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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 6 months ago

Note

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv show #fallout prime #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #submission

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 5 months ago

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Any fics where Stiles and Lydia are siblings? I've tried finding some but it's only vaguely mentioned and never talked about after that so I was wondering if you had or could find any fics where it focuses on that more

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

back again (for the first time) but hot_damn_louis (6/6 | 73,083 | Teen | Sterek) “There was a—” Stiles shook his head, unable to believe it himself, “— a ghost.”

It had been years since Stiles had seen a ghost with his own two eyes, and not through a fancy camera or on pictures. He saw it, the column of light, at the end of his bed. If he wasn’t frozen, scared to even move, he might have been able to stretch his leg out and kick it. He was that close to it.

aka Stiles is house sitting with his sister Lydia for the summer on a farm in the middle of a ranch in Texas. And even though he's a retired ghost hunter, the rumors of the Mad Monk ghost on the Hale ranch are too enticing to stay away from.

The Last Chills of Winter by LeeHan (1/1 | 42,525 | Explicit | Sterek) “He didn’t magically charm me,” Derek shot back in his defense.

“Oh, so he just regular charmed you?” Laura said with a smirk.

“What? No,” Derek growled.

“Was he hot?”

“No! He just—“ He just had a laugh like a sun shower. Fuck.

Better Fortunes by SmallBirds (1/1 | 39,618 | Not Rated | Sterek) When a group of sinister men attempt to kidnap Stiles Stilinski from the Brooklyn apartment he shares with his stepsister, Lydia, Stiles is forced to activate a spell that translocates him to where he'll be safest.

Derek Hale isn't sure what to do about the soaking wet young man he finds wandering down a Beacon County roadside during the middle of a thunderstorm, but he feels compelled to help him. There's something about Stiles that Derek finds fascinating, and before long the two become embroiled in each other's lives.

Despite the threat to his life and the sudden upheaval of everything he's ever known, Stiles is having a hard time feeling too upset about that.

Studying the Blade by never_love_a_wild_thing (10/10 | 16,420 | Teen | Sterek) Figure Skater Derek Hale is going to the Olympics for the last time. Age and an old injury are finally starting to get the better of him, but a number of fresh faces on Team USA, or maybe one face in particular are enough to keep him going.

Stiles Stilinski and his sister Lydia are going to the Olympics for the first time. Between nerves and drama, he's worried that they may be in over their heads, but a veteran skater reluctantly takes them under his wing.

In other words: leave it to Sterek to fall in love in the middle of the Olympic Games.

Memories by idratherwrite (1/1 | 15,739 | Teen | Sterek & Lydia/Jackson) AKA, Lifestyles of the Rich and Oblivious

Rich cousins Derek and Jackson are ready to spend a summer sailing across the Mediterranean. Rich step-siblings Stiles and Lydia are planning to have a great summer traveling Europe on their yacht. Nothing goes as planned, but it gives Lydia and Jackson (and Theo, and Meredith) the perfect excuse to play some matchmaking.

I Need A Hero by sapphireginger (1/1 | 9,501 | Explicit | Steo) Stiles Stilinski and Theo Raeken have been together for almost four years. They're mates but something happens that causes everything to implode. They're no longer together. Why?

Political Animals by FiccinDylan (1/1 | 8,109 | Teen | Sterek) It's the worst day in Stiles' life and the last thing he wants is to deal with Derek Hale's bullshit.

Derek feels pretty much the same.

Red by ZainClaw (1/1 | 4,371 | Mature | Sterek) They’re close now, only a few feet between them, and Stiles can already feel the heat coming off the werewolf’s body. He smells like the forest, a layer of the wilderness forever etched into his skin. Stiles is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, the sound of his pumping heart maddening in his ears as he moves even closer. Desperate to close the final distance between them.

“If you try anything,” the alpha warns him, “I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth.”

Stiles laughs drily, tilting his head to the side.

“Likewise.”

Man of Honor by Inell (1/1 | 3,454 | Teen | Stiles/Derek/Kira) When Stiles attends Lydia’s wedding, he doesn’t expect to meet two people who are perfect for him. He definitely doesn’t expect them to suggest an unorthodox solution to the dilemma, either.

the odds are in your favor by elisela (1/1 | 1,739 | Teen | Lydia/Parrish) “He was jogging,” she says morosely a week later, kicking her heels off at the door and sinking into the couch after depositing the bag of takeout on the table. “Shirtless. There was sweat.”

“Shoulda licked it,” Stiles says. There’s a movie on the television, something she doesn’t know or care about, and he shoots her a dirty look when she grabs the remote and changes the channel. “Christ, not this again.”

#teen wolf #sterek #lydia martin #stiles stilinski #derek hale #anon

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bitterrfruit · 24 days ago

Text

wild cherries [2]

[masterlist]

Price x f!Reader - tags: modern western AU, cowboy!Price, light sadomasochism, brat taming, spanking, humiliation, chasing, dubcon if you squint 18+ mdni - 7.1k words

Old enough now to change your name When so many love you, is it the same? It's the woman in you That makes you want to play this game

If Mr Price’s goal had been to deter you, he had sorely failed.

Not his scoldings, nor his threats, nor his blatant distaste for you and your family did anything to discourage your habits. More than anything, he emboldened you. There was something in his voice, you thought, some reflection in his censorious eyes that told you there was more to find. That you needed only summon the bravery to dig deeper.

You were sent home with the uneaten jam, and when you dumped it on the kitchen counter, Evelyn had scoffed, appalled; “What an asshole.”

When you asked her what she thought was going to happen, she merely sucked her teeth and stormed off to inform Miles of your apparent failure.

There was more at play than they were willing to share with you, though that wasn’t uncommon. That had even been the case even while your parents were still alive. You’re just away-with-the-fairies, daddy used to tell you, and thus your siblings deemed you ill-prepared; too airheaded to assist them with the supposedly meticulous puzzle of running a family business.

It didn’t bother you, though, not too much. It did hurt when they would exchange unspoken words at your expense, shooting each other a glance when you attempted to wedge yourself into whatever scheme they were working on. But, all the same, you knew that you would hate shouldering that level of responsibility. That you’d bitterly begrudge the weight of generational expectations if they were dropped on you, as they were on them.

No, as the youngest, silliest sibling, you were given more grace. You were allowed to roam unfettered. Not purposefully, no explicit permission was given to encourage your escapades - instead, not two days after returning home, it was as though they had forgotten that you were there at all. If you kept to yourself, stayed out of trouble, they paid no mind to your capers; there was always something more important that pulled their attention away.

So, while they were busy ordering around their ranchmen and managing the many industries of your family ranch, you had already slithered through your little broken gate, before the scorching midsummer sun had made it halfway across the sky.

You meandered down the rows of his overgrown cherry trees like they belonged to you. The trees were old, likely fruiting since before you were born, and their trunks were thick and sturdy at the base. They had once been well pruned, so the lower branches were stockier, but years of neglect had allowed skinnier, floppier chutes to grow out from the tops. They were so laden with fruit that they drooped low, and you felt as if they were reaching down to offer their treats directly to you.

You picked the prettiest, glossiest, reddest ones, and made a basket out of the skirt of your cream-coloured frock; nobody was around to see your bared legs underneath, and so you collected as many as would fit. Popping them behind your teeth and meticulously nibbling the flesh from the pit, you’d spit the cleaned core into the grass as you moved onto the next. Maybe, you thought, the pits you discarded would one day grow into even more trees to succeed the old ones.

You left a trail wherever you ventured. Little wet pits and green tooth-pick stalks in piles around the place; in stables, along pathways, among the cows. Sometimes you’d leave juicy red fingerprints on door frames, on the planks of fences, on horse snouts – perfectly incriminating.

In scuffing sandals you wandered aimlessly along an old dirt road, long unused; green sprigs of grass and bunches of wildflowers almost covered it entirely. An old route that settlers may have followed state to state, spotted occasionally with two-hundred-year-old milestones, ignored just enough to have been spared from crumbling to dust.

Shaded by a cottonwood, humming to yourself, you created a little tipi with your cherry stalks on the flat top of a mile marker. Balanced them carefully as you licked sweet flesh from your teeth. And when a gentle breeze blew it over, scattering your creation, you leaned over the stone to pick them from the dry gravel around its base.

One, two, three, four…

At the familiar rumble of a truck trundling over dirt, you straighten your spine, palms resting on the edge of the milestone as you look over your shoulder. A dusty Chevy square-body had already coasted to a stop behind you, pale blue paint faded and matte after at least a decade of proper use.

There he was, the enigmatic man, hanging his elbow out of the open window. John squinted at you through the glare of the afternoon sun, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes pinching, barely shaded by the cattleman he wore even inside his truck. Your throat bobbed with a swallow as you caught his eye, adrenaline flickered like a flame in your chest.

With a disapproving suck of his teeth, he grumbled at you, “What’d I tell you, last time I saw you?”

Plucking the short skirt of your cotton dress downward, to cover where it had ridden up, you spun around to face him demurely.

“D’you remember?” He insisted, tone richly disparaging.

“You don’t want trouble,” you answered meekly, through a little smile, shyly scratching the back of one hand with the fingernails of the other.

“I don’t want trouble,” he repeated, a confirming grunt, as he tapped the metal door with his palm. He flicked his head, gesturing for you to make your way around to the passenger side. “G’on. Get in.”

Your brows knotted in doubtful confusion. “What for?”

“I’m takin’ you back to your brother,” he barked, irate and impatient, “I’ve got some words for him, too.”

You absently kicked the rocky dirt with the heel of your sandal, pouting at him. “What words would those be?”

With a snort, he rocked his head to glare ahead out of his windshield, then back to you. “To keep a fuckin’ handle on you.”

“Don’t think there’s anything you could tell him that he hasn’t already tried,” you mumbled, attempting to subtly flick the handful of cherry stalks you had collected to the ground.

He chuckled at that, breathy and hoarse, a hint of frustration in his throat. “I believe that,” he scoffed. “C’mon. In. Don’t make me ask again.”

You chewed on your lip, squinting in challenge as you stood up straight. “Or what?”

Glowering at you, nostrils flared in frustration, he seemed to swallow what must have been an inappropriate retort. Instead, his arm retracted through his window, and following the thud of the handle he swung open the door with his forearm.

With a hop he landed in the dirt, dust rising from under his well-worn leather boots. Christ, how he towered over you. It may well have been the menacing shadow of his sizzling anger that made him seem so daunting, and yet so delightfully thrilling. You felt the prickles of gooseflesh tingle down the back of your neck as you tilted your head to look up at him, sheepishly watching his steady approach, not yet daring to retreat.

“You’ll be in more trouble than I will if you lay a hand on me,” you spat, with a faint smirk in your lips.

He gazed down the bridge of his nose at you, lour combed you from your bare legs to your skittish expression - but, stare caught brazenly on your chest, his sneer sunk quickly into a pout of disapproval.

“Care to explain this?” He queried severely, wide hand reaching for you, you leaned back further against the milestone behind you as if you might evade him. With his fingers he pinched the cream cotton of your blouse, and for a moment you feared he was peering down the gap, blatantly inspecting your bare breasts underneath.

But, no, he instead curled the light fabric between his fingers to show you the bright red stain dribbled down the front.

Oops. Your gut reaction was to giggle, yet unsure whether to admit guilt or feign ignorance.

As you parted your lips to speak, his judging hand moved to your face; a hold of your chin with a thumb and hooked finger. Piercing eyes glued to your lips, his impatient focus withered into ire, shadowed under the brim of his cattleman.

Your tongue writhed behind your teeth, heart thumping in your throat, as he tilted your head up and to the side. His thumb wiped over your bottom lip, firmly and precisely, from the corner to the centre. Your lips were suddenly hypersensitive, his touch charged, it sent a tingling current through the soft pink flesh and made your mouth all wet.

“You’re a little thief,” he gritted, dropping your head and peering at the red smear of juice on the pad of his thumb. “Aren’t you.”

Were you scared of him?

It was hard to distinguish your fluttering heart rate between terror and thrill – a touch of both. Because you didn’t know him. You couldn’t trust him. You had no basis to assume he wouldn’t club you with a closed fist and throw you in the back of his pickup. But you felt the prickles his touch left behind on your lip. You got stuck on his pinched blue eyes, the glare of the sun reflected off your dress and illuminated them like they glowed from within.

“No I’m not,” you muttered, readjusting your dress after he left creases in the neckline.

“And a liar?” He scoffed, as he grabbed one of your wrists – tugging up your hand to reveal the sticky burgundy juice under your fingernails, drips dried in your palm. “You’re covered in evidence, honey.”

Snatching your hand from him, you crossed your arms in petulance. “It’s not stealing if you don’t use it.”

“The fuck it isn’t,” he snapped, wiping his juicy thumb off on his denim-blue button down, leaving a stain of red among the blue. He hooked his hands onto his hips. “Now get in the goddamn truck.”

“I can walk home,” you grumbled, “you’re not the boss of me.”

Huffing in anger, he leaned forward, looming over you with a domineering scowl. “While you’re on my property – yes I am.”

Glaring up at him from under your brow, you nibbled at the inside of your lip, pursing your lips. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t go with you. Kidnap me?”

He tilted his head, shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve got some rope in the truck,” he gruffly warned, “you gonna make me use it?”

Did you imagine the glint in his eye? Did you make up the lascivious quip in his tone? Whether or not it was dreamt, it plucked a coy smirk in your lips.

He was daring you, wasn’t he? Goading you to challenge him.

So with a glistening smile you reached for his cattleman hat – plucked it from his head, and swiftly placed it on your own. Too big to sit properly, you perched it on the back of your head so that you could still see out from under the brim.

“Hey!” He barked, lunging to snatch it back from you – but you bolted, kicking off your sandals, ducking under his arm and sprinting across the dirt road. Through the field of grass and dry wildflowers, you bounded like a deer. “Fuck’s sake.”

Holding his hat in place, you peeked over your shoulder in your escape, and he was swiftly in pursuit.

“God dammit, girl, you get back here!” He roared – already closing the distance. You hadn’t expected a man as bulky as him to sprint as fast as he was, but he charged after you like a grizzly.

You only giggled, leaping over fallen logs and stray planks of wood, weaving between the trees that littered the outskirts of his prairies.

“If you get so much as a dent in that hat I’ll fuckin’–”

“You’ll what?” You squealed through a grin, holding the skirt of your short dress in a fist against your hips, to allow your legs to sprint in full stride.

You heard him grunt, close to a growl, as he encroached on you. “You’ll be in big fuckin’ trouble!”

Breathless, panting, you failed to think of any witty response as you dashed towards one of the many stables on his expansive property – this one devoid of horses or livestock, simply a storage building for stacks of haybales and racks of tools. You’d perused it before. He might have found more discarded cherry pits in there.

He was behind you already, as you barrelled through the ajar stable door, tumbling into the centre of the dishevelled space. Illuminated only by the cracks of glowing sunlight that broke through gaps in the plywood boards, you stood among scattered hay and dust. You turned and faced the entrance, watching in anticipation as he steamed in after you.

Face burning red in fury and exasperation, he jabbed two angry fingers in your direction. “Give me the hat,” he ordered, throaty and severely – not an ounce of humour left.

But stubborn as you were, overly enjoying the needless chase, you were not going to capitulate that easily. You stood poised to dash, and with hunched shoulders, he prepared to hound after you.

“I like it,” you puffed, exhilarated, purposefully impudent. You pinched the brim, pulling it down with a disingenuous hat-tip. “It probably looks better on me.”

“Even if it does,” he chided through teeth, out of breath, “it’s not yours.”

You snickered girlishly, pursing your lips. “Maybe it should be.”

“Give it to me.” He thundered, hand outstretched, your heart flipped within your ribs at the sudden eruption of stern rage.

So you spun on the ball of your bare foot, before flitting hastily towards the rickety ladder that led up to the hayloft. Clambering up it like a spider, the old wood and rusted nails squealed in dispute of being used for likely the first time in decades.

But he was blindingly rapid in his chase, and before you made it even halfway up the ladder, his heaving forearm scooped around your waist and hooked you by the stomach.

“C’mere,” he growled, through a clenched jaw, as he peeled you from the ladder; hoisting you like a small animal, he held your back to his chest with a constricting arm and your feet dangled high off the ground.

You writhed and kicked, bucking like a goat, still holding his hat tightly to your head to prevent him from snatching it back from you. “Let go of me!” You squeaked, still giggling.

“No,” he snarled, “I’m taking my fuckin’ hat back, and then I’m taking you back to your big brother so he can knock some goddamn sense into you.”

You whinged, clutching his thick forearm in an effort to loosen his grip. You dug your nails into his tanned and hairy skin, corded with veins bulging from the exertion of keeping you contained. His body burned like a furnace, pectorals stiffening underneath you as he flexed them while he began hauling you towards the exit.

“It’s just a hat,” you whined, “you’ve probably got plenty of them.”

Your obstinance was aimless – no particular interest in the hat, and no true understanding of why you fought so desperately to keep it. Maybe you just wanted to see how far you could push him. Wanted to see what would happen once you went over the edge.

“It was my father’s,” he griped, anger approaching a boiling point as you continued to squirm around in his grip.

You groaned in dispute, still holding the leather cattleman tightly to your head. “Well he won’t be needing it, will he?”

That was a step over the line.

You knew it immediately, quick to bite down hard on your tongue after the words spat from your lips like poison.

His retaliation was sudden and severe; dragging you closer to the exit, he tossed you unceremoniously, almost tumbling down with you into the pile of block-shaped haybales that sat by the stable door. You landed face-down against a bale, winded, a squeak jumping from your chest with the impact; and his hat toppled from your head, rolling out of reach.

He dropped to his knees behind you, leaned his forearm heavy against your lower back, and you were flustered and confused by his haste – skirt hitched up by the fall, he suddenly swung his free hand down with an open palm, smacking against the bare skin of your ass with a thunderous whack.

“Ah!” You squealed, a shriek, followed quickly by a breathless whine that slipped from your lungs outside of your control. The explosive clap rang in your ears, echoing within the bowels of the stables, loud and shrill. And the sting was sharp, hot and prickling like a brand, no doubt the raised outline of his hand was quick to form in your shivering skin.

A silence followed, pregnant and heavy, and you dared not move nor breathe too loudly – you inhaled and exhaled with trembling breaths, lips parted and wet, eyes wide as you stared into the packed hay.

He was dead quiet, too. Panting throatily, he kept you in place - grip of you not easing, though he stayed utterly still. You waited for him to apologise, to express some remorse for his blatant degradation, to beg for you not to tell your family what he did. But he was silent. Almost proud.

You tilted your head slowly, peering at him doe-eyed over your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, close to a whisper, dripping with pleading humiliation.

“For what?” He growled; voracity burned hot and bright in his otherwise shadowed glower, and you felt yourself shrivel, intimidated into diffident obedience.

With a whine you turned your head back, facing ahead into the shack wall, you spoke quietly and nervously. “For taking your hat.”

Followed another swing of his arm, wide hand colliding with your rear in another deafening crack, forcing a laboured squeak from your chest. But there was something more than pain in your throat, wasn’t there? A whisper of thrill, a yelp of delight in your subsequent gasp.

And he must have heard it, taken it as encouragement. You felt the hand that pinned you down curl into a fist, balling the fabric of your dress tightly in his palm and lifting up the hem even further. You felt the cool air of the stable bite at your stinging skin, your rear entirely exposed to him.

“Yeah?” He rumbled, gritting teeth, huffing like a beast. “What else?”

You stared face down into the bale of prickling hay, sipping the turgid air like warm milk and scouring your mind for your next apology. There was a long list of transgressions he could demand an apology for. Would he punish you for every single one? Did you want him to?

His spread hand hovered over the skin of your ass, a threat – it ghosted over the fine fuzz and triggered ripples of gooseflesh to radiate out from the faint touch.

“I’m sorry for–” you uttered, barely a croak, “for making you chase me.”

The second you spoke it, your entire body tensed itself on instinct – girding itself for the discipline that would inevitably follow. Swift and purposeful, he raised his arm, reeling it back like the string of a bow. And he released it just as suddenly, hurling his palm downward rapidly enough to emit a whistle through the air; it collided with your ass in a sharp smack, over the same burning handprint he had already left there.

The force of it thrusted you forward, knocked a helpless squeal from your throat. You whimpered at the grit and dust grinding under your knees as it rocked you, your hands that had flat on the haybale turned to fists as you desperately squeezed handfuls of straw.

“Mhm,” he grumbled, grave and deep. “And?”

You swallowed air through your open mouth, your heart thundered in your ears – out of breath, but too wary to inhale deeply enough to sate it.

“For…” you hesitated, “for talking bad on your father.”

Keeping your hips still with his restraining forearm, he raised his free arm once again; you held your breath, squeezed shut your eyes in preparation for the blow. Swing. Smack.

Each collision of his vicious hand over the same spot burned worse than the last, as though his palm was adorned with barbs that pierced your fevered skin on impact. Yet a quiet moan slithered from your chest, slipped from your tongue, oozed like honey.

He drew in a grumbling breath, strained as he sucked it deep. Could he hear the pining titillation in your throat, dripping from each yelp? Might he hit you harder for it?

You winced, shivered, as his wide hand rested against the matching print that only grew more raised and more red by the second, the touch by turn warming and punishing. “Keep goin’.”

“I’m–”

Bitten off by a gasp as his fingers pushed in only slightly, they burrowed into the pillowy flesh of your ass as though the squeeze was unintentional – the pressure on your near-broken skin inflicted a sparkling ache that made you whimper.

“I’m sorry for stealing cherries,” you force out, in a wet mewl.

He bore his dissatisfaction with a cocksure suck of his teeth. “Whose cherries?”

“Yours,” you squeaked.

“Mh,” he nodded, grinded out through a tight jaw. “Mine.”

Followed quickly your castigation; the swish of his hand hurtling through the air, the ear-splitting crack of his open palm striking beaten flesh, the whine of twisted thrill that squealed out from your lips.

“My cherries–” he spat, unrelenting; again he lifted his palm, letting it hover in the air for a brief moment before he brought it down with a force.

Smack.

“–My orchard–”

Smack.

“–My hat–”

Smack.

“–My horses–”

Smack.

“–My stable–”

Smack.

“–My land.”

Smack.

The final blow threw a saccharine cry from your heaving lungs, dosed with a shameful squeak of desperation, wet and eager; eyes watering, your head collapsed into the haybale, prickly against your bright red cheek.

The skin of your rear stung numb, throbbing like a heartbeat, your knees shook with the adrenaline that riddled you from head to toe and turned your muscles to jelly.

You adjusted your knees to balance yourself after he had knocked you off kilter, and you felt the slick that had seeped from you. With a grimace of ignited humiliation, you realised your cunt was drenched in slippery syrup, the cool air biting cold at the saturated patch of your floral pointelle panties.

You could only suck your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down in abashment and guilt, self-flagellation for the burning heat that had pooled between your legs; almost as blindingly consuming as the white-hot sting of his hand-shaped brand.

He leaned back from you, balanced himself with his hand on your ass. Panting like a wolf, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand as though he had overexerted himself, broken a sweat in his outburst. Seemed to pause as he looked over his handiwork – had spanked you hard enough that you wouldn’t doubt how crisp the perfect outline of his hand would have been. Perhaps it was purple, speckled with the spots of broken capillaries and blood seeping under the hot skin.

But it mustn’t have been the damage he had inflicted that he was stuck on, as you heard his heavy breathing degrade into hoarse, animalistic chuffing; a broken grunt as though he had been kicked in the stomach.

You felt his thumb, slow and probing as though influenced by an unseen force – creep towards the cleft of your ass, running along the elastic lace hem of your panties. Teased the trim like it might slip underneath, but it didn’t. No, instead, he hovered it over the gusset, barely grazing the sodden fabric.

Eyes fluttering shut, you inhaled weakly, a quiet whine as he pushed his thumb into the valley of your cunt; wetting the tip with your fluid that soaked the thin cotton, dipping into you as though the single layer of fabric wasn’t the only barrier preventing him from plunging it deeper.

He must have felt the ring of muscle at your entrance tighten and twitch, an inadvertent reflex to his intrusion – because he pressed the pad of his thumb a little deeper to feel it flutter around him, before he pulled his hand away. You quickly released a sharp and feverish breath, cunt still pulsing around the painful absence of his finger.

“Alright,” he huffed, through teeth, as he rubbed the back of his head in exasperation. “Reckon you learned your lesson?”

You squeaked as you felt his pelvis press against yours, weighing against you from behind; as he leaned over you, reaching past you to pick up the cattleman that he had knocked from your head.

“Huh?” He persisted.

“Yes,” you croaked, realising his demand, you were quick to follow it. You leaned upright, kneeling still, as you tugged down the skirt of your dress to cover yourself; grimacing as the light fabric brushed over the burning welt on your rear.

With a hand on his knee he pushed himself to stand, sniffing in vexation as he dusted off his jeans. Bowed his head to put his hat back in its rightful place, pinching the leather crown with a single hand as he gave it a shimmy to adjust it. “Yes what?”

Through a whimper, you whispered, “Yes sir.”

“’Atta girl,” he gritted, “learned you some manners.”

You feebly swept a lock of your dishevelled hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, too poignantly humiliated to think of anything pert to utter.

“Up y’get.”

It took you a moment to gather the nerve to stand, breathing carefully as you placed your hand on the edge of the haybale. Impatient, evidently, John bent down to you, slipping his broad hands under your arms in an effort to pick you up.

You yipped, wriggling away from his grasping hands as he hoisted you upright, and you landed on your feet with a wobble. “I can walk,” you bit.

“Yeah, right,” he groused, spinning you by the torso before hooking his arm around your waist; you yelped as he tossed you callously over his shoulder like a wet rag. “I ain’t letting you run off again, missy.”

“I wasn’t gonna run,” you whinged, but you mustered no resistance as he hauled you towards the stable door, kicking it open with his boot.

He snorted as he adjusted you on his shoulder, carting you out into the scorching midday sun. The hum of the cicadas blared, almost deafening, and there was no cool breeze to alleviate the burn on your rear; only the sun to bake it.

Trudging through the long grass, no doubt towards his truck, he chided; “D’you expect me to trust you?”

You bit your tongue, combed your scrambled mind for any retaliation. “I don’t want to get in trouble again,” you mumbled.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he sneered, “I think trouble is the only thing you want.”

The pressure of his thumb lingered against your entrance, a permanent impression that made your heart flutter at the memory. Perhaps he was right.

“That’s not true.”

“No?” He questioned scornfully, grasping hand digging into the side of your waist to keep you steady. “Then why’d you come back here, huh?”

You pouted, staring into the grass, watching the back of his boots rise and fall with each step. Would you tell him it was just to see him? Just to have him find and scold you? Just to toe the line? Long since crossed, wasn’t it.

“I wanted some cherries,” you lied.

“Uh-huh,” he scoffed, as the grass began to shorten, bleeding to the rubble and dust of the old road. You heard the deep click of a handle, the rattling of the truck door, the moaning of its old hinges as it swung open. “Was it worth it?”

You hesitated, gasping as he tossed you into the passenger door of his Chevy – you landed on your back across the worn leather bench seat, bouncing slightly in the fall, head narrowly missing the steering wheel.

“Yes,” you breathed, to answer his question, and he froze like you had caught him in a bear trap.

He stood imperiously between your knees as your feet dangled out of the open door, skirt having been rucked up by the landing. He glowered down at you, lips in a thin and admonishing line, but his predacious eyes betrayed his stoicism.

Glare clawed down your splayed form from your dewy lips to the swell of your breasts, to the bare skin where your thighs met your hips. Catching a glimpse of the mound of your pussy from under the hem, hidden from him by the dainty fabric of your underwear.

He breathed raggedly through flared nostrils, put a white-knuckled hand against the top of the doorframe, casting a looming shadow over your body. His gaze was pointed, fiery, burned from lidded eyes - you felt the heat of his stare, it made you sweat. Made your cunt ache unbearably for his attention.

Tongue squirming, too bashful to form a plea; you made your entreaty with a meek hand, tracing your fingertips down your stomach, catching in the pleats and folds of your linen dress. With a hook of your fingers under the hem of your skirt, you coaxed it upwards, coyly exposing yourself bit by bit. Watched cautiously as his lour raptly followed your movements, belying his stone-faced expression.

But he stopped you, or himself, with a light smack on the outside of your thigh, a scolding. And he ordered, dark and strained;

“Settle down.”

With a moan of petulant defeat, you dropped your arm to your side.

“I’m takin’ you home,” he grumbled, reaching for your skirt – did so with purposeful cruelty, letting his calloused hand graze up your thigh as he grabbed the hem and tugged it downwards to cover your panties.

He took impatient hold of your knees and swivelled them inside the cab, before shutting the passenger door with a creaking swing and a loud slam. You sat yourself upright, wincing at the painful reminder of the lashings on your rear as it pressed into the firm leather seat. He marched around the truck and hopped in behind the steering wheel, you crossed your arms churlishly as you glared out the passenger window.

You bounced around in your seat as he started the engine and accelerated off down the deteriorated dirt road, the vibrations of the rolling vehicle doing little to settle the sore throbbing between your legs.

“I’m telling my brother what you did,” you griped, rich with spite.

“You can tell ‘im whatever you want,” he scoffed, hanging his arm out his open window, wrenching the steering wheel in the tight grip of his closer hand.

“I’ll tell him you hit me.”

“Yeah?” He gibed, “Gonna tell him how worked up you got?”

Scowling, you felt your cheeks glow red as you stared out the window. “I’m not worked up,” you fibbed.

“Sure seems like it.” You could hear his smirk without having to look at him.

You fumed. “Sounds like you’re proud of yourself."

He only released a quiet huff of scornful laughter in response to that. Nothing snide left to say, now that you’d accused him of purposefully arousing you. But he was right. It was all you could think about, writhing and sizzling in your mind and in your stomach; a fire that he had lit. Now he mocked you for being ablaze.

You could only sulk, keeping your arms vitriolically crossed and refusing to utter a single word until the truck rolled up your drive, and came to a halt over the raw gravel of the turn-around.

You spotted Miles in discussion with the foreman by the front steps of your family farmhouse, head bowed as though discussing something of import. But upon seeing John’s truck approaching, he dismissed him with a wave, and adjusted the black pinch-front hat that shaded his face while walking in the truck’s direction.

John left the engine running and hopped out with a grunt. You sorely begrudged the idea of letting him best you, allowing him to feel like he had been victorious in forcibly taming you. Your cheeks, still pink, burned even hotter at the thought of him scolding you to your brother like you were wayward juvenile.

So in the brief seconds you had before he stormed around to the passenger side, you slipped your hands under your dress. Tucked your fingertips into the waistband of your panties, bucked your hips as you shimmied them down your legs and plucked them over your feet. And you nestled them behind you, out of sight as John yanked open your door, beckoning with an impatient and commanding hand for you to step out.

You groaned as you followed his wordless demand, jumping down into the gravel and glaring up at him with a vindictive curl in your lips. You spitefully stayed still, then, not taking a step in any direction of your own volition, wary that he might glance upwards and spot the coquettish little calling card you left in his truck.

“Move it,” he ordered.

You only pouted. “You’re such a dick.”

With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he tugged your shoulder in the direction of your house – then lodged his hand at the back of your neck, under your hair, an authoritative grasp so that he could drive you by it. And he did, you stumbled awkwardly over your bare feet as he nudged you along.

Miles had his hands on his hips, but crossed his arms dubiously as he came to a stop in front of you.

“Jonathan,” he greeted stiffly, blinking at you with a knit in his brow. “Y’found her.”

You gave him a look of insolent anger before you glared into the distance, flushed with fervent humiliation, disguising it as malice. You crossed your arms over your chest, hiding the cherry stains from him.

“Trespassing,” John growled tersely. “Again.”

Miles hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, squinting at him. You had expected him to put up more of a fuss, to berate the estranged neighbour for being as bold as to put his hand on you, carting you around like one of his cattle. It seemed, though, that he was more interested in maintaining a degree of decorum, keeping the peace, for a reason you could not fathom but were nonetheless grateful for.

“Fence is on your property, John. S’your problem if she fits through the gaps.”

“You need to keep a handle on her,” John snarled, thick with derision, fuse running short. He released your neck with a slight shove, then, and you vindictively rolled your shoulder away from his lingering touch.

Miles snorted. “Looks like y’got a better handle on her than I ever will.”

Had enough, you stormed away from the condescending rancher, marching with your arms crossed towards the steps.

“Y’know what happens if I catch you back on my property, don’t you, girl?” John barked after you, a growl in his throat.

Shoving past your bewildered brother as you trudged up the creaking stairs, you rolled your eyes. Concealed the coy smirk that curled in the corner of your lips, you answered with a grouse;

“Trouble.”

-----

John wiped an open hand down his face as he sped along the dirt drive, white-knuckled and stiff.

The road was clear and bright ahead of him, glowing by virtue of the blinding sun, and yet he could not focus on it. His vision blurred by the image of you standing winsomely among the wildflowers. He was distracted by the sight of the harsh sunlight unveiling you, the thin cotton of your dress failing to conceal the shadows of your soft nipples, blissfully unaware they were revealed to him so vividly.

His palm still stung red and hot, tingled under his skin like needle pricks in the aftermath of his ruthless discipline. He knew he should feel guilty. That he should be chastising himself for assaulting you, for unleashing his long-caged fury in an eruption of rapacious torment.

But he didn’t. He felt not an ounce of shame.

Instead, he felt angry. Angry at the knot that was tight and wrenching in his stomach, at the heat that flared in the back of his neck. Angry that he could still smell you in the cab of his car, your berry-scented shampoo and the animal musk of your frightened sweat, drawn out by the chase.

Angry that he fell for your bait, that he gave you the satisfaction of retaliation for your insolent behaviour.

Christ, some satisfaction he gave you.

Despite all valiant effort he could not dispel the picture of your tiny, frilly knickers. Worn under your sheer frock, so visible in the sunlight, as if to purposefully entice him upon their reveal. The delicate fabric turned so dark where it was sodden, it demanded his attention even if he attempted to ignore it. His compulsion to touch between your legs was undriven, and he could not resist it - he had to check, to know for certain, that such an abasement had filled your cunt with eager nectar, so much of it. That your body responded to its punishment as praise, to its degradation as pleasure.

Such knowledge ridded him of any guilt, even if it should have done the opposite. But it did little to temper his indignation. Now, he understands what drives you. The fuel for your delinquency.

Is it a lack of attention, sweetheart? Do you yearn for somebody to notice your misdeeds? For someone to care to penalise you?

Are you so bored, so neglected, that your cunt drives you to self-sabotage?

He should have guessed it from your persistence, from the frequency of your unwanted visits and the habitual nature of your crimes. From your coy little smiles, the way you’d flutter your pretty eyes at him whenever he scolded you.

He knew then, conclusively, that in order to deter you, he mustn’t embolden you. Mustn’t satisfy you with his anger or his reprimand, mustn’t indulge your kittenish efforts to provoke him.

But he heard still your cloying cries ringing loud in his ears, the yelps he forced from your little throat each time he struck the soft, supple flesh of your rear. Still saw the way your skin rippled with the impact, the way your fine hairs stood on end after each lashing. The pretty purple marbling that formed in his handprint, swollen and red. The way your loose hair spread over your shoulders, knotting and picking up bits of straw from where you had landed. The way your toes curled when his touching shifted from punishment to exploration, when his fingertip felt the lips of your soaking pussy through the painfully thin cotton of your panties.

Fuck.

It would be far easier said than done.

Would you get that wet, so wet, if he simply yelled at you? If he chased you once again off his property? If he berated you for helping yourself to his fruits?

He glanced over his shoulder to where you had sat cross-armed and sulking, where your bare thighs had pressed against the leather of his truck seat. Wondered if your juices might have soaked through your knickers on the drive over, worsened by the bouncing of the truck trundling over raw dirt and loose stones.

Instead, he was met with a little white handkerchief. Soft woven fabric, and as he tried to peel his eyes from the road to inspect it closer, he saw it was dotted with small and dainty flowers, pink and green.

He recognised them, in a heartbeat; pulled his truck to a screeching halt and pulled up onto the grassy shoulder, next to the poplar windbreak that lined his fence. He reached over to snatch up the little white bundle, eyes squinting in disbelief as he felt the gentle fabric between his fingers, still warm from where it had been tight against your skin.

Unfurled them in his hands, and the air escaped his lungs in a jagged breath.

“Fuck’s sake,” he growled hoarsely to himself, and he felt his scruples boil away, dissolving into steam.

Your panties. Left for him in the passenger seat like some salacious memento, a token to remind him of his depravity. Were you mocking him with them?

He unconsciously rubbed the fabric in his fingers, finding the spot that sat flush with your cunt; still wet, cold in his hands, glistening with your syrup. He let out a defeated huff as he balled up the knickers in a tight fist, now powerless to the urge; raised your favour to his face and buried his nose in the bunched up fabric.

The elasticated cotton was warm and soft on his skin, and he breathed in your scent deep and slow. It filled his chest and sinuses like smoke; your aroma was subtle, delectable, something utterly primal. The smell of sex and balsam, it made him grunt into the muffling fabric, made his thumping blood flood into his cock like the breaking of a damn.

Might you taste as good as you smell, sweetheart?

He scented you and his mouth watered like it was your cunt he was buried in, like the folds of the soft cotton brushing his skin were the petals of your pussy, and he wanted nothing more than to taste you. He grinded his palm against his length; rigid, twitching, straining in his trousers - tranced, he ripped at his button fly, shoving a hungry hand into his chequered boxers and taking his thick cock in a fist.

His grip of his shaft was tight and hasty, he ran his fist up and down the length of it, rolling his foreskin over the sensitive head; to bring himself some reprieve, he told himself, to alleviate the ravening fury that pervaded him since you arrived at his doorstep.

But the raucous thunder of an incoming truck knocked him quickly out of his delusion, and he swore at himself. Slammed the steering wheel with an exasperated palm. He resentfully tucked his throbbing cock back into his boxers, did up each of the labouring buttons of his fly, and adjusted himself in his seat as if he could ever find comfort. He stomped a frustrated boot into the accelerator and veered back onto the dirt road, faster than necessary, homeward bound once again.

He stuffed your panties into his pocket, and rubbed his jaw with a rigid hand. Gritted his teeth for the entirety of the short drive home.

Get a fucking grip.

#john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain price #john price x f!reader #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cowboy price #bitterfruit fics

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batsplat · 7 months ago

Text

February 2014 (text from Mat Oxley's The Valentino Rossi Files: Everything I've ever written about VR: From 2008 to now):

During the winter the nine-time champ spent more time than usual thrashing round his dirt track ranch, keeping himself mentally and physically sharp and getting used to a motorcycle moving around beneath him. He knows that Marc Marquez’s ability to ride on the ragged edge with a more muscular, more sideways style is changing MotoGP, so he needs to change with it. Rossi may never look as spectacular as Marquez on a dirt bike or a MotoGP bike, but both his former and current crew chiefs believe he can do better than he did last year, when Marquez made him look rather second rate.

Rossi on inviting Marquez to the ranch:

"Yeah, for sure, a lot of time. But I think that Emilio [Alzamora, Marquez's manager] is not very happy that Marc come because he said that after we make a race and maybe it's dangerous." (x)

A Sideways Glance at Misano 2014, including pre-event karting on Wednesday night where Marquez reportedly struggled:

Misano 2014 (text from Mat Oxley's Valentino Rossi: All His Races):

^ Márquez won the first ten races of 2014 and this was the first time all year he was beaten in a straight duel. He couldn't handle Rossi's pace at Misano, so he ended up losing the front and falling.

Valentino was fast throughout practice and secured his first front-row start of 2014. [Rossi was asked after qualifying about the threat posed by Marquez and Lorenzo, identifying Lorenzo as the favourite before adding, "But you never know with Marc. He's a bastard."] In the race he rode better than in years, hanging his upper body inside the motorcycle more than ever before to increase turning. He snatched the lead from Lorenzo and then fended off Márquez, who struggled to find enough grip to match Vale. At one-third distance the world champion pushed it too far and slid off, so Vale cruised home 1.6 second ahead of Lorenzo. His crew had done a great job of creating maximum grip via adjustment to chassis balance and electronics set-up. His 107th GP victory showed he was once again as fast as anyone, because when he won at Assen 2013 he didn't have to beat Márquez, Lorenzo or Pedrosa, who were all injured. "It's fantastic to come back to victory again," he beamed after his first win with [new crew chief Silvano] Galbusera. "I knew we could fight and I pushed from the start. I always work hard and never give up and trust that days like this can happen."

^ The breakthrough win at Misano. For the first time since his return to Yamaha he had gone head-to-head with Jorge Lorenzo and Marc Márquez and beaten them both. From this moment another world title was a possibility.

youtube

(x for more details)

Aragon 2014 press conference:

Rossi: Revenge at the ranch! No, first of all, we enjoy a lot, because have a lot of riders and also from superbike and a lot of bike on the track and was a good day, yeah. Marc was very fast, already fast like me at the first time, as always, and I think he did the best lap time but I won the race so is 1-1, so is... come si dice, pareggio pareggio [tied]. Marquez: Yeah, yeah, was really nice, you know, I was really [impressed] to see his circuit, his home, because in the future I would like to have, because was impressive and riding there was all the riders was really nice and... like Valentino says, we were there fighting together like in Misano race more or less, but yeah... the important thing is that we enjoy it and was really nice to ride there with him and also with the other riders.

Valentino Rossi, Marc Marquez and the Ranch

#rosquez #//#4693 #2014 ranch #one thing i do find interesting about the ranch visit is that vale's not really spoken about it again #my scientific analysis is that the presser vibes for the rest of 2014 were good but make a sharp-ish downturn Pretty Early in 2015 #idol tag #comp tag #brr brr

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chaifootsteps · 2 months ago

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With Moxxies origin, wouldn’t it have made more sense if Moxxie just lied about his home ring? This would explain why he didn’t fit in with the wrath imps in harvest moon and wasn’t used to the culture. It would also have more impact to find out he lied to Millie of all people, because it makes you wonder, “why would he do that? He trusts Millie.” And while Millie is upset and questions it, Blitzø understands. A turn around of the usual dynamic.

Moxxie: Oh no, no, I hate this place. I grew up right over there.

Blitzø: I thought wrath was your old stomping grounds Mox?

Moxxie: Shit, busted. Okay. I haven’t been honest. This may be hard to believe, but I didn’t grow up on a ranch in the wrath fields.

Blitzø: Thats actually not hard to believe. I get it. I’m a greed imp too. Not the prettiest place.

Moxxie: I didn’t know that.

(After meeting Crimson)

Millie: Mox, why did you lie to me about where you’re from, and how come I haven’t met your Pa before?

Moxxie: I just don’t like to talk about this part of my life. I’m ashamed of the things that happened here. I’ll explain everything later Millie.

(Maybe you could add Blitzø telling Millie that some people aren’t proud of their families or where they grew up. This is something Millie struggles to understand, since she’s so proud of her own.)

I feel like there are ways to make new ideas fit with your story, and if they have an obvious inconsistency at first, you can adapt that into characters voicing the same confusion and questions the audience may have. Then just provide an in-universe answer. Book no more explanatory Twitter threads needed for your show.

Don’t just throw shit at the wall and hope it sticks. Or less graphically, don’t paint a wall green then later touch up the paint with blue and call it the same colour. Paint it turquoise.

It makes sense that Moxxie would lie about his home ring since he changed his own name just to hide from it. And that twist even makes the story and conflict better. At the dinner table Millie might even bring this lie up, having Crimson use it to try and drive a wedge between them. Because what else is he lying about? Same with Blitzø going to wrath after leaving Verosika, but in the next episode say to stolas that hes never been there. Both cant be true.

This episode just missed so many marks. On paper, Crimson and Chaz are a good dynamic duo of villains, one serious and dangerous, the other the less scary comic relief. You could have kept Crimsons scene very dark and serious, then after it ends and he goes upstairs to bed, Chaz does the dumb dick jokes. You keep Crimson as a threat, and keep the silliness you wanted, just keep that part focussed on Chaz. That’s what a comic relief is.

I just feel like the show needs consideration of its audience. There are ways to resolve plot holes by adapting the story slightly, even use them to create new reveals and new conflict.

There are absolutely ways to resolve plot holes by adapting the story slightly and ways to paint a green wall turquoise and all of this other extremely good and actionable writing advice. Unfortunately, Viv's solution to writing dilemmas is a mixture of "Do whatever and let the fandom harass anyone who points it out" and "add more rape."

#Anonymous #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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absurdthirst · 9 months ago

Text

The Peña Matchmaker {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 17.1k

Warnings: Stranger sex, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, mentions of food play, oral sex (male and female receiving), riding, somnophilia, waking up to sexual activity, public sex, abusive boyfriends, one slap, threats, domestic violence, threats of sexual assault, police, protective Javi.

Comments: Meeting at Danny's wedding because of his tía, your boss, starts an exciting, causal sexual affair with Javier Peña. Leading you down a road of fun and adventure until he's called back to Colombia, leaving you alone and adrift.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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

|| MasterList || Javier Peña MasterList ||

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

Javi didn’t really want to attend his cousin’s wedding but his pa had asked him to come and the old man didn't ask much of him. Javi doesn’t really like seeing his extended family, too many questions about his job and when he’s going to settle down. His reputation has thankfully stayed in Colombia but his prior misdemeanors i.e leaving Lorraine at the altar had earned him the title of the casanova of Laredo. Since coming home in disgrace, he’s been laying low at his pa’s ranch, helping out, but today, he’s going to deal with his family. Christ, Sicarios are less scary. The wedding is thankfully quick and soon everyone is in the reception hall next door, beers opened and catering done by his tía’s restaurant is put out for anyone to enjoy. He’s sipping his beer, looking around the hall, and that’s when he sees you.

****

“Stop fussing over the food and go and have a drink.” Diana shoos you away from the long table and you sigh. You’d helped her with the food for her son’s wedding and now she wants you to go relax. You know Danny and his bride, having gone to high school with them, and you were grateful when his mother, Diana, offered you a job at her restaurant after you graduated. You’ve been with her ever since, wanting to put your culinary degree to use. You follow her order and walk over to the bar, picking up a bottle of wine and you huff as you struggle to get the screw top open.

Javi notices the pretty woman struggling with the wine and he doesn’t know her. Stepping up to you and taking the bottle from your hand, he shoots you a charming grin. “Let me.” He offers and easily twists the cap off to hand it to you. “Those bottles are hard to get into when you need them the most.” He jokes.

“Thanks.” You huff. “Although you don’t seem like the type to drink ‘white Zinfandel’.” You grin, imagining this handsome and rugged man holding a wine glass. Whiskey seems more his speed, although he has a bottle of Budweiser in his hand as he reaches around you to the bar. You introduce yourself and hope that he’s not married, you don’t see a ring on his finger.

Javi doesn't get a chance to introduce himself before his tía, Diana, is doing it for him. "Oh I was going to introduce you two." She says your name, "this is my nephew, Javier. He's just got back from Colombia and he's single." She winks and you cringe slightly. The older woman has been hinting about you meeting her nephew since his return, often reprimanding you for letting yourself get trapped in your work and not finding yourself a boyfriend.

"It's great to meet you." You say and Diana practically beams.

"Javi, she's single too." She fails at being discreet but Javi doesn't embarrass you by saying he doesn't date. Instead, he nods and Diana looks between you once more, "I'll leave you two to get to know each other."

You groan softly, taking a gulp of your wine, "that wasn't awkward at all."

“Leave it to tía to cut through the bullshit and get right to the matchmaking.” Javi jokes, taking it easy on you. You are pretty, there’s no denying that and he would love to see how you moan, but he can tell that you are the relationship type. “Don’t worry about it.” He promises when you have drained half your wine. “It’s not worth the wine hangover.”

You snort and shake your head. “I love her, but she is not subtle. I don’t blame you if you run away now.”

“You should be the one running.” Javi chuckles, aware that his reputation is mud around here.

You lower the glass from your lips and turn to look at him, "your reputation doesn't scare me off but the way Lorraine is glaring at me from across the room makes me think that she isn't over you jilting her." You raise your eyebrows to Lorraine in a silent challenge when she looks your way again.

Javi shifts from one foot to the other, "yeah well, she has her husband and 2.5 kids she always wanted. I chase after sicarios like I always wanted." He snorts and sips his beer, "reputation."

He shakes his head and you smirk, "you can't live in Laredo without knowing about the great Javier Peña. With the way your tía talks about you, you'd think you'd come right from a GQ magazine." You nudge him playfully.

"Do I live up to expectations?" He smirks, moving side to side with his arms out.

You bite your lip, trailing your gaze along the length of him, liking what you see but you don't let him know that when you reply, "meh, you aren't bad on the eyes."

Javi’s eyes crinkle when he grins. Not a polite smile, but a real grin that is accompanied by the smallest chuckle. “Not bad, huh?” He rocks his jaw and slides his hands on his jeans. “I guess I can live with that.” He shrugs and glances up and down your body, letting his gaze turn slightly darker. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

You flush a little, feeling your stomach twist at the way he's looking at you. "It's the new dress I bought for today." You murmur, glancing back across the room.

“It's not the dress." Javi replies and you manage to stop the shiver of arousal from the slight rasp in his voice. Before you can reply, the DJ starts to play the music and you turn back to look at Javi. "Have you tried the food?" You ask and he nods, "it's delicious." You smile, "thanks. I did the catering. It's my thing...I'm the chef for your tía's place."

Javi hums, impressed with that. “I can cook chorizo and eggs and not burn toast.” He offers, smirking slightly and aware that it’s almost an invitation to breakfast. While he doesn’t date, he does fuck and he’s been known to make breakfast before sending the girl off the next morning if it’s an all nighter. “Did you make the cherry empanadas too?” He asks, humming when you nod. “They were good. Damn good. I ate three of them. Sweet and tangy, just the way I like it.”

You smirk at his flirting, enjoying the banter and ease after being so stressed with work lately. "Glad to hear it." You hum and the song changes. "Oh, I love this song." You sigh and Javi holds his hand out after setting his beer down.

"Wanna dance, hermosa?" He asks and you bite your lip, nodding as you set your drink down and let him lead you to the dance floor. There are other couples and the song is sensual but not too slow, letting Javi pull you close and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck.

It’s been a long time since Javi has had a woman in his arms and it’s not been leading up to tearing each other’s clothes off, but he remembers how to dance. Swaying with you gently to the music, he watches your eyes soften as you glance over at where the bride and groom are sharing their own dance. “It’s hard to believe that Danny’s married.” He shakes his head. “He was a kid when I left Laredo.” He tells you. “Now he’s a Marine, and a husband.”

“It’s hard to believe Danny’s married.” You echo, “he was a freshman when I graduated, you know.” You say and Javi’s fingers twitch against your hips.

“I - I didn’t know.” He admits and you chuckle, leaning in close, “such a dirty old man.” You tease and he snorts, “dirty, huh? You haven’t seen it yet, hermosa.”

You smirk and push yourself a little closer to him as he sways you. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing it.” You murmur, tilting back to look into those dark brown eyes.

“Yeah?” He smirks and glances around the room at the family and friends. “Do you want to get out of here?” He asks, lifting a brow. “Or do you want to be really dirty and stay?” He can’t deny that he wants to see what is under that dress and slide inside you.

You like how forward he is. There’s no false promises or messing around with sweet words. He’s direct and that turns you on. You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “Go get a beer and meet me in the bathroom in five minutes.” You murmur as the song ends. You kiss under his ear and pull back, making your way across the dance floor and towards the bathrooms in the back of the hall, hidden by the corridor between the hall and the church.

Exhaling roughly, Javi turns and makes his way towards the bar so he can grab that beer. It would be the fastest beer he’s ever drank. “You have that look about you, mijo.” Chucho walks up and slaps Javi on the back.

Grunting, he twists the top off the beer. “Don’t know what you mean.” He offers, mentally timing how long it’s been since you’ve walked off in his head. “Just havin’ a beer.”

Chucho doesn’t believe him, just smirks and shakes his head before he murmurs, “just be safe.” He walks off towards his sister in law who grins and pats him on the shoulder when he approaches her. You look into the mirror, checking your appearance and adjusting your hair as you wait for Javi. When the door opens and he enters, you turn to face him, listening to the lock click and you wait for him to make the next move.

Watching you for a moment, Javi rushes forward and pulls you against him, fusing his lips to yours hungrily. It’s been a long time since he’s gotten laid. Nearly a week before he left Colombia and for a man who used sex to work out his frustrations, that was a long time. His tongue pushes inside your mouth as soon as your lips part, demanding control and he pushes you up against the sink.

You moan into his mouth, gripping his shirt, and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass and you whimper. His cock is hard and pressing into your hip as his fingers slide up to grip the zipper of your dress. He slides it down enough to pull it off of your arms, exposing your bra and you unbutton his plaid shirt, caressing the skin of his chest.

Javi kisses down your jaw, nipping your skin lightly as he works the clasp of your bra. He should be going into your panties, but he wants to suck on your tits and as soon as the straps of your bra are sliding down he ducks his head to wrap his lips around one of your nipples.

“Fuck.” You moan softly, tilting your head back as he sucks and bites down on your nipple. Your fingers fumble to unbuckle his belt and after you finally manage to get it open, you unbutton his pants and reach in to squeeze his cock. “Oh God.” You moan at the girth of him, hot and heavy in your hand.

He groans against your breast, enjoying the way you explore his cock and touch him. Twitching when you reach down farther to cup his balls and feel how heavy they are. Switching to the other breast, his hand slides beneath your dress and pushes your panties to the side so he can discover how wet you are. Grunting when he finds you slick from anticipation, he rubs your clit before pushing two fingers inside you.

“Fuck, Javi, baby.” You gasp when his thick fingers stretch you out and your grip on his cock tightens. Your hips rock into his touch as much as you can with him pressing you against the sink and your free hand tangles in his dark locks. “Jav. I need - want you to fuck me.” You plead, needing to feel him inside of you. It’s been too long since you’ve had sex and you want to feel him, all of him. “I- safe - I am on birth control.” You promise and whimper when his fingers curl just right inside of you.

“Fuck.” He hisses, enjoying the idea of sliding into you bare. He prefers it that way. Pulling his fingers out of your wet heat, he spins you around and pulls your dress up so he can drag your panties down your thighs. Feet kicked apart, he is pressing close within seconds. Lining up and starting to sink into you with a sharp snap of his hips.

Your mouth falls open, eyes closed as he pushes deep and stretches you out. “Holy shit.” You gasp and he reaches up to grab your jaw, “eyes on me, hermosa.” He orders and you struggle but manage to open your eyes so you can look at him.

“Javi, you feel - fuck.” You moan softly when he starts to move inside of you. Your hips are pressed against the sink, digging in, but you don’t care, too enthralled by the feel of him and the way he’s looking at you in the mirror like you’re the only woman in the world.

Aware that this is a bathroom romp, Javi can’t tear his eyes away from you. From fling to paid worker, he always enjoyed the connection with his partner while he is fucking their brains out. “Hermosa.” He groans, fingers digging into your hips as your cunt hugs him like a fucking glove. He works himself to a quick rhythm, hips slapping against your ass harshly and grunting at how good it feels to bury himself inside you again and again. “So tight.” He hisses.

You love hearing his grunts and hisses, his eyes burning into yours as he thrusts into you over and over again. “I love it. I love how you feel inside of me. Keep going. I love it.” You moan, reaching back to grip his hand, bringing it to your breast to squeeze it.

Javi groans, squeezing your tit harshly and pinching your nipple just to feel you clench down around him. He’s needed this, needed a good fuck to make all his worries fall away. You are gorgeous and take him so well. “Fuck, you are perfect.” He hisses, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pulling you back against him so he can kiss and bite along your shoulder.

“Oh God.” You tilt your head back to close your eyes but he reminds you to keep watching him in the mirror. You nod, tilting your head to meet his dark gaze once more and you whimper when he kisses along your neck, rasping in your ear, “such a good girl, hermosa.”

You are close, one hand gripping his forearm and the other snakes down to rub your clit, knowing you need more to cum around him. “Shit. I’m gonna cum baby.” You warn him breathlessly, continuing to rub the bundle of nerves.

Javi watches you rub your clit for a moment before he’s slapping your hand away and replacing your fingers with his own. Wanting to be the reason you cum. Wanting to control your pleasure. He had made sure the girls he paid for sex had a good time, he definitely wanted you to. “Cum for me, hermosa.” He growls in your ear. “Wanna feel it, soak my cock.”

His fingers feel so much better than your own and you let him work you up until you’re falling apart for him. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, clamping down on his cock and your nails dig into his forearm as he keeps you upright so he can keep fucking you through your orgasm.

“Fuck.” The sounds of him fucking you get wetter, sloppier as he keeps ramming his hips forward. Rocking up onto his toes as he tries to push deeper inside your cunt while you gush around him. “So fucking good, hermosa. Tight little cunt ‘s gonna milk me dry.” He hisses.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, Javi.” You beg, wanting to watch him fall apart inside of you. He grits his teeth, grunts escaping his lips and you clench around him, trying to egg him on until a few thrusts later, he’s pushing deep inside of you and he hisses as he paints your walls. “Yesss.” You moan, loving the way his jaw drops as he cums inside of you.

He pants, his entire body relaxing as he pumps you full of his cum. Groaning your name and turning his head to kiss your jaw and then your lips as he rides out his high. “Fuck that was good.” He groans. “I need a cigarette after that.” He chuckles, knowing he’s going to chew some Nicorette instead of having the smoke he’s craving.

You smile lazily, relishing the feel of him inside and around you until he’s pulling out and you reach to grab the paper towels to clean yourself up. “That was good. I guess we better get back out there before we are missed.” You toss the dirty paper towels into the trash and turn to face Javi once you are situated. You grab the front of his shirt to pull him close, pressing your lips to his. “I had a damn good time, Peña.” You murmur, caressing his chest.

He hums and smirks at you. “I did too.” He promises, although he doesn’t ask for your number or a date. He kisses you again and pats you on the ass as he spins you towards the door. “Go on out so we are too suspicious.” He tells you quietly.

You falter a little, thinking he’d at least ask you out for a drink but you don’t push. You know his reputation so you nod, walking away and back into the party, grabbing another glass of wine. You watch Javi walk in a couple of minutes later, walking over to his dad to lean in and whisper in his ear. His eyes meet yours across the room and he winks at you, turning to walk out of the hall. You frown, watching him go and as soon as he’s gone, you down the glass of wine you’re drinking. Javier Peña is a ladies man and you didn’t expect to change that but he got what he wanted and left. It doesn’t sit right with you but there’s nothing you can do except enjoy the rest of the wine.

****

Javi hadn’t meant to hold up at the ranch for a solid two weeks, but fence after fence made it practically impossible to break away and when he was finally done working, he was too exhausted to clean up and go into town. Now, he finally has a day where nothing is planned and he’s decided to go to his tía’s restaurant to get a meal that wasn’t burned or raw. His late mother had definitely been the cook in the family. Dressed in clean jeans and a work shirt, he looks like most of the other farmers or ranchers as he walks in the door, chewing on his gum and wondering if you are working.

Tuesday nights are always quiet. You are grateful for it after a busy weekend cooking and you are sitting at the bar, having a drink during your break when he walks in. You haven’t heard from Javier Peña since the moment he walked out of Danny’s wedding reception and it hurts a little. You wonder if he’s been ignoring you on purpose. He knows where you work and he could’ve asked Diana for your number. You wonder if he enjoyed having sex with you or if he regrets it. You turn to look over at him as he walks in and you see Sarah, the hostess greet him with a flirty “hi, how can I help you?”

“Table.” Javi keeps it simple as he looks around the restaurant and his brows shoot up when he sees you sitting at the bar. “With her.” He points to you. “Unless she’s off.”

Sarah looks over at you and she comes over with the menu, “he said he wants to sit with you.” You nod, gesturing to the table nearest to you, “sit him here.” She nods and goes back over to escort Javi to the table. You stand up to greet him, “didn’t expect to see you in here?” You say, pulling out the chair and you sit down with your drink while Sarah sets the menu down on the table for him.

Javi walks up and shoots you a small grin, a little self conscious as he scrubs his hands on his jeans. He knows you probably think he’s a dick for fucking you and dipping without another word. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Just don’t- uh, poison my food?” He jokes. “I fully expect you to spit in it.”

You smirk, “oh don’t worry, Peña, I’ll take care of you.” You tease, knowing you can’t really be mad when you knew who he was before you fucked him in the bathroom. “You want something to drink?” You ask and he nods, taking a seat.

“Beer.” He says and you ask Sarah to get him a beer.

“Take a look at the menu. Tell me what you want.” You tell him, knowing your break will be over shortly anyway.

“Take your time.” Javi insists, shaking his head. He takes the menu and hums as he gazes at it. “What would you recommend?” He asks. “Since you aren’t cooking?” He remembers you said that you cook here, but you’re obviously serving tonight. “Because I know you have things that only you do well.”

“We are always quiet on a Tuesday so I let my sous chef take over and I come out to be the manager so our manager and Diana get a day off. I take Monday and Wednesday off.” You explain, “mmm I’d suggest the ribeye with the baked potato and the rancher salad.” You suggest, knowing your sous chef can cook a mean steak.

“Then when you are done with your break, that’s what I’ll have.” He doesn’t want you to cut your break short, knowing that sometimes that’s the only time you have to decompress. You nod and he looks around. “It’s a nice place, I’ve never been here before.” He admits. “My tía didn’t have it when I left for the academy.”

“She’s worked hard to build this place up. I’ve been here since the beginning. She hired me straight out of culinary school and gave me a chance. I owe everything to her. She’s a great woman. Someone I aspire to be one day. A business owner.” You smile fondly, glancing around at the restaurant that’s changed over the years.

“Then it will happen for you.” Javi predicts. The food at the wedding had been amazing and he was impressed with your outlook. “Maybe you can buy her out when she’s ready to retire or do one of those food truck things.” He suggests. “They are getting big in D.C.”

You smile, liking the way he thinks, “maybe one day. My own place or this one but someday.” You nod, “by the way…I dont - I don’t usually do that kind of thing.” You bite your lip, voice lowered and Javi chuckles, leaning closer.

“I, uh, I do.” He admits and you already knew that.

You shake your head, smiling when you say, “I know. Pretty sure the whole town knows.”

He had figured the story about his conquests had gotten around. Laredo was a small town in a lot of ways and Lorraine’s family liked to bring it up according to his pop. “I don’t really do relationships because of my job.” He explains. “It’s hard to do, my former partner damn near got a divorce in Colombia.”

You can understand why he didn’t want attachments. Moving around, a life or death contingency within his job. He wouldn’t want to leave someone behind. “I can understand that. It’s hard for me too. I work a lot. And at night. Most men don’t want a girlfriend who works as much as I do.” You confess and Javi nods in understanding.

Your break is over and you stand regretfully to move over to write his dinner ticket. Javi finishes his beer and before you disappear back into the kitchen, he holds it up. “Can I have another, hermosa?”

You nod, handing the ticket to your sous chef before you go get Javi another beer. “So are you getting reassigned yet?” You ask, “or are you back home for good?” You are curious if he’s ready to settle at his childhood home or if he’s itching to escape suburbia again.

Javi sighs and his fingers itch for a cigarette to hold between them, fiddling with the coaster. “I don’t know.” He admits. “No one knows, but I’m on administrative leave.” Your eyes widen and he blows out another sigh and shrugs. “I got involved with the wrong people trying to catch Escobar. I’m on ice until they decide to can my ass or send me to Siberia.”

“Shit. I'm sorry. That’s - hopefully they bring you back. From what I’ve heard, you’re good at what you do so it’s their loss if you are let go.” You reach out to squeeze his shoulder until Sarah calls you over to help with the register. Javi’s food is brought over to his table and you let him take a few bites before you check in and ask how his food is.

“This is a fucking good steak.” Javi groans, spearing another piece of steak and shoving it into his mouth. Since he’s stopped smoking, his appetite has gotten a little better, or maybe it’s because he’s not drinking quite as much. “Fuck, what do you do to it?”

You smirk, loving that he is enjoying his meal. “It’s all in the seasoning and the sear.” You wink and he cuts into the steak again. “If you like the steak, you wait until you have dessert.” You flirt and walk off when a customer calls you over, swaying your hips a little more than usual as you walk away from Javi.

His eyes follow you, fixed on your ass as he chews his steak. Remembering how you sounded while he was fucking you in that bathroom. Wondering if he could talk you into a repeat performance. Maybe not at your job, that would be stupid to put you at risk. He only tears his eyes away to fork up a bite of his baked potato and take a drink of his beer as he watches you interact with your customer.

You swing back by and are happy that he’s halfway done with his food. Obviously enjoying it. “You decide on dessert?” You ask.

Javi smirks at you, leaning forward and licks his lips. “Why don’t you decide for me, hermosa?” He asks. “Something….sweet.”

You nod, biting your lip at the dark look in his eyes. Your fingers brush his as you take the menu from his hand. “I’ll get you something sweet.” You promise and make your way into the kitchen. You come back later with the chocolate soufflé that was your signature back in culinary school. “Here you go.” You set it down in front of him, eager to see what he thinks of it.

He lifts a brow and looks down at the delicious looking dessert and then back up at you. “Is there an option to eat this off you?” He asks with a wink before he picks up his spoon. “Think it might taste better.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “No. Unfortunately not, but I do have a can of whipped cream and some chocolate sauce back at my place if you’re interested?” You smirk, wondering if he will take you up on your offer or if it was a one time thing at the church.

Javi hums and rubs his chin. “What time do you get off, hermosa?” He asks, wondering if you are being serious or just joking around. “Because I’m willing to stay.”

You step a little closer, “I gotta cash out but the kitchen closes in ten and I can leave Sarah and the others to lock up. Think you can wait ten minutes for me?” You ask him, wondering if he will or if he will go home.

He chuckles and nods. “I think it’ll take me ten minutes to eat this.” He jokes, already digging into the soufflé and groaning at the taste.

You nod, “take your time. I’ll go start cashing out.” You rub his shoulder as you walk away and make your way over to the register. Usually you’d stay until everyone is finished with their work but the temptation of Javi has you rushing out of the door for once. You finish cashing out and walk back over to Javi as he sets his fork down. He pays for his meal and you add it to the tally before you grab your things. “You ready to go?” You ask, unsure if he’s changed his mind.

“Do you want me to follow you?” He asks, pulling his keys from his pocket as he guides you towards the door. Even if you change your mind, he’s going to walk you to your car. “I know it’s Laredo, but it could still be dangerous.” He explains when he strides past his truck with you towards the far end of the parking lot where the workers park.

You like that he wants to guide you to your car and when you stand by it, you move closer to him, tilting your head to kiss his jaw. “You wanna come home with me?” You ask, reaching up to play with the button on his shirt.

“More than anything.” He groans, looking down at your lips. “I can’t promise you anything beyond tonight.” He cautions. “But I guarantee you won’t regret me in your bed. Stretching you out and tasting your cunt before I fuck you this time.”

You whimper at his words, knowing he’s capable of making you feel incredible. You nod, “I don’t want dinner and a movie, Javi. I want you to fuck me hard and make me cum.” You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans. “Follow me.” You order and unlock your car, “I am about ten minutes away.”

He waits until you are in your car before he hustles back to his truck and quickly jumps in. Eager to follow you out of the parking lot and to your house, he throws the gears into drive and pulls out behind you when you leave the gravel parking lot.

When you pull up outside of your home, you move fast to unlock your front door and flick on the lights and Javi isn’t too far behind you, his hands finding your waist just as you set your purse down. You spin in his arms, surging forward to press your lips to his as he kicks the door shut behind him.

Javi groans into your mouth, pulls you close as he crowds you. Licking eagerly before pulling away. “Where’s your bedroom, hermosa?” He demands, pulling your shirt out of your pants, and sliding his hands up your back to start undoing your bra. “I really want to see it.”

You love how eager he is, walking backwards towards your bedroom. You work on unbuttoning his shirt, letting him push you into your bedroom when you fumble behind you to open the door. “Here it is.” You announce as you push his shirt off of his shoulders.

“Good.” He huffs as he tosses the shift down on the floor, and starts to pull yours off. “Don’t think I could last much longer.” He admits. “Thought about putting you up on your bar.”

“I would’ve loved that.” You tell him with utmost honesty. “I wouldn’t have complained.” You confess breathlessly as he works on pulling your bra down your arms after your shirt joins his on the floor. “Wanted to touch you earlier but I want you to fuck me on my bed.”

“In a bed is better.” He can admit that, even as much as he enjoyed that bathroom. “Especially if it has you naked in it.” He palms your tits and groans, looking down as he does. “You like these being sucked on, hermosa?”

You moan, nodding as he squeezes your tits. “Yesss.” You hiss when he pinches your nipples and you reach down to unbutton his pants. “Need you inside of me again. Thought about it every damn day since the wedding.” You confess, reaching in to squeeze his cock. “Thought about sucking your cock too.”

“Shit. Yeah?” He hisses and twitches in your hand. “I wouldn’t mind you doing that.” He admits. “But later. Right now I want to see how you taste.” Javi flashes you a smirk. “See if you are better than that dessert.”

“That dessert is my signature so I doubt it, Peña.” You smirk and release his cock when he unbuttons your pants and pushes them down. You kick off your shoes and move your pants aside as he guides you back to lay down on the bed in your underwear. “Don’t forget the socks.” You tease, wiggling your toes once you’re laying down and Javi’s fingers slide along your calf until he’s pulling your sock off.

Javi chuckles and lifts a foot and playfully bites your ankle as he shuffles onto the bed. “You look pretty on that bed.” He hums, his fingers running up and down your thigh and around your knee.

You know he’s flattering you but you accept it, hoping he thinks you are pretty especially when he’s had his choice of so many women. “You’re not too bad yourself, Peña.” You coo, looking up at him as he hooks his fingers in your panties after tossing your other sock over his shoulder. You lift your hips so he can pull your underwear down and once that’s tossed too, you spread your legs for him.

“Shit.” He hisses, admiring the neat, trimmed hair over your cunt. “That’s a pretty sight.” He slaps your thigh and starts to lean in, kissing and nipping down your legs as he settles between your thighs with his jeans still on. It will be the only way he doesn’t cum before he wants to.

You shift onto your elbows so you can watch him as he shuffles closer. He presses kisses to your thighs, his dark eyes focused on you and you inhale sharply when his hot breath fans over your wet cunt. “Please.” You breathe out and your mouth falls open in a silent cry when his tongue finally slides through your folds.

Javi groans, enjoying the heady, tangy taste of your cunt and his fingers hold tight to your hips as he flicks his tongue over your clit. He wants to make you cry out in pleasure, soak his face and cum for him. He groans again and keeps his dark eyes on you as he traces a path down to your entrance to circle it with his tongue and pushes inside.

God, his tongue is way too skilled to be real. Those eyes focused on you make you shiver and you shift onto one elbow, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair. “Fuck baby.” You sigh when his nose presses against your clit while his tongue pushes deep.

He hums and smirks as he curls his tongue up into you. He knows you are enjoying yourself and the way you start to tug on his hair and grind yourself into his face. He squeezes your hip to encourage it.

You whimper, loving how he is letting you use his face to get off. He’s enthusiastic and you wonder if he’s like this with every woman he’s with. Even the ones he’s paid for. “Shit, Jav. So good. So damn good.” You pant, pulling on his hair again until you are collapsing back on the bed.

You nod, reaching down to drag him on top of you so you can kiss him. His tongue immediately slides into your mouth and you push on his chest, wanting him to move onto his back. He follows your unspoken order and shifts to lay down. You kiss him again, along his jaw and down his neck. Licking into his clavicle until you reach his nipples and you flick your tongue over each one, kissing down his stomach until you are settled between his legs. You reach into his jeans to pull his cock out, wrapping your fingers around him and you take a moment to admire his girth. “Fuck baby.” You murmur, meeting his gaze as you lean forward to wrap your lips around the tip.

“Shit.” He hisses, watching with lust filled eyes as your mouth stretches around his cock. Loving how eager you are. “Fuck, hermosa, that’s it. You like this don’t you? Like sucking my cock and seeing how hard I am for you?” He asks, grinning when you hum around him and take him deeper into your mouth.

You really do love it. Knowing that he’s in your bed out of all the women in Laredo has you wanting to show off so you take him deeper, choking slightly as you stretch your jaw until your nose brushes the coarse hair at the base of his cock.

“F-fuck.” He grunts, reaching down and cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty like this. Sucking my cock. Gonna fuck you, but one day I’ll come down your throat.” He knows that he will come back here if you let him. He would be here as often as he can.

You moan around him, letting him know you’d love that as he pulls you off of his cock, making you whine in protest. “Baby.” You huff but he’s grabbing your shoulders, “want you to ride me.” He grunts and you don’t argue with him, straddling him as he works on kicking off his shoes and his jeans. You reach back to help him before you lift up to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto him.

Javi groans your name as you take him. His hands on your hip, he watches in awe of how good you look while you are stretching your cunt out on his cock. He has always loved a woman on top and he surges up to press his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, adjusting to his thick length inside of you for a moment before you brace your hands on your headboard to start moving. Your tits swaying as you grind back onto him, your moans absorbed into his mouth.

Javi grunts, groaning as you start to ride him, the slow roll of your hips starting to speed up until you are bouncing on his dick like you are trying to win a rodeo. “Fuck, hermosa.” He hisses and thrusts up into you.

You shift back, letting go of the headboard so you can ride him fast and hard, slamming down onto his cock as you seek your orgasm. He groans your name and you squeeze your tits, throwing your head back as you moan his name. "So good baby. So fucking good." You pant, getting closer to your orgasm.

Javi chases your hand away from your breast, replacing it with his own and moaning as you clench down around him. “Fuck.” He pants, squeezing your tit and then leaning forward to bite your nipple. Your gasp thrills him and he suckles to soothe the pain.

You whimper at the way he switches over to your other breast, sucking and biting and you can’t take it anymore. “Oh oh oh!” You moan, your eyes closing as you cum, thighs clenching against his sides as you grip him inside of your cunt, soaking him with your juices. “Yesss.” You hiss, riding out your high.

Javi watches you, groaning at how you soak him and squeeze him inside your throbbing little cunt. Gritting his teeth, he rocks his hips up to chase his own orgasm. “Fuck, fuck you’re so tight.”

His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks up into you, seeking his own orgasm, and you kiss along his jaw. “Cum for me baby. Fill me up.” You beg, “wanna feel it.” You bite down on his jaw, clenching around his cock to egg him on.

It doesn’t take too much longer, half a dozen thrust before he is panting out your name. Thrusting deep and burying his cock in your tight walls as he paints them with hot spurts of his cum.

You whimper, loving how it feels, and you let him rock into you until he stops. You tilt your head so you can kiss him, loving how he feels and sounds, and you know you want to do this again. “So good baby.” You murmur, caressing his cheek.

“Really good.” Javi grunts as he kisses you back two, three times before he starts to pull out of you gently. Rolling onto his back, he opens his arm to let you curl against him if you want to. “Good way to relax after work, right?”

You nod, “the best way.” You curl into his side, caressing his chest as you both are silent, just relaxing and enjoying the aftermath. “I want to keep doing this. I know you don’t - I don’t expect flowers or dinners but I want you in my bed.” You lay out your expectations, knowing he can’t give you more than this.

“I don’t mind dinner.” Javi frowns slightly. “I just- I don’t know what I’m doing.” He admits. “I can’t promise you anything more than a good time and respect.” He looks at you and knows that he would like to spend more time with you. “And I’ll let you know if I want to move on. I have respect for you. I won’t sleep with anyone else while I’m in your bed.”

You appreciate his honesty, knowing that most men would have fed you some lines to keep their place in your bed. You shift to sit up on your elbow, looking down at him, “then let's just enjoy what we have without expectations. Dinners, drinks…whatever we wanna do and when it becomes boring or we don’t want to do it, we tell the other. Deal?” You ask, knowing you want to be on the same page to protect your heart.

“That sounds good to me, hermosa.” Javi reaches up and cups your cheek, leaning forward to kiss you softly. “Although I don’t see myself getting bored with you.” He admits with a smirk. “You might get tired of me. You don’t work tomorrow, right?”

You shake your head, “day off. Sous chef takes over. You wanna do something?” You ask, shifting to curl around him again now that you know he’s not gonna run out of the door.

“I’ve got to do a little work in the morning with my pop, but it shouldn't be more than a couple of hours.” He hums. “Could be back before you wake up. What do you want to do?”

“You wanna go to the movies? Jurassic Park sounds good.” You reach up to play with his hair.

“Sure, baby.” Javi says and you nod, “I’ll check the paper for the times in the morning.” You tell him and kiss his chest. “Maybe if you get back before I wake up, you can wake me up properly?” You tease softly, getting sleepy after he has made you cum.

He snorts and smirks as you start to soften against him. “If you’re lucky.” He teases back and strokes your bare back softly. “Go to sleep, hermosa.” He breathes out. “I’ll leave early, but I’ll be back.”

****

You smile when Javi carries the popcorn and soda into the movie theater for you. He paid for the tickets and you feel like this is a proper date. Still giddy from waking up to his tongue between your folds, you find a seat in the back row and grab a handful of popcorn when you are settled.

Javi smirks as you shove the popcorn in your mouth as he takes a sip of the soda. It’s been a long time since he’s had soda, but he enjoys the bubbles. “So what is this movie about again?” He whispers as the lights go down and the previews start. “I don’t remember.”

“Dinosaurs.” You whisper, leaning in to take a sip of the soda. The previews seem to take forever and you enjoy the way Javi leans into you. It’s the middle of the day so there’s only a few other people in the theater. Your hand finds his thigh and you squeeze it, settling back to watch the movie.

Javi leans back and throws his arm around you as the open scenes start. Relaxed and enjoying himself, he jumps slightly when the creature pulls the worker into the enclosure. “Shit.” He hisses. “Rather chase drug dealers.”

You chuckle, “afraid of the dinos, baby?” You tease and he scoffs but his lack of reply makes you chuckle. You finish the popcorn and soda and enjoy the movie but his hand on your shoulder is rubbing your skin and you can smell his cologne. “Javi.” You whisper, kissing his jaw.

“Hmmm?” He’s engrossed in the movie but he looks over at you in confusion. “You need to go to the bathroom?” He asks quietly, sure that you want him to grab more popcorn or drink while you are doing that.

“No.” You murmur, sliding your hand up higher until you are squeezing his cock through his jeans. You want him, even with the less than romantic movie playing. He makes you feel like a teenager and you want him in any way you can have him. “Need you.” You murmur, kissing his neck.

“Here?” Javi glances around the theater and has to admit that there aren’t many people here. “Less private than the bathroom.” He chuckles as his other hand slides up your sundress. “You want to sit on my cock while you watch the dinosaurs?” He asks.

His words send a bolt to your cunt, knowing you could get caught and his fingers slide higher along your thigh. "Yes. Yes baby." You whimper, working on unbuttoning his pants and you pull his hard cock out. Smirking when you realize how much you affect him, and you shift to sit in his lap. He pulls your panties aside and you sink down onto him, biting your lip to smother your moan. You lean back against his chest, enjoying the feel of him inside of you for a moment.

Javi groans quietly, trying to keep from bringing attention to you. “Fuck.” He reaches around you and presses his fingers to your clit and starts to rub it while you clench around his length. The movie plays, keeping him distracted enough that he doesn’t try to rock his hips up. Just letting you sit on him and pulse around him while you grind down subtly.

You grind as much as you can without drawing attention to yourselves. His hands on your thighs and you place your hands over them, working yourself on his cock. He groans into your ear, soft and just the right noise to make you clench around him.

He huffs happily as you work yourself closer to orgasm. “Such a dirty girl.” He groans. “Never gonna be able to watch a movie without thinking about you on my cock.” He promises.

You bring his hand back to your clit, biting your lip to smother your moan as he twitches inside of you and your walls flutter around him. “Fuckkk.” You exhale breathlessly as you clamp down on his cock.

It’s hard to let you ride out an orgasm without moaning and rocking up into you faster but he doesn’t want to give you away. “That’s it.” He hums.

You want him to cum too so you shift off of his cock, grateful that there’s no one in the row with you as you kneel down on the sticky floor and take him into your mouth. It’s dirty but you love it, wanting to please him and make him cum.

“Shit.” He hisses, unable to believe you are sucking his cock on a theater floor. Cupping your cheek, his dark eyes watch your cheeks hollow around him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, hermosa.” He warns you, aware of some women’s disgust with swallowing.

You don’t pull off, you close your eyes as you swallow around his cock, eagerly taking every drop he gives you. You swallow and listen to his harsh breaths as he struggles to keep quiet while you swallow his load.

His eyes flutter and he struggles to keep them open to watch you swallow his cum. The roar of the dinosaur in the movie is how he feels right about now and he caresses your cheek until you are ready to pull off of him with a small pop.

You shift to sit back down while he tucks himself away. You lean in to kiss his jaw and he turns his head to press his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You cup his cheek and enjoy the kiss, loving that he doesn’t care about the lingering taste of his cum in your mouth.

Javi kisses you until you finally pull away, a pleased little smirk on your lips. Wrapping his arm around you, he’s pulling you close and chuckling as he presses his lips to your hairline. “You’re gonna be trouble, I can feel it.” He teases.

You chuckle, “and you love it.” You counter and he nods, “I do.” You smile, leaning into him again and you finish watching the movie. After you head back out into the hot Texas air, Javi guides you to his truck and you pull him close to kiss him again. “Never gonna forget that movie.” You tease, “best movie I’ve ever seen.”

“Yep, loved the - the…” he tries to think of the word and fails. “The music.” He finally decides. “Very dramatic music.” He laughs when you give him a knowing look and moves over to the door to open it for you to climb into the cab of his truck. “It was. I’ll never listen to that score without thinking about our watching this movie.”

You grin as he drives back to your place, watching him as he maneuvers the roads of Laredo. He’s so handsome, it makes your stomach twist and you hope this turns into something more than just friends with benefits. He has his meeting in D.C in a couple of weeks and you wonder what’s gonna happen next. A part of you hopes he stays so you can see what you could become, but a larger part of you knows he will be leaving soon so you will enjoy every moment you can have with him.

****

Javi looks over at you, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the sounds of the song playing on the radio. “What?” He demands, rolling his eyes at you even though his grin is playful. He had picked you up from work, like he had every evening you worked for the past two weeks. He’s also been carrying you into work the next morning.

You smile, shifting closer to him, “can’t I admire you, Peña?” You ask, leaning in to kiss his neck as he drives to your place. “Doesn’t your pa wonder why you are never home nowadays?” You ask, knowing Chucho has to be aware and has been gossiping with Diana who asked you how it’s going with Javi…all while sporting a shit eating grin on her face.

“He’s just happy I’m not bothering him.” Javi snorts, having endured Chucho’s smirks every day when he had left the ranch. The man loved to give him hell, so his lecture was from a place of love.

You giggle, “now you’re bothering me.” You joke and Javi rolls his eyes again.

“You love me bothering you.” He counters and you smirk, “and you love bothering me.” You retort and he clicks his tongue, “well…” He trails off, “sometimes.” He teases and you go to slap his side but he grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the back and you melt.

“When are you leaving for D.C?” You ask, a little breathless and he keeps your hand in his.

“Next week.” He squeezes your hand a little harder and sighs. “I’m not confident they will let me stay.” He admits quietly. “The story was big and she named names.” It had been a slap in the face, but what do you expect when you make deals with the devil. Or in his case, a drug dealer. “I’ll see what they say, but I’m not apologizing for doing my job.”

“Well they’d be stupid to not want to take you back.” You tell him, “and whatever happens, I’m here for you.” You promise, knowing that you aren’t certain of your future together but you’ll be there for him no matter what.

****

“Fuck, baby.” You moan when Javier pushes inside of you. It’s early, before dawn, and Javier has to leave soon to catch his flight to D.C but you woke up in the middle of the night with a need for him. He’s hovering over you, the light from the hall casting a glow over him so you can barely see his eyes but you love how it feels like you’re the only two people that exist. In the quiet of the morning, you aren’t disturbed by anything.

“Gonna miss you, miss this.” He had already packed and said goodbye to his pop before spending the night at your house. His lips hover over yours and he kisses you again and again as he rocks into you. “Shit, you feel so good.”

You caress his back, wrapping your legs around him to pull him even closer. “Gonna miss you. So damn much.” You sigh, tilting your head back so he can kiss along your neck. It’s intoxicating and you know you’re gonna ache when he’s gone, like a part of you is missing.

He wants to suggest that you come with him, but he can’t do that to you. You have a busy week at the restaurant and that wasn’t the deal when you started this. It’s supposed to be casual. “Gonna miss my tongue.” He chuckles, pressing that particular muscle to your pulse and lapping at your skin. “And the way I like to wake you up.”

You giggle breathlessly, "your tongue, your cock, your fingers, your voice. I'm gonna miss everything about you, baby." You assure him, "gonna miss you in my bed." You promise and slide your hands down his back to squeeze his ass, pushing him impossibly deeper inside of you.

“Fuck, hermosa.” He grunts, pressing his lips to yours again. Every thrust is slow and deep, making sure to draw out what will be the last time together before he flys out. Unsure of what the future holds, he wants to make this memorable and his teeth find your bottom lip to bite gently.

You whimper into his mouth, getting closer to your orgasm with every rock of his hips but you don’t want this to end. This could be the last time if he doesn’t come back to Laredo and you know you’ll miss him terribly. You’ve spent nearly every day together since that night he came into the restaurant. “Javi. Oh Javi.” You moan, shifting your hips so he is grinding against your clit. “Gonna - so close, baby.” You confess breathlessly.

“That’s it, baby.” He groans, feeling you get closer. Every panted moan just makes his chest swell in pride as you start to shake underneath him. “Cum for me. Want you to soak me.” He kisses along your jaw and moans in your ear. “Please baby, cum.”

His voice, raspy and still sleep muddled, sends you over the edge with a cry of his name. You clamp down on his cock with a low moan, soaking him and your nails bite into his back as you shake beneath him. The intensity of the orgasm has your eyes closing as you shudder through it.

“Goooooooooodddddd.” Javi groans, loving how intense it feels as your body locks down under him. The words that he’s been thinking flutter to the front again but he pushes it away. He can’t saddle you with that and you are happy here. “Fuck, baby.” He huffs, following after you just a short, frantic half dozen thrusts later. Moaning your name as he spills inside you.

You enjoy him inside of you, caressing his back and softly kissing him as he rides out his high. It’s early so you aren’t in a rush despite him needing to get to the airport soon. The words would be so easy to say but you can’t. You can’t give him your heart when you know he doesn’t want it or need it. You swallow harshly, tears stinging in your eyes and you bury your face in his chest to breathe him in.

“It’s okay.” He knows what you aren’t saying because he’s not saying it either. “I’ll give you a call.” He promises. “Letting you know what to say. If you’re gonna have to put up with me for longer.” He jokes as he holds you close for another long moment. “Do you want to shower with me, or go back to sleep?”

You appreciate his honesty. He’s never been anything but upfront with how he operates and you went into this knowing his reputation. You gather yourself together and lean back to look up at him. “I wanna shower with you.” You tell him, knowing you don’t want to miss this time you have left with him if he’s going to be reassigned. He pulls out of you and you exhale shakily, letting him move off of you and you shuffle off of the bed to walk into your bathroom to turn on the shower.

Javi follows you, frowning slightly as he starts to look around the room for anything that he might have left behind. He doesn’t want you to have to clean up his stuff, although one of his shirts is purposefully left on the dresser for you. He had liked how you looked in it, buttons open and exposing your body underneath.

You check the water temperature and it's nice and warm so you step in, grabbing the body wash and you sense Javier step in behind you, his hands finding your hips. “You gonna get me a souvenir from D.C?” You tease, turning your head to look up at him.

“Sure.” He smirks at you and wraps his arms around your back. “What do you want? One of those lighters? Coffee cup? T-shirt?”

You smirk, “snow globe. It’s stupid but I’ve collected them since I was a little kid. My dad used to get me one when he would travel for work so I have a collection from all over the country but not D.C.” You reveal and squirt some body wash into your palm, setting it down before you begin washing him.

“I’ll get you one.” He promises, making a mental note to make sure he finds you the best snow globe he can. “One that is perfect to finish off your collection.” Even if he doesn’t come back to Texas, he will send it to you. “Are you working today?” He asks as you wash his body for him.

You nod, “Diana wants me to work on the specials for the weekend. She wants to try something new…brunch.” You wrinkle your nose, “mimosas and omelets so I gotta train another chef for breakfast food.”

“Oh, that will be good.” He nods. “Those are popular now, aren’t they?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Yes they are.” You assure him with a smile, making him chuckle.

“You’ll have to tell me stories about the drunk ladies being loud.”

You grin, "oh I'm sure there will be stories. Danny already agreed to be security." You joke and continue washing him. "Shit, he's gonna have his hands full." Javi jokes and you giggle, not saying anything else for a few moments until you reach up with soapy hands to cup his cheeks, "I'm gonna miss you, Peña."

“I’m gonna miss you too, hermosa.” He looks into your eyes seriously. “It’s been a lot of fun and I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.” He can’t admit how much he’s enjoyed it, but the sentiment is softer and sweeter than just a fling.

You finish washing him and he reciprocates, washing you and you reach out to wrap your arms around his neck once you are both standing under the water. You don’t say anything, just standing there until the water goes cold while he presses soft kisses to your skin. You step out of the shower and grab a towel for you and hand one to Javi. You’re both quiet as you get dressed after brushing your teeth - Javi ended up keeping a toothbrush at your place - and you head into the kitchen to make coffee.

You don’t say much but he guesses there isn’t much to say. Dressing in jeans and a button up, it’s a bit different from what he was wearing on the ranch, and he carefully repacks his bag. The hanging bag is in your living room with his suits in it and you had teased him that you couldn’t see him wearing a suit at all. Bringing his carryon into the living room, he sets it down and wanders into the kitchen to find you.

You lean into him when his hands find your hips as you pour his coffee and you wonder if this is what life would be like with him. Waking up to him, going to sleep with him. You can see a life with him and that’s what makes you so sad that you won’t get the chance to have that. You turn to kiss him when he leans towards you and you spin to hand him the cup of coffee.

“You taste better than coffee.” He takes the cup and sets it down behind you so he can cup your cheek. Feeling slightly desperate since he doesn’t know what is happening, he pours himself into the kiss and holds you close.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him and he pushes you up against the counter. You don’t know if or when you’re gonna see him again so you enjoy his kiss, savoring it for when you’re alone. You pat his chest after your hands slide down once he pulls back. You look into those dark eyes, knowing you need to have this conversation. “Javi, if…if you’re gonna go back to Colombia, I need you to do whatever it takes to keep safe. We aren’t together so I know what you need to keep going. Whatever it takes to get you home again. It doesn’t matter what you do if it keeps you safe. We aren’t together so I can’t judge you if you…you know.” You trail off, not wanting to vocalize fully what you’re trying to say.

He nods seriously, frowning slightly. “And if you….find someone, I’ll-“ he swallows. “I’ll wish you the best and stay away.” He feels an astute sense of jealousy at the idea, but he can’t demand that you wait for him. He has no clue what would happen and he doesn’t want to do that to you. It’s best if he just lets you move on. “You deserve to find happiness, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in and kissing you again softly. “I’ll call you, okay?” He asks.

You nod, wanting to cry but you need to be strong. You will know if you're meant to be if he calls you from D.C and tells you he's coming home. You kiss his jaw and step back from him so you can work on making your cup of coffee. You sip your coffees while the morning news plays on the T.V on your counter and eventually, it's time for him to go. You watch him as he puts his carry on and garment bag in his truck then he's facing you to say goodbye. "Whatever happens, I will never regret meeting you at the wedding and spending this time with you." You promise him, "I - you know what I want to say."

He does know, nodding as he puts his hand on your waist to pull you close one last time. “I know.” He doesn’t say it either but he leans his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours. “Be a good girl, hermosa.” He murmurs, smirking slightly. “Okay?”

You surge forward to press your lips to his, hungry and desperate to absorb as much of him as possible before he drives down the street. He devours you back until someone honks and you pull back with a grin, "you know I can't be good." You tease and he chuckles, squeezing your waist before he lets go. "Well, as good as you can be." He winks and you nod, stepping back from him. He winks at you after he gets into his truck, closing the door and winding down the window so he can get one last look at you. You blow him a kiss before he drives off and you stand there until his truck turns the corner to head towards the highway. With a choked sound, you make your way inside to get ready for work. It's going to be a long wait until he calls you.

****

Javi taps his hand on the top of the pay phone as he waits for the call to connect. He had memorized your phone number and your address, the snow globe and some other trinkets for you from D.C. already packed up and shipped out. He had actually done his shopping as soon as he had gotten in. He hadn’t wanted to forget, or not have time. He hears the phone ring about four times and as soon as he’s expecting the machine to pick up, your voice comes across the line breathlessly. “Hello? Hello?” Your voice makes him smile, albeit sadly.

“Hey hermosa, you miss me yet? Or happy to have your extra pillow back?”

Your heart flutters at hearing his voice, "you know I miss you, Peña but it's nice to spread out at night." You tease, remembering the way he'd wrap around you while he slept. You know why he's calling you, the tone in his voice. "You got reassigned?" You guess, wanting to hear him say it.

“They are sending me back to Colombia.” He admits quietly. “Station chief.” He was surprised by that one. He had imagined going back in disgrace, but they want him to take down the Cali Cartel, or that’s what they say they want him to do. It could just be a bogus assignment.

Your eyebrows raise, “station chief?” You ask and he hums. You aren’t surprised that they want him back there. From what you’ve heard, he’s a good agent and you know that his job is important to save lives, no matter how much you want him back in Texas. “I - wow. That’s good news.” You half lie, tears stinging in your eyes but you try to remain strong for him.

“It is.” Javier knows that he’s being given a second chance and he wants to redeem himself. Do things the right way. He wants this to show the brass that they were wrong for sending him home and allow him to see this through to completion. “I leave in two days. I’ll call you when I get settled, okay?”

You bite your lip for a moment until you reply, “yeah. Of course. I’ll speak to you soon, Jav.” You muster up a smile so you sound happy for him when you both say goodbye. It’s hard to be happy when you know he’s leaving to go to Colombia for God knows how long but you made an agreement to both continue living your lives if he didn’t come back to Laredo so that’s what you’ll do…continue living your life without him.

****

It’s been twenty-two months since he’s been back in the US. Twenty-two months since he’s seen you and he’s more than a little nervous as he pulls up to the restaurant. He hadn’t called and told you he was coming home, he couldn’t. It’s been three months since he’s called you, caught up chasing the bad guys and figuring out that no one was innocent. He sighs as he throws the truck into park. Wondering if this was a mistake, and if he should bother. There’s only one way to find out, and he shoves the door open so he can go see if you still want him.

You look up from the cash register as the door opens and your jaw drops when you see a ghost of your past. “Javier.” You exhale and step out from behind the bar, brushing yourself down as you walk over to him, “you’re back.” You grin and he nods, “hello, hermosa.” He greets you and you surge forward to wrap your arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re back.” You gasp, breathing him in and reminded of your time together nearly two years ago.

Chuckling, Javi wraps his arms around you and his hug is probably a bit tighter than he would have normally given, but he’s so fucking happy to see you. “Have you been as good as you could be?” He asks jokingly, wondering if you’ve moved on or if you’re still single.

You open your mouth to respond but you hear, "well she's been a good girl until now." You look around Javier's shoulder to see Kyle, your boyfriend of 3 months walking into the restaurant.

You reluctantly push Javi away from you, turning to walk towards Kyle. "Javi. This is Kyle, he's-"

"her boyfriend." Kyle answers for you, curling his arm around you possessively.

Javi tries not to frown at the over aggressive display, but he holds his hand out to shake the other man’s. “Javier Peña.” He offers. “I’ve been out of the country for a couple of years.” He doesn’t want to make waves for you. “Just wanted to catch up with an old friend.”

Kyle nods, shaking his hand a little harder than necessary and you chuckle nervously. "Maybe we can get a drink and catch up properly another time?" You suggest, looking at Kyle who offers you a forced grin, "sure. We can arrange that, baby." His hand slides down to squeeze your ass and you glance around the restaurant until your eyes meet Javi's. "It was good to meet you but this one has work to do." Kyle slaps your ass and you wince a little, nodding towards Javi.

"I better get to work. I'll call you." You promise and Kyle drags you back, "you forgot to kiss me." He complains and pulls you into him so he can kiss you in front of Javier.

The message is heard, loud and clear. He nods and backs away as Kyle seemingly tries to deepen the kiss into some sort of face sucking event. Every instinct that he has developed during his time in the DEA tells him that Kyle is bad news. Although he’s aware that he’s also jealous, so he might be imagining things. Turning around, Javi hates that he missed his opportunity, but he will respect your relationship. He will be your friend and forget that he had hoped to go home with you tonight.

You hate that Kyle feels the need to possess you like that, especially in front of Javier and it makes you question your entire relationship. He’s been so sweet and kind until now, making you feel wanted. Something you haven’t experienced since Javier left and after pining for him for a year and a half, you decided to open yourself up to someone else, not expecting to find someone to be with but you know that Kyle doesn’t make you feel even a third of what Javi does.

Making his way back to the ranch, Javi spends the entire drive feeling sorry for himself. Telling himself that he should have told you how he felt, called more. He sighs and wonders if he would actually hear from you, or if that was a polite brush off. At least you didn’t hate him, that should count for something.

Kyle came back to pick you up after work and you were immediately confused by how cold he is as he drives to his place. You’d arrange to watch a movie at his place earlier and you wish you hadn’t now, that you had driven to work because you want time to process seeing Javier again and you want to call him. “It was nice to see your friend earlier.” Kyle says and you sense his tone.

“Yeah. Javier hasn’t been in town for a couple of years and we met at Danny’s wedding.” You explain and Kyle grips the steering wheel.

“You fuck him?” He asks and you swallow harshly, “it was two years ago. I haven’t seen him since he left to go to Colombia.” You answer, not wanting to lie, and Kyle doesn’t reply. You bite your lip as Kyle pulls into his driveway and you get out, wishing again that you could go home.

Kyle rocks his jaw when he gets out of the car and walks around the hood to take your arm and walk you towards the door. He doesn’t like that fucker at the bar, he smells like a goddamn cop and he doesn’t need no fucking cop snooping around his business or his girl. When you are at his front door, he shoves you against it, getting up in your face. “I don’t fucking want you around him.” He spits, holding your arms tight.”You aren’t fucking him again.”

You wince, “you’re hurting me.”

Kyle scoffs, “you deserve more than that.” He hisses, “fucking that guy.”

You shake your head, “it was two years ago.” You try to wiggle out of his grip, “let go of me.” You plead and Kyle chuckles darkly, letting go of you.

He opens the front door and you rub your upper arms. He locks the door behind him, “you ain’t gonna call him. You ain’t gonna fuck him. I’m gonna teach you a lesson, you little whore. You’ve probably been fucking him the whole time and he’s lying about being gone.” Kyle growls and you shake your head.

“I haven’t seen him for two fucking years!” You yell and Kyle scoffs, “you’re a fucking slut.”

You shake your head again, getting angry, “if I was, I would never leave his bed. He fucked me better than you do.” You chuckle humorlessly, wanting to hurt him like he is hurting you.

Kyle’s face grows dark and he steps back, making you think he’s gonna stalk off but he doesn’t. He growls and his hand comes up to slap you in the face, making you gasp in shock and pain.

“Fucking bitch!” He screams. “No one fucking insults me like that. No one! I’ll show you how I fuck you better.” He threatens, grabbing your arm to start dragging you through the house towards his bedroom. “Fucking slut! After everything I’ve done for you. You’re just gonna fucking leave me? I don’t fucking think so.”

You try to drag yourself away from him, terrified for what he wants to do to you so you tug on your arm, trying to get out of his grip. “Let me go, you motherfucker!” You yell, “fucking let me go!” You scream and he pulls you upright. You take your chance to kick him in the groin, making him howl and let go of you. You shove him while he’s cupping his balls and he falls down. You take the moment to run to the front door, scrambling to unlock it and you manage to get it open, running down the driveway and along the street, screaming for help.

“You bitch!” Kyle chokes out, cupping his balls and squeezing out some tears. “When I get my fucking hands on you, I’m gonna make you pay.” His groin is on fire and he curses you, imagining how he would make you cry for kicking him and humiliating him.

One of the neighbors down the street opens her door and you run up to her, sobbing as you beg for help. “Come in dear. Let’s call the police.” She says, ushering you into her front room and she grabs her phone, calling the police but you shake your head, asking to use her phone.

“I need - I need to call Javi.” You manage through your cries but the woman calls the police. “Please let me - I need to call him.” You plead and she hands you her phone. With shaking hands and through tears, you phone Chucho’s ranch and Javi who answers with a grunted “hello.” You sob at hearing his voice, “Ja-Jav. I- I- I need you.” You choke, unable to speak properly.

Javi had been cleaning the dishes when he had picked up the phone in the kitchen. “Hermosa? What’s wrong? Where are you?” The frying pan is dropped into the sink and he grips the phone tightly, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. He has never heard you sound like that and he doesn’t like it. He’s heard enough scared women before, on the verge of hysteria because of something horrible. “Where are you, I’m coming.”

“I- he- Kyle. He tried- I need you. He - he nearly-” You choke and hand the phone to the kind woman, “can you tell - tell him where - where I am?” You ask her, choking on sobs as the reality of what could’ve happened still hasn’t hit you.

“Is someone with you?” Javi has already grabbed his keys but he needs an address. “Hello? Goddamnit! Hello?”

The woman winces and introduces herself. “Señora Álvarez, señor.” She murmurs before she rattles off her address.

“You tell her I’m on my way.” Javi rushes out. “Tell her I’ll be right there! Stay there! I’m coming.” He slams the phone down and rushes out to the truck. He has no idea what might have happened, but from your panicked voice, it isn’t good and he doesn’t even hesitate to pull his gun out of the glove box as soon as he gets into the truck. Slinging rocks as he shoots down the drive to race across town to you.

You sob when the police arrive, barely able to get the story out when all you want is Javier. You sob, asking them where Javi is and you hear him as he pushes his way into the house, past the police officers and when he kneels in front of you, you surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

Softly shushing you, even as he is listening to the police chief tell him what happened, Javi scowls.

That bastard needs to fucking die for laying his hands on you, Javi’s arms tight around your body and he starts to rub your back. “And the bastard denies all of it?” The chief had sent an officer over to Kyle’s house and he had answered the door, telling the officer that you had gotten mad at him and told him that you would ruin his life. It throws your story into question, but Javi believes you. “Hijo de puta.” He groans when the officer nods.

You pull him close and shake your head, “he said - he was going to rape-” You choke out, unable to finish your sentence as you bury your face in Javi’s neck. “He slapped me and tried to drag me in- into the bedroom.”

Jaiv growls and tightens his hold on you, furious that the bastard would try to hurt you. Instinctively, he knows that it was because of him. “Fucking bastard.” He hisses, wishing he had his badge still, he would go kill the motherfucker. Pulling back, he holds your chin in his fingers and tilts your head towards the light. “Your face is swollen.” He looks at the officers. “Photograph this.” He orders, even though he has no authority.

The cops don’t argue, taking photos of your face and your upper arms from where he grabbed you. You manage to calm down enough to give your story to the officers who don’t seem convinced but you just want to go home. Javi thanks the officers and the woman who gave you refuge and you let him guide you out to his truck. “I don’t want to go home.” You admit, terrified that Kyle is going to find you there.

Javi shakes his head. “You aren’t going home.” He promises you. “You're coming home with me.” He explains. “My pop has a ranch.” You know this, but he’s talking to keep your mind occupied. “I can protect you and you’ll be safe from that asshole there.”

You nod, getting into the passenger side and he gets into the drivers side after shutting your door. Your eyes are sore from crying and you feel exhausted now that you’re safe with Javier. “Thank you for coming to get me.” You tell him softly after he starts the engine and begins to drive to his father’s ranch.

“Don’t worry about that.” He reaches over and takes your hand, holding it gently. “Tell me what happened. If you can.” He knows that talking to uniformed cops is very different from a one on one with someone you trust. “What caused this? Tell me at your own pace, hermosa.”

You swallow harshly, trying to gather yourself. You squeeze his hand harder and you inhale deeply. “I- we got back to his place and we were kind of arguing. He didn’t want me seeing you again and accused me of - of fucking you the whole time we’ve been together. Called me a whore and said - said no one insults him because I- I told him- I said that you fucked me better than he does and he - he was furious. His eyes went black and he - he grabbed my arm and tried to drag me to his bedroom. Said I can’t leave him after everything he’s done for me. He wanted to - I - I managed to kick him in the balls and get away from him.” You hiccup as you finish the story.

Javi curses under his breath, furious and ready to kill this asshole. He will call the police chief and see what can be learned about him. He has to have a record, Javi can smell it on him. He brings your hand up to kiss it, squeezing softly. “I will make sure you are safe, hermosa.” He promises. “The ranch is safe and my pop and I will make sure no one comes up that you don’t want to see.” He will make sure his pop keeps his rifle and his handgun on him. “I doubt that pussy will try anything else. He just wanted to prove he was a man. But a man doesn’t hurt a woman.”

You feel safe already with Javi, knowing that you need to call Diana and tell her you need to take a couple of days off. You look out the window as he drives to his father’s ranch and you are scared of Kyle finding you but you trust Javier with your life.

“I’ll let you borrow something to sleep in.” He offers quietly. “And tomorrow I’ll take you to get some of your things.” He knows you will not want to go by yourself and he wouldn’t let you, but you can’t live in his t-shirt and boxers. “I’ll call Diana for you if you want to take a shower.”

You nod, squeezing his hand again and You murmur, “thank you.” When he arrives at his father’s ranch, he escorts you inside and to his room and you sit down on the bed, feeling exhausted. “I’m gonna take a shower if that’s okay?” You ask, wanting that bastard's touch washed off of you.

“Yeah.” Javi nods and opens his door to point across the hall. “Go right in there and I’ll bring you a towel and something to wear, hermosa.” You stand and move to slide by him but he captures your wrist and gives you a serious look. “You’re safe here.” He promises. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You believe him and you nod, “I know.” You tell him and make your way across the hall after he lets go of your wrist. You turn on the hot water after closing the door and once you’re under the water, you allow yourself to cry, sobbing as the water flows over you. The realization of want nearly happened makes you want to scream and you are so grateful you got yourself away from that asshole.

Javi hates hearing you sob. Once you had closed the door, he had gone to his pop and explained the situation. Chucho had growled that anyone coming onto the ranch would be met with a gun, a promise Javi could take seriously. He called Diana and explained that you were okay, but that you were going to be taking off for a few days. Also let her know that if that Kyle bastard came into the restaurant, she was to call him immediately. Once those tasks are done, he gathers up a towel and his softest clothes to set on the toilet for you.

You finish showering and see the clothes on the toilet. You dress in Javi’s clothes and you breathe in the scent of him and the detergent he uses. When you open the door, he’s sitting on the end of his bed and you walk across the hallway to him. “Can you stay with me tonight?” You ask, wanting him beside you to feel safe.

He watches for a moment before he nods. “I’ll stay with you.” He murmurs quietly. He knows this isn’t a sexual request, you don’t want him to fuck you. You want the physical comfort of someone you trust keeping you safe after a bad ordeal. He leans over and kisses your forehead. “I’ll get ready for bed. Do you want some water or are you hungry?”

You nod, “water please.” Javi nods and stands up, pulling the covers back for you and you get in, watching him as he unbuttons his shirt and you are immediately comforted by his presence. He disappears after stripping down to his boxers and he comes back into the room with a bottle of water for you.

Javi hands you the water and caresses your cheek gently before he steps across the hall to brush his teeth. He would normally have a cigarette, but he’s going to just forgo that, not wanting to leave you alone for too long with your thoughts. Finishing up quickly and slipping into the bedroom and closing the door, he sighs softly when he sees you still sitting at the end of the bed. “What side do you want, hermosa?”

You glance behind you, “what side do you sleep on?” You ask and when you see the glasses he would never admit he uses to read, you know he sleeps that side. “I’ll sleep on this side.” You gesture to the side with the empty nightstand. He nods and you stand up to slide under the covers on that side. You watch Javi get in and he pulls the covers higher over you. “Can you- can you hold me?”

“Of course, hermosa.” He hadn’t assumed you wanted him to hold you, but he had expected it. Opening his arms, he lets you curl against his chest and then closes them around you. Holding you tight to him and rubbing your back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly. “I wish that this didn’t happen. Especially because of me.”

You shake your head against his chest, “it doesn’t matter. He- it wasn’t your fault. He was gonna do it one day. Whether it’s you or another man that looks at me the wrong way. He was - I shouldn’t have dated him. I just - I did it because I didn’t think you were gonna come back. You stopped calling and - shit. I just - I thought he was nice at first. This is my fault.”

Guilt settles over him like a weight and he sighs. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I got caught up trying to close that fucking case. I was working nonstop and when I did think about calling, it was way too late to wake you up.” It’s no excuse, but he wants you to know he didn’t just stop thinking about you. “He’s a drug dealer.” He tells you. “Just a gut feeling, but I think that’s what he’s going to end up being.”

You lean back to look at Javi, “a drug dealer? I- I never - he never told me anything. He said he had a security business and that��s why he had men coming to his house and - God, I’m so stupid. I should’ve known.” You believe Javier, knowing he can read people like a book.

“Don’t worry about that.” Javi shakes his head, his eyes dark. “It’s better that you didn’t know. I don’t have proof yet, he just gives me that feeling.” He admits.

You bury your face back in his chest, breathing him in and you close your eyes. You’re exhausted and you’re back in his arms. You want to sleep and forget all about this nightmare of a night. “Wanna sleep.” You murmur into his skin.

“Go to sleep, hermosa.” He hums. “I’m right here.” He continues to rub your back softly as he listens to your breathing start to even out as you fall asleep.

****

The morning sun shines into the bedroom through the gap in the curtains and you wake up, momentarily forgetting that anything happened last night, just remembering that you’re in Javi’s arms again. You snuggle into him, throwing your leg over his hip when you feel his morning wood poking into you and you gasp.

Your gasp wakes Javi up, grunting and opening his eyes as he looks over to you. “Everything okay?” His voice is gravely and he clears his throat. Looking around as he blinks a few times and then back at you. “Nightmare?” The sun is starting to rise, but it’s still early and he pulls you closer. “‘S’okay.” He grunts. “Go back to sleep.”

You rest your head back on his chest, wanting him to erase the touch of that asshole. You press closer, shifting your hips to grind against him, “need you.” You murmur, hoping Javier still feels the same way you do.

Javi’s eyes flutter open and he twitches against your hip. “You sure?” He asks, hand sliding down and under your t-shirt to rub your bare back. “You want to? Or you think I want to?”

You whimper, pushing yourself impossibly closer. "I want to. I need to. need - I haven't - he wasn't you. I still - I want you." You finish, getting flustered at the way he caresses your back, "please baby."

He understands what you mean. He had slept with someone as soon as he had figured out the assignment was basically chasing his tail. He hadn’t felt good when he woke up in her bed and he hadn’t even really enjoyed himself. He hadn’t slept with anyone else the entire time he was there. “I want you too.” He promises, hand sliding down to your ass and he squeezes. “Fuck you want to ride or you want me to roll you over?”

You grind against him, “want you to roll me over. I need to feel all of you, want to feel the weight of you, baby.” You confess, sliding your hand down his chest and into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his hard cock to pump him a few times.

Javi groans, and rocks his hips into your fist, enjoying how you don't seem to be put off by a man's touch. He's glad that bastard didn't manage to get you back to his room and he's proud of you for being so strong. He shifts, pushing your hand away as he can roll over and take you onto your back. "You want me to make you forget?" He asks, kissing your chin.

You nod, knowing you shouldn’t want to be touched, but this is Javier. The man who’s shown you nothing but respect and has kept you safe every time you’ve been with him. He told you about Helena and the other girls. A bad man wouldn’t try and help them. You trust him with everything you are. You tilt your head to press your lips against his. “I want you to touch me. I want you to make me forget ever knowing him.” You plead softly, caressing his back as he pushes his shirt up your body.

“I can do that, hermosa.” He promises, pulling your shirt over your head as you lean up and tosses it aside. His pop won’t be up anytime soon so his mouth follows you back to the bed, wrapping around a nipple and sucking like he is trying to get milk. His fingers dive under his boxers, assuming that this jerk off hasn’t made you cum a lot. He’ll change that and you’ll only think about him for the next few hours.

You moan when his fingers find your clit and you have missed him so much. It’s like a part of you is returned as he kisses along your chest to take your other nipple into his mouth and his fingers rub your clit. “Fuck. I have missed you so much.” You sigh, “so damn much baby.”

Humming, he continues to rub your clit while he sucks and bites at your breasts. Making your nipples hard and puffy from the attention, he flicks his tongue over the hardened numb and chuckles when you gasp his name. “Do you want me to lick your pussy?” He asks, looking up at you. “Or do you just want me to fuck you?”

You shake your head, breathless already. “I need you inside of me. Please. Don’t want to go another moment without you.” You beg and reach down to squeeze his cock again, using your feet to push his boxers down to his thighs. “I need you, baby.” You whine, getting a little desperate as he takes his time still rubbing your clit.

He still has to get his boxers off of you so he can fuck you. Leaning back onto his knees. He drags the material down your legs and pushes them up into the air so he can pull them off and then spread your legs around him. “Fuck, dreamed about this pussy for two fucking years.” He confesses, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping himself.

You aren’t stupid enough to think he hasn’t been with other women but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You reach for him to drag him back down onto you and you bring his mouth to yours. “No one could ever compare to you. No one.” You promise him, “dreamed about you too. All the time. You wanna use a condom? I didn’t - twice with him and he used a condom.” You don’t wanna talk about that motherfucker but you want him to feel comfortable.

“Trust you.” He promises, leaning over you and pressing his lips to yours. “Hermosa.” He whispers your name as he lifts a leg onto his hip, and notches his cock at your entrance. “Look at me.” He orders as he starts to push inside you.

Your eyes meet his and you inhale sharply when he starts to push inside of you. Your eyes don’t leave his and you reach out to caress his shoulders, loving the way he pushes slowly inside of you, stretching you out. “Oh baby.” You sigh, tilting your head back once he’s fully inside of you, unable to keep your eyes open when he is finally inside you again.

“Shit.” Your ex was stupid, insane to allow petty jealousy to ruin a relationship with you. He was grateful, because it meant that he was right here with you, able to touch you again. Even if you didn’t deserve the abuse you had been dealt. He rocks his hips shallowly, kissing your neck and lips until he feels you relax and knows he can move.

He starts to move inside of you and it’s like you’re home. You whimper and wrap your legs around him, pushing him deeper inside of you and you moan softly. No words are spoken as he moves inside of you, just soft whimpers and moans and you caress his back, unable to speak with your heart pounding in your chest.

Javi holds you tight, rocking into you at a pace that is less vigorous, more soft and sweet, but there is a snap to his hips when he lunges forward. Enjoying the way you feel under him, he reaches down to rub your clit as he fucks you.

You cry out softly as he rubs your clit, making your walls flutter around him. “Baby. Oh fuck.” You gasp, clamping down on his cock as he pushes deep and the emotions overwhelm you as tears stream down your cheeks while you clamp down on his cock.

Javi closes his eyes, dropping his forehead on yours as he works you through your orgasm. “That’s it, hermosa. So good for me. So perfect.”

You kiss him, soft and slow as he works you through your orgasm and he thrusts a little harder to seek his own climax. “Please Jav. Cum for me.” You plead, caressing his cheeks as his lips hover against yours, his grunts pushed into your mouth.

Javi keeps his eyes on you, aware that you could change your mind at any second, might still, because of Kyle. Watching you as he gets closer with everything and he groans out your name only a minute later as he stiffens above you.

You close your eyes as he cums inside of you, loving how it feels when he paints your walls with his hot seed. He works himself through it and you caress his chest, feeling his heart thumping beneath your palm. You can’t stop yourself when you confess to him breathlessly, “I love you.” Words you should’ve told him two years ago but didn’t because he was leaving.

Javi closes his eyes, knowing that you might not mean it, but he savors the moment. “Te amo.” He murmurs softly, nudging his nose against yours. “I should have told you. Should have brought you with me to Colombia. Thought about asking you, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to give up your life.”

You sigh, hating how much time you’ve lost together. “I would’ve followed you anywhere but we both had lives to lead. Things to do. I would’ve given up everything for you if you had asked me.” You admit softly, “I loved you so much back then and I still love you. I’m yours, always have been since that moment we met at Danny’s wedding.

Javi hums and he kisses you softly. “Don’t worry, hermosa.” He murmurs. “We will work everything out. I’ve quit the DEA, I’m back for good.” He had wanted to tell you last night, but he hadn’t wanted to make waves with Kyle at the restaurant and then after you called it, it wasn’t the time.

You smile, pleased to hear that he's back for good. You want him to stay. "I want you to stay, baby. I want to be with you." You say as you snuggle into his chest after he shifts onto his back. "I love you." You murmur, caressing his skin.

****

“Why am I so fucking nervous?” Javi grumbles, checking his bow tie for the tenth time since he’s put it on. “The wedding is done, we’ve said our vows.” He turns to you and can’t help but smile at how beautiful you look in your wedding gown. The little church wedding had been a lot smaller than his first wedding, but the reception seemed to include the entire town. He strides over to you and pulls you against him. “No regrets?”

You chuckle, sliding your hands down his chest to adjust his jacket label. “Never. No regrets, Peña.” You promise and cup his cheek, “why are you nervous? Trying to escape already?” You tease, caressing his cheek.

“Never.” He promises and you lean in to kiss him softly when Diana comes over with Chucho.

“Well, looks like my match making skills have come true again.” Diana winks at her brother in law, “well you got two Peña men married off.” Chucho winks and you raise your eyebrows at Diana.

“Peña men take a special woman to tame them.” Diana explains and you shake your head, “no taming this one.” You giggle, knowing Javier will always be his own person and you wouldn’t want him to be anything other than himself.

“You tamed me.” Javi pouts and leans in to kiss you softly. “You did. That’s why I decided that I was tired of just having sleepovers.” His fingers brush the wedding band he had just slid on your finger. “Now that the pictures are done, you ready to go out to our own reception?” He asks, sending you a sly wink. “Might have to take you to the bathroom again.”

You giggle, leaning in to kiss his jaw like you did while you were dancing. “Now you definitely will be taking me to the bathroom.” You murmur into his skin and he groans softly, “yes, Señora Peña.” He says and you love hearing that. Diana’s match making skills are second to none and despite yours and Javi’s efforts to keep it casual, you couldn’t resist making it forever.

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier pena narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña x female reader

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pretending-ican-write · 8 months ago

Text

Cowboy Up - Pt.2

A/n: I have the first 3 parts of this written and I haven't decided when I want them to get together/how long of a slow burn it's gonna be. These are all many years pre-season and I'm torn between them getting together then, shortly before the show or during the show. If you have any thoughts let me know!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 996

Previous part - Next part

---

Later that evening, y/n watched from her seat at the end of the bunkhouse table as the hands squabbled over whether Jake had managed to cheat his hand. Her arms crossed, she couldn’t help the smile on her face as she watched the scene in front of her unfold.

As they began the next round one of the hands caught her attention, “you playing Dutton? Figures you the one with the most money to lose.”

“Call me Dutton again and I’ll take more than just your fuckin’ money,” she threatened, “but if you want to lose your wages to a woman then its your funeral.”

Lloyd called to her, “Beer y/n?”

“She’s fuckin’ 20!” Ryan argued.

He rolled his eyes, “20 and been rodeoing 2 years. That counts for more than whatever some fool decided was legal.”

“Appreciate the defense but I don’t drink Lloyd. Seen it ruin just as many people on that damn circuit as drugs, if not more. Picked my vice and it ain’t that,” y/n explained, “now deal me in.”

As they began the round, Rip came through the door sending silence through the room. Y/n looked up from her cards to the foreman and the grim look on his face.

“Was hoping to give you some more advance warning than this but word got to your father you’re here,” Rip warned, “reckon you got about 10 minutes.”

She sighed, “you gonna ruin my evening Rip least you can do is play my cards for me. I’ll take this outside gentlemen. Apologies for any disturbance to your game I may cause.”

With a tip of her hat, y/n left the table and headed out of the bunkhouse. She could see her father coming down the track and settled on the steps of the trailer. Whilst she waited, she pulled a cigarette from her jacket and lit it, exhaling the smoke into the crisp air.

“Having one of you smoke’s bad enough,” John commented.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Yeah well you gotta have one vice on the circuit and this one kills me the least. Plus you can still ride straight whilst addicted to it.”

He leant against the barn, observing his daughter who was in front of him for the first time in two years. She let him sit in the silence as she finished her cigarette, watching as the smoke disappeared into the night air.

“Coulda told your father you were coming home,” he said eventually, breaking the thick silence.

She let out a bitter laugh, “I’m a wrangler. Rip deals with them. I’m not here for you, I’m here for me and I ain’t about to be no pawn in your fuckin’ game dad. I’m a wrangler. I’ll do what they do and I’ll do anything for this ranch but know it ain’t for you. It’s for me, it’s for Kayce and it’s for my nephew.”

“At least come back to the house,” John relented.

Y/n shook her head, “It’ll be a long time before we’re there Dad. Trailer is more than comfortable.”

Her dad nodded and turned on his heels, “just know that the door is always open for you.”

She watched him leave and leant against the trailer, watching the clouds roll over the sky. The noise from the bunk house radiated out towards her. The words reached her ears and she laughed at the empty threats that came with poker. Out of instinct, she reached for another cigarette and placed it in her mouth. With her lighter in hand she stared out at the vast expanse in front of her, hidden by the darkness the clouds brought. It was just as vast as when she left, and had just as many conditions.

The door to the bunkhouse opened, spilling the swearing out into the night. Ryan stepped out into the cold and trained his eyes on her. The look in her eyes as she took in everything she’d returned to and he pushed the feeling it brought to him deep in to the pit of his stomach.

“Mind if I join you?”

She broke her gaze from the mountains, “lose all your money?”

“Something like that,” he laughed and sat next to her on the steps.

A comfortable quiet settled over the pair with the noise from the bunkhouse curving around the bubble they were in. The clouds continued to move over the sky, obscuring the stars from view. Y/n weren’t much in the mood for starting conversations so she allowed the quiet to stay, letting her eyes close after a few minutes. Ryan let her, keeping one eye on her and the other on the sky.

“It’s good to see you back y/n,” he commented after a while.

She opened her eyes to look at him, “it’s good to be back Ryan.”

“You’re all grown up.”

Y/n let out a frustrated groan, “fuck I was grown when I left. Y’all just never saw it.”

Ryan laughed and pushed the feeling he could feel creeping up back down where he wanted it to stay.

“New hand got an eye for you,” he said, as non-chalantly as he could manage.

She felt something inside her at that, “the one that can’t rope? He’s cute.”

“Don’t start that shit,” Ryan growled.

Y/n threw her cigarette onto the ground, “you don’t get a say in what I do Ryan.”

“If he touches you I’ll take him to the train station myself,” he threatened.

She stood up, “I don’t need you defending me. Rest of this damn ranch treats me like a fuckin’ kid so don’t you start. Be a man or keep your god damn opinions about what I do with my life to yourself.”

��With that, y/n stalked back into the bunkhouse and slammed the door behind her. Ryan watched her go before resting his head against the cold metal of the trailer. It was gonna be fucking hard to keep that feeling where it was meant to be.

#ryan yellowstone #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone #yellowstone tv #dutton!reader #dutton ranch #ian bohen

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yanderes-galore · 30 days ago

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idea popped in ma head, maybe a wolf hybrid jack marston with a domestic dog darling? Rdr1 eiplouge

Sure! Here's the wolf that's making your farming life hell.

Yandere! Wolf! Jack Marston with Domestic Dog! Darling

(Hybrid AU)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Animalistic behavior, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Murder, Courting, Kidnapping, SFW smell kink, Mentions of mates, Threats, Forced relationship.

You're a domestic dog hybrid built for farming.

Since you were a pup/child you were raised by a human family who owned a ranch.

It wasn't an uncommon sight for humans to take care of domestic hybrids.

Cat and dog hybrids were the most popular.

Usually said hybrids are treated more like human children than pets.

Yet their animal characteristics often made them more capable for some jobs.

For example, since you were a pup you've been taught to herd animals.

You take care of cows, sheep, pigs, chickens...

You're often on guard duty to protect the animals, too.

You often saw your humans as family since you were a stray at one point in time.

Now you often follow them everywhere, even helping them sell supplies made at the ranch for extra money.

As you're often on guard duty, your humans have taught you how to use firearms.

You're quite the shot and have always defended the ranch with your life.

Nowadays your folks have gotten old, often needing you to help out.

They've told you when they go... The ranch is yours to care for.

You've always promised you would protect this place... it's your home, after all.

You don't typically encounter hybrids often.

Occasionally when you go down to town you'll see a cat or dog...

Yet you've never seen any wild hybrid.

You've seen normal wolves and coyotes.

Yet you've never seen hybrid versions.

The scent is always different from them... Even when they're in a mostly animal form.

You can just smell... human in them.

When you met Jack, you saw him as a threat.

He's a wolf hybrid... yet even you can tell he's oddly domestic for a wolf.

Which is true.

Jack was originally more domestic than your typical wolf.

The most wild he's been was when he was a pup, still cared for by his two wolf parents.

Yet his father was soon hunted like the wild wolf he is... right after the law used him to hunt a bear, a coyote, and finally an infamous panther.

For a while Jack lived with his two wolf parents and a sloth he viewed as an uncle.

Yet at least a year ago, all of that came crashing down.

Now all he's called family are dead.

Leaving him to go back to his roots, to be wild like the wolf he is.

Jack has always been depressed since losing his pack.

The life he now walks is quite lonely.

That is until he came across your ranch.

Your interactions were often from afar.

You two smelled one another, recognizing the scent as another hybrid.

You were always on edge when you smelled the wolf.

Meanwhile, when Jack caught your sweet scent...

He couldn't help but be curious about you, the rancher dog he often watches as he stalks about your home.

I imagine the obsession is gradual, just two hybrids watching each other from a distance.

Maybe Jack originally intended on stealing a chicken or sheep for food...

Only to find he's becoming enamored with the hybrid that lives at the farm.

Jack might test how close he can get, carefully stepping closer to see when you'll bark at him.

He may even get as close as the fence to try and start a conversation between you two.

He'll lean on the wood, tail swaying as he tries to make you speak with him.

For a long time you ignore him or give him threats.

Yet since he comes around so often, you eventually give him brief answers to entertain him.

Admittedly, as long as he stays where he is, his company is nice.

Your chats are often behind a fence, Jack promising to stay where he is just to speak with you.

You told one another your names... and Jack can't stop saying your name to himself when he's alone.

Occasionally, after feeling bad for the lone wolf, you may even sneak meals out to him.

Unfortunately, it's like feeding a wild animal... he only comes back for more.

Once you've entertained him the first time, the wolf stays.

He talks about how he used to help run a ranch... How you and him could probably do some farming yourself someday...

Without humans.

Jack finds you being domesticated amusing.

You're such an adorable puppy compared to him, a wild wolf.

Most of the time you two speak in your partial human forms.

But imagine you both in full animal forms?

You're laying on the grass in your dog form, resting...

Only for a familiar howl to occur, and a brown wolf stares at you with eager eyes.

This pairing actually makes a lot of sense, too.

Since wolves and dogs are compatible for breeding... if you know what I mean.

Jack may actually bring this up, usually leading to you ignoring it.

You aren't interested in a wolf hybrid like THAT.

But Jack is.

He finds the idea of making a domestic dog hybrid his mate pleasing.

He's been lonely for a long time on the run...

He needs a pack of his own.

Won't you help him find a new family?

You often refuse, which often makes Jack more eager.

He often prowls around your home, watches through windows...

He's always hated the fact you let humans take care of you instead of other hybrids.

You should've known Jack would be trouble.

Like a loyal dog, you left home to get supplies for your folks at home.

Which can end in two ways, depending on the honor of Jack.

If he's low honor, fitting of a wolf, you'd come home to a bloodbath.

Some of your animals are mauled, claw marks in their skin with bite marks bleeding.

You quickly enter your home, overwhelmed with the smell of blood.

Only to see your humans dead, their blood leaking into the wood.

You stare, nose assaulted with the smell of crimson as your ears and tail are down.

Then you pick up the smell of a wolf... yet not quite a wolf...

"Sorry, darling... All of this was getting in our way. Now with all this gone... I can court you properly yeah?"

Jack's behind you, blood on his claws, mouth, and clothes...

He looks happy with what he's done.

His tail is even wagging... while you stare at him in fear.

Even if you ran out as your dog form, how long can you go before the wolf catches you?

When Jack asks you to come with him... to run before you're framed...

You reluctantly listen.

High honor Jack instead leaves your family and farm alone.

He simply cuts you off between town and your home, sabotaging you on your horse if you're on one...

Or tackling your dog form as his wolf one.

This time he's not harming your family... yet he threatens you to come with him.

Either option ends in Jack kidnapping you.

One just so happens to end in more bloodshed.

Jack doesn't really have a den or anything.

He essentially makes you an outlaw like him, making camps in the wilderness and keeping you beside him.

While you don't see him as one... Jack always calls you his mate.

When you two camp, he only makes one tent.

Sometimes you two sleep beside one another as your more human forms, Jack's tag constantly wagging as he nuzzles and scents you.

Or if you're both in animal form, his larger wolf body curls around you, licking your fur softly as he looks after you.

Jack teaches you how to be a wild hybrid.

Poor you is so confused... but Jack's patient and often hunts for you.

In fact, he likes you reliant.

You should rely on your mate....

Jack originally feels guilt for forcing you beside him... yet he still feels like this was the right decision.

Now Jack doesn't feel alone... Just you two may not be a pack, but you're close.

He loves your scent and soft fur... he loves you.

He'll make sure you two are never alone when you have each other...

Meanwhile, as a domestic hybrid, you just miss your old home....

#yandere red dead redemption #yandere rdr #yandere rdr1 #yandere rdr hybrid au #yandere hybrid #yandere jack marston #yandere wolf jack marston

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jolalibrary · 2 years ago

Text

coming home

summary: home. that’s what he feels like home. in truth, he has done for a stupidly long time. Longer than you care ever to admit.

javier peña x f!reader word count: 2k (this was supposed to be 500 words) content warnings: happy!javi, people saying i love you, tiny mention of spice, but more fluff. this is fluff. this is happiness, this is joy

Laredo nights are warm, and the days are hotter.

The heat all dry, hanging—practically draping itself over all it can touch. And it reminds you of Bogotá.

Splashing water on your face, you let the cool droplets hang from your still-smiling cheeks and cling to your lashes. Pausing before haphazardly drying your face and meeting yourself in the mirror.

The one in the bathroom of a friend of a friend of his. Someone he’s always known from here, in the city that is home for him—the same city which is slowly becoming the same for you.

You adjust the collar on your dress, staring at the person smiling back at you, the one in this mirror and the one in his room. A person you are slowly getting to know, not used to seeing you smile with so much ease—or your cheeks warming by a stare from him here.

Taking one last look, you step out. Your soles click against the tiled floor before you’re welcomed back by the setting sun and the lively yard.

Before here, you’d never really been an outdoor person. Had always preferred being inside, tucked away, nestled under a shitty desk or bedside light with papers or a book. But, here in Laredo, living on a ranch with him—with Javi—it’s different.

Here, you find more comfort on a chair on the deck than you do inside. You enjoy taking stock of the place—spotting him walking up to greet you—and even the feeling of the sun on your skin. More so when his brow furrows, glasses falling down the slope of his nose as his lips slide up into one cheek; outside again, cariño?

It’s another surprising development of being with him. A thing he has also noted—another thing which has changed since the two of you moved into his childhood home.

Once in the yard, you're again greeted by the air, all thick, peppered with BBQ smoke and stuffed with loud music, with background instruments of laughing children and people catching up.

Even if the sun is setting and the party should be simmering down, there are still plenty of people here. All smiling, all too happy to be here under poorly hung fairy lights and drinking once-cold beer.

No one is ready to call it a night.

It’s nice. Normal. Or it should be—and should feel so.

No danger is imminent, no threat, no reason for anxiety to be thrumming through your veins. No reason for you to be on edge, even just a little bit. There’s just him, you and the boats.

The ones you watch when you pretend you’re not, the ones he notices before explaining that he’s happy with his choice. Both see through the other but never bringing it up—never wanting to pick the scab, which is becoming smaller by the day.

You know so because he always follows it with a kiss. A seal, a stamp of believe me. Your finger always slides along his bottom lip, thumb and middle on either side of his chin. They bother me too.

You know neither of you has any more to give, not much left in either of you to be whisked away to another country to fight another battle. Not yet, maybe never. Both have found small ways to slide shards of the other back into place with some comfort that, eventually, the two of you may even heal.

Glancing over at him, you find his eyes already on you. Your hand grabs another beer without even looking, holding his gaze—even through the shades on his face and the ones on yours.

You don’t mind that he’s had them on you since you excused yourself since you vanished in the house and until you stepped back into view. You do the same—watch, admire. Take every available second to stare and drink him in, still only half-believing this is reality and not some fantastic dream.

A pinch-your-forearm moment: because you’re safe; because he’s safe. Because he wanted you here with him.

Sometimes, you hold him too tight. Curl into him so your ear is pressed over his heart, listening to the steady thump which carries you to sleep. If he minds, he never speaks it—sometimes, he holds you back like you’re a raft that’ll stop him from drowning.

Holding the bottle up, you see him shake his head. Short, curt—very distinctively Javi in a sea of people who keep shaking his hand. His stare on you, likely desperately, as you walk back, remaining on you as you slide around tables and smile at people who nod in your direction.

Don’t leave me alone for too long, cariño.

Their unrestrained joy at his arrival, your eyes watching it double as you stepped out from behind his shadow, hand firmly in his. You don’t know them, the gaggle of people waiting at the yard gate, but you know their voices rise octaves at the sight.

And who is this? They’d asked when the two of you rocked up, Chucho’s apparent heads up to them all not enough of an introduction. Esta es mi novia—

Novia.

Sometimes, you feel your ears burn when it registers what he’s called you: girlfriend, his. At times, you almost pinch yourself in disbelief at how lucky you are. That you get him morning, noon and night—that you get a future, one which (at times) had felt like it was slipping through your fingers.

Tipping his shades down his nose, they balance near the tip, letting molten brown smother you as you allow the hem of your dress to swing around your knees. It’s intentional how long you take to get back to him. Let him watch you walk towards him—choosing him—without fear or hesitation that you’ve decided to be here with him.

It happens slowly, but it almost stops your heart—his smile. It broadens on your approach, spreading through his cheeks and eyes, and you could swear everything gets a bit brighter. More saturated. More vibrant and full of life.

Then, it shifts, spotting the mischievous glint spreading like wildfire as he runs his thumb against his bottom lip. Words—ones all sugary and sweet, tainted with filth, that he whispers into your ear as he tells you to be quiet—are heard in your mind. The ones in that voice he whispers late at night when his fingers tease your bundle of nerves, and his hips meet yours.

That’s what makes you smile—right from your lips to your eyes—the fact you can hear him without him speaking a word.

You don’t lower the yellow-toned aviators on your nose, the ones you’d ‘borrowed’. You know he can see the same glint mirrored in yours.

“Hey, handsome.”

He snorts, letting his fingers—all long and calloused—wrap around your wrist delicately before pulling you closer. Doing so until you fold into him, his hands moving you until you’re in his lap.

Then, a different heat slides over you, the scent of him filling your nose and soothing your tense muscles. An effect once only felt with good coffee and a perfect day—now all your days were perfect, or as close to as you could get.

“Fuck, cariño. You in these dresses...”

Taking a sip, the beer drenches your tongue. A taste you’d acquired, grown used to since arriving hours before.

You hum, light and airy. Letting it vibrate through you to him as you lie back into his chest, feeling the firmness of it and his cheek sliding against your neck.

Home.

That’s what he feels like home.

In truth, he has done for a stupidly long time. Longer than you ever care to admit. Because it means admitting you'd been running from this, from him: from happiness.

Instead, you let it coat you, hang itself around your shoulders as if his broad shoulders and long arms are forever there. A comfort, a joy you can barely describe.

You feel him let out a breath, one he allows to dance along the fabric—and across your collarbone, before you turn your head to meet his eyes. Almost seeing your reflection in them, fingers lightly brushing back a strand which has fallen across his forehead.

“You like them?”

His fingers pinch the skirt in his fingers, tugging it, letting it rise up to your knees. “Like them… fuck, cariño. I love them.”

It’s easier to take a sip and return to staring out—to keep indecent thoughts at bay. But he has other ideas. Calloused fingers gliding up the back of your knee, under the hem of your dress. Along the side of your outer thigh, your teeth nip the inside of your cheek, shifting your spine against his chest.

Whispering, you dip your chin—hiding your lips behind your hand, “Javi. If you keep doing that, I’ll begin making my own music.”

He groans, all breathy and low. The most perfect sound—one which dances to your ears, making your hips shift. It’s hard not to feel how hard he is—rocking against him ever so slightly, purposefully, as the arm around your waist tightens.

Stop.

It’s a silent protest. A pleading one. One that says you win, even if you never really wanted to. Because you have never really listened to reason—something you’re sure he appreciates. Something he's grateful for, even if currently he wishes it wasn’t in a yard full of family friends.

Your head turns, sinking into his eyes again—all beautiful brown and soft flecks of gold. “If you want me to stop, you have to stop; otherwise, we’ll have to excuse ourselves.”

“I know.”

Your eyes scan the party. The one littered with faces you don’t know, and faces he knows all too well. They’re all invested in one another, laughing, joking. His Pop’s across the way, talking to another older man. You’re about to tear your eyes back to him, when Chucho glances over, tilting his hat—that signature half-smile on his face. The same one you were given through the blinds—one you were sent in the rearview mirror when you first landed and found out Chucho had cancelled your motel reservation.

I’m staying at the— No, you’re not. Javi… Pop’s orders. And I'm not arguing with him.

Rolling your lips, you smile softer—settling back against Javi, feeling him relax as a song begins playing. One softer than the others, more guitar strings than thumping beats. Your back finds that comfortable space against his chest. The one you so often find when it’s just the two of you, and he refuses to let you sit in a chair beside him.

“I like you being here,” he whispers. “In Texas… with me.”

The tip of your tongue pokes out, swiping across your bottom lip. “Even when I sing awfully into wooden spoons in the kitchen?”

“More so.”

“Shit,” you smirk, sliding sideways on his lap, still curled into him, “You really like me...”

He tightens his arms around your waist, fingers digging in, holding you in place. “I really do, cariño.”

You pick at the label on the bottle, trying to hide your warming skin and a huge grin, resting your head on the space between his shoulder and neck.

“You happy here… with me?”

Swallowing, you purposefully meet his eyes, the ones already studying you, trying to unpick whatever your expression is saying.

“Never been happier, Javi.”

“Okay, cariño,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Good.”

You wait for a beat, staring out at the party. At the group of women dancing around their bags, the young couple dancing so woven together it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Slowly, you graze your fingers over his jaw, nails drawing a circle. “I love you too,” you whisper, not turning your head.

For a brief moment, he stills. And just as quickly, he shifts, taking your chin with his fingers as he lifts your eyes to his.

They’ve been swimming there for a while—in both of your eyes. Years of fear of getting close to someone muting them, halting them from escaping. There’s nothing to run from now—

“I love you, cariño.”

You consider a thousand other words, an assortment of paragraphs you think of constantly that he deserves to know.

But, instead, you kiss him. Coat his lips in your adoration, appreciation and love. Pressing those three words over and over as he kisses them back.

Surrounded by heat, sitting under fairy lights as the sun sets, you can't help but think, it's been another perfect day.

an: i needed this as much as everyone else.

javier peña masterlist

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javi peña #javier peña fanfiction

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hotmessmaxpress · 5 months ago

Note

i need Vale‘s pov of picking up Marc from Pesaro, because Marc wasn’t the only one worried, vale definitely was down bad just as much. The man of his dreams, who he almost lost before, is coming over to visit him. To meet him the first time as the person he really is. What if he only liked Vale for his money? Or if it just was some kind of hero worship? Valentino may have parked horribly, but that man was nervous, give him a break

Thank you for waiting so patiently, anon.

Here's another Vale's POV interlude, this time of Vale being Down Bad at the train station.

You should come.

To Tavullia. Come ride with me.

When Vale invited Marc to Tavullia to come ride with him, he hadn’t really been thinking. He knew he wanted to see Marc, so he invited him without thought of the consequences or how he would explain things to his family, friends, and staff. He’s too excited to take back the invitation, though, so as soon as Marc agrees Vale throws himself into planning.

He carves out a long weekend that he’s sure he can block off, and he starts firing off messages to all the normal visitors to the ranch and his home that he will be busy those days. Uccio is noticeably suspicious, so Valentino gives up and explains that Marc is visiting.

Uccio isn’t pleased, but they’ve known each other long enough at this point that Uccio knows when he’s lost a battle and he doesn’t push back too much. Vale makes him promise not to show up, and threatens that the other man may see something he doesn’t want to if he shows up. Even with the threat Vale isn’t convinced Uccio won’t try something, but he’s at least confident that if he does turn up it won’t be a huge argument. Vale can survive a little awkwardness if it means having Marc by his side, finally.

They negotiate travel plans and Vale pays for everything. He was tempted to completely throw out Marc’s itinerary and send a private jet for him, but he forces himself to play it cool at least a little bit. There’s still part of him, lurking in the back of his mind, that thinks Marc could be using him. He hopes that when he meets Marc in person the fear and anxiety will dissipate.

Allowing Marc to fly commercial doesn’t stop Vale from obsessively checking the timing of Marc’s flight, though. He stays attached to his phone throughout Marc’s travel day, ears open and listening for the notification that Marc has landed.

As soon as Marc lands, Valentino is in his car and off to the train station. He knows he’ll have to wait, and that he’s going to arrive far too early, but he can’t help it. He’s far too restless and excited to continue sitting around.

He’s in the car when the message pops up that Marc is on the train, and he forces himself to slow down. Driving faster won’t make Marc’s train move faster.

It is late enough at night that Vale has no qualms about parking right up front. He pulls haphazardly into an empty taxi space, and tries not to count the minutes until Marc’s train will pull into the station. He tries to talk himself down from being nervous, but now that he’s seated in his car with only music for company, a thousand thoughts run through his brain. This may be the moment that he finds out that Marc really does only want him for his money. Where will he be then? He knows Uccio won’t say “I told you so,” because he won’t have to. Vale will hate himself if things go wrong with Marc.

He desperately wants the younger man to be genuine. He wants his feelings for Marc to be reciprocated and warranted. He wants the chemistry that they have online to be true in real life.

He also can’t wait to touch Marc. A bitter part of him whispers that if Marc is using him for his money, at least he’ll get to have the weekend with him.

The minutes tick down as Vale nervously spirals, turning his music up to try and drown out the thoughts of insecurity.

When Marc walks out the station doors, Vale can’t help but climb out of the car to greet him. He’s not exactly keeping it cool, but Marc is simply too beautiful. Vale is drawn to him like a moth to flame and he wraps Marc in his arms.

Marc is small. He’s tiny in Vale’s arms, but Vale can feel the solid muscle beneath the warm hoodie he traveled in. His mouth waters as he pictures the hard muscle and tanned skin he knows is underneath the sweatshirt.

He forces himself to let go of Marc, who is positively beaming at him. It’s overwhelming, seeing that enthusiasm and joy in person. It’s even more overwhelming to know it’s directed at him. All at once Vale’s thoughts that Marc might be using him disappear. There’s no way the joy in his smile could be hiding an ulterior motive. There's no way any person, no matter how talented at acting, could fake such genuine happiness. It nearly brings Vale to his knees.

When they climb in the car, Marc asks him why he wasn’t afraid of people photographing them. Vale, after all, had stood publicly in front of a train station and held Marc in his arms.

Vale is stunned into silence for a second. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he should probably try and keep some semblance of privacy when picking Marc up. He tries to shrug and play it cool.

“It’s late at night. People will leave us alone.”

He hopes that is true and he hopes Marc buys his explanation.

The tension in the air is thick, and Vale considers pulling off the road to drag Marc into his lap and ravish him. Every time he glances at Marc, beautiful, joyful Marc, it’s all he can think about. By the time he pulls the car through the gate and up toward the house nearly half an hour later, he thanks every god in existence that he managed to get them home without crashing.

Vale promises Marc a tour and some riding in the morning, before carrying Marc’s bag into the house.

They barely make it inside the house before they’re on each other. Vale drops Marc’s things unceremoniously somewhere near the door, and then his arms are full of the small Spanish man. Marc is positively sinful, moaning into Vale’s mouth as he slides his hands underneath Marc’s shirt.

Marc is so satisfying to hold, and Vale promises himself he’ll take the entire weekend to fully map Marc’s body. He has a sickening moment of hoping Marc will let him have this forever; that Marc won’t want to leave him once he is bored of having sex with his hero.

Vale guides an enthusiastic Marc toward his bedroom, and his heart nearly stops when Marc freezes in the doorway. For a moment, Vale thinks Marc has gotten cold feet and is going to turn around and insist he be driven back to the train station.

“You really do have a bike in here,” Marc says, awed. “You won a championship on this.”

The wide-eyed look on Marc’s face goes straight to Vale’s cock.

“Sit on it,” he says, hungry at the thought of seeing the younger man on his bike. He has fantasized about this hundreds of times, and as Marc settles onto the seat Vale thinks he might burst into flames at the sight.

They’re both hard, and Marc climbs back off the bike as Vale grabs the smaller man and manhandles him onto the bed.

He’s wanted this for so long, and as he strips both of them of their clothes and gets his hands and mouth on Marc, he knows without a doubt that he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep this forever.

#onlyfans au #rosquez #valentino rossi #vr46 #mm93

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the-hinky-panda · 3 months ago

Text

Yellowstone: Boss Mare Series: Part IV

You have an ill mother and a pantry stocked with Hormel chili to thank for your temporary appointment of the ranch cook. It’s the middle of the afternoon when you follow Jamie up the wide front porch steps and through the large main door of the main house. It reminds you of your father’s house in the northwestern part of the state. Large, grand, picture perfect. You’re wise enough to know every foundation has cracks though and perfection doesn’t exist.

That knowledge doesn’t stop you from pleading your case for a job in the ranch’s kitchen and with John Dutton facing the fourth night of canned food for dinner, you gain your job as interim cook. Things may change when Gator’s mother rallies from her heart attack and he returns to Montana, but for now, the kitchen is yours. You’re also given a room and small bathroom over the kitchen to stay in until a more permanent plan is made.

You impressed them that first evening with a simple meal of green salad, a pot roast with potatoes and carrots, and a simple chocolate cake for dessert. You were told the big challenge though was feeding the bunkhouse. That’s why you’re thankful for running into Walker that evening. Despite his telling you to leave the ranch as soon as possible, he gives you the list of favorite breakfast foods in the bunkhouse.

“If you find that biscuit recipe,” he told you by the stream, “you’re golden.”

You spent half the night searching through books, boxes, and drawers in the kitchen. It’s almost midnight when John Dutton comes into the kitchen and finds you sitting on the floor with binders and recipe cards laid out in front of you. You wait to see what he’s going to say, to do. Is he going to scold you for being out of your room? For going through things that he didn’t give you permission to go through? Instead of saying anything, he just retrieves a glass from the cabinet, steps over you, and fills it with water from the tap.

“You know we’re not going to give you a written test, right?”

You nod. “Yes, I know. I, uh, I was just looking for a specific recipe.”

He drinks the water and sets the glass in the sink. “Let me guess. The biscuits?”

“I heard they were a favorite.”

“Well, you heard right.”

He goes over to a cabinet that holds multiple liquor bottles and reaches into the back. He pulls out a stack of worn, stained index cards held together with a rubber band. Carefully, he pulls out one and hands it to you. It’s the biscuit recipe. You glance at the others and he chuckles.

“You gotta earn the other ones.”

You stand up from the floor. “Fair enough. Thank you, for this. For everything.”

He nods in acknowledgement and points at the card in your hand. “How about we trade a secret for a secret?”

You shift uneasily on your feet. “Okay.”

“This thing you’re running from, is it going to come looking for you?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “I don’t know if I’m worth going after, to be honest.”

“Husband?”

You curl your toes into the stone floor and force yourself to nod your head. “Yes. And my father, possibly. Like I said, I don’t know if they consider me worth tracking down.”

He hands you another recipe, roast duck in a wine sauce. “Where did you come from?”

“Between Yarnell and Rexford. In the-”

“Kootenai National Forest, I know it.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Doomsday preppers? Hoarding guns and ammo, that kind of shit?”

You shake your head. “No. Nothing like that.”

“The only other groups that like those types of areas are cults or communes.” He gives you a brief head to toe scan. “And judging from how much you’re set on proving your worth, I’m going to say you’re no hippie.”

“No sir.”

He hums quietly and hands over another card, chestnut dressing with currants. “My family’s safety comes first. This ranch comes first. If anything threatens it, the threat will be swiftly dealt with. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. If anyone from my old life comes around, you will be the first to know. But please know, no matter what they say, I don’t want to go back there. Ever again.”

“Alright. That’s all I need to know for now.” He hands you one more card before putting the rest in his shirt pocket. “That one is also a breakfast favorite around here.”

You look down at it and see it’s a hashbrown casserole recipe. You smile as you run your fingers over the oil stains and neat handwriting on the cards. They are more than just the roadmap to your success; they’re pieces of trust. That is something that has been severely lacking in your life. Hopefully, that won’t be the case anymore.

#jamie dutton x you #jamie dutton x reader #jamie dutton fic #jamie dutton #yellowstone fic

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 3 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer invites you to stay with the provision you help him out around the ranch before you get a taste for the locals. Spencer’s stubbornness leads to your first fight.

Paring - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mildly flirty banter, mentions of past addiction and prison, stubborn Spencer, arguing, past violent behaviour, dissociation.

WC - 6.1k

Chapter 3 - I Walk the Line

There was an unfamiliarity between strangers which always set you on the defensive. Strangers were such for a reason and you didn’t often make a habit of them becoming anything more.

Of course all friends started as strangers, most people in your life had at one point been unknown to you. But there was a fear that came with ageing, an wariness that was ingrained in us for our own self-preservation.

As children it was no big deal to go and speak to a person you had no prior relation with, but as adults seeking the solace of strangers would be seen as exponentially dangerous.

Spencer Reid posed little threat to you, that of which you were certain. He was enchantingly awkward, not necessarily shy but definitely uncomfortable talking to people. He was meek and soft spoken, he had a gentle aura for which you felt safe around. He was not intimidating or threatening in any way.

But you exercised your prudence, just in case. It was far better to be safe than sorry and so you kept him at arm's length, dismissed any personal questions or changed the subject onto him.

In return he was almost as guarded with what information he readily shared. Conversation became a little stifled because you were both clearly trying to keep pieces of yourself under wraps. By the time you were half way between the hospital and his ranch, you were both silently staring out of the window.

Perhaps hanging around here wasn’t a good idea. It may be a port in the storm but it was abundant that you and Spencer were both determined to keep your cards close to your chests and no matter how safe it might be here, the awkwardness was grating.

The drive was long and slightly arduous and you were relieved when you pulled into the dirt road that led up to his ranch. You parked the car more or less where you had last night and killed the engine.

You turned to Spencer and he to you, a look of what could only be described as embarrassment on his features. You inhaled sharply and shook your head.

“You need help inside, right?” Your tone was laced with irritation.

“It wasn’t that.” He puckered his lips. “I, uh, realised I have no particularly edible food in my fridge aside from some butter and some take out that I’m fairly certain would make me ill if I dared to eat it.”

You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You really are relying on that kindness of strangers thing.” You baulked.

“In case it wasn’t perfectly clear, I am all alone out here and I don’t own a car. I know I’m asking a lot of you, but it really would be a huge favour and I would owe you so many in return.” He looked pleading at you and there was something about that look that was nigh on impossible to say no to.

In the light of day he was somehow more handsome than you’d thought him last night. His face was sculpted of sharp lines and angles, there was a part of you that had an urge to reach out and touch his stubbly, carved jaw. His eyes were even more fervent now, looking at you with profound concentration. The little flecks of gold still shimmered like they had last night.

You hadn’t noticed in the dark the purple-black circles under his eyes making him look as though he hadn’t slept a day in his life. They had small crinkles in the corners, and more laugh lines around his mouth when he smiled.

You would assume him to be pushing forty but he still had a boyish look to his features. He was pretty in an understated kind of way, maybe not the kind of man to turn heads wherever he went but you were sure he got plenty of attention in his own right.

You pulled a face, snapping yourself out of your thoughts and huffing once again.

“I told you, I really am in a hurry and this whole saga has set me back already.” You drummed your fingers on your thigh.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” His brow furrowed curiously.

“Here and there.” You shrugged.

“Look I am happy for you to stay a little while longer because I get the impression you’re not actually in a rush at all. If you were you wouldn’t have stayed as long as you had. I have the space, I’m out here all alone and to be honest I could probably use some help around here while I’m healing.” He wet his lip with his tongue, your eyes were drawn to it like a magnet.

“I, uh…” You looked back to his eyes, ignoring the way your stomach coiled. “You’re suggesting I help you around your ranch?”

“Not for nothing of course. Like I say I can offer you a room and I can keep you fed.” He shrugged again, flexing the fingers poking out of his cast a little.

“I’m from the city, I know nothing about being a rancher.” You sat back in your seat.

“It’s all fairly simple stuff, just cleaning out the animals, taking the horses out and some-”

“Whoa no, see you lost me at taking the horses out.” You cut him off. “Taking them out as in…”

“Riding them.” He chuckled.

“Not gonna happen.” You reached into your pocket for your smokes whilst opening the window. You lit one without even asking if he minded.

“I struggled at first but once you get the hang of it, it’s just like…riding a bike I guess.” He used his good hand to waft to smoke out of his face before turning and opening the passenger’s window.

A breeze fluttered through the car, sending the smoke spiralling out of the window and thankfully out of Spencer’s face.

“They aren’t the kind of stallions I usually like to have between my thighs, if you know what I mean.” You smirked around the cigarette and sent a wink his way.

Spencer noticeably tensed. Your unexpected words and mildly flirtatious tone smacked him around the face and sent all the blood in his body rushing south like a waterfall.

He clenched his jaw, shifting in his seat again and thankful his hat was still cradled in his lap. He could feel his cheeks pinken, his embarrassment and discomfort evident.

A slight stirring in his groin, nothing ordinarily of note except for the fact it was the most excitement that appendage had shown since -

“What’s wrong, Spence? What’s happening? Why aren’t you, uh…aren’t you enjoying this?”

- Prison.

Thoughts coalesced inside his brain, many thoughts which were particularly unwanted at the best of times let alone now. At least it still worked, he considered morbidly.

“I, uh,” he croaked. “Duly noted.”

You tried to hide the smile on your face by taking another drag on the cigarette. His reddening cheeks were utterly adorable.

“I’ll take you to get some groceries but as for the ranch work…” you steered the conversation back on track.

“What is it exactly you’re running away from?” His words surprised you and it was your turn to tense up.

“E-excuse me?” You stuttered, cigarette wobbling precariously between your fingers.

“It takes one to know one.” He shrugged. “How do you think I ended up out here?”

You took another shaky drag and puffed the smoke out of your mouth while you contemplated this. In the distance with the radio shut off, you could hear the same shuffling from the stables you’d heard last night.

“What were you running from?” You turned it back on him.

“A series of poor life choices.” His lip turned up at the corner. “You?”

“Much the same.” You agreed.

“Look, Y/N, I’m not gonna sit here and beg you or anything because I still have at least a fragment of my dignity intact. But it would be a huge help for me if you stuck around a little while. I can teach you everything about horses and cattle and you’ll have a place to rest your head at night. It’s safe out here, whatever it is you’re running from won’t find you here.” He punctuated his sentence with a heavy sigh through his nose.

You closed your eyes and puffed on the cigarette. You knew he was right, you’d felt that wave of safety wash over you last night and it was still blanketing you now.

But if you stayed, even for a short time, were you putting this man in danger? What if it did find you and not only you suffered but this kind and handsome stranger?

Mexico was just in your sights, so close yet just out of reach. There was nothing waiting for you there except a long and lonely existence. Here though, in this slice of seclusion on Spencer’s ranch, you could at the very least have basic companionship.

And god knows he clearly needed that.

Taking another long puff on the cigarette, maybe in an attempt to make him sweat a little, you opened your eyes as you exhaled the smoke. Spencer was watching you expectantly, drumming the fingers of his good hand against his thigh in anticipation.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, puckering your lips. “I’ll stay. But just until you can do all this stuff for yourself again. Not a second longer.”

Spencer breathed out in relief. He told himself it was because it would be almost impossible for him to look after this place by himself but he knew that wasn’t the full story.

He knew that despite his instant attraction towards you, things couldn’t develop beyond simple friendship. He was acutely aware that even after all this time he wasn’t ready to venture into anything deeper than that, specifically things of a physical nature.

Some things just can’t be undone and unfortunately for him he’d suffered one of those very things. It didn’t matter how many years had past, there would never be enough distance between himself and his trauma.

But he still liked the idea of you staying for a simple comfort. A friend, or even just a companion might ease his troubled mind, might aid in quelling the demons he’d travelled halfway across the country to out run.

But they never truly left, they were always there lurking in the shadows. Maybe you could shine a little light on them, banish them for even just a short while.

“Thank you.” He replied much meeker than he’d meant to.

You shrugged as if it was no big deal, turning in your seat and flicking the cigarette out of the window. You started the engine again with little notice.

“Right then, point me in the direction of your hick town general store.”

***

Bandera General Store was, for all intents and purposes, exactly as you imagined it to be.

Its wooden blue facade was wearing slightly, in need of a good lick of paint. Inside it sold everything from groceries to souvenirs to cowboy boots and books.

Tucked away inside the front door was a sign meant to attract tourists. It informed you the store was built in the early nineteen hundreds and still had its original wood floors and tin ceilings. It had previously been a movie theatre, saddle shop and feed store.

Supposedly during the prohibition era caskets were sold from the basement and cowboys would drink beer and play cards on the empty drums.

It promoted a fully functional nineteen fifties ice cream fountain, only one of eleven in the state of Texas. And aside from their town library, Bandera General Store was the only place in town to get books.

Honestly it was all a little too stereotypical for your liking.

You stood out like a sore thumb, like a horse in a field of cattle. Patrons and workers offered you curious sideways expressions while Spencer simply waved amicably to them.

He didn’t speak to anyone, just waved or occasionally nodded with the brim of his hat. He certainly knew these people in passing but not well enough to talk to them.

You pushed the cart while Spencer limped by your side, cradling his arm against his chest. He filled the cart with essentials, but nothing that required a concerted effort to cook. You would soon come to learn that was because, despite the fact he’d lived alone since he was a teenager, he had no idea how to cook.

He bypassed the liquor shelves but you did a one-eighty and circled back. You grabbed a bottle of scotch and dropped it into the cart, tucking it away between a carton of milk and a box of cereal.

You hurried to catch up to Spencer who was perusing the collection of riding boots with a keen eye. He heard the cart cluttering closer and glanced at you briefly.

“What size do you wear?” He asked, looking back at the array of boots.

“In cowboy boots? Size absolutely never gonna happen.” You scoffed.

“You can’t ride a horse in sneakers.” He scoffed, tipping his hat at you.

The more he talked the more you could tell he wasn’t from the south. It hadn’t struck you as odd at first until you’d heard other voices in the store.

Spencer’s accent you couldn’t quite place, but it didn’t certainly didn’t fit in in the Deep South.

“I don’t want to ride a horse full stop.” You clipped back.

“You said you’d help right?” He tilted his head in your direction. “Part of that helping is taking my horses out. And to do that you need the proper footwear.”

“Goddamnit.” You grumbled with a shake of your head.

“Are there any you like the look of?”

“No.”

“I like these ones.” He plucked a fire engine red pair with blue stitching off of the shelf and mused over them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” You shook your head again.

“What size do you take?” He asked you again.

With a sigh and a groan you told him nonetheless. It seemed easier than fighting with him and drawing attention to yourself.

He rifled through the display for your size before finding a boxed pair near the back. Checking inside briefly to ensure it was the garish red pair, he closed the lid and with a smile deposited them in the cart.

By the time you reached the checkout he was limping really fitfully, grimacing as he went. Each step seemed to cause his face to contort further, creasing and puckering until he had to lean against the cart to keep himself up right.

You didn’t want to fuss over him, noticing the way his cheeks reddened slightly in his embarrassment so instead you started unloading the cart onto the small conveyor belt.

“Hey Cosmo,” the elderly lady behind the counter glanced up over her crescent moon glasses. “You got a little hitch in your giddy up?”

“Oh, no it’s nothing.” Spencer waved a dismissive hand, his one good hand.

“You look awful worse for wear.” She pulled a face whilst she started ringing up the items and bagging them.

She had a sweet southern lilt, kind eyes and she was clearly concerned for Spencer.

You looked between the two of them in mild confusion at the strange nickname she’d bestowed upon him. He must have heard it before because he didn’t seem perturbed by it.

“Shoulda seen the other guy.” He forced a laugh, pushing himself back up straight. “I’m fine, honestly. Thanks though.”

He shuffled to the end of the belt in time to see the bottle of scotch make its way through. He shot you a look as it was being bagged and you offered him a shrug of response.

“And who might your pretty lady friend be, Cosmo? Never seen ya with company before.” She tittered, smirking wildly between the two of you.

“Uh,” Spencer furrowed his brow, looking to you for an answer.

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Parker. Cosmo here is my lover.” You teased and Spencer turned exactly twenty shades of red.

“Friends, we’re friends.” He was quick to correct. “She has a particularly abhorrent sense of humour.”

The woman blinked at Spencer several times, clearly not quite understanding but nonetheless shrugged and continued her work.

“Ain’t one to judge honey-pie.” She sighed wistfully. “In my day I was a regular harlot.”

You almost cackled at the mere thought but managed to cover it with a cough and turned your face away from the elderly woman.

Spencer was now at least ten extra shades of red.

“Uh, good to know.” He nodded with a tight lipped smile.

Conversation gratefully waned and the old lady rang everything up and Spencer paid while you transferred the bags back to the cart. She sent him on his way with a take care of yourself and he returned the gesture with a tip of his hat.

He started outside and you followed, watching the way he had to stop briefly after every few steps. You pushed the cart to the car and insisted he get inside and sit down, no matter how much he wanted to argue that he would help.

Eventually he relented and got in the car while you deposited the bags in the trunk and returned the cart.

He wouldn’t make eye contact when you got in the car, staring out the window instead. You started the engine and pulled away from the curb in silence.

He was flexing the fingers poking out of his cast and his other hand was circled around his knee. Even out of the corner of your eye you could see his winces of pain.

It was obvious to you he wasn’t used to asking for help and wasn’t comfortable having people see him in pain. He’d asked you to stay but you could tell his resolve in that decision was waning.

He was trying to put on a brave front but his demeanour was a clear sign he was uncomfortable with this.

His shoulders were tense and his brow was deeply creased. He was deep in thought, desperately trying to hide how much pain he was in and failing.

You got about a mile or so down the road before you glanced at him again and huffed out a breath.

“So, Cosmo?”

His head practically whipped around to face you, his lips parting slightly as he exhaled.

“Uh, yeah,” he wrinkled his nose. “Short for Cosmopolitan. City slickers stick out around here. When I first came to town I reeked of the city apparently.”

“City boy, huh?” You nodded to yourself.

“Originally Las Vegas but before I came here I was living in DC since my early twenties.” He gnawed on his bottom lip. That would explain The Washington Post on his coffee table. “How about you? You said you’re a city girl.”

He noticed the way your hands tightened a little on the steering wheel. He had already sensed your reclusive nature, the way in which you weren’t comfortable sharing facets of yourself with just anyone. Information was privileged and you regarded who you shared that information with readily.

Whatever demons you might be running from contributed to your closed off sensibility and he wondered if you might even begrudge him the simplest knowledge of knowing where you were from.

You sat back against the chair, eyes no longer flickering over to him but remaining firm out of the window. Your chest heaved slightly with your breaths and the furrow of your brow told him you were weighing up your options.

Eventually your grip loosened a little on the wheel but when you spoke, you spoke quietly.

“New York.” You muttered.

Spencer watched the side of your face, even after all this time he was unable to stop himself falling into old patterns of reading behaviour. He didn’t think you were lying, he was sure of it in fact.

“Why do you do that?” Your voice startled him a little.

“Do what?” He frowned.

You hit your blinker and were soon taking the right turn off the road onto the dirt path that led to his ranch.

“Study me, like you’re trying to read me.” You remembered the behavioural books you’d seen on his bookshelves.

“Force of habit.” He spoke without meaning to.

As the car jolted along the uneven track, you glanced at him briefly.

“What does that mean?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “What exactly did you do in DC?”

Spencer swallowed around his dry tongue, ignoring a pang that spiralled through his knee at a particular dip in the road. Soon you were rolling the car to a stop near his lodge and cutting the engine. You turned to face him.

There was no way he was telling you the truth. Spencer liked it out here where no one knew who he was or where he came from. Down here he wasn’t the son of a schizophrenic, his father hadn’t abandoned him. He wasn’t a former drug addict or convict.

He wasn’t SSA Spencer Reid, or Doctor Spencer Reid. He was just Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid and his horses and his cattle living on his small slice of paradise.

“I was a professor.” He answered, knowing he was still able to control his expression so as not to give away the lie. “Psychology.”

Ah, that would explain those sweater vests, you thought to yourself.

“Big leap from professor to cowboy.” You smirked a little at him.

“What about you?” He ignored your sentiment. “What do you do?”

“This and that.” You shrugged, suddenly turning and swinging the car door open. “You need a hand getting out?”

Spencer watched in mild confusion as you got out of the car and closed the door. He shook his head, not surprised you hadn’t willinging given any more information over. He opened his own door slowly and carefully.

“I’m fine,” he replied, internalising a groan that wanted to escape when he manoeuvred his legs out of the car and onto the ground.

Using his one good hand he braced it against the bucket of the seat and used all of his strength to push himself to standing so he didn’t have to put an unnecessary weight on his knee. This time the groan erupted and from where you were standing at the trunk you came rushing to his side.

“Stop, stop,” you fussed. “Let me help you.”

You reached for him, hand brushing against his arm but no sooner had you come into contact, Spencer flinched and pulled his arm out of your reach as though you’d burned him.

“I said I’m fine.” He spat harshly, stubbornly pushing past you and starting to limp towards his lodge.

Ignoring his grumbles and groans of pains and the fact he had to stop every few steps was hard even though he was a virtual stranger. You didn’t want to see him in pain but it was becoming evident he wasn’t willing to show weakness around you.

You couldn’t help but replay in your mind the way he’d flinched when you touched him. The brief look he’d given you as he’d pulled his arm away was one of terror but had only lasted a fraction of a second.

You recalled the medication in his bathroom cabinet. Paroxetine. Used for treating depression, OCD, panic attacks, anxiety and…

…PTSD.

Post-traumatic stress disorder could explain his aversion to unprovoked physical touch. You’d had your suspicion when he’d told you he had been a professor that it wasn’t the truth.

Perhaps he was a vet. Perhaps he’d been in the army in a former life and was dealing with the aftermath of serving for his country.

It would explain his desire to isolate himself, his flinching at your touch. The medication.

Whatever it was, Spencer Reid was an enigma. And you were sure if he had his way, he would remain as much.

You watched him struggling with the steps up to his lodge, fighting back the urge to help as he leaned almost all of his weight against the bannister.

Instead you focused yourself on gathering the bags from the trunk. You cradled them in your arms and by the time you caught up with him he’d only just managed to get the door unlocked.

You followed him inside and placed the groceries on the breakfast bar next to the old coffee mug and even older phone.

He removed his stetson and denim shirt, hanging the former up on a hook by the door and tossing the latter over the arm of the couch.

His white t-shirt was stained with dirt and mud. He ran his fingers through his greasy hair before turning towards the bags on the counter.

Before he could start unpacking them, the phone caught his eye. He picked it up and leaned back against the counter while tapping a few buttons.

His throat dried out as he looked at the text message that was waiting for him. It was time stamped late last night. You watched the way the light in his eyes dimmed, the way he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip before rolling it between his teeth. His brows furrowed in a look of concern.

He opened the message, despite his better judgement.

📲 Luke Alvez: Hey man, haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to check in. Penelope says she’s been trying to call you over the last week but you haven’t been answering. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I know I’m not exactly on the list of people you want to talk to, but can you at least let me know you’re okay? Let someone know you’re okay.

His lips moved in tiny fractions as he read the words on his screen but you couldn’t ascertain what he was mouthing. His grip on the device was tight, his knuckles white.

“What’s up?” Your voice snapped his attention away from the device and he looked at you in slight shock as though he’d forgotten you were there.

He locked the phone and slid it into his pocket with a shake of his head.

“Nothing just…a message from a, uh, friend.” He swallowed thickly, turning away from you and starting to empty one of the bags with one hand.

“Nuh uh, that’s not the face you pull when a ‘friend’ texts you.” You chuckled, sidling up to him.

His back straightened, you noticed a brief flare of his nostrils.

“It’s…complicated okay? I don’t wanna talk about it.” You shook you off.

He fumbled with the milk carton, almost allowing it to slip through his hand. You managed to reach out and take it from him without touching him again. You set it on the counter.

“I can handle a few groceries, Spencer. Why don’t you go lay down or something?”

“I’m not five years old.” He barked with an over exaggerated roll of his eyes.

“I didn’t say you were. But unpacking groceries is not a two person job so why don’t you rest up for a bit?” You remained softened, not wanting to bite back.

“I need to feed the horses.”

“Well we can do that together once I’m done here.” You exhaled. “If you don’t want to rest, how about taking a shower? You’re kinda filthy.”

He glanced down at his body now, seemingly forgetting that fact. You noticed something falter in his eyes and you had a pretty good guess what it was. You’d seen his shower, it was over the tub just like in his spare cabin. Getting into it wouldn’t be an easy feat with his injuries.

“You need me to help you?”

Once again his eyes shot up to you and there was a flash of terror behind them again.

“What? No!” He shook his head, his tone incredulous.

“You think I’ve never seen a naked man before, Spencer?” You cocked an eyebrow and put your hand on your hip.

“You…I…I can shower just fine.” He spat. “The doctor gave me a sleeve thing to go over my cast. I’ll be fine.”

“Say it one more time and I might believe you.” You rolled your eyes.

“What?”

“I’m fine, I’ll be fine.” You did a pretty poor imitation of him.

His jaw tightened, clearly not impressed by it.

“I can shower by myself. And I don’t appreciate your teasing. This is my home. I invited you into my home, the least you can do is show me some respect.” He growled at you.

No, no way. This jagoff doesn’t get to talk to me like that when I’m doing him a favour!

“You invited me into your home to help you, asshole! Which is what I’m trying to do but for some reason you won’t let me.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I wanted your help with my animals. I don’t need you treating me like an invalid and trying to wrap me in cotton wool! I’m not a child, goddamnit.”

“Well you’re certainly acting like one!” You bit back. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” He tried to fold his own arms to mirror you but it was cumbersome due to his cast.

“A grouch?” It was the nicest of things you could have said.

“Excuse me?” He scoffed.

“I just want to know what to expect if I’m going to be staying here. Are you always like this? Will I constantly have to walk on eggshells around you? Or are you just being an asshole because you’re in pain?”

His back straightened again at the same time as his jaw tightening. His eyes turned darker, it was slightly intimidating. He squared his shoulders and once again his nostrils flared. He wasn’t of a thick build but he was tall, much taller than you and he was using his height to unnerve you.

“You can go now.” He spoke relatively calmly given how angry he felt.

“I’m sorry?” Your face contorted in bewilderment.

“You can go. I don’t need you here, I’m going to be just f-”

“If you say you’re fine one more goddamn time, I swear to god!” You cut him off, your voice raising a few decibels.

“Get out.” He shook his head, sounding less angry and more fed up.

“With pleasure.” You spat back, unfurling your arms from across your chest and turning on the heels of your sneakers.

You didn’t turn back. You didn’t take one last look at him or anything of the sort. You stormed towards the door and flung it open with such force it swung against its hinges. Your footsteps on the stairs were heavy as you descended them.

You still didn’t turn back, despite the fact you could feel his eyes piercing into the back of your head. You kept walking, slid into the driver’s seat of your car and within seconds he heard the engine scream to life.

And you still didn’t look back when you reversed the car, turning in a quick and tight circle. Once facing the road you slammed your foot on the accelerator and sent a flurry of gravel and sand flying behind you as you peeled off down the dirt road.

Spencer felt the anger rising in a bubble in his stomach. He’d never been an angry person, he was always so passive even in light of his countless traumas.

But prison had brought out a side of him that he’d managed to keep contained his entire life. A part of him that had always hidden just beneath the surface but had never been facilitated. His inner Hulk, that’s what his therapist had named it. Spencer liked things to be named, it helped him make sense of them.

His inner Hulk had been dormant his entire life up until he was arrested in Mexico. What those men did to him on the inside unleashed that beast that he’d kept under lock and key up until then.

The first time he let that Hulk out was when he held Cat Adams by the throat as he shoved her against the wall of the interrogation room. He’d hoped it was just a one time thing, he was on edge and his mother was missing.

He stemmed it for months after, but eventually the Hulk appeared again. And this time that anger had been entirely misdirected.

“What’s wrong, Spence? What’s happening? Why aren’t you, uh…aren’t you enjoying this?” The other man looked at him with a sadness in his eyes and Spencer felt his gut coiling into knots.

“I, uh, I just…I’m not ready.” He suddenly shot up from the couch.

The other man stared at him through hooded eyes, his lips puffy from their intense make out session.

“It’s okay,” the other man cooed. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry if I rushed you.”

He stood up too and came closer to Spencer. He placed his hands gently on the younger man's shoulders but Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Spence?” The man whispered. “Did something…did they do something to you in prison?”

A flash of something indiscernible in Spencer’s eyes and then suddenly -

“Don’t touch me!” Spencer spat, shoving the other man roughly by the chest. “And don’t talk to me about that place.”

“Spencer?” The man sucked in a breath. “You know you can tell me anything. This is a safe space, baby.”

When the hand came towards him, Spencer felt that bubble of anger in his stomach. It rapidly spread up his chest, down his extremities. Before the hand could touch him again, Spencer reacted without much thought behind it.

He was surprisingly swift when he wanted to be and he circled his hand around the wrist of the hand that was edging near him. He gripped it tightly and in one quick move he was able to spin the arm, and the man it was attached to, pinning the arm against his back.

The other man groaned in pain, at the twisting in his shoulder blade, at the nails digging into the skin of his wrist.

“S-Spencer,” he stuttered. “What are you doing?”

“I told you not to touch me.” He gave the arm another tug, the other man wincing.

“I’m s-sorry,” the other man sniffed. “Please, I won’t do it again.”

Somewhere in Spencer’s brain a light seemed to turn on and he snapped back around. He blinked several times in quick succession as his arm fell to his side, letting go of the other man.

He stumbled backwards, staring at his hand as if it were an alien appendage. His heart thrummed violently against his chest. What had just happened? One minute the hand had been reaching for him and the next Spencer was holding that hand hostage by the mans own back.

The other man turned to him cautiously, a look of fear apparent in his eyes. He’d never looked at him in the same way again.

To this day Spencer couldn’t remember giving the command to act with such force towards the man who had only ever loved him. A combination of time and therapy had helped him understand what had happened and even though this was given a name, it was one time he’d rather it was unknown.

He’d dissociated. For less than a minute in time his brain detached itself from reality and his trauma had acted on his behalf.

He’d acted on compulsion, the way in which he’d wanted to be able to fend off the unwanted touches before but didn’t have the compunction to at the time.

The rage bubble, the Hulk, the dissociation. The symptoms were treated by his medication but they were still a part of him. Pieces of what made him who he was.

Part of the reason he’d moved out here was to keep others away. But it also served the purpose of keeping himself away from others.

He no longer trusted his own actions. If he could become violent towards someone he loved, who was to say he couldn’t be that way with anyone?

And he’d invited you into his home. He’d put you in danger by asking you to stay. For two years he hadn’t had a violent outburst but that was only because he’d isolated himself, kept himself locked away where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.

He closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his good hand at his side. When he felt the bubble of anger rising, he was to close his eyes and count to ten.

He did as his therapist taught him, slowly but surely feeling the anger start to calm. He hadn’t taken his medication. He needed to. But the moment he opened his eyes again the rage came flooding back like a tsunami and before he could even take a single step, his mind divorced itself from reality and he spiralled into the abyss.

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allzelemonz · 1 year ago

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Red Dead Redemption Scenarios: Glasses

Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/References to sex, violence Warnings: Reader wears glasses, kissing, cuddling, violence, murder

Abe:

He flushed quite red when you made a point of taking them off before joining him in bed the first time

He’ll check in to make sure they’re working well every once and a while

Always accompanies you to the doctor when you need new ones

All too many times have you had to ask him to push them up when your hands are covered in spilled milk or some undesirable substance from ranch work

He is very careful not to smudge them when kissing or hold holding your face

Will happily clean them for you if you ask

Bill Williamson:

He has been responsible for several broken pairs of glasses

It’s always an accident like rolling on them while asleep or stepping on them when you carelessly shed them the night before

He loves when you get new ones though, always makes sure to compliment you

The first time he saw you without them he just wanted to stare at your eyes without the lens in the way

Sometimes he’ll slide them onto your face in the morning as an excuse to kiss you

Charles Smith:

He helps you find the best way to handle a bowstring so they don’t get in the way

He’s always careful when he takes them off to kiss you

Keeps a rag clean for when you need to wipe smudges off

When you need new ones he likes to go with you just to spend time with you

He only gives his opinion on potential frames if you ask

Learned how to fix them when the arm breaks or something so you don’t have to keep going back to the doctor

Colm O’Driscoll:

He always makes sure the frames are top of the line, hard to break, usually green

Will take you to replace them if they break

Likely will be paying for them with a threat or bullet unless he thinks the doctor does a decent job

He’ll take them off of your face when he wants to be rough and set them aside carefully

Is often the cause of the lenses fogging because he likes to hold you real close as things get heavy

Kieran Duffy:

He’s really bad at not touching the lenses when his hands are up by your face

He’ll always apologize when he smudges them and offers to clean them for you

Will ask if they’re still working well every couple of months

When they fall down your nose a bit and you look up at him you look all serious and it makes him blush

He will push them up for you if your hands are occupied

Micah Bell:

Before he liked you, when he was in his usual asshole state, he thought of them as a weakness

But then he got sweet and he hardly remembers that you actually need them to see

He finds it a little funny when there’s a temperature change and you have to wipe the fog off

Especially when he may be the cause of such sudden heat

A man broke them in a fight once and Micah shot him without any further consideration

He went with you to get new ones of course, wanting the chance to weigh in on what would become a fixture on your face

Sean MacGuire:

He regularly steals them, “God above, you’re blind!”

Sometimes he’ll run off with them

Loves to push them up for you

Also loves to take them off so he can more easily kiss all over your face

He’s very careful when he handles them because he knows he’s usually reckless

Always has a rag for you to clean them with

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coltermorning · 11 months ago

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 8 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: After further revealed details about your past, Arthur realizes you’re not quite as knowledgeable as he thought.

Author’s Notes: Chapter eight of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Eight: A Lack of Expertise

Word count: 3268

The land is finally flattening, the trees thinning, taking us east into land I hardly know. Every step away from the mountains seems to make my traveling companion quieter still, if that is even possible, but we are making progress at least. A few weeks yet and we will hit Nebraska. I just hope all this promise of safe haven and wide open turns out to be true. For both our sakes.

The snow had turned back to rain, the sting of it like ice on your exposed skin despite the fact that it was too warm to freeze. That plus enough travel warranted the return of the grayed landscape of approaching winter, dull in color and twice as lifeless. You already missed the mountains.

“Well, forgive me, but that don’t make much sense.”

You were simultaneously arguing with Arthur and trying to speak as little as possible. You gave up thinking he would get the hint to stop badgering you miles ago. The way he riled you kept out the worst of the cold at least.

“To you it doesn’t,” you shot back at him, rubbing your hands together to get the warmth back in them. Riding in the rain was always misery, but at least it wasn’t falling hard enough to stop your progress yet again.

Arthur laughed. “True enough.”

After a second’s peace, you thought he would finally give it up until he said, “But we both know alone wouldn’t have cut it. Hell, it’s why you got me riding with you now.”

You sighed, not granting him a response. You had told him a little about your past in Montana, working alongside your parents ever since you were old enough to ride. You sincerely wished you hadn’t now that he was picking apart every piece of it.

He pushed again, his relentless words making you grit your teeth. “I mean, you could have easily found someone to marry up there, someone to help you with the ranch. It ain’t like a man would have turned you down-”

“There was no one, Arthur,” you interrupted, shooting him a look. This was all hypothetical anyway. A life long behind you. You faced forward again when he finally fell quiet. Then, because it left bitterness sitting heavy on your tongue, “We were the only people for miles around. The closest men were all twice my age, older than my father. I was the only child. My parents were the only ones foolish enough to have one in such harsh country.”

“You seemed to like it well enough.”

True. Your love of your home had been how this argument began—the explanation of your parents wanting a better life for you, why you had wanted to stay behind. Arthur was siding with them, the aggravating bastard.

“Who says you can’t have the same life in Nebraska anyhow?” he went on. “Hell, you may prefer it a year from now, and all your qualms about your old life will be long behind you.”

“It isn’t that. It’s…”

It wasn’t the loss of Montana. It was the life that would be forced upon you in Nebraska. The threat was still there, worrying you every step you took toward your new home. But you didn’t have anywhere else to go.

“What?” he pushed.

You could feel his eyes on you. You stared straight ahead, keeping your horse pointed down the path as you said, “I know why they wanted me on this trip. And it wasn’t for any reason I was interested in.”

“Which was?”

You almost couldn’t admit it. You never had. And it tarnished their memory somehow, like they didn’t know their daughter well enough to know it was wrong for her. But you bit it out anyway, needing to clear the air. Needing the sharp cold of the rain to stave off the resentment you held so close.

“They wanted me married off.”

Arthur was silent a moment. Then, like he couldn’t believe it, “They told you that?”

No. They had tiptoed around it, never quite admitting it. But all their talk of how happy they had been together was enough to clue you in. You weren’t them though. You were raised wild, meant for the mountains and the land and no man on earth. Couldn’t they see that?

“No,” you finally managed, your voice small and wavering.

“Maybe they didn’t-”

“Arthur,” you warned. You were dangerously close to letting tears spill. “Enough.”

He seemed to finally sense the conversation had crossed into forbidden territory. He sighed long and loud. “Fine. But don’t go moping over something you don’t know to be true.”

He had a point, yet it only served to make you feel guiltier. Why were you assuming the worst of them? Maybe because you had wanted a reason to hate Nebraska. Maybe you had wanted a reason to hate them. But now they were gone. You wished more than anything you had been kinder during their last days.

You were thankful for the rain when tears finally spilled over, warming your face at the memory of your bitterness, your stubbornness. At least you wouldn’t have to explain yourself, as it seemed everything but the rain had gone quiet. For once, that included Arthur.

The rain grew harder and harder until Arthur finally called it. The pair of you stopped for what had to be the fifth time due to weather, building a camp once more.

Arthur had asked you to drive the tent stakes in while he gathered firewood in case the rain turned to snow. Sitting there utterly confused, you wished you had asked him to switch jobs. For he had handed you his revolver without explanation, and you sat there staring at the thing like it would turn and shoot you of its own volition. You’d only ever used rifles, repeaters, shotguns, bows. Longarms. You never had need for something so close-range and deadly—a man-killing gun. You could do that just fine with the others if the need arose. But Arthur was an outlaw, as you were so begrudgingly reminded when he handed it over. You thought about using its grip like a hammer, banging the stakes in, but you hadn’t a clue if it was loaded and didn’t know how to unload it if it was. So you sat there, half-drenched in the rain, waiting for his return. Knowing what his reaction would be when he did. The thought spurred you to action.

You approached your horse and got your gun out instead, knowing how to unload it. You did so before bringing it back over to the tent, working the first stake into the ground with your boot. Then you reared back with the gun, just high enough to aim true, and brought it down butt-first. The stake sunk a satisfying few inches into the soggy ground. You made a few more hits and got it deep enough before moving on to the next one. You had the second nearly done when Arthur returned.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You stopped and looked at him. “What you asked.”

“What, my gun ain’t good enough for you?”

You felt your face heat and returned to your work, sparing yourself the embarrassment of knowing next to nothing about sidearms.

He stormed over, forcing the gun from your hands. “Stop before you break it. Here.” He picked his gun up off the ground, holding it out to you. You wouldn’t take it. Too prideful to admit your shortcoming.

He scoffed, a bitter sound. “Figures.”

You didn’t understand. You didn’t know him well enough to know what riled him.

Before you could rush to fix whatever had gone wrong, he handed you back your gun, spinning his in his grip. “Move then.”

You did as he asked but said, “I can help,” thinking maybe that was why he was annoyed.

“I’m sure you can.” The sarcasm in those words made your anger rear its head in turn.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, watching him start on the stake much gentler than you had.

“I thought we were past this,” he said, not stopping, not even looking at you.

“Past what?”

He shook his head, moving to the next stake. You followed him and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. “Past what?”

“Past you, shying away from my gun. Past who I am and what I’ve done. You didn’t want an outlaw leading you, you should have asked me to get lost the minute you found out.”

Oh. A complete misunderstanding. “Arthur, I-”

“Save it. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t…” The reason behind not using his gun suddenly seemed a bit juvenile.

Your hesitation made him speak, bitterness lining his words. “I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit excuse you have for keeping me around,” he spat.

“I want you around.”

He stopped nailing the stake in. Just froze.

“I do. I just…didn’t know how to use the gun. And I was embarrassed. But I do want you here.”

He looked at you. Didn’t say a word before turning back to his work. You were a second away from getting onto him for jumping on your case when he spun back around. “You don’t know how to shoot this?” He held his gun up, the way he had twirled it in his grip unnaturally fast slightly unnerving.

“No. But-”

“Well we’re about to change that right now.” He stood, making for his horse in the still-pounding rain. “I ain’t letting you die for ignorance neither.”

“Arthur,” you chided, grabbing his shoulder again. He finally stopped and looked at you, all anger gone. “You can’t keep doing that,” you said quietly.

“Doing what?” Either he was a damn good liar, or he really was clueless.

“Wanting me to be upset with you over your…lifestyle.” His eyes clouded with thought, but he didn’t respond. You continued. “Whatever qualms you have with yourself don’t extend to me. I’ve only ever known you to be helpful. Kind.”

He forced a grin, a non-genuine one. “Yeah, well, you don’t know me very well.”

Maybe not. But you were tired of him wielding his insecurity like a weapon. “So be it. But stop getting upset with me over it. I’ve moved past it. So should you.”

He wouldn’t meet your eye then, his hat hiding his expression. Then he sidestepped you with a low, “Sure,” like you had asked the simplest of favors. “Come on then,” he said, his boyish ways returning. “This gun ain’t gonna shoot itself.” You swore you caught him grinning. Like a damn child, he was.

You and Arthur worked on your shooting for the better part of an hour. Truth be told, you weren’t very good at it. At least, you had expected better considering you were a dead shot with a rifle. This was close range. It should have been easier. But using one hand was harder, especially since that hand was a bit shaky and slicked with rain. Shooting a rifle required your entire upper body—a very steadying frame. But this was pure, blind faith that your eyesight saw true. Usually, it was close, but no dice. Other times it had Arthur damn near laughing at you.

“One more crack out of you and I’m quitting,” you told him, missing wide left of the tree trunk you were aiming at.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a laugh, most certainly not sorry. “I just didn’t expect this after seeing you hunt.”

You hadn’t really either. And it was beyond frustrating.

You took one more shot that hit the trunk at least, not nearly dead center, and called it good enough. “Here,” you said, holding out the gun to him like it was poisonous.

“Awe, come on, nameless. It ain’t that bad.”

You shoved it at his chest at the nickname with a sharp look before spinning on your heel and leaving him standing there.

“Relax, would you?” he called out after you. “Ain’t like it matters much, what with you and that rifle of yours.” At least he was right about that.

Darkness fell when the rain finally ceased, though the pair of you were content in staying camped for the night anyway. Arthur lit a fire, and you both sat around it like you had for the past month, the feeling becoming oddly familiar. This was usually the most peace you got, as he normally preferred to talk on the trail. When he sat by the fire, he ate, and it granted you a few moments of respite.

Tonight, you sat there watching the fire, thinking of Nebraska. Of the life that awaited you there. Could it really be just as good as your old life? Like Arthur had said? That was a fool’s hope and you knew it. It was out of reach the moment you lost the two people you wanted to spend it with most. But maybe it would be different enough, distracting enough, to give you a chance. That was all you had left anyway—a chance to live again. A very different life, almost like part of you had died back on that rocky hill. You knew you had, and yet here you were. You were torn between feeling guilty and proud over it.

“So you’re telling me,” Arthur said, mouth full of food and mannerless as ever. “There weren’t nobody even close to your age around. You didn’t even have any friends?”

Gee, what a lovely interruption. “No,” you spat, not in the mood to have this conversation again.

“No lovers?”

If the discontent in the look you leveled him with didn’t make him shut up, nothing would. And unfortunately, he opened his mouth to say something else. You couldn’t bear to hear it.

“Shut up. Just please, shut up.”

He smiled. “Touchy subject?”

“No,” you said with too much venom. It only widened his smile.

You rolled your eyes, thoughts of the very subject you didn’t care to ever think on pushing through. The only reason you even knew what sex was was because of a life spent hunting and watching animals. That, and the romance book of your mothers you had gotten your hands on in your younger teenage years. You read that thing cover to cover, read until your eyes felt like they would fall out of your skull, too stubborn to put it down because you wanted to know more. Now you cringed at the memory, attributing it to puberty and the impulsiveness that came with it.

“I can’t imagine that life,” Arthur said, drawing you away from those embarrassing thoughts. “I didn’t have many friends around neither growing up, but there was always people around. Always someone to…get to know.” The suggestion in those last words made you look at him, and the smile under his eyes confirmed their meaning.

“Congratulations,” you said flatly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” You would most certainly not be having this conversation with him.

He laughed. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“And you could talk the bark off a tree.”

“I bet you could too, get you talking about the right thing,” he teased.

“And you think sex is what’ll get me talking?” You crossed your arms, needing him to see how stupid that was.

He shrugged. “Maybe. How was I supposed to know unless I asked?”

“Common sense,” you answered. “I told you I was alone up there. It isn’t that difficult to put two and two together.”

“I guess not.”

The gleam in his eye was boyish again, like when he discovered you didn’t know how to shoot his gun. Proving he was an idiot was futile, that much was obvious. You threw your hands up in defeat. “Forget it. Good night.” You stormed over to the tent, bundled up his bedroll, and threw it outside. “Enjoy the weather!” you shouted at him, not even looking to see if he would protest before you were back in the tent, yanking the flaps closed to block him out.

Arthur was starting to realize two things about you—the woman who existed before that nasty fall was mean. Not in a bad way but in an amusing one, almost like a rabbit baring its teeth. The second thing was that you had been raised by two adults, never around any siblings or friends, and the result was someone who didn’t know how to have any fun. He was going to have to break you of that. He would start later though when you weren’t so fired up. Maybe when you came across a town somewhere. No, in the meantime he would let you wallow in your self-righteousness, even if it landed him on the cold, soggy ground without a tent for cover for the remainder of the night.

He did draw his gun, cleaning it from your sorry attempts at firing it straight earlier. He’d have to find more ammunition to buy somewhere along the way. Definitely would if your skill didn’t improve, because he wasn’t letting you get away with being such a terrible shot. Not when he knew how good you were with that longarm. In fact, that gave him an idea. He waited long enough to know you were asleep before silently stepping into the tent and laying his revolver down, switching it with the rifle that stayed at your side while you slept. You’d have to practice somehow. He liked to think that was why he was doing this, not because of your earlier conversation. Certainly not because he still felt guilty and undeserving somehow, and that seeing you hold his gun eased that feeling.

Arthur shook that thought off as idiocy, walking to your horse. He stowed your gun for you, not wanting to give you an easier chance at protesting using his. Because if one thing was for certain, you liked to protest. Nearly anything he said. He thought you were just doing it out of spite at this point—your new state of existing. He didn’t care. He could take that, and he much preferred it over the sadness that used to haunt your eyes when you first met. As he said, mean. But in a way he almost enjoyed. It reminded him of Hosea.

Arthur laid out on his bedroll, glad for his coat since the wind couldn’t be kept away in the open air. He thought of his gang miles and miles behind, what trouble they were likely getting into without him. He usually kept the stragglers in line. Always the degenerates. He wondered who was doing it for him, since he knew hell would freeze over before Hosea did it. Or John. Maybe Dutch was finally falling into his old role of reluctant caretaker. Arthur smiled at the thought. The man had certainly done a number on him and John.

Arthur drifted off to thoughts of that past life, when the hardest decisions had lain in where they would go next. Not where to run, how to keep their heads down, how to survive. Things were simpler then. And in a way, you reminded him of those times. This whole trip had.

Arthur began to dream of Dutch and Hosea, you and him. The strangest mix of lives he could ever imagine. And when he awoke suddenly, he found himself in a nightmare. Eyes. There were eyes everywhere, low and stalking. Wolves. And like a fool, he had clean forgotten to get another gun from his horse. He was a sitting duck.

_________

Chapter nine is here.

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