icing.

He slowly looks up at you, smiling.

“Okay, birthday wish in three… two… one!” Lyla counts.

Miguel closes his crimson eyes and makes his wish before blowing the candles. He opens his eyes again and looks up at you, smiling, while Lyla and you cheer.

“Queremos pastel, pastel, pastel [we want cake, cake, cake],” you two continue, making Miguel chuckle.

“Alright, alright,” he says, feeling amused, touched, happy — all of the above. “Thank you, you two.”

After gathering everything needed to slice the cake and Lyla taking photos of it at Miguel’s gentle request for memories, Miguel cuts the cake and gives you the first slice before serving himself.

“What did you wish for, Miguel?” Lyla suddenly asks.

“What?” Miguel asks, caught off guard by the question.

“Your birthday wish. What was it?” she asks.

“I don’t think - I’m supposed to share that,” Miguel says, sitting down next to you.

“The rule is you can’t share it, or it won’t happen,” you add.

“Augh, you’ll have to tell me if it does come true then, Miguel. I’m noisy.”

Miguel and you laugh at that, which only makes Lyla playfully roll her eyes. These humans.

“I’ll think about it,” Miguel finally says. “For now, I won’t say anything,” he adds, not taking a chance. His birthday wish is simple, but still, Miguel doesn’t want to risk it. He slowly looks over at you while you cut the slice of cake into a smaller bit before eating. If not telling anyone means he’ll celebrate his birthday with you every year until his last one, then Miguel won’t tell a soul, not even Gabriel when he visits him at the cemetery. He smiles and turns to his own slice to eat it.

He picks up a piece with his utensil, his eyes closing in delight. The cake is exquisite and unlike anything Miguel has ever had, so much that a little moan of satisfaction escapes from him. “Mmm, this is amazing!”

You turn to look at him, hearing the little noise. For some reason, your cheeks feel hot suddenly. You clear your throat and smile, still thinking about it for a few seconds before you push the thought away. “I’m glad you like it. I tried my best!”

“This is - wow, I think I need a second slice already,” Miguel says, smiling happily.

You chuckle, satisfied that Miguel is enjoying it so much. “It’s your cake, get yourself a second slice,” you reply.

“Hey, isn’t there a tradition that the birthday person gets some cake on their face?” Lyla asks all of a sudden, floating in front of the two of you. She lays on her stomach and supports her head with both hands with a little mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” Miguel replies, looking at the cake. “Some people still push the birthday person into the cake, but the norm now is to simply put a little bit of icing on the person’s nose if they’re okay with it.”

“Oooh,” Lyla responds, gleefully. “Should we have Y/N do it? Have her put a little bit of icing on your nose? For a picture, at least.”

You glance at Miguel just as he looks at you.

“I wouldn’t mind, if you’re okay with it,” you say gently.

“I’m not - oppose to it, if you don’t mind,” Miguel says at the same time.

At the side, Lyla’s mischievous grin widens. “Perfect!

And so, with a grinning Lyla capturing the moment, you pick up a little bit of icing from the cake with your index fingertip. You turn to Miguel, silently asking if it’s really okay.

Miguel smiles a bit and nods.

Smiling, you gently dab some of the delicious icing on the tip of Miguel’s nose. You pull your hand back and take a good look, giggling softly at the cute sight.

Miguel smiles, his heart leaping with tenderness at your sweet giggle. Lyla, of course, records and takes pictures before Miguel wipes the icing away.

A few minutes later, Lyla watches quietly from the side, smiling. It was no little accident that she revealed Miguel’s birthday. She thought it was time that you knew, time for Miguel to begin celebrating his birthday again after so long.

After all, her boss is no longer alone.

Not anymore.

She hums, hearing you two continue to talk before she shakes her head. You both called her a ‘profesional yapper’ some time ago, but here you are, yapping and yapping with each other unlike with anyone else. Lyla grins though, happily taking a few more pictures of her favorite yappers to add to her secret album of photos before flickering away, her mission complete.

“You know, this is a lot of cake,” Miguel says, looking over at it. “Would you mind…”

“I’m listening,” you say gently, having a feeling you know where this is going.

“It’ll be in the spur of the moment, but what if we invite the gang?” Miguel asks, turning to face you. “Is that okay?”

You scoff playfully. “Migs, you don’t need to ask me. The cake is yours. It’s your birthday. If you want to invite them and share, please go ahead.”

And so, half an hour later, Miguel’s kitchen and dining area is occupied and filled with lighthearted conversation and laughter. Despite the late notice, everyone who was able to make it arrived with something in regards to food to celebrate along with the cake you baked.

Surrounded by friends, Miguel subtly smiles to himself.

It’s nice not to be alone on his birthday.

He turns to face you, finding you at his side, of course. He smiles tenderly at you. It really is nice not to be alone on his birthday. Miguel looks around for a second, noticing that everyone is highly entertained by a story Spider-Man Noir is telling from his dimension.

“How about café de olla [coffee pot] later and maybe… a movie?” he asks quietly, almost in a whisper. Hoping.

You grin and nod. “Sounds like a plan,” you whisper, catching Miguel’s hidden question in his proposal: spend the night at the penthouse?

You both turn your attention back to the Spider-Man, smiling softly to yourselves.

For the first time in many years, Miguel O’Hara doesn’t pretend his birthday is a regular and average day nor does he spend it alone. And perhaps, if there’s such a thing as birthday wishes coming true, it’ll be the first of many, many, many more birthdays to come with his best friend at his side.

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Surprise again! 🤭 I wanted to do a birthday chapter for Miguel last year, but I learned too late about it and didn't have time to write one. It didn't make sense anyway since they were still not so... close, hehe! So, I couldn't miss this year's!

I've spent the last two days since part 18 writing and writing and writing to make this possible, and thankfully nothing in my life happened and intervened with my plans 😭🙏🏼 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one and the last new two chapters!! I appreciate everyone who has reblogged and left sweet comments -- *remembers Lara's wish for both sides of my pillow to be warm tonight, llumetrii's reaction pic with a baseball bat, the majority of readers telling me they either cried or were about to, and the anon ask in my inbox rn saying they're going to draw the "most devious and diabolical emo angst art" and to watch my back after part 19*... thank you!! 🥰😌🤭

As always, comments and/or reblogs are greatly appreciated, so if you enjoyed this one, show it some love and I might just let Miguel and Dulzura kiss nex- just kidding, but what if? Nah, I'm just kidding, but we're so much closer to those days. I've found myself thinking about it more and more and !!! I wish I could tell you my plans but I cannot, pookies 🤭

That's all, thank you so much guys!!

Alondra❤️ p.s. can we talk about Stan Lee's cameo? I was literally so surprised to see him there, too (no, like, the way I was writing that scene and he just came to mind out of nowhere?? I had a lot of fun with that scene), but he def knew what he was talking about sjskjkdj wise man!! 🙂‍↕️

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

credit for green divider to @/vysleix

[kteezy997]

You’re So Breedable//T.C. (one-shot)

Information: you’re a housewife and Timmy is your hardworking accountant husband who’s been stuck working overtime a lot lately.

Warnings: smut, a bit of a breeding kink obviously, dirty talk, cursing, finger sucking, cumshot

Timmy was working over time again tonight. He had called your home phone to let you know he would be a couple of hours late. You were so proud of him working so hard to provide for you and your future family, but you couldn’t help but miss being able to spend time with him in the evenings.

You had already finished dinner when he called, so you decided to keep it warm in the oven while you whipped up something for dessert. You decided to bake some apple turnover pastries with a cinnamon icing drizzle over the top.

The turnovers had just come out of the oven, looking golden in the outside and super tasty and you were drizzling the icing on, admiring the brown flecks of cinnamon in the creamy sweetness. You heard the front door of your home open and close and you smiled to yourself as you heard your husband’s footsteps come closer and closer to the kitchen.

“It smells amazing in here.” Timmy said, touching your waist and leaning in to kiss your neck.

The stubble on his upper lip tickled your skin. He had only just begun growing his mustache, so you were still not accustomed to the feeling. “Welcome home, my love.” you cooed.

“Awe, you made turnovers? You’re the best, baby.” he smooched your cheek, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yep, and there’s pot roast ready in the oven. Let me set the table really quick and we can eat.” you peck his cheek, tapping his jaw lightly as you attempted to move away from his grip, but he held you in place.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” he smirked.

“Timothée Hal, I have to get the plates for our dinner.” you insisted.

“Dinner can wait,” he eyes scanned down your body, “I need you now.”

“Timmy…” you squinted your eyes at him and shook your head.

“You know, I was just thinking at working today, “why haven’t I put a baby in my wife yet?” And I didn’t have an answer.”

“But honey, you’re away from home all the time. Wouldn’t you want to wait until you’re not needed at work so much?”

Timmy came to you, putting his hands into your lower back, closing the gap between your bodies. “All of this over time has been worth it, my love. They’ve given me my own office now, and I’ll only work nine to five and Monday through Friday only. It’s perfect. And they’ve given me a pay raise, so I’ll be able to provide for three of us, or four, if we wanted.” He smiled proudly, eyeing your lips for a brief moment.

You blushed, thinking about two little Timothées running around your home, thinking about how hard your husband had been working the last two years you had been married to provide for your family. “Oh, Timmy, I love you and I’m so proud of you.” you beamed, hugging him.

He squeezed you back in a warm embrace, nuzzling into your neck, inhaling your scent. “Mm, you smell amazing. Like cinnamon.” he cooed, his voice low, vibrating against your skin.

You giggled as you felt his lips on the tender spot of your neck.

“You’re so breedable.” he groaned just before picking you up off the ground, tossing you over his shoulder with your bum in the air.

You yelped, laughing, “Timmy, what about dinner?”

“We can warm it back up afterwards.”

……

He tossed you onto the bed.

You put your hands out on either side of you, propped up as you sat watching him undress.

He wore a pale blue button down shirt, that he had undone and exposed his white tank top underneath. His gold necklace shimmered in the bedroom light.

“Are you going to put a baby in me?” you teased.

“Yes, I’m going to put a baby in you. Your belly will bulge with my cum.” He was such a mild mannered, strait-laced working citizen, your husband, so to hear him speak so perverted, so explicitly, it turned you on. It made you ache with need.

He tossed his billowy shirt into the floor, whipping off his wife-beater, and unzipping his trousers. Just as he touched his glasses to remove them, you interrupted, “No, keep them on, please. I love you in your glasses.”

Timmy smirked at you, “What wifey wants, she gets.” He dropped his trousers and boxers to the floor, and climbed on top of you.

You giggled, instinctively putting your hands on him, sliding them over his back. His muscles were hard, but his skin soft and smooth. And he smelled incredible, even after a long day at the office.

He attacked your mouth with hungry kisses, he tore your clothes off quickly.

“Timmy, don’t rip them!” you cried.

“You’re worried about your clothes right now? You should be thinking about my cock.”

You giggled as he removed every article off of you. He touched your pussy, you gasped as his fingers brushed against your warm, wet folds. His fingers were slightly roughed from years of typing and using a calculator, so he irritated your flesh in the most erotic way.

“Are you thinking of my cock?” he demanded, deepening his voice, replacing his fingers with the tip of his cock touching your clit.

You shuddered, “I was actually thinking of your fingers, my love.” But you wiggled slightly, feeling eager to have him inside of you.

“Yeah? Taste yourself on them.” he dared, putting his digits to your lips.

You looked in his eyes, unsure.

Timmy nodded, “You should. You always taste good, baby.” He was back to his tender, sweet self for a moment.

You took a gentle hold onto his hand, bringing the tips of his middle and forefinger into your mouth, moistening them even more, tasting the salty and sweet flavor of your slickness.

Your husband bit his lip, groaning ever so softly at the sight. “Do you have to be so breedable? Fuck.”

With that, his plunged his thick cock into you. Unable to do anything else, you kept his fingers in your mouth, sucking.

Timmy’s voice rumble in his throat as he started to buck his hips, slowly at first, stretching you, then faster. The flesh of his skin started slapping against your wet core. “Yesss, ahh.” he groaned, clenching his eyes shut in pleasure.

You shuddered and cried out your moans as his cocked bucked hard into you, deeper and deeper.

His thrusts were rough, but determined. He held your face as he nuzzled into your neck, kissing, nibbling on your throat, cursing under his ragged breath. "You feel amazing, it's hard not to come yet." he muttered.

You placed your hands on his back, not wanting him to ever get off of you. You loved the warmth of his body and the pressure of his weight on you. His balls slapped against your ass as he gained more speed. "Ah!" you yelped, the leg muscles tensing and your toes curling. You hand found his hair, tugging. It was so intense, so warm, and so much friction. You loved feeling so full and so loved.

"Fuck, here it comes." Timmy grunted, "Ah, I'm gonna fill you with my cum, you're having my baby soon." He cupped his sweaty hands onto your hips. "I love you so much."

You felt his sperm spill and spirt into you. He shoved his cock deep inside, fucking the baby making serum further. You let your head fall back, your core felt numb, and you saw only stars. "I love you, Timmy. I'm gonna have your baby." you said weakly as your body went limp.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

bonny lass

pairing: pre-outbreak! Joel Miller x f!reader word count: ~1.7k summary: Joel meets-cute you in a pub in Ireland. Two foreigners in a foreign country, that should be enough to share a kiss at the end of the night, right? warnings: fluff! reader is able bodied, no use of y/n, mild alcohol consumption in a pub, a kiss, dm me if I missed any a/n: I'm in Ireland rn and suffer from severe 'romanticizing my life' syndrome.☘️ What if I met Joel here? Can you imagine? The dream™️. As always: @guiltyasdave was waving her pompoms for me from start to finish + being the beta again 💛

The light is dim, the air thick with chatter and dampness. The rain has started again, early this evening, and the people streaming into the pub are soaked. But the bad weather doesn’t affect their good mood.

Joel watches them, fascinated, the way they weave through the crowded space like it’s their element, the way they easily find their spots at the bar, ordering their drinks for the first round. Cider, pale ale, whiskey, Guinness.

A small group of locals gathers in a corner of the pub, taking their instruments out of the cases and the noise of the crowd dies down, just a little bit. Anticipation and laughter fill the air.

The table in the corner, the table he sits at, fills with women and men, the worn mahogany brown table top fills with glasses. A few words are exchanged, but the accents on both sides are thick and so it’s just smiles, hands on shoulders and raised glasses with exclaimed Sláintes.

The Irish have this talent of hospitality, a talent which doesn’t let a foreigner feel lonely. During the day, Joel has Sarah with him, exploring the Emerald Island, exploring the possibility of an Irish heritage, the possibility of belonging. 

But when the sun sets and his child is sleeping safe and sound in the Inn down the street, he has time to himself. The nights are his, his time to explore his own thoughts, to ponder, to watch, to feel homey in a pub. He's alone but not lonely.

Another pint finds its way onto the table, a bracelet dangling from the wrist attached to the hand on the glass. Joel’s eyes wander up the arm and he finds the smile that is connecting you with him.

“Hey! How are ya?” You beam at everyone sitting at the table and they respond with smiles of their own, moving together to make room for one more in their middle. You sit down, next to the man with the strong arms and the hair as dark as the guinness in his glass.

“Hey,” Joel says and clears his throat when he notices that he sounds not as gruff as usual. 

You shrug your coat off your shoulders and the air grows thick between you both with the scent of Irish rain and the twinkle in your eyes. You assess the situation, sense that he is not part of the rest. But that he still belongs somehow.

“Not from around here?” you ask and watch him lean closer to be able to understand what you have said. He shakes his head and smiles wryly.

“What gave it away?”

“Your tan,” you smirk at him and raise your glass. “Sláinte. Here’s to two strangers meeting far away from home.”

“Neither lonely, nor alone.” Joel raises his guinness and smiles, teeth as pearly as the foam on his beer. “Sláinte, darlin’.”

You hold his gaze when you take a sip of your cider, happy to hide the way this stranger makes you smile. Happy to see the corners of his mouth being tugged upwards, making his guinness-black mustache move and dance.

You exchange names and your stories, glances and laughter. And with every time the tart cider bubbles down your throat, every time Joel licks the white foam from his upper lip and beard you feel more at home, here in this pub, far away from the address in your passport.

He insists on buying you your next drink and when he slides back onto the bench with two more pints in his hands, he chooses to sit snug to you. You're not strangers anymore. And who ever really is in a pub?

A pub, he thinks, is a cave. Dark and warm, a place to hide from the rain, from the world. He looks at you, the way you nestle your body closer to his than to the other men you share the booth with. You seem to be at ease, your eyes watching the locals with their instruments finally getting ready to start their session. 

He smiles and when you turn your head to look at him you're smiling, too. 

Come over the hills, my bonny Irish lass Come over the hills to your darling

A single voice, firm and tender starts singing from the one well lit corner, and the chatter dies down immediately.

You choose the road, love, and I'll make the vow And I'll be your true love forever

You sing along, silently, not a single sound coming from you. You know the words by heart and hearing them in a pub, in the middle of nowhere, in Ireland… It makes your heart ache.

It aches from being so full. Happiness, for once.

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows Fair is the lily of the valley Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne But my love is fairer than any

You feel a strong, warm hand on your back, a soothing caress, a light pull closer to the man with the equally strong, warm body.

“You alright, darlin’?” He whispers, watching you closely, maybe even concerned about the sudden display of emotions on your face.

You nod your head and instead of answering you lean closer to him and bask in the offered comfort. Neither lonely, nor alone, you think to yourself.

The air is filled with rhythm, the fiddles and singing voices seep into your bodies. What were minutes turns into one hour, then two hours.  

A bell chimes, announcing the chance of ordering one last round. Joel tugs on your shoulder before emptying his guinness, a thick blob of foam on his upper lip making you chuckle.

“A last one? My treat.”

You shake your head with a smile. You already feel lightheaded and lighthearted. No need for a last drink. You stir in your seat, stretching your limbs before leaning against Joel's side again.

“I think I'll get going. Having a long day tomorrow, touristy things, ya know.”

He nods his head, placing his empty pint back on the table and holding you close to him with his free hand. A finger mindlessly trails a seam of your shirt, drumming in the rhythm of the music.

“Would you…” you tilt your head and clear your throat, “...maybe bring me? To my B&B?”

“Course I would.”

When you step outside onto the dark street a fresh breeze blows into your faces. It carries the scents of the sea and the land, smelling of salt, earth and rain. The heavy drops that scattered down earlier turned into a tender spray, a barely-there caress that leaves your hair soft and your skin glowing.

The narrow streets of the village lay in silence, the only sounds are the fall of your footsteps, echoing from the ducked houses alongside the asphalt and the faint chatter of people walking the other direction. 

Joel and you walk quietly, side by side. His side felt as empty as yours, not having your weight leaned against him felt wrong after a few hours of shared time and space. Your hands brush each other, a tender and ghostly barely-there caress.

A street lamp sheds light, a blurry hue of yellow and orange, making the dancing particles of mist visible. You turn your head, glance at him, the big Texan man with the dark hair and warm eyes and you see tiny watery pearls being caught in his beard. And curls. And lashes.

“You’re pretty,” the cider in your veins says and it sounds an awful lot like your own voice.

Joel’s lips purse into a smirk. “Oh, am I now?" A brow crooks, mimicking the curve of his nose. “You’re pretty, too, lass.”

Heat crawls up your back and into your cheeks, you mutter a “thanks” and before you can walk out of the soft beam of light, Joel's hand reaches for yours. His big palm against your smaller one holds you back from taking another step and suddenly you’re at his side again, his arm around your shoulders. He pulls you a little closer, closer than before in the pub and you look up at him with big eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, the smirk now softer, a smile, just as warm and tender as his hand cradling your cheek. “You got time, tomorrow night?”

You nod your head and enjoy the way his fingers move along your skin.

Joel’s eyes wander over the details of your face and settle on the shiny pearls of mist hanging on the tips of your lashes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Dark mahogany eyes, you think as your gazes lock. You lean closer, being pulled towards him without him pulling you. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and you hope that it sounds like the cider in your veins speaking.

Joel chuckles quietly, a comforting rumble in the quiet Irish night. “You sure can, lass.”

His hand shifts, his thumb making himself home just before your ear, the other four fingers disappearing behind it, tilting your head slightly, carefully.

You pull yourself up with your hands on his coat and close the small distance. His mustache tickles your lips before you kiss him and it makes you smile. Your noses touch, your lips gently press against each other and the tip of your tongue tastes him timidly. Malty-sweet and warm. Like Guinness and Joel.

He breathes you in, the scent of rain and of your skin and his hand tugs you even closer. Another kiss, soft and warm, like the light of the street lamp surrounding you. A dog barks somewhere in the distance and Joel rests his forehead against yours.

“Can we do that again, tomorrow?” you murmur and his beard tickles you again.

He nods his head, the tip of his nose nudging yours, his thumb trailing along the shell of your ear. “Course we can.”

‘Course we can,’ echoes in your mind, a little later when you're lying in your bed. The warmth of Joel, the weight of his kiss, it’s still there, on your skin. In your mind. With a soft sigh and a smile you fall asleep.

‘Can we do that again?’ echoes in Joel’s head and he smiles. He still feels the softness of your cheek under his palm and the way your lashes fluttered when you kissed. “What are the chances,” he whispers into the darkness of his bedroom, a stripe of orange light at the ceiling. Maybe it’s the luck of the Irish, two foreigners meeting far away from home, neither lonely nor alone.

comment or reblog to meet Joel in a pub. Or at least have a good time.

find my general masterlist here

the song being the inspiration: Red is the Rose - The High Kings

divider: @saradika-graphics

[springgirlshowers]

How about the reader and Joost are childhood friends that get split up, but reunite because Joost wants them to be apart of his eurovison team. They realize they miss eachother a lot and confess and happily ever after (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

It’s So Sweet

Paring: Joost x GN!Reader (no pronouns used!)

CW: none!

A/N: ahhhhhh this one is so cuuuuuute! i love the childhood friends to lovers trope so much! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it <333

masterlist!

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Joost and you were never seen apart as kids. Always walking in the school hallways together, sitting and partnering up in the classes you had together. Constantly hanging out after school and on the weekends. You two were basically connected at the hip.

Until your family gave you the news you would be moving to Sweden. Something to do with a better job opportunity. You begged for them not to, to move somewhere where you currently were at least. Though you knew your pleas wouldn’t do much.

Before you left, Joost and you exchanged emails. To keep in touch while you two would be apart.

You did for awhile. But as you both got older, your emails to each other took longer. It would be weeks, months, before you replied to each other.

Until they just stopped completely. You two had gotten too caught up into your adulthood. You hadn’t returned to your hometown since you moved away.

Joost fell into a successful career as a musician. You getting yours as a dancer.

It’s been years since you and him talked.

Your heart nearly stopped once you saw the notification when you were on the bus after a rehearsal.

joostklein has requested to follow you.

His profile picture was a picture of him as a toddler. The one you’ve seen so many times before, hanging on the wall in his living room when you went over to hangout after school.

You looked through his account, he almost looked the exact same as he did when he was a preteen. Only his body was scattered in tattoos, he had grown a mustache, much taller, and his hair was dyed into a nearly white color and cut into a mullet.

His most recent posts were a reel revealing how he’d be representing the Netherlands in the next Eurovision competition, and another video revealing the date his song for the event would be released.

Minutes after you accepted the request and followed him back, he messaged you.

It was a simple question, asking if you were the same one he knew as a kid. You responded, telling him you were.

The texts following after that were a little bit awkward. Soon the tension between you both was gone, you told each about what you’ve been doing for the past years, how they’d gone, what you’ve been doing now.

After exchanging phone numbers, the texts turned into calls, then video chats.

You listened to his songs, almost going through every single one of his albums in one night.

You were surprised by a lot of the lyrics, by how the innocent boy with a side swept haircut you once knew, was now singing about having sex with women to a mario kart remixed beat and saying “suck my dick bitch” multiple times in another song.

You honestly found them catchy, however you realized they were better to listen to with earbuds in or alone, rather than in any public place.

However, the lyrics in other songs were more heart breaking. God, soul shattering even.

“Maybe it was wrong. But I miss us, I miss home.”

“My dad who was laying there, seen but no authority. We'll see by the days, we don't say goodbye. My mom who was laying there, I often think about that day.”

“Hey, I have a disease, it's a very specific one. I always panic and they have no therapies.”

“But still it hurts. Am running from myself. Cry the entire day for "help"

Joost would show you his tattoos, the ones he already had and the ones he wanted to get in the future, drawings he made, but he refused to show you the idea concepts for his Eurovision costume.

He told you he wanted it to be a surprise.

The day before he revealed his outfit to the rest of the world. He called you during a work break, telling you he had to show you something.

You opened the video call to see him standing there in a big bright blue suit with extremely pointy shoulders.

You felt bad when you let out a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle it.

“You like it?” He asked, posing goofily.

“Yeah. It’s very…silly. Very big.” His grin only grew larger at your words.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was aiming for.” He smiled and sat down.

“So, your other friends, one of them is gonna dress up as a bird? And the other is gonna wear a clip on ponytail?”

“Yep!” He pipped. You just laughed and shook your head. He cleared his throat, his face on the screen looking nervous all of the sudden.

“So, you told me you still dance.”

“Yeah! I do group shows and stuff.” You nodded, placing your head on your fist.

“That’s great, very great. Um, do you still hakken?” You were a bit taken aback, confused by why he was asking about that specific dance.

“Uh yeah. But usually jokingly, like when I’m with friends.” You bit at your thumbnail. “Did you ever learn?”

“Yeah! I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” He chuckled, going silent for a minute after. “I’m wondering if you would perform with me, like on the stage. I need another back up dancer. And you’ve always been so talented at it.” His words made you blush, but you were still a bit unsure on what he was asking you.

“So, um, you want me to do the hakken dance with you? At your performance?” You felt nervous, when you did the dance you usually did it after a night of drinking to make your friends laugh.

“Only if you want to! I mean, we could meet up, I’m in Sweden now.”

“What?” You shouted, cringing at how loud it was.

“Yeah, i’ve been here to do interviews and all that stuff.” He scratched at his arms, a bit embarrassed he didn’t tell you earlier about this.

“You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He spoke, “Its free of charge for you, you’ll get paid for it. If that persuades you.” He added on, joking.

“I’ll do it for free.” Maybe your answer was a bit too quick, maybe it was impulsive. But you really wanted to see Joost again, you’d jump at any chance you could see him.

The both of you agreed to meet up a few days later at a park not far from where you lived.

The park was quite empty, most likely due to the fact the sun was already going down, an orange gradient filling the sky.

You nervously walked up to him, he was sitting on a bench. He looked so familiar yet so different. It gave you a strange sense of nostalgia.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He immediately grinned as he saw you. You sat down next to him.

The sunset cast a golden glow on his face, making his blue eyes so much more prominent, his face was so gorgeous.

“So you’ll really dance with me?”

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged, completely unbothered by his question.

“You’ll be on a giant stage in front of thousands of people. You’ll be on TV with the entirety of Europe watching.” Joost felt nervous, he didn’t want to pressure you into doing this, he really wanted you to be there with himz But he wasn’t gonna force you into something you had no interest for.

“I’ve never been one for stage fright.” You smiled, the sweetness in your expression made his worries begin to drift away.

“Perfect.” He looked down at his feet, smiling so hard his cheeks begin to hurt, “I’ll text you the schedules and everything you need to know.”

“Cool.” You looked down at your shoes as well. Enjoying the comfortable silence and soft breeze of the air.

“I really missed you.” He spoke out, added your name to the sentence, making it more impacting. You looked at him, jaw ajar in admiration.

“I missed you too.” You said softly, placing your hand over his. Soon wrapping it around his. You both sat there for a few minutes like that.

“I’ve been thinking of moving back.” You broke the silence. “To the Netherlands, that is.”

“Really?” Joost looked at you, a mixture of amazement and shock in his face.

“Yeah. A company reached out to me, giving me a job opportunity. Really good pay, positive reviews, a safe workplace.” It felt funny, you were thinking about coming back to your hometown for the same reason your family made you leave.

“That’s great! You should take it!”

“I probably will. It seems promising.” You squeezed his hand. “And it’d be nice to be close to you again.” You added on, pursing your lips to try and hold back a smile, it failed.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be nice.” He murmured,“Um, I should get going, early TV interviews tomorrow.”

You nodded, getting up before he did.

“Just text me what channel you’ll be on, i’ll make sure to watch for you.” You said, a little bit too excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I will! I’ll see you later.” He chuckled.

“I’ll be in the Netherlands in a month most likely, just so you know. See you, Joost.” You turned, only getting a few steps in before his voice stopped you, causing you look back at him.

“There’s this really great ice cream parlor that opened up there, maybe we could, uh, go there when you’re back, if you’d like?” He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be going back in a month too, just for a little bit before I have to come here again.” He fiddled with his fingers.

“Awesome then, it’s a date.”

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[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: athena settles debts (pt 4)

WC: 898

synopsis: what if Mav's daughter settled his tab that night in the hard deck

main masterlist

athena-verse masterlist

a/n: this was brought on as i rewatched top gun maverick again, because i love it. and even though i should be finishing the last update of season 1 for codename: nightingale (which is only missing the final fight btw its almost done!!!) i took a little brain rot break. also top gun's been officially added to my masterlist!

You'd heard the jukebox get pulled and then the piano, and you couldn't move. Even when Phoenix tried to convince you to join her by the piano. You watched as Hangman and Coyote stayed with a few others by the pool tables at first, but even they started wandering over eventually.

Hangman, however, moved slow. He lingered by you first, saddling up beside the table. And ehen he realized your gaze was going to stay focused on your beer's label, where your fingers were slowly peeling it off the bottle, he knocked on the table. A look far more gentle than you'd anticipate in such a public place crossed his face as your eyes met his.

" 'Thena?" he calls your callsign with a softness that you know is real, and your lips tug down at the thought of having to lie to him when he's being so open with you.

Before you can say anything else before he can ask more, Penny rings the bell again, and chants of "overboard" can be heard. Saved by the bell, literally.

"Go," you nod. "Penny beckons," you tease softly, forcing your lips to turn up.

He nods, and both Payback and Coyote go with him.

When you follow them with your gaze, you meet your dad's eyes, and when the three younger pilots take up positions, boxing him in, a small quirk of a smirk curls at your lips, because it would be him. He seems to catch your eye just in time and offers up a half smile in response. You watch as Penny gives a nod, her head jerking toward the door. Then the three hoist your dad up in their arms and carry him, before throwing him out, a small amused smile now on your lips, as you make a note to stop by the Kazansky house tomorrow, Ice would love to hear about this.

You're so focused that you miss the first few notes. It's not until a familiar voice fills the space with lyrics that you learned as a baby that there's a sickening twist in your stomach and a renewed need to leave as you push out of your seat, leaving the half empty beer behind.

You move to the bar as Bradley begins to sing and have to force yourself not to look at him. You know what you'd see, aviators perched low on his nose, still slightly crooked from when he'd caught a fastball to the face as a teenager. Curls that are almost golden in the light but had to be matted somewhat by the heat and sweat inside the bar. He had that stupid mustache just like his father's, that was just borderline within regs. You know his dog tags were visible on top of his tank top, with some stupid Hawaiian shirt hanging open. You know what you'd see, so you do your beat to avoid looking.

If you had caved, what you would've also seen is how he searched for you while he sang. A slow scan of the bar, for the girl he learned the lyrics beside, propped on an old piano as a toddler as your father's and his mother sang along, holding little you in her arms. In the mass of people surrounding the piano though, he's having a hard time finding you, why did he pick this song?

"Hey, Penny," you call her name, and her head snaps to you, from where she'd been watching your dad get tossed out.

Your lips quirk on end a bit. Years have gone by, and her relationship with your father, volatile as it can be, still has been the most steadfast of your life. She was your mom in all the ways that mattered.

"I didn't realize they called you back too," she says, talking a bit loud over the music.

"Best of the Best, Miss Penny," you muse, though there's a hollowness in your chest as you say it, she seems to catch it.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" she asks, grabbing a glass and you shake your head.

"No, I, uh… I'll settle for the old man," you tell her, head tilting as you slide your card across the bar.

"No, he'd—"

You cut her off, though, before she can argue. "No, let me. I, uh, I was heading out anyways. You know him, he'd hate to have an open tab," you admit, throwing in a joke to add some levity.

"Sweetheart-" she tries again, and you know she can read you. Despite all the years and gaps in your relationship with her. This was the woman who took you to buy pads for the first time, you knew that she knew you.

"Please, Pen, I… I can't be here, not with this. It's so much worse for him, too. Let me settle it," you admit to her rawly, and her gaze moves to where there's a live performance.

"History's a fickle thing, isn't it?" she offers instead, taking your card. "The ones we truly care about, they always seem to come back in the end, though."

"You'd know better than me, Pen," you shoot back, your tones got a bit defensive but she doesn't even flinch.

She hands you your card with a bittersweet smile, "I guess I would," she nods.

You let out a sigh, and look back at her, "Tell Amelia I'm back?" you ask, and she nods. "At the end of this, whatever it is, tell her I'll take her for ice cream?" you tag on, signing the receipt.

"I will, she'll hold you to it though (Y/n)," Penny confirms.

"I'd expect nothing less as a woman of the Navy," you muse, tucking your card away and turning from the bar.

Rooster's still singing, his voice as pretty as ever. And you can't help your self. You cave.

sue me, you think as you look over at him just once as you pause by the door.

"Well, kiss me baby! Ooh! That feel's good!" he sings, and you smile to yourself despite the ache, shaking your head as you push the doors and walk out. He had a smile on his face, and maybe, maybe you could learn to be okay.

Maybe.

(Probably not.)

You're unlocking your truck when you hear your name. "Athena!" You pause and turn, surprised to see both Phoenix and Hangman; after all, they always seem to be at ends.

"Where are you going?" Phoenix is the one to ask, her cheeks are flushed and her chests heaving a bit from how she'd all but been screaming the lyrics from beside Rooster.

"Home, gotta get some beauty rest before tomorrow," you tell them. "Make sure I'm ready to show you all up," you cover.

"Are you sure?" Phoenix asks, hesitating by the door.

"Yeah, I'll see you bright and early," you reassure her.

She seems to take your word as she nods once at you before heading back into the bar. Hangman, on the other hand, has stayed outside.

"Bravado was never your strong suit, 'Thena, it's mine," he drawls, and though the words are cocky, you understand the question hidden there.

"Go inside, Jake. I'll see you tomorrow," you say softly before getting in your truck. "I gotta keep both my feet on the ground," you add, willing him to understand, before shutting the door.

You notice he stays, watching as you pull out. It's only once you pull out on the road that he turns to go back in.

He be-lines straight to Coyote, missing the look that Rooster sends him as struts back in. The one that lingers on the door, waiting for you to walk back in as well, not that you do.

...

a/n: come talk with me about this athena idea if you want, it's been a while since i've posted anything not DC, so it was kind of fun. I have a longer non-related top gun fic in my drafts too, but that'll come after cnng probably

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend