#you want angst? because that's how you get angst

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[nemesyaaa]

not gonna lie, i'm sick to my stomach, like real sick. it was so beautiful, but like in a angsty majestic way and i'm feeling so sad. this is what i love the most about angst, it's really get me so mad. it's breaking my heart :(( fuck you, because i love angst rafe cameron x reader and fuck you for writing this insanely crashing out plot. i'm gonna haunt you in your sleep if i dont get an happy end. be prepare to finish what you started 😀✋🏿

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from. — hellooooo ????

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again." — whdkzidlzkekez i want to kill myself fine ???

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby." — 🥹🥹🥹

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe. — Reading this while having turning tables by adele on my head IS SOMETHING...

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted. — i'm unwell. i'm fucking unwell. ‼️‼️💔

(I dont DESERVE this at all. I WANT TO BE HAPPY.)

touchy subject pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of a miscarriage, just pure agony! wc: 1.8k inspired by the song 'touchy subject' by peach prc. part 2

a white baby gate fixed in my hallway stays haunting the house with the angels we made; sometimes, i dream, a decade away, we meet in a grocery store; you look the same, with just a few grey hairs. the blonde little girl who tugs on your shirt with your smile looks nothing like me.

it had been four years since you had last been on kildare island; four years of trying to forget the life, or the ruined bones of one, that you'd been escaping from.

after ending your engagement with your fiancé, you'd traveled all around the country in your beat-up truck, hoping to find a place where you'd belong; only to end up back in the outer banks. they say there's no place like home, and in a way, it was true. you can leave kildare island, but kildare island will never leave you.

"everything okay?"

you're startled out of your thoughts by the melodic sound of your mother's voice, and when she follows your gaze to the baby-gate attached to the door leading to the kitchen, her mouth twists into a frown. "i was meant to take that down before you got here..." she chewed on her lower lip, a pang of guilt almost punching her in the chest.

"it's fine." you shrug, trying to lift the ends of your lips into a smile, only for it to look artificial and rehearsed. "i should start unpacking."

"alright." your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, but should've been a comforting gesture, made you feel like you were underwater and the hand was simply pushing you deeper.

you stood alone in the living room of your apartment, the only thing to be heard of was the ticking of the clock your mother had already mounted on the clock, mixed in with the sounds of passing cars, so unlike the day you first moved into the apartment, yet so much like the day you were last there.

"you should keep the apartment."

"rafe, i can't do that. it's way too much, and i'm leaving-"

"it's already in your name." the man sighed, smoothing his hand over his shaved head; he looked so different than usual, the dark bags under his eyes making him look like he had aged ten years, his usually tan face almost pale. "you can do whatever you want with it. keep it, sell it, i don't care. it's yours. i never want to step foot in this place again."

your feet were almost moving on their own, the hardwood floor cold under your feet, leading you to that door, and even though you felt your blood run cold, every cell of your body telling you not to open it, you couldn't help but nudge the door open.

you didn't know what you were expecting.

stepping into the room, you let your hand trail over the soft-pink wall, still remembering the smell of paint.

"you know, you shouldn't be doing that." he sighed, leaning against the doorway. "i can just hire someone to paint the walls."

you roll your eyes, your denim overalls covered in the soft pink paint as the paint stained the white wall, "i want to do this. i'm not gonna hire someone to do everything for me when i'm perfectly fine doing it on my own."

"you're not-"

"hush." you pointed the paint roller at rafe, "i'm doing this. now pick up a paint roller or quit whining."

you look down at the crib, lined with white lace, picking up the brown teddy bear that used to belong to you when you were a child, brushing your hand over the fur, straightening the pink bow around its neck.

hung above the crib, was a picture of a couple that had just gotten engaged, wide smiles on both of their faces; a couple that had once been so familiar to you, but now, it was like you couldn't recognize either of the people in the photos.

it felt like everyone was staring at you as they walked past you; four years clearly hadn't been long enough to make the people of outer banks forget about you, and as you made your way towards the local cafe, you couldn't help but think about how long it'd take for the person you didn't want to know you were in town to find out.

you were strolling down the street, rafe's hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. you licked the ice cream cone, deep in thought, letting rafe take the lead.

"what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he chuckled softly, bringing your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, your engagement ring glimmering under the sunlight.

"baby names." you shrug, "what should we name her?"

"do you have any names in mind?"

"i was thinking..." you pursed your lips, not sure if the name you had been considering would be appropriate or not, chewing on your lower lip as you turn your head to face your fiancé, an expectant smile on his lips and his brows lifted in question, "evelyn."

when the name left your lips, you saw his mouth fall open, and for a moment you thought that you never should've spoken, but after rafe cleared his throat, there was a clear smile on his lips, his blue eyes glassy.

"you- you uh, wanna name her after my mom?"

"yeah." you smile, squeezing his hand. "i do."

for the millionth night, you were laid in bed, looking through pictures, featuring the faces of the couple above the crib in the room next door. pictures with the man's arms wrapped around the woman's waist, ones of them holding hands, ones where one was pressing a kiss the other person's cheek, ones from the several midsummers parties they spent together, ones from halloween, thanksgiving, christmas...

the girl in the dress she had planned to wear on her wedding day.

"rafe, where are you taking me?" you laughed, the blindfold covering your eyes, "if the blindfold's for some kinky purpose, you better forget about it."

rafe laughed, continuing to lead you, his large hands on your waist, "come on, have a little faith in me. i'm not that bad, am i?"

"oh, you definitely are. just last week we were an hour late to ava's party because you just thought i was irresistible."

rafe snorted, "well, that's because you were." he pressed a kiss on your cheek, "you can take it off." he whispered, taking a step away from you.

untying the blindfold, you blinked a few times, letting yourself get used to actually being able to see again, only to be startled by the sight of your boyfriend on one knee in front of you, a small velvet box in his hand, "rafe...?"

you wiped away the stray tear that had left your eye without permission before it could reach your jaw, continuing to scroll through the pictures, knowing that it'd be yet another sleepless night, but when you saw a picture of her, you paused.

you weren't sure who was more nervous, you or rafe, even though you were the one in the examination chair, your shirt pulled up and your rounded stomach on full display. his hand was tightly gripping yours, the man's jaw clenched.

"let's take a look, shall we?" the ultrasound technician smiled, and you nodded, feeling her spread the cold gel onto your stomach, a slight yelp leaving your lips, making rafe squeeze your hand even tighter. you looked to him, nodding reassuringly, speaking softly, "it's okay."

rafe's grip loosened slightly and he softened his grip, both of you turning your heads to the screen, and the moment you saw the little lump on the screen, you couldn't help but feel tears stinging in your eyes.

"look. that's our baby."

"shit..." rafe stared at the screen wide-eyed, letting out a low breath, "that's our baby."

just like on any average day on the island, the sun was shining, your skin radiating with warmth as you walked down the street, looking in through shop windows; it had been a few days since you'd first stepped outside, and it seemed like your arrival had become widespread news, and you didn't receive as many stares as you did before.

you arrived at rafe's door, bringing your hand up and pounding on the door before you could stop yourself and chicken out for the third time that week. you were a wreck, unable to sleep, to think about anything other than how much you knew you needed to talk to rafe.

you waited, tapping your foot against the ground and biting down on your lip, when finally, the door slowly started opening, a small smile forming on rafe's lips when he realized that it was you.

"hey baby," he chuckled softly, placing his hands on your waist, "you miss me so much you couldn't even text me to let you know you were coming?" he grinned.

"i have to talk to you." you pull away from his embrace, taking his hands off your waist, the blonde looking down at you with furrowed brows, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest, clearly alarmed by the slight frown on your lips.

"what's wrong?"

"i'm pregnant."

without even realizing it, you had stopped in front of a jewelry store, gazing inside at the things on display as you were going down memory lane inside your head. you let out a small chuckle, about to step back and continue walking, when your blood ran cold, the smile fading away from your face, feeling as if someone had stabbed you in the heart.

to anyone else, it would've just been the backs of two random people. but even without seeing his face, you could recognize the only man you'd ever loved no matter where you went.

his short-sleeved white collared shirt was tucked into his dark jeans, riding up slightly as he ran a hand through his hair, having grown out slightly since the last time you'd seen it, his signet ring on his middle finger.

you saw him let out a chuckle, and you could almost picture how it'd sound, his hand going to rest on the back of the person he was with.

a younger woman smiled up at him, and even just from her side profile, you could tell that she was gorgeous, her flaming hair flowing over her shoulders, the smile on her face genuine, matching his.

and when you saw what she was holding up and showing to him, the knife in your chest was twisted.

an engagement ring.

[hanniebaeee]

Midnight Whispers

Demon! Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: supernatural au!, slight angst, smut

Summary: You suffer from insomnia, and on a sleepless night, you tune into a midnight radio show...and the voice that you hear captivates you and consumes you completely.

It was close to midnight again. You tossed and turned in your bed, pulling the blanket closer in a feeble attempt to catch some sleep. You groaned as you thought about your early shift tomorrow.

But insomnia had become your companion. You desperately wanted to sleep. To just get some rest. But here you were, wide awake and terribly fatigued. The room was dark, except for the faint glow of the little alarm clock on your bedside table.

You sighed and turned around, your eyes falling on the clock, and then on the old radio you had bought on a whim from an antique shop near your workplace. It was surprising that it still worked, despite the fact that it looked ancient.

You tuned in to a familiar station, but the static made it nearly impossible to hear anything clearly. With a frustrated sigh, you twisted the dial a bit further when suddenly, the static faded, replaced by the smoothest, most captivating voice you’d ever heard.

“Hello, night owls. Welcome back to another midnight hour with me… Hyunjin.”

You froze.

The voice. It was rich and smooth, sending shivers skittering down your spine. Your fingers paused on the dial as you leaned in closer, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“If you’re awake right now, it’s probably because you can’t sleep. Or maybe…” he paused, “you’re waiting for me.”

Your lips parted, as you stared at the old radio wide eyed.

“I’ll be your company tonight,” Hyunjin purred, his voice dropping lower. “Let’s make this hour ours.”

You didn’t sleep that night.

It became a ritual. You realize that the station was all white noise all through the day. But at midnight, you heard his voice again. Every night, Hyunjin spoke like he knew you. Like he was speaking only to you.

“Another long day, hmm? I can feel your exhaustion, love. But don’t worry… I’m here now.” His voice dripped with warmth, and maybe a tinge of teasing?

You found yourself smiling despite knowing that he's talking to hundreds of listeners. You should have been afraid of how addicted you were getting. And about how accurately he described your day, or even randomly throwing in the little details.

Like the little daily earrings you wore. Or the worn out old sweater that you wore. A simple baby pink one.

“You look good in that color,” Hyunjin whispered. “So beautiful...”

Your breath hitched, eyes darting to your reflection in the mirror. How could he possibly know? You shook your head, cheeks burning.

This was ridiculous. A mere coincidence. And yet, you couldn’t stop listening. Or stop craving him.

And the days? They became unbearable. You were completely consumed by thoughts of him. His voice looped in your mind like a song you couldn’t forget. You flinched whenever someone spoke too loudly. You did your job almost mechanically and every second leading up to midnight felt like torture.

By the time the clock struck twelve, you were already perched on the edge of your bed, fingers gripping the edge of the radio as if it were a lifeline. And when his voice came through - you were done for.

“My favorite listener… waiting for me again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” you whispered, though he couldn’t hear you.

“I like that you need me.” His chuckle was low, intimate. “You make my nights worthwhile too.”

Your breath hitched. Every word he spoke felt like a caress, like his fingers sliding over your skin and settling deep within you. He talked about everything and nothing. You didn't understand his world or his poetic words sometimes, but each passing day, you were caught in his seductive web - a little tighter.

His voice was darker, a bit softer, like the brush of satin against bare skin.

“Do you know what you do to me? Knowing you’re out there, listening? It’s…intoxicating.”

Your pulse quickened and goosebumps covered your skin.

“I think about you, even when I shouldn’t. About how you might sound saying my name.”

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

The static crackled, and then he laughed darkly.

“Good girl.” he cooed, and the words hit you like lightning. Your hands gripped the edge of your bed as his voice continued to seep into you.

You let out a shaky breath and you heard him exhale as well.

“You’re so good for me,” Hyunjin purred, his voice dipping lower, like the stroke of a hand over your neck. “So obedient. I can imagine you, on your bed, holding on to my voice like it’s the only thing tethering you to the world. Are you trembling for me, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your head tilting back, knees pulling tighter against your chest as heat bloomed between your thighs.

“I wish I could see you. Touch you.” His words were laced with a longing that mirrored your own. “Do you think about it too? My hands on you, my lips whispering all the little things I want to do to you?”

“Yes,” you gasped again, your nails digging into your palms. The image was too vivid, his voice too close.

“I’d be so gentle at first,” Hyunjin said, his voice dropping, dragging over your senses. “Tracing your skin, feeling every inch of you shiver under my fingertips. But then…”

He paused, a wicked laugh crackling through the speaker.

“Then I’d ruin you, just the way you want me to,”

Your entire body was burning. You pressed your forehead to your knees, a strangled sound escaping your lips.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered his name, broken and raw, and the static seemed to stutter in response.

“That’s it, love,” he crooned. “Say my name. Let me hear you. Let me feel you.”

You shivered, a desperate moan catching in your throat as your head fell back against the headboard.

Every day, you floated through your routine like a ghost, restless and jittery. You waited for Hyunjin’s voice to unravel you piece by piece. You were disconnecting from your world, your loneliness only fueling the need to be with Hyunjin more and more. You knew this was unhealthy.

But the worst part was you didn’t want it to stop. You craved him, and each night, his words pulled you deeper into the spiral.

“You’ve been so patient, my love,” Hyunjin’s voice was softer than usual. “I can feel how much you want me.”

You closed your eyes, feeling his words wrapping around you like a lover’s embrace.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Do you dream about me? Do you wish to feel me beside you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. ‘Please, yes-”

“I want it too,” he admitted, his voice rougher now. “I want you so bad…I think about you all the time…alone in your bed, aching for me.”

Your heart stuttered and your entire body shivered.

“One day, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice a dark caress. “One day, I’ll find you. And when I do, you won’t have to imagine anymore. I’ll make you feel everything you’ve been craving. Until then… keep waiting for me. Keep needing me. I’ll always be here, just for you.”

The radio went silent, and you collapsed against your bed, gasping for air as his words echoed in your mind.

You were spiraling. You knew it.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except him.

For three nights, your world had been silent.

The radio sat where it always did, the faint hum of static mocking you. Because Hyunjin wasn’t there. His voice wasn’t there.

You’d tried to convince yourself it was just a glitch. Maybe the old radio was finally dying. That he’d never abandon you.

And now, as the third sleepless night bled into day, your body was failing you. You hadn’t eaten in days. You hadn’t even moved off your bed. It felt pointless without him. Everything felt pointless.

You were scared. The loneliness, and all the insecurities that you'd buried away, everything that Hyunjin was able to cure… slowly crept back. The emptiness clawed at your chest, dragging you down into a darkness that felt deeper than the night.

A part of you whispered that this was it - that you were dying. And right now, it didn't seem like such a bad idea.

But then, the air in the room shifted. Everything dulled around you, leaving only a heavy, charged silence. You felt it before you saw it - a presence, so dark and powerful.

Hyunjin.

He stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the faint moonlight streaming through the window. His dark hair fell in soft waves around his face, his features sharp and so achingly beautiful. He looked otherworldly - too perfect to be of your world.

But his eyes… they burned. Deep and crimson, glowing faintly in the darkness, they raked over you with hunger.

You wanted to speak, but your voice wouldn’t come. You sat up on your bed, your eyes taking him in. You weren't sure if you were dreaming.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, stepping inside. His voice floated over to you, and you shuddered.

He was here. He was really here.

“Hyunjin,” you croaked, the sound barely audible.

His name on your lips made him falter. Guilt flickered across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by something darker. Something primal.

“You’re not dreaming, my love.” His voice was a low rasp, heavy with emotion.

If this wasn’t a dream…

“Why did you leave me?” The question tore from your throat, raw and broken, a sob catching on the edges of your words.

Hyunjin flinched, his jaw tightening. He looked almost… pained.

“I had to,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I stayed too long. I took too much. I thought… if I left, you’d be free of me.”

“Free of you?” You let out a bitter laugh. “There’s nothing left to free.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, and he crossed the room in a single step, kneeling beside your bed. His hand hovered over your cheek, but he didn’t touch you.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “You were supposed to be like the others - a fleeting moment of pleasure…to sustain me. But you…”

“You’re different…I don’t want to destroy you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his crimson eyes meeting yours. “But I can’t let you go, either.”

All you could do was stare at him.

“You’ve been feeding on me,” you said slowly, the realization sinking in. “All this time.”

Hyunjin didn’t deny it.

“I feed on emotions - desire, love…lust. It’s how I survive. And you…” His voice softened, his gaze turning tender. “You’ve been a feast.”

His words should have scared you. They should have made you scream and fight. But you were too far gone for that.

All you felt was relief.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you said, your voice trembling. “I would’ve given you everything. I still will.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darkened, the glow intensifying as his hunger bled through.

“Don’t say that,” he growled, his hand dropping and fisting at his side. “You don’t understand -.”

“I do,” you said firmly. “I don’t care what you are, Hyunjin. I just need you.”

With a groan that sounded almost like a curse, he gave in, his hand finally brushing against your cheek. The touch sent a jolt through your weak, shaking body. You closed your eyes as his thumb ran over your lips. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“Look at me,” He said, and you obey, to find his crimson eyes searching yours.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive.

“Yes,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’m yours.”

Hyunjin’s lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant. But you pressed closer, desperately, clinging to him with what little strength you had left.

And then the kiss deepened. It was raw - his hunger bleeding into every movement, every touch. His hands roamed over your body, careful yet possessive, as though trying to memorize every inch of you.

But there was something else in his touch. Something tender. Something that felt dangerously close to love.

“If I stay,” he said softly. “I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you replied, tears still streaming down your face. “Just don’t leave me again.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes, as he whispered, “Never.”

Surrendering to Hyunjin wasn't as terrifying as you thought. It felt like the most intoxicating freedom you had ever known. You were completely in awe of him - his power, his elegance, the way he moved so gracefully, dripping with sensuality and control.

His fingers grazed over the soft curve of your jaw. The touch was light and teasing, and you craved for more.

Hyunjin’s gaze was fixed on you as his fingers danced down your neck, then to your shoulder, brushing the strap of your nightgown. Your breath hitched as he pulled it down, slowly, teasingly, exposing your skin to him.

He left soft open mouthed kisses down your shoulder, your chest…down to your breast, which he cupped gently. You felt a faint chill in your body. Like it was swirling within you.

You looked into Hyunjin’s crimson eyes as he squeezed your soft flesh.

"Do you feel it?" His voice was low, full of wonder, as he gazed at you. "The power you're drawing from me?"

You didn’t answer immediately, because you were trying not to faint at the way his touch was burning you. You felt… alive.

"Yes," you finally managed to say, your voice thick with lust and something that felt like a spark of something. "I can feel it."

Hyunjin paused, his expression darkening with both awe and confusion. He had never seen this before. His victims had always withered under his touch, drained and broken by the connection. But you?

You were thriving.

“You should be nothing but an empty shell when I touch you." He said, and you can hear the confusion in his voice.

But you felt your body glow, the heat of his touch making your skin shimmer with a radiance you couldn’t explain. His hands went lower, sliding beneath your nightgown, his fingers brushing against your thighs. Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss on your nipple, before sucking it into his mouth.

You gasped, your fingers finding its place in his hair. And you felt stronger.

"Why?" Hyunjin’s voice was ragged now, his words soaked with need. He suckled on you, his hands working quickly to get rid of your clothes. He had to feel you. He had to taste you.

When he straightened, to capture your lips in a searing kiss, you felt empowered - you were drawing his essence, his dark energy from him, that had once been his weapon. But now, it was slipping through his fingers.

Hyunjin couldn't take it anymore. He sat up to discard his clothes as you watched…your body desperate to be filled.

He was on you in a minute, his lips attaching to your neck as he sucked and nipped at the soft skin roughly. You knew his grip would bruise you, but you were literally trembling with the power coursing through you.

"You feel it, don’t you?" he growled, his voice a low rasp.

You arched your back, feeling the need for him. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him down, wanting him, but more than that, you wanted to give him what he needed.

Hyunjin nails scraped against the skin of your thighs as he parted them and quickly ran a finger through your dripping folds. You were so wet.

He couldn't help it as he lowered himself, his tongue finding your folds. He licked into you, moaning as your sweet nectar coated his tongue. You gasped as you felt his tongue prodding deeper into your hole, and Hyunjin couldn't hold back anymore. He was up, his lips and chin glistening with your juices, and your eyes on his length as he pumped it a couple of times.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Hyunjin was inside you. You moaned at the stretch, but it was the most delicious sting ever.

He could see the faint swirl of light in your eyes.

"How is this possible?" He breathed, his own body drawing strength from everything you were feeling.

Your eyes twinkled, the golden glow of your skin reflecting the new, strange energy that flowed between you, your soul now entwined with his.

His thrusts grew frantic, his grip on your hips tightening. You reached up, cupping his face with your hand.

"Don't fight it, Hyunjin. Let me feel you. Let me have you, just as you have me." You whispered.

And if Hyunjin had any more doubt within him, it was all gone. Hyunjin moved harder, both of you reveling in the bond, an eternal link that neither of you could sever.

"Hyun-," you breathed, your voice desperate, pleading. "Please, don’t stop."

His lips curved into a wicked smile, his eyes glinting with a dark promise. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep, so sensual, you felt it all the way to your core. And your orgasm came crashing down.

You shuddered and your body shook as you came down from your high, clenching desperately around him. And this had Hyunjin crashing, spilling deep inside you. He collapsed against you, breathing heavily, his body pressing against yours, hot and solid.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” Hyunjin whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve never felt way before.”

His words, so raw, so vulnerable, struck a chord deep within you. The bond was no longer just physical. Your souls were connected, intertwined - you had become a part of him.

And it didn’t scare you. You were his, and he was yours, and nothing, no force, could ever change that. You were immortal, you were powerful. Together.

a/n: Demon Hyunjin - a concept I'll never get tired of🙏

[the-winter-spider]

I miss you, I'm sorry

Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Toxic, angst, smut

A/N: I love Gracie, and was like fuck it gonna toss something together based off my fav songs by her

The air feels heavy, even though the room is quiet. You sit cross-legged on your bed, your phone resting beside you, the screen dim and blank. The minutes bleed into each other, but you can’t stop glancing at the clock, as if willing it to rewind to before it all.

It’s been three days. Three days of no texts, no calls, no nothing. That’s how it always goes with Bucky. He’s there, and then he’s not. And every time, you tell yourself it’ll be the last time you wait for him to come back.

It never is.

You hate him for how easy it is to disappear. You hate yourself more for letting him.

The phone rings.

The sharp sound cuts through the haze of your thoughts, and for a moment, your heart skips. You snatch the phone up, seeing his name flash across the screen. The sight of it sends a rush of relief, anger, and something softer, something stupidly hopeful, all at once.

You answer, but don’t say anything.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet, gravelly. Tired.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Hey.”

The silence stretches, brittle and uncomfortable. You can hear him breathing on the other end, steady and soft. It reminds you of the way his breath felt against your skin the last time he stayed over, the last time he let himself get too close before pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have called,” he mutters finally, his voice tight. “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

You close your eyes. There it is again, the push and pull. The way he says he shouldn’t but always does. The way he drags you back into his orbit every time, knowing you’ll stay.

“What do you want, Bucky?” you ask, keeping your voice steady. It’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and you already know the answer.

He exhales sharply, like he’s frustrated—at you, at himself, you’re not sure. “I don’t know.” Another pause. “You were right, okay? About everything. I just…” His voice trails off, and you can picture him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s trying to find the words. “I hate this.”

“Hate what?” you snap, the simmering frustration bubbling to the surface. “Hate that you always come back? Or hate that you can’t figure out what the hell you want?”

He doesn’t answer. He never does when you call him out like this.

The silence makes your chest ache. You shake your head, even though he can’t see you. “You can’t keep doing this, Bucky. You can’t keep pulling me back just to push me away again. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he whispers. And he sounds so broken, so genuine, that it cracks something inside you. It always does.

You take a shaky breath. “Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t know,” he says again. His voice is quieter now, softer, like he’s afraid of breaking you more than he already has. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real. And I don’t know how to hold onto it without screwing it up.”

Your throat tightens. You wish you didn’t understand. But you do. He’s always been good at giving you just enough to stay, but never enough to feel whole. “Its not enough Buck”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “But it’s all I’ve got, you're all i truly have."

You sighed running your head through your hair “Do you wanna come over?”

“I’m already on my way”

You don't have to wait long. The sound of his motorcycle pulling up to your place makes your stomach do a little flip, even though you're still mad at him. You hear his heavy boots on the stairs, and then a soft knock at your door.

You take a deep breath before opening it. He's standing there, his hair tousled from the ride, his face tight and tired. He looks at you, and for a moment, it's like all the walls come down. He reaches out, cupping your face with his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice rough. "I'm so fucking sorry."

And just like that, you melt. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed. His other hand comes up to wrap around your waist, pulling you close. He smells like leather and cigarettes and something uniquely him.

"I missed you," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I hate not seeing you."

"I hate it too," you whisper back. "But you can't keep doing this, Bucky. You can't keep hurting me."

He makes a soft, broken sound. "I know. I'm trying, okay? I'm really trying."

The door closes softly behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the charged silence. Bucky's hand is still cupping your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you breathe him in. He smells like leather and smoke, like home and danger all rolled into one.

You press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his body through his clothes. He's solid and warm and real, and it's been too long since you've felt him like this. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he claims your mouth in a hungry kiss.

You moan into it, your fingers tangling in his hair. He kisses like your fights- fierce and intense, like he's trying to claim every inch of you. You kiss back just as fiercely, your tongue sliding against his as you lose yourself in the feel of him.

He walks you backwards towards the bed, his hands roaming your body as he goes. He breaks the kiss only to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His mouth is back on yours before you can even blink, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra.

You arch into his touch, your nipples hardening under his palms. He groans low in his throat, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You can feel his hardness through his jeans, and it makes you ache with need.

He breaks the kiss again, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands work to unclasp your bra. It falls to the floor, joining the growing pile of clothes. He takes a moment to look at you, his eyes dark with desire as they rake over your naked breasts.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his hands cupping the soft mounds. You gasp as his thumbs brush over your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

He leans down, taking one of the hardened peaks into his mouth. You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he sucks and licks and nibbles. Your hips buck against his, seeking friction, and he groans around your nipple, the vibrations making you shiver.

He gives the other breast the same attention, lavishing it with kisses and bites until you're writhing beneath him. Only then does he move lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach as he kneels before you.

His hands hook in the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties. You step out of them, kicking them aside as he looks up at you from his knees. The sight of him there, kneeling before you like you're a goddess to be worshipped, makes your knees weak.

"Bucky," you breathe, and it's half plea, half prayer.

He grins up at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Patience, baby. I'm going to take my time with you."

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds to taste you. You cry out, your head falling back as pleasure crashes over you. He licks and sucks and teases, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as he devours you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to you as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. Just when you think you can't take anymore, he pulls back, leaving you gasping and empty.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, and he chuckles darkly.

"Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you pant, looking down at him with desperation in your eyes. "I want you inside me."

He stands up, pulling you flush against him as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you even more aroused. His hands grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he grinds his hardness against your bare core.

"Bed," he growls against your lips, and you nod frantically, tugging him towards the mattress.

You tumble onto the bed together, a tangle of limbs and desire. He breaks the kiss to sit up, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You take a moment to admire the hard planes of his chest, the scars that crisscross his skin like a roadmap of his past.

He crawls back over you, his hips settling between your thighs as he reaches for his belt. You watch, transfixed, as he unbuckles it and shoves his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

He settles back over you, his head brushing against your entrance. You shudder at the contact, your hips lifting to try and draw him in.

"Tell me you want this," he whispers, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," you breathe, wrapping your legs around his waist. "I want all of you."

And with that, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the stretch.

He pauses for a moment, letting you get used to him. Then he starts to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in. You meet him thrust for thrust, your hips rising to take him deeper.

The bed creaks beneath you as he sets a relentless pace, driving into you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, burying his face in your neck. "So perfect."

You clench around him in response, and he curses, his hips snapping forward harder.

"I'm gonna come," you gasp, your body tensing beneath him. "Bucky, I'm gonna-"

But he cuts off your words with a kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure as you come undone beneath him. Your body spasms around him, milking him as he follows you over the edge with a hoarse shout of your name.

He collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for breath as the aftershocks of your orgasms roll through you. He presses soft kisses to your neck, your jawline, your lips as you bask in the afterglow.

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, and you hope it's just not the sex talking.

Later that week, you’re sitting at a bar with Natasha. She watches you nurse your drink, her sharp green eyes narrowing as you tell her what happened.

“He called,” you say, staring down at the condensation on your glass. “And like an idiot, I picked up, and he came over, we had sex and he was gone in the morning”

Natasha doesn’t say anything at first. She just leans back, crossing her arms. “What do you want me to say?” she asks finally. “That he’s going to change? That this time will be different?”

You shake your head. “No. I just…” You trail off, struggling to put the feeling into words. “I just wish I didn’t miss him so much. I wish I could stop.”

She sighs, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “He’s not going to fix this. You know that, right? He’s not going to wake up one day and suddenly figure out how to love you the way you deserve. That’s not who he is, you have to know that babe…"

“I know,” you whisper. But the ache in your chest doesn’t go away.

Natasha exhales deeply, tilting her head as if trying to decide whether to push further. Finally, she sets her drink down and leans across the table, her voice quieter but no less serious. “So, what’s the plan? You gonna keep answering when he calls? Keep letting him come over, screw you and your head, and leave like nothing happened?”

You don’t answer, just trace the edge of your glass with your finger. The truth is, you don’t have a plan. You’re not even sure you want one. “He said he loves me, he's never said that before”

Natasha leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studies you. Her sharp green eyes narrow slightly, but there’s no satisfaction in her expression. She doesn’t look impressed, doesn’t look relieved, like you’d hoped she might. Instead, her face softens, just slightly, in that way that means she’s about to say something you don’t want to hear.

“Okay,” she says slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “And what does that change?”

Her question hits like a bucket of cold water, and you blink at her, your fingers freezing mid-trace on the rim of your glass. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, so what?” Natasha continues, leaning forward now, her elbows on the table. “He said the words. Great. But what does that actually mean to you? Did it make you feel better? Did it fix anything?”

You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out. The truth sits heavy in your chest.

“It’s not enough just to say it,” Natasha presses, her tone still steady but with an edge of frustration. “Love isn’t just words. It’s showing up. It’s consistency. It’s choosing someone, not just when it’s convenient, but every single day. Did he do that? Or did he just say what you’ve been waiting to hear and then disappear again?”

The ache in your chest tightens, and you look down, your fingers clutching the glass like it might hold the answers you’re searching for. “He—he’s trying,” you say weakly, but even you don’t sound convinced.

Natasha lets out a breath, her voice softening again. “Babe… I know you want to believe him. I know you love him. But this?” She gestures vaguely, as if to encompass all of it—your tears, the late-night calls, the endless cycle. “This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like. Love doesn’t leave you questioning your worth every time the sun comes up.”

The words settle over you like a weight, and you swallow hard, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill. You don’t want her to see you cry. Not here. Not like this.

“Nat…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. But she shakes her head, her expression soft but unyielding.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” she says gently. “I just… I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy right now. You haven’t been for a long time.”

Before you can respond, the stool next to her screeches, and Sam slides into it, his energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere between you and Nat. He plunks his beer on the table and gives you a once-over.

“Well, you look like someone stole your puppy,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Natasha shoots him a look. “Not the time, Sam.”

“I’m just saying,” he replies, leaning back and gesturing to you. “She’s been sitting here all night, looking like a sad indie song, and you’re just gonna let her wallow?”

You glare at him, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “Do you have something to say, or are you just here to make jokes?”

“Both,” Sam says, taking a sip of his beer before setting it down. “Look, I love you, but this thing with Bucky? It’s killing you, and everyone can see it. Hell, you can see it, but you’re still pretending like it’s gonna work itself out.”

“Sam,” Natasha warns, but he holds up a hand.

“No, let me finish,” he says, his voice more serious now. “I’ve been where you are, okay? Hanging onto something that’s breaking you because you’re scared to let it go. But you know what happens if you keep holding on?” He pauses, meeting your eyes. “You lose yourself. And I don’t want that for you.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and for a moment, all you can do is sit there, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

“I don’t know how to let him go,” you admit finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am without him.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Then it’s time to figure that out. Because you deserve better than waiting around for someone who doesn’t see how amazing you are—not someone who only comes around when it’s convenient for him.”

After Sam and Natasha head home, you find yourself walking through the quiet streets, your hands shoved into your coat pockets. The city hums around you, but you feel untethered, like you’re floating between who you are and who you want to be.

Before you realize it, your feet take you to Bucky’s building. You stop at the corner, staring up at the windows. The lights in his apartment are off, but you know he’s there. He’s always there.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You pull it out, your heart sinking when you see his name.

Bucky: You up?

The message is simple, familiar, and infuriatingly tempting. Your thumb hovers over the screen.

You: Yes, just leaving the bar.

Bucky: Ill see you in 20.

You see his light flick on.

You: Okay.

You’re sitting in your apartment with Steve. He’d shown up unexpectedly, a bag of bagels in one hand and a concerned look on his face. Now, he’s watching you carefully as you pick at your food, the silence between you growing heavier by the minute.

“I heard about last night,” he says eventually, breaking the stillness.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes. “Natasha?”

“Sam,” he admits with a small smile, but his expression stays serious. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

You sigh, leaning back against the couch. “I’m fine, Steve.”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, setting his coffee down on the table. “And it’s okay to not be fine. But you need to stop punishing yourself for wanting more than what Bucky can give you.”

Your chest tightens, and you look away, your voice barely audible. “He’s not a bad person, Steve. He’s just… broken.”

“I know he is,” Steve says softly, his tone patient but firm. “And I know he cares about you, even if he’s too scared to show it. But that doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting yourself to save him.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you ask the question that’s been clawing at you for days. “Is he seeing anyone else?”

Steve freezes mid-bite, his jaw tightening. “Yes.”

You nod slowly, your hands trembling as you set your plate down on the coffee table. “Are they… are they having sex?”

Steve’s shoulders sag slightly, and he shakes his head. “No.”

The relief you feel is fleeting, quickly replaced by another ache—something deeper, sharper. “He told me he loves me, y’know,” you whisper, your voice cracking.

That makes Steve freeze completely. He sets his bagel down, staring at you with wide, startled eyes. “He said that?”

You nod, the words pouring out of you now, unfiltered and raw. “He’s never said it before. And I didn’t know what to do. Because it felt… real. For a second, it felt like maybe this time was different. But then he was gone the next morning, like always.”

Steve leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed, like he’s trying to process what you’ve just said. “Did he mean it?” he asks finally, his voice cautious.

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes. “I don’t know, Steve. Does it matter? He says one thing, but everything else he does just…” You trail off, shaking your head.

“It matters,” Steve says firmly, leaning forward. “If he loves you, that’s something. But love isn’t enough if he can’t show it, if he can’t make you feel it.” Steve is quiet for a long moment, his expression pained. “You deserve more than that,” he says finally. “You deserve someone who’s not afraid to fight for you. Someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re asking for too much just by being yourself.”

-----------

The music is loud, pulsing through the crowded bar in a steady rhythm that matches the pounding in your chest. You're friends are off dancing their cares away, while you sit at a small table near the corner, nursing your drink, half-hidden in the dim lighting. The condensation from the glass drips onto your hand, but you barely notice.

Your eyes keep drifting to him.

Bucky is across the room, his arm slung casually around another woman’s shoulders. She’s laughing, tilting her head toward him like he’s just told her the funniest joke in the world. He looks… relaxed. At ease in a way you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s like someone’s taken a knife to your chest, twisting it deeper with every passing second.

You force yourself to look away, staring into the amber liquid in your glass like it holds answers to questions you’re too scared to ask. But it doesn’t work. Your gaze flickers back to him, almost involuntarily.

They’re dancing now, swaying to a song you don’t recognize. His hand rests lightly on her hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress in a way that feels too intimate, too familiar.

And then he kisses her.

Not on the lips, but on her head, his lips lingering against her hair as she leans into him. It’s tender, effortless, the kind of gesture that feels natural, like it belongs to someone who knows how to love without hesitation.

Your chest tightens, and you swallow the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to take another sip of your drink. The bitterness burns your tongue, but it’s nothing compared to the ache spreading through you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That this doesn’t matter. That he’s made his choice, and it isn’t you.

But the truth is, it matters too much.

You drain the rest of your drink, the cold liquid going down in one sharp swallow. You set the glass down harder than you mean to, the dull thud lost in the noise of the bar.

You glance over at him one last time, just to confirm what you already know. He’s still there, his attention focused on her.

But then his eyes shift.

He sees you.

For a split second, your gazes lock across the room, and the weight of his stare pins you in place. His hand pauses on her back, and something flickers in his expression—guilt, maybe, or regret.

You can’t tell, and you’re not sure you want to.

The heat of his gaze follows you as you stand, slipping your bag over your shoulder and making your way toward the door. The noise of the bar fades into the background as you weave through the crowd, your footsteps quick and purposeful.

You don’t look back, but you can feel him watching you, his eyes lingering like a phantom touch that burns even after you’re gone.

The cold night air hits your face as you step outside, and you inhale deeply, trying to push the ache in your chest away.

But it stays. It always stays.

That night, you’re curled up on your couch, a blanket wrapped around you as the city lights flicker through the window. Your phone sits on the coffee table, dark and silent.

Until it’s not.

The screen lights up, and Bucky’s name appears. The voicemail notification lingers like a ghost, and your hand trembles as you reach for it.

You press play, his voice cracking through the silence.

“I know I’ve screwed this up. I know I don’t deserve another chance. But I miss you, and I don’t know how to do this without you. Please… just call me, I’m sorry”

-------

You find him outside on the balcony, leaning heavily against the railing, his shoulders hunched like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. The cold night air bites at your skin, and the faint glow of the streetlights below casts shadows that dance across his face. He doesn’t turn when you step out. He never does. That’s the thing about Bucky—he always knows you’re there, but he’s mastered the art of pretending not to.

The sound of the sliding door closing behind you feels final, like you’ve just stepped into a space you won’t come back from. Your arms wrap around yourself, a weak defense against the cold—or maybe against him—and you take a hesitant step forward.

“I thought you left,” you say, breaking the fragile quiet. Your voice wavers, as unsure as the ground you’re standing on.

He finally looks over his shoulder, his eyes heavy and rimmed with shadows. He looks wrecked. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix. “Almost did,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city.

You step closer, your chest tightening at his words, at the way he doesn’t move, doesn’t shift to let you in. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, turning back to the skyline, his fingers gripping the railing. “I haven’t heard from you all week.”

The ache in your chest sharpens at his tone, a flicker of hope you hate sneaking in despite yourself. It’s always like this: just enough vulnerability to keep you tethered. You stop a few feet away, the space between you feeling like a canyon, impossible to bridge.

“This isn’t working,” you say, finally voicing the thought that’s been clawing at you for weeks. “Whatever this is. It’s not working, Bucky.”

He doesn’t react at first, just keeps staring out at the city, like it holds an answer he’s too afraid to look for. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I know.”

The simplicity of his admission steals your breath. It’s not that you didn’t expect it. You did. You’ve been here before, standing on the edge of this same cliff, waiting for the inevitable fall.

“So why are we still here?” you ask, your voice trembling, tinged with a desperation you wish you could hide.

He exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. The motion is frustrated, exhausted, like he’s tired of his own indecision. “Because I don’t know how to stop,” he admits, his words cutting through the night air with brutal honesty.

You take another step closer, close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the railing. “Bucky,” you say, your voice soft but breaking. “I need more than this. I need to know if you’re ever going to stop running every time things get hard. Because I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

He turns to face you then, his blue eyes locking onto yours. There’s something in them—something raw and fragile and so heartbreakingly familiar. For a fleeting second, you think this is it. The moment he’ll finally tell you what you’ve been waiting to hear.

But then he looks away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know if I can.”

The nausea hits you like a punch, twisting your stomach into knots. You take a shaky step back, wrapping your arms around yourself like it might keep you from falling apart. “Do you even want to try?”

His silence is deafening, an answer in itself.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I’m standing here, practically begging you to tell me you care, and you can’t even do that.”

“I care,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I care.”

“Do I?” Your voice rises, anger bubbling to the surface, breaking through the pain. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You say you care, but you act like I’m something you can pick up and put down whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“Stop,” he says, his voice suddenly firm, his eyes snapping back to yours. There’s something desperate in his tone, something pleading that makes your breath hitch. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

“No, Bucky.” You shake your head, your voice trembling with fury and heartbreak. “You just don’t want to. And there’s a difference.”

The words hang between you, heavy and suffocating. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. His eyes dart back to the city skyline, and you see it—the war he’s waging with himself, the battle between what he wants and what he’s too scared to reach for.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of the moment. “Say anything.”

“I’m seeing someone,” he says suddenly, his hands gripping the railing so tightly you half expect it to snap. The words hit like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs.

The world around you tilts. Your hands tremble as you take a step back. “Of course you are,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The bitter laugh that follows feels like it belongs to someone else. “I’m done.”

You turn toward the sliding door, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might shatter. Your hand trembles as you reach for the handle, pausing for just a second, hoping—praying—he’ll stop you. That he’ll fight.

But the silence stretches on, heavier and colder than the night air.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there, staring down at the city like he’s already let you go.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to slide the door open and step back inside. The warmth of the apartment hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ease the chill in your chest.

The door slides shut with a quiet thud.

And Bucky doesn’t follow.

You’d just moved into a new apartment, one that wasn't tainted with all the places he'd touched, places he'd been. It made things easier it wasn't the reason for your move but it helped. Natasha had decided you were both done unpacking for the night so naturally she had dragged you to a party. Steve’s place, of course. The apartment was alive with the energy of too many people crammed into too little space. Natasha had disappeared into a circle of friends near the kitchen, leaving you to nurse your drink in a corner. That’s when you noticed him.

Bucky.

He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Dark hair falling into his eyes, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder despite the heat of the crowded room. He didn’t see you at first, but when he did, his gaze lingered just long enough to make your pulse race.

You told yourself you wouldn’t approach him, but an hour later, you were pressed against the wall in Steve’s hallway, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. It was messy, impulsive, and thrilling.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you’d whispered, your breath catching as his mouth moved against your collarbone.

He’d laughed softly, his voice low and rough. “Yeah. Probably not.”

Neither of you stopped.

There were moments after that—moments that felt like everything you’d ever wanted. Late nights in his apartment, the room dimly lit by the glow of the city outside. He’d lie next to you, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm as you talked about everything and nothing.

He’d tell you about his childhood, the things he rarely told anyone. The weight of his past. And you’d listen, feeling like you were peeling back layers of him that no one else had ever seen.

“You don’t have to fix me,” he’d murmured once, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I like being around you.”

You’d smiled, brushing his hair back from his face. “I’m not trying to fix you, Bucky.”

And in those moments, you weren’t lying.

But then there were the other moments. The ones where he pulled away so fast it left you reeling.

You remember the first time he didn’t text you back. It wasn’t just hours—it was days. Days of overanalyzing every word you’d said to him the last time you saw him. Days of your stomach twisting every time your phone buzzed, only for it to not be him.

When he finally did text, it was so casual it made you want to scream.

“Hey. You good?”

No apology. No explanation. Just like that, he was back. And you let him back in because you didn’t know how not to.

And then there was the jealousy. The way you’d catch him talking to someone else at a party, his body language so open and inviting in a way it rarely was with you. You hated how it made you feel, the bitterness that bubbled up, the way you wanted to pull him aside and demand to know if he cared about you at all.

But you didn’t. You never did.

“Do you even want to move on?” Wanda asks, her tone soft but pointed. “Or is this just who you are now?”

You blink at her, her words cutting through the haze of your thoughts. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

She sighs, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “You deserve better, you know that, right?”

The door swings open, and Natasha walks in, dropping her bag on the counter. She gives you a look, one that’s equal parts sympathetic and exasperated.

“Let me guess,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re thinking about him again.”

You don’t answer, but the way your jaw tightens is enough for her to roll her eyes. “You know he’s not good for you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” you snap, harsher than you mean to. “Maybe because it’s not that simple.”

“Actually, it is,” Natasha retorts, her voice sharp. “You stop calling him. You stop answering when he calls. You stop letting him treat you like an afterthought.”

“Nat—” Wanda starts, her tone soothing, but Natasha holds up a hand.

“No, she needs to hear this.” She looks at you again, her expression softening just slightly. “I know you care about him. But caring about him isn’t enough if he doesn’t care about you the same way. At some point, you have to start putting yourself first.”

You glance away, her words hitting too close to home.

“I don’t get you,” you’d once said your voice trembling with frustration. “One minute you’re here, and it feels like—like maybe this could be something. And the next, you’re gone.”

He’d run a hand through his hair, pacing the room. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is, Bucky,” you’d said, your voice rising. “You either want me, or you don’t. So which is it?”

He’d stopped then, turning to look at you. And the look on his face—it wasn’t anger or indifference. It was fear.

“I don’t know,” he’d said finally, his voice breaking.

And that was the worst part.

“You’re spiraling,” Sam said. He wasn’t harsh about it, but he didn’t sugarcoat it either. “This isn’t love. It’s self-destruction.”

Even as you think it, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. The sound feels too loud in the quiet room, pulling everyone’s attention. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips when you see his name. Just his name—no message preview, no context, just him.

Wanda notices, her brow furrowing as she leans forward. “Don’t,” she says softly, but there’s a weight behind the word, a plea. “You’ll just end up back where you started.”

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the notification. The silence in the room grows heavier, charged with unspoken tension. Your chest tightens as your mind races. It would be so easy. Just one tap, and he’d be there again. One tap, and you’d hear his voice, feel the pull that always brings you back.

“I just…” Your voice falters, your eyes flickering to Wanda and then to Sam, who watches you with a mix of concern and frustration. “What if this time it’s different?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand over his face. “You think this time is different? Come on. What’s he going to say that he hasn’t already said a hundred times before?”

“It’s not about what he says,” Wanda interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s about what he does. And what has he done, really, except hurt you?”

You look back at the screen. The notification is still there, a glaring reminder of the mess you can’t seem to escape. Your thumb presses down slightly, not enough to open it but enough to feel the weight of the choice.

“But I love him,” you whisper. The words tumble out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

Sam exhales sharply, standing up from the chair and pacing across the room. “Yeah, we know. Everyone knows. But does he love you? Because if he does, he’s got a real shitty way of showing it.”

You flinch at his tone, the harshness cutting through your defenses. “He does love me,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him.

“Then where is he?” Sam snaps, turning to face you. “Why isn’t he here, fighting for you instead of blowing up your phone every time he feels lonely? Why is it always you doing the heavy lifting?”

Wanda places a hand on Sam’s arm, pulling him back gently. “Sam…”

“No, I need to say it,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm. “Love isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s not supposed to feel like you’re drowning every damn day just to keep him afloat.”

The bar is too loud, too crowded, and too filled with memories of Bucky for you to feel at ease. But you’re here because it’s Steve’s birthday, and Natasha had insisted. And of course you came it was Steve.

You’re leaning against the bar, talking to a man you barely know. His smile is easy, his laugh smooth, and even though you’re trying to focus on him, you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From across the room, his gaze burns into your back, searing through your dress like a brand.

You glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes for a split second. The tension in his jaw, the way his drink sits untouched in his hand—it’s the most emotion he’s shown all night. But it’s not enough to stop you.

If he wants to act like he doesn’t care, you’ll give him something to not care about.

The man beside you leans in, his hand brushing against your arm as he says something you don’t quite catch over the noise. You laugh, even though you barely hear the joke. You laugh because you know Bucky is watching.

It doesn’t take long for him to snap.

Before you realize what’s happening, his hand is on your wrist. Firm but not rough, his grip sends a jolt through you. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low and clipped.

“Excuse me?” You pull back, glaring at him, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“We’re leaving,” he says, not looking at you, not giving the man beside you so much as a glance.

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s already pulling you through the crowd, weaving between bodies with single-minded determination.

By the time you reach his apartment, you’re seething. He slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing through the dimly lit space.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms.

“My problem?” he fires back, pacing across the room like a caged animal. “My problem is you acting like that guy meant anything to you!”

“Oh, and you would know what means something to me, right?” You take a step closer, your voice rising. “Because you’re so good at showing me how much I mean to you.”

He stops, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“Why not? It’s always about you, isn’t it, Bucky? What you want, what you feel. You drag me into your mess every time, and I let you, because I—”

You stop yourself, your breath catching.

“Because you what?” he demands, his voice sharp.

“Because I care about you!” you yell, your chest heaving. “And all you ever do is hurt me for it.”

His face twists, like your words hit him somewhere deep. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something, that he’s going to explain or apologize or do something, but instead, he grabs a plate from the counter and hurls it against the wall. The sharp crash reverberates through the room, the pieces scattering across the floor like jagged confessions neither of you are ready to face.

You flinch at the sound, but the fire in your chest burns brighter, fueled by the chaos. “Oh, real mature, Bucky. Breaking dishes? That’s your solution? Just break things until you don’t have to feel anything anymore?”

He grabs another plate, his hand trembling as he grips it, his knuckles white. His voice breaks as he yells, “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t know I’m screwing this up? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

“Then stop!” you shout back, your voice raw and cracking under the weight of it all. “Stop hurting me, stop dragging me back, stop—just stop!”

The plate shakes in his hand, and for a second, you think he’s going to throw it again. Instead, he slams it down on the counter with a hollow thud. His shoulders slump as he leans over it, his head bowed like he’s trying to hold himself together. His breathing is ragged, his hands gripping the edge of the counter so tightly you think it might break under the strain.

“I don’t know how,” he whispers finally, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

The vulnerability in his voice slices through you, but it’s not enough. Not this time. The ache in your chest is unbearable, your heart breaking as you look at the man you love and realize he’ll never love you the way you need him to.

“Then let me go, Bucky,” you say, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you can’t give me what I need, let me go.”

He finally turns to face you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I can’t,” he says, his voice breaking like the plates he just shattered. “I don’t want to let you go.”

Your chest tightens, the pain twisting deeper with every word. “Aren’t you seeing someone?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “She’s not you,” he says, his voice trembling. “They’re never you.”

The admission stuns you into silence for a moment. The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, hot and heavy. “Then why can’t you give me that, Bucky?” you whisper, your voice shaking with anger and grief. “Why can you give it to them but not to me? Why is it always me who’s left bleeding for you? It’s not fair—I give you everything! And you just take, take, take! What’s left of me after this?”

Your words hang between you, raw and unfiltered, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t even try to apologize. He just stares at you, his eyes wide and desperate, like he’s drowning in the mess he’s made.

Then, without warning, he steps forward, grabbing your face in his hands. His touch is rough, almost frantic, his fingers trembling against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

And before you can say anything, before you can even catch your breath, his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is desperate and messy, his tears mixing with yours as he pulls you closer like he’s afraid to let go. His hands shake as they cup your face, his lips pressing against yours with a fierceness that makes your knees weak.

You hate how easily you give in, how quickly your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The anger and pain and longing all bleed together in that kiss, every unspoken word, every broken promise, every piece of you he’s taken without giving anything back.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. “But I can’t lose you. Please… don’t leave me.” He whispers his voice trembling

Your heart shatters all over again. “Okay”

Bucky’s hands tighten on your arms, his breath warm and uneven against your face. His lips hover just above yours, his eyes searching yours for something—permission, maybe, or forgiveness he doesn’t deserve. You don’t give it to him, but you don’t pull away either.

Instead, your hands move on their own, sliding up his chest and curling into the fabric of his shirt. The tension between you snaps like a live wire as he closes the distance again, his mouth crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves no room for hesitation.

The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His hands roam down your sides, fingers gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You press closer, your body molding to his as the frustration and anger between you melt into something darker, hotter, and infinitely more consuming.

Bucky backs you up until your hips hit the edge of the counter, the cool surface biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. His hands slide up your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he lifts you onto the counter. You gasp against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as he steps between your legs, his body pressing against yours in all the right ways.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze. His blue eyes are dark, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty that tugs at something deep inside you. “Don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

That’s all it takes. He grips the hem of your dress and pulls it up, his hands sliding over your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. His lips trail down your neck, his stubble scraping lightly against you as he kisses the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head tilts back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands and mouth make you forget every argument, every broken moment that led you here.

His fingers find the edge of your underwear, his touch teasing as he looks up at you, waiting. You nod, your breath hitching as he slides them aside, his fingers exploring with a skill that leaves you trembling. He watches you intently, his gaze locked on your face as he learns every reaction, every sound you make.

When his name slips from your lips, low and needy, it’s like something inside him snaps. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch with a strength that leaves you dizzy. The world blurs around you, your focus narrowing to the feel of his body against yours, the weight of his hands, the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re all I think about,” he says, his voice raw as he settles over you. “Every damn day.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The only response you can give is the way you arch into him, the way you pull him closer, needing him as much as he needs you. And when he finally joins you, it’s slow and deliberate, every movement designed to pull you deeper into the storm of him.

The morning light seeps through the curtains as you stand by his window, fully dressed, the quiet hum of the city below serving as your only company. Bucky is still asleep in the bed, his arm draped across the pillow where you had been just hours ago. You glance at him one last time, your heart clenching in your chest. For a fleeting moment, you consider crawling back into bed, letting yourself believe in the softness of this moment.

But you can’t.

You quietly grab your things and slip out the door, the sound of it clicking shut behind you feeling heavier than it should.

By mid-morning, you’ve buried yourself in mundane errands—anything to keep your mind from circling back to him. You’re at the farmer’s market now, weaving through the stalls of fresh produce and flowers, the air filled with the faint scent of lavender and bread. You clutch a tote bag tightly in your hand, trying to focus on the vibrant colors of the fruit in front of you.

You pick up an apple, turning it over in your hand absently. It’s almost enough to distract you from the ache still lodged in your chest. Almost.

Until you see him.

You freeze, the apple slipping from your grasp and thudding softly onto the wooden table in front of you. Your breath catches, and the world seems to narrow until it’s just him, standing only a few stalls away.

His dark hair catches the sunlight, and for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed, like the night before never ended. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and filled with a mix of emotions you can’t quite place—shock, guilt, something softer that makes your chest tighten painfully.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in time. Everyone else around you fades into nothing, their chatter and laughter muffled like the background of a dream.

But then your gaze shifts.

To her.

The woman standing beside him.

Her hand is clasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined in a way that feels too familiar, too intimate. She’s beautiful, her expression warm and open as she looks up at him, clearly unaware of the storm brewing between his gaze and yours.

Your stomach twists violently, and the apple you’d forgotten about rolls off the edge of the table and hits the ground.

Bucky’s face changes when he sees you notice her, his eyes softening with guilt, his mouth parting as if he wants to say something, anything. But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, holding her hand, while your chest caves in.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you force yourself to look away, your vision blurring with unshed tears. You clutch your tote bag tighter and turn, walking away without another word.

You barely make it out of the market before the tears spill over. You wipe them away furiously, your hands trembling as you duck into a side street, out of view from the crowds.

The weight of his gaze lingers on your back, like a hand reaching out but never quite touching you. You can feel him watching you, but you don’t dare turn around. You can’t.

You stop for a moment, your chest heaving as you lean against the wall of a brick building. The morning sun feels too bright, the world too loud despite the hollow silence pounding in your ears.

He didn’t follow.

You told yourself you didn’t want him to, but the ache in your chest says otherwise.

When you glance back toward the market, just for a second, you see him standing at the edge of the stalls, his hand no longer in hers, his face etched with something that looks like regret.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

With a deep breath, you wipe your face one last time, adjust the strap of your tote bag, and walk away. The weight in your chest feels unbearable, but your feet keep moving anyway.

The apartment is quiet that night, the silence pressing down on you as you sit by the window, staring out at the city lights. You tell yourself you’re not waiting for him, but your phone sits beside you on the windowsill, the screen dark but heavy with possibilities.

It’s almost midnight when the buzz breaks the silence. You glance at the screen, your heart stopping when you see his name.

The message is simple. “Please, can we talk? I miss you…I’m sorry”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hi !! i was thinking about logical by olivia rodrigo when she sings "said i was too young i was too soft, can't take a joke can't get you off" and it got me thinking of rupert campbell black x younger!reader getting into a huge argument about something and he says that to her in the heat of the moment and then maybe they end up having make up sex idk

thank you <33

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

rupert campbell black x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. age gap. angst. so much use of the word darling. this might be a tiny bit toxic, but...

word count - 2.3k

authors note - title taken from logical by olivia rodrigo (which fits him so well, by the way). thank you for this request, erica!! it works so beautifully. I tried not to make it too toxic, but I think rupert is a tiny bit toxic, regardless. oops. and yet we love him anyway.

masterlist. inbox.

“What’s the matter?”

You’re curled up in the armchair by the fire, cup of tea warming the palms of your hands as the flames warm your toes. You’re still wearing your ballgown, hair still pretty in its updo and makeup still perfectly done.

“Darling,” you hear come from the kitchen, where he’s no doubt pouring himself a whiskey.

You stay quiet, taking a sip from your mug and sitting in your frustration.

Rupert appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame and taking in the sight of you. The first thing he observes is how cosy you look. The second thing he observes is how annoyed you look.

“Darling,” he repeats, walking over to kneel in front of you. “What’s the matter? Did you not have a good time?”

You’ve gotten very good at picking your battles with Rupert. Sometimes, you let go of whatever’s bothering you to save yourself the aggravation of an argument. Other days, much like today, you just can’t seem to keep a lid on your anger.

“I was having a good time until you made me feel stupid in front of everyone.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?”

You look down at him, his wide eyes staring up at you with genuine confusion painted across them.

“When I told that story about the horses, at the dinner table. I saw that look you gave Bas. It was like you were laughing at me, not with me.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel stupid. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Do I? You did the same thing a few weeks ago at Lizzie’s. You so easily undermine me when I’m speaking with a look or a laugh. That’s all it takes, and you don’t even realise.”

“Darling, I’m just joking with my friends. I’m not sure why you’re taking this so personally. It’s a non issue that you’re making into an issue.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Well I could argue that it’s not fair that you’re telling me that I make you feel stupid. That’s an accusation that’s not fair.”

He gets up, moving to stand by the fire with his glass in his hand.

“I feel like you’re just dismissing me,” you say quietly, squeezing the mug tighter in your hands.

“Because you’re acting like a child.”

“You’re treating me like a child,” you retort quickly, sitting up straighter in your chair.

“Look, darling. Maybe this is just our gap in life experience rearing its head. You’ve got a lot to learn, and sometimes it shows.”

“You know, our age gap only becomes a problem when you make it a problem. You want a sweet, young girlfriend until she acts her age, and then it’s an issue.”

“Because you can be so mature, and then all of a sudden you’re throwing a tantrum like a child,” he fumes, placing his glass down on the mantelpiece and folding his arms over his chest. “You’re young and you’re soft, I’m not oblivious to that. But sometimes you can’t take a joke - or sometimes you miss the joke completely. It’s not my fault if you twist that into me making you feel stupid.”

You put your mug down onto the side table, willing yourself not to get upset. You stand up so you’re no longer below him, still keeping a distance between the two of you. Breathing in deeply, you exhale shakily in an attempt to keep yourself and your composure together.

“You’re acting like my age is something that came up later, Rupert - and that’s not true at all. You knew how old I was when we met. You knew I was significantly younger than you.”

“Yes, I did. Maybe I just wasn’t aware of how often it would come up as a point when we argued.”

He leans against the fireplace wall, sharp features illuminated by the light of the flames. All that can be heard are the sounds of wood crackling and two sets of lungs heaving for breath.

“You’re making me feel like I’m insane,” you burst suddenly, sick of biting your tongue. “You’re acting as if everything is all my fault. When will you take some responsibility, Rupert? When will you hold your hands up and say ‘do you know what - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it’, hmm? Why do I always have to apologise?”

“Darling-”

“No, I’m sick of it. One minute, you’re telling me our age gap doesn’t matter because we’re in love and I’m mature and intelligent and everything you need - and the next minute you’re treating me like some sort of virginal lamb that doesn’t know the difference between left and right. Make up your mind, because you’re making me dizzy.”

“If you’re so sick of it, why are we doing this? If you are so sick of it, you know where the door is, darling. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”

That’s all it takes for the tears to start falling, hot and heavy down your cheeks. Your sadness seems to be uncontrollable, stemming from your chest and humming through your veins. You’re surprised you’re not turning blue, a perfect personification of sorrow.

You stand your ground and cry in place, refusing to move to him for comfort. Eventually, he breaks first, unable to watch you sob any longer.

“My darling,” he soothes, striding across the space to wrap his arms around you. “My sweet girl.”

His nicknames only make you cry harder, burying your face in his crisp white dress shirt and undoubtedly getting makeup all over it. He doesn’t care, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other wraps around your waist to pull you closer.

“That was really mean,” you blubber into his chest. “Do you actually want me to leave?”

“No,” he reassures, rocking you in his arms gently. “No, darling. No. God, that’s the last thing I want. Honest.”

“Why did you say it then?”

Your voice is muffled, face still pressed against him. He smells so familiar and masculine and Rupert that it only makes you cry more.

“I… I don’t know,” he confesses, squeezing you tighter. “I shouldn’t have. You know me, I- I say things I don’t mean when I’m angry.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Your fingers are gripping the back of his shirt, holding on for dear life.

“I know, darling. I know.”

You sniffle as you pull back slightly to look up at him, surprised to see his eyes teary and glistening.

“Do you love me, Rupert? Because, because- if you… if you really wanted me to leave… you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, cradling your face in his hands. “Of course I love you. The fact you even have to ask breaks my heart. I don’t want to you leave - I love having you here. And god forbid, if something bad did happen between us… we both know we wouldn’t stick around and pretend that this is something it’s not.”

Part of you knows that he’s good at this - saying exactly what you want and need to hear. The rest of you is stupidly relieved, letting his words wash over you like a balm on a scrape.

“I didn’t like it when you laughed at me tonight. One, because it made me feel stupid, and two… because I don’t want people to doubt us. You know what they’re all like. They see the tiniest crack and dig their fingers into it until it’s a gaping wound that they can all gossip about.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he murmurs as he sweeps his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. “I shouldn’t give them any ammunition. I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realise it would upset you so much. There was no malicious intent on my part, I swear - it was just a joke between friends. You know Bas adores you.”

“I know,” you half chuckle. “He tells me every single time he sees me.”

“Exactly,” Rupert grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “But no one adores you the way I do. I can promise you that.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head against his chest. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone, meaning you can feel his warm skin against your cheek, comforting and familiar.

“Rupert?”

He hums, encouraging you to continue.

“Will you stop bringing up my age when we argue? I don’t ever mention that you’re older than me, but you’re so quick to call me young or inexperienced or a baby.”

“Yes, darling. I’m sorry that it seems like a focal point for us - it’s not, I swear.”

“You kissed me.”

“Hmm?”

“You kissed me, that day in the garden. Not the other way around. You made the move first. I’m not some innocent girl chasing after you because I’m naive and too young to know any better.”

“I know that. I kissed you because I thought you were the most magnificent girl I’d ever met. I still do.”

He tightens his arms around you, gently rocking you like a child again.

“I don’t want to argue anymore,” you mumble, sighing deeply.

“Neither do I, darling. We’re finished with the arguing now. Promise.”

Rupert takes half a step back, to give him a better look at you. You still look beautiful, even if you do have mascara running down your cheeks and lipstick smudged across your face.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he leans in to kiss you.

“I love you too,” you manage to mutter against his lips, kissing him back as hard as you can.

He kisses you carefully, methodically, as if he’s worried he’ll spook you and you’ll take off running. He’s keeping you close, hands gripping your hips to plaster your body to his. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging the dark locks with a little too much force, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

Rupert walks you both towards the fire, lips never parting from yours. His hand finds the back of your dress, pulling down the zip in one smooth movement. It falls to your feet, kicked to the side in disregard. He sits down in the armchair and pulls you with him so you’re straddling his lap, legs on either side of his hips and arms thrown around his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, fingers tracing patterns up and down your bare back.

You press kisses into his neck and down his chest, the hair there tickling your face as you do it. Your hips have slowly started to move against his, both of you out of breath as the stakes get higher and higher.

He undoes the zip on his trousers, smirking when you whimper at his knuckles brushing your wet core. He pulls them down just enough to free himself, not worried about getting completely undressed.

“I want these off,” he instructs, pulling at the waistband of your underwear. “Now, darling.”

You wiggle them down your legs, kicking them off one foot in the direction of your dress. You’re fully naked in his lap, while he’s still wearing his shirt unbuttoned with his trousers halfway down his thighs. You both look debauched, more scandalous than you could ever imagine. You wish for a moment that you had a mirror, desperate to watch the way you need each other.

You take matters into your own hands and line him up, sinking down slowly so you can savour the stretch. It burns just right, the slight ache a welcome intrusion.

“Shit, darling. That’s it. Good girl.”

Tangling your fingers into the back of his hair, you start to wind your hips up and down - gently at first, and then with more vigour. Rupert lets his head loll back into the chair, exposing that gorgeously tanned neck of his. You nip at it with your teeth, grinning when he groans all low and slow.

He cups your tits, squeezing and pinching as he begins to buck his hips to meet yours. You’re determined to do all the work yourself, but he can read your body language like a book, whether you like it or not. He knows you’re getting tired, but will point blank refuse to admit it.

One of his hands slinks between you to rub firm circles onto your clit, both of you moaning when you clench down around him. He can tell you’re almost there, just needing the tiniest push to throw you over the edge.

“There we go, good girl. My good girl. All mine.”

That’s all you need, back arching and legs shaking as you reach your climax. Yours triggers Rupert’s, the most delicious groan leaving his mouth as he comes. He looks like a Greek God, all chiseled and glistening in the firelight.

Burying your head into the crook of his neck, you breathe him and try to calm your pounding heart. You can feel his heart battering against his chest where it’s pressed against yours, bodies tangled together in the armchair.

The two of you catch your breath for a while, revelling in the warmth of the fire and the company of the other. Eventually, Rupert carries you upstairs, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear and stroking your hair as he does it.

I was wrong, earlier, you think as he tucks you into bed and immediately climbs in next to you, plastering himself to your back. No one could love me like Rupert does.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, even if I sound like a broken record…

reblogs are gold dust to writers!! reblog the fics you read and enjoy, and your favourite writers will keep writing them for you!! it really is that simple!! <3

[straylightdream]

midnight drives

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: choi seungcheol x curvyf.reader

↳ late night drives lead to desperate kisses with your sister’s ex boyfriend.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: friends to lovers?? non idol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, body insecurity, mentions of possible emotional cheating, smut warning below the cut.

an: I might go back and edit this one more time later.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠��𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: car sex, protected sex, so much kissing, marking, and biting while kissing. seungcheol is obsessed with kissing the mc neck.

It was one of those days Seungcheol actively wanted to quit his job. He was in the office until nearly midnight working on a project that was due by midnight. Anything that could go wrong did. He honestly just wanted to see you. He just wanted to shut his brain off and not think about work any longer. Seungcheol really didn’t want to sit silently in the car next to you as you just scrolled through your phone. He stared at you wishing he could kiss you again. You had kissed the other night for the first time when you were both drunk. Your kiss you shared that night for some reason was all he could think about. Your lips seemed to take up every thought in his mind. Even though you said that you should act like nothing had ever happened.

“Do you really regret that night?” he asked, breaking the screaming silence.

His question caught you surprise. Locking your phone you looked over at Seungcheol who has a serious look painted across his face. You weren’t sure what you should say, because your drunken kiss that night had left you with a feeling of butterflies. But you didn’t want to admit that you had felt anything. Because you knew you were really good friends and you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. Your sister also added a layer of complication to this.

“You know Hayley thinks it’s weird we’re still friends,” you said in an attempt to change the subject but also let him know why you really felt conflicted about everything. Hayley was your older sister who had dated Seungcheol first. She was the reason you and Seungcheol became friends. They dated in high school and during college.

He rolled his eyes at the fact that Hayley and him had been broken up for almost two years and yet you didn’t see him as anything other than your sister’s ex. A sigh passed his lips, “I get she’s your sister and all but why are you letting her get in the way of you being happy?”

Your head tilted slightly as you were trying to process what Seungcheol had just said to you. You liked Seungcheol a lot more than you were willing to admit and that honestly scared you to no end. You weren't really ever the girl that was looking for a relationship. You were independent and didn’t need anyone to make you happy. But he was managing to change things without really trying.

“How do you know that being with you would make me happy?” You stared at him wondering what he was going to say to you.

“Because just being around you makes me happy. You’re the only one I want to see even after having the worst day at work. You’re the only person who can make me smile even when I’m upset.” he couldn’t believe he was basically confessing how he had felt for you for almost two years.

“Didn’t my sister make you happy?” You asked, twisting in your seat so you’re looking straight at him.

He shook his head, “I had such a big crush on you, she honestly didn’t compare.” Your heart-rate picked up and you felt butterflies in your stomach at everything he was saying. How do you even respond to that statement? There was no way you could of know that the whole time he was dating your sister that he wanted you.

“Cheol,” you paused because you didn’t know what you should say to him.

He reached over and rested his large hand on your flushed cheek and stared into your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you again,” you smiled instantly. Leaning over the center console he roughly connected his lips to yours. He moved his lips against yours as you tangled your fingers in his hair. He was kissing you as if he was trying to prove a point. Your lips moved against each other as if you needed each other to breathe. He pulled his lips away from yours and stared into your eyes. Your body felt warm suddenly. You just stare at him wishing he would kiss you again.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, really hoping you would say no.

“No,” you whispered.

He smiled as he moved his lips to your jaw and started kissing down to your neck, and occasionally licking and nipping at the sensitive skin on your neck. You knew at the rate you’re going you were definitely going to have to cover up some marks on your neck tomorrow. A moan passed your lips as he slightly moved your sweater off your shoulder so he could kiss your collarbone and the top of your shoulder.

The way he was kissing you made you want to rip his clothes off. He was getting you so turned on without really even trying. You could spend hours kissing him like this. If kissing was an Olympic sport Seungcheol would be a gold medalist.

“What’s going to happen here?” You asked as he continued to kiss your neck. Earning another moan from you.

In-between kisses he managed to say, “whatever you want to happen can happen.”

You closed your eyes enjoying the feeling of his lips ghosting across your skin. Nobody has ever kissed you like this. “The way you’re kissing me I feel like you have an idea of what you want to happen.”

He smiled against your neck before lightly biting down, “I’m not asking you to do anything. I’m just enjoying that I actually get to kiss you like I’ve always wanted too.”

Tangling your fingers in his hair you held him closer to you. You knew you probably shouldn’t sleep together. It's hard to tell your body that when you’re turned on. You didn’t know if you could walk away from this.

“If you keep up what you’re doing I can’t promise this will end with just kissing,” you said, rolling you head back in pure pleasure.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said, pulling his lips away from your neck.

“You have me so turned on right now kissing isn’t going to be enough,” you sighed, reaching over and resting your hand against his cheek.

“You think you’re turned on, imagine being me,” he said looking down at his erection that was straining against his dress pants.

“Thank god you have tinted windows in the backseat, and it's dark back there,” you said looking behind into the backseat.

Seungcheol stared at you with a confused look on his face, not sure what you meant, “what?”

“It means when we have sex in the backseat of your car no one will see,” you smirked before pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

“Oh?”

You nod with a smile on your face, “Seungcheol I just want you to know I’m not exactly comfortable in my skin. I’m not a size two like Hayley. I have a soft body, there’s quite a difference in our bodies.”

He pushed his eyes together as he stared at you confused. He couldn’t believe that you didn’t realize how sexy he found you, “baby do you not realize at all the pool parties we used to have I would have to constantly stop myself from staring at you.” He couldn’t believe he was admitting to you that he used to stare at. Back in the day he couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. “I used to fantasize about you,” he said feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Seriously?” Suddenly you feel more confident.

“Yeah.”

Gnawing at your bottom lip you tried to hide the huge grin that wanted to form.

“The more you talk the more you seem to be turning me on.” You crawled over the center console and made quick work of shimming your legging and undies off while Seungcheol jumped out of the front seat and quickly opened the door and got into the back seat next to you. He made quick work of getting pants unbuttoned and pushed down enough to free himself. Once you were naked from the waist down you crawled toward Seungcheol who was sitting there with his pants pushed down to his knees and his erection standing proud as he bit his bottom lips staring at you. From the beginning when you first met him you always thought he was so hot, but the sight of him sitting there with his hard cock on display made your mouth water.

“I wish we could get all your clothes off,” he said as you straddled his thighs.

“Maybe next time,” you smiled before pressing your lips to his. You reached down and started unbuttoning his light blue dress shirt. You wanted to see his abs and run your fingers over them. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, reaching down and slowly started stroking him causing him to groan. You couldn’t believe how hard he got just from your makeout session in the front seat.

He nodded, “there’s one in the center console.”

Reaching behind to the center console and grabbed the row of three condoms. You tore the foil open with your teeth and made quick work of rolling the condom down his hardened length. Lifting up you hovered your body over his erections. A smile spreads across your lips as he lined himself up.

“I can’t lie, I've waited for this moment since I met you,” he said before pressing his lips to your jaw for another kiss.

“Show me what you got then,” you slowly lowered yours down on him and let out a moan.

You moved together as you tried to keep a steady pace, your hands rested on his shoulders as his lips continued to kiss your neck roughly.

“Oh my,” you moaned.

You rolled your hips riding him. Seungcheol kept his large hands glued to your hips as he tried to help you keep a good pace.

“Cheol,” you sighed. “I need you to use your fingers baby.”

He nodded his head and he moved one of his hands for your soft waist down to your sensitive clit. He slowly dragged his finger in a circle and received a positive moan from you.

“That feels so good,” you say as she leaned forward connecting your lips to Seungcheol’s.

You rode him a little faster hoping to push yourself over the edge as he dragged his finger against your clit in messy circles. Your body feels like a live wire as you’re desperately close to the edge. Rolling your head back in pleasure, Seungcheol connected his lips to your neck again and started kissing his way up. This man is obsessed with your neck and you won’t ever complain about it. You couldn’t believe how good he was in bed. This man seemed to know all the right things to do.

“Are you close?” he asked feeling himself getting close to the edge.

All you can do is moan and whimper his name. You weren’t even sure you could form proper words.

He started thrusting his hips upwards and every time your hips met Seungcheol received a moan from you letting him know that you were on the brink of falling apart. He keeps thrusting up until he feels your walls start to clench around him. Throwing your head back with a loud moan. You see stars and feel like you’re on the verge of blacking out as your high hits you like a hurricane.

He grabbed your hips and got a few more thrust in when he hit his high. You were breathing heavily as you slumped forward against Seungcheol. He leaned his head against the headrest behind him. His mind felt numb as he tried to process the intense sex you just had.

Slowly you move off of Seungcheol’s lap and lean with your back against the door and your feet resting on his lap. Your breathing had finally gotten steady and you stared at Seungcheol who had his eyes closed and a smile on his face as his breathing was a little heavy.

“That was better then I ever expected,” he sighed with a smirk as he had his head still leaning back.

“You had low expectations for me?” You pushed your eyebrows together, kind of offended by his comment.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said playfully, hitting your leg. You rolled your eyes at him and just shook your head. He didn’t say anything, he just grabbed your foot that was in your lap and slowly started massaging it.

“Seungcheol what happens now?” Your mind was starting to over think things after what just happened.

“Well I was hoping we could maybe do this somewhere other than the backseat of a car,” he said with a little laugh. This wasn’t the most idle location for your first time having sex together.

“Okay cool,” you said realizing he saw you only as fuck buddy. You weren’t sure you could handle only being a hookup buddy with him.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked, setting down your foot. He slowly reached over and put his hand on your soft cheek causing you to look at him.

“Seungcheol I like you a lot and I can’t be just your fuck buddy,” you said bluntly.

He tilted his head to the side and gave you a confused look. “Is that what you think this is?” You didn’t say anything, you just stared at him. “I fully intend on taking you out on a date. I don’t expect only sex from you. I would like to take you out as well. The sex is just an extremely nice bonus,” he smiled.

“Oh I see.”

“Why don’t we get dressed and go inside and have sex where we aren’t still dressed?” He asked with a smirk.

“Seriously?” You laughed.

“Dead serious,” he said lifting his hips so he could get his pants up.

“Alright,” you said, reaching on the floor and grabbing your leggings.

You quickly got dressed and hopped out of his car. You looked over at each other and laughed a little as Seungcheol worked on straightening out his pants. He was already getting hard again and just the thought of round two. You couldn’t wait to explore his body and fully see him naked.

Quickly you opened the door and you both walked inside. The second the front door was closed Seungcheol pinned you against the wall and started kissing you. His lips roughly moved down your jaw towards your sensitive neck. Earning another moan from you.

You moved your hands up and down his back and held him close to you as your lips moved together quickly. He placed his strong thigh between her legs. Instantly grinding your cloth cover pussy against his tone thigh.

A gasp passed your lips as he lightly bit your neck. Surely leaving another mark behind. He pulled away from you and smirked. His hands moved down and grabbed the bottom of your sweater and quickly worked to remove it. He bit his bottom lip as you worked on unbuttoning his shirt again.

Running your hands down his toned abs and closing the distance between you crashing your lips together again. His hands started roughly roaming your torso and moved up to your bra covered breast.

“Wow.” Everything instantly feels like it’s halted and your heart starts racing. Both of you froze completely, realizing you’ve been caught. The worst possible person just walked into the room.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol groaned knowing that voice all too well. He can tell by the look on your face that you’re panicking.

You moved Seungcheol's arm and walked towards your sister who was standing in the living room with a shocked look on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” you said feeling extremely guilty about the fact you had just had sex with your sister's ex. It doesn’t help that you were about to do it again.

“This is really awkward,” your sister said with a little laugh. “Hey Seungcheol,” she said to him as he awkwardly sat down on the couch trying to adjust the erection.

“Hey Hayley,” he said with a really awkward smile.

“So you guys are hooking up,” she said leaning against the wall.

“It’s complicated,” you sighed.

“Well I’m gonna go back to my room to my boyfriend and attempt to bleach my brain,” she said with a laugh.

“Wait Hayley are you mad at me?” You asked reaching for your sister.

She shook her head, “No, Seungcheol and I broke up like three years ago. I’ve been with Henry for two years. I don’t care that you and Cheol are hooking up. Just do me a favor and be safe,” she smiled.

“Okay thank you.”

“Also do it in your room not the damn living room,” she said as she walked down the hall.

The second you heard your sister’s door close you looked over at Seungcheol who was holding a throw pillow over his erection.

“Off to my room,” you said signaling for him to follow you. You made your way to your room that was across from Hayley’s room. It was a room that Seungcheol used to be very familiar with and all the sudden he became very aware of how weird the situation with you and him is.

“Is this weird to you?” he asked, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“What do you mean?” You couldn’t help but be a little confused by his statement.

“I mean that I used to sleep with Hayley?”

You shrugged, “I mean kind of, but I try not to think about my sister having sex.”

He let out a little laugh. There is something about you that he’s always found so charming. From the very beginning you two have always gotten along really well.

You sat down next to him and you roughly connected your lips together. He tangled his fingers in your locks. You rested your hand on Seungcheol’s thigh and slowly massaged it as your lips moved together. Pulling away from each other and resting your noses together and you both couldn’t help but smile.

“I need you naked,” his voice is raspy with need. His deep voice gives you butterflies with little to no effort. He stood up and put his hand out for you to take. You stood a foot away from him and he bent down sitting on his knees in front of you. You could get used to seeing him looking at you like this. He reaches for the top of your leggings and moves them slowly down your soft thighs. He sprinkled kisses across the exposed skin on your soft thighs. He finished pulling your leggings off and looked up at you and gave you a love sick smile. Reaching behind you pulled your bra off leaving you only in your cheeky panties. He licked his lips and sat back on his hunches and slowly took off your final layer of clothing.

Standing there completely naked in front of basically still dressed Seungcheol. You became extremely aware of the fact that you were not a skinny girl. You have a soft body and curves and they are on full display. He could sense you were over thinking everything so he stood up and pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. Reaching between you, you worked on unbuttoning his dress pants. He stepped back from you and kicked his shoes off and got his dress pants and boxers off quickly. You both stood there both completely naked and staring at each other.

“I can’t get over how beautiful you are,” he said, reaching his hand up and resting it on your cheek.

You crawled back on your bed and he followed. You laid back on your pillows waiting for him. Hovering over you he quickly attached his lips to yours. He kissed like he needs you to breathe. As if you are the air in his lungs. He rolled his naked body against yours trying to get some friction for some foreplay.

“Condoms are in the nightstand,” you said as he started kissing his way down your jaw. The feeling of his lips against your skin is something you don’t think you’ll ever get over. Pulling away from you long enough to grab a condom. Tearing the foil packet with his teeth. Slowly sliding the rubber down his already hard length. Spreading your legs you give him full access to your body. He lined his length up with your sopping entrance. You’re still wet from the first time he made you cum in his car.

“Cheol,” you moan, attempting to keep quiet. He rolled his hips quickly into yours as you held onto him for what felt like dear life.

“You feel so good,” he groans. Reaching up your fingers in his hair holding him close to you. Leaning forward you connected your lips to his for a rough kiss. You pulled away biting his bottom lips causing him to smirk. He loved that you were being more bold. He paused for a moment and grabbed one of your legs, throwing it over his hip before he started moving at a quick pass.

“Fuck,” you moan at the new position he was hitting. There was no way you could last very long at the angle he was hitting over and over again. “Cheol…I’m so close,” another moan passed your lips.

“Go ahead and cum for me,” he smiled before kissing your neck again. He kissed his way up the sensitive skin of your neck occasionally leaving love bites. He reached up and laced his finger with one of your hands. He wanted to touch you in every way possible as he got closer and closer to the edge.

A white hot wave washes over you. Your orgasm hits you like a brick wall. Your walls contract around Seungcheol as he’s chasing his own high. It only took a few sloppy thrust before Seungcheol cums moaning your name. You laid there with Seungcheol on top of you for a long moment. He’s still snug inside you. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. He slowly rolled off you and sighed.

“So how does dinner sound tomorrow night?” he asked, causing you to laugh.

“Tomorrow night sounds perfect,” you said cuddling next to him.

[absurdthirst]

All American Thanksgiving {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.9k

Warnings: Sex with strangers, protected sex, outdoors sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), restraints, temperature play, begging, submissiveness, face riding, angst, heartbreak

Comments: Working on Thanksgiving leads to meeting Javier Peña.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

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.

Javier rubs his cheek as he strides to the door of the diner. It’s Thanksgiving and he volunteered to work. He doesn’t mind sitting in a cop car instead of handling Lorraine and her family like he would’ve had to do. He walks into the empty diner and sits at the counter. You look up when you see him waiting at the counter, surprised anyone showed up on Thanksgiving, but you wipe your hands on your apron and walk along the counter to greet him. “Hey. Happy Thanksgiving. What can I get you to drink?” You ask, taken back by how handsome he is when he looks up at you with beautiful dark brown eyes.

He’s always been a bit of a flirt, but he’s tried to be good while he was dating Lorraine. However, he’s tired of her pushing for a ring, for a proposal. Wanting the wedding that Javi isn’t ready for. She keeps telling him that he can’t keep getting the milk for free when he hasn’t bought the cow. So he decided to tell her he needed a break. Right before the holiday and she keeps calling, her mother stopped him in the grocery store and gave him an earful and her father undoubtedly has been waiting to run into him. “Kind of a slow day, huh?” He asks, glancing around the deserted dinner. “Got any coffee brewed?”

You chuckle, glancing behind you to the half empty pot. “Definitely. It’s what I’ve been surviving on today since it’s been so quiet. Who knew so many people had families to see today?” You tease as you turn to grab a cup to pour him some coffee. “You got stuck with the ghost shift today too?” You ask as you set the cup down on the counter for him.

He snorts. “I volunteered.” He offers. “It was better than spending the day with people I don’t want to be around, talking about subjects I don’t give a fuck about.”

You hum, nodding in agreement, “True. Especially politics and religion. Luckily for me, I don’t have to worry about that because my parents are gone and I’m an only child.” You confess, reaching for a menu to set it down. “Me and the cook back there volunteered to let our coworkers spend the day with their families.”

“That was nice of you.” He watches as you walk away to get the coffee pot, his eyes falling down to your ass. It’s a nice ass, wrapped in your diner uniforms.

You come back, sensing his eyes on you when you walked away, and you smirk as you pour his coffee. He's attractive but you can tell he knows it. "Well, it's starting to feel like it was a good choice." You say as you stare at him appraisingly. "Always liked a man in uniform."

He wings up a brow, leaning back slightly. It’s been a long time since he’s really talked to a woman that wasn’t his family or Lorraine’s and he smirks. “You can look all you want.” He promises. “I don’t mind.”

You like his smirk, feeling your stomach twist with attraction, and you finish pouring his coffee. “See anything you like? On the menu?” You add, offering him a smirk of your own.

“Only the menu is available?” Javi hums. “Damn shame.” He glances down at your hand and sees you don’t have a wedding ring on. “He’s a lucky fucker.”

His words make you hot under your uniform, his dark eyes flicking up to yours and you offer him a soft shake of your head, "there's no lucky fucker. Single as a pringle." You hum, "and you? I'm sure your lady knows she's lucky."

“Single.” Javi shrugs slightly. “Recent occurrence.” Leaning forward, he picks up his coffee cup with three fingers and watches you while he takes a sip, “my real question is how are you single? I bet you get hit on all the time, pretty as you are.”

You chuckle, shaking your head again, "if you count old men and truckers, then allll the time. By someone I'd actually be interested in? Never. Until today." You murmur, resting your elbows on the counter to lean a little closer. "What crazy woman let you out of her bed?" You ask incredulously, eyebrows raised.

He chuckles, appreciating the comment and feeling like it might apply to his ex. She was getting more and more demanding as time went on. “I ran from it, actually.” He admits. “Felt like it wasn’t right.” His gaze turns a little more intense. “She wasn’t the right woman for me. So I’m still looking.”

You hum, "well, her loss and all..." You trail off and look down at the menu, "you want anything to eat, handsome?" You ask flirtatiously, knowing that you are both single. You have no qualms flirting with a sexy man and today has been painfully slow in the diner. You need a distraction.

“Oh, I’m starving.” Javi insists with a lecherous smirk. “And I’ll get something to eat, I guess.” He winks at you and glances behind you when the cook makes his presence known in the kitchen window.

You can sense Adrian's presence but you ignore it to focus on the customer as you reach for your notepad, "what can I get you?" You ask and he glances down at the menu. "All American Breakfast. Bacon, eggs over easy, pancakes." He orders and you nod, writing it down, "hash browns or grits?" You ask and he licks his lips, "hash browns." You nod and scribble down his order, handing it to Adrian who grunts and gets to work. "That should be up soon." You tell him and walk along the counter to grab the syrup and preserves for him to choose from.

“Fuck.” He notices the extra sway to your hips when you walk away from him and it makes his cock twitch. It’s been a slow day and he doesn’t have any calls right now, so he plans to stay and flirt with you until the dispatcher radios him. “Strawberry.” He tells you when you offer him a choice. “Sweet and juicy,  how I like it.”

You giggle, your stomach lurching with attraction and lust from his words, and you bring his selection over to him, setting it down. "So...do I get to know your first name, Officer Peña?" You ask, glancing down at his badge and you know he can read your name on your badge.

“Javier.” He’s spilled a little of the coffee on his thumb so he swipes his tongue across it after saying your name in return. “You have a beautiful name.” He compliments. “Matches your ass.”

You inhale shakily before you breathe out, "now there's a compliment you don't get everyday." You lean over the counter again, watching him as he lowers his hand from his mouth. "You have massive hands." You reach for the one he didn't lick, admiring his thick fingers, "makes a girl wonder where else is big." You flirt, caressing the back of his hand.

Javi’s no fool and that is an invitation as clear as day. Running his tongue over his teeth, he arches a brow as he glances at the kitchen window again. “Why don’t we go have a smoke?” He asks you. “Out back.”

You nod, cunt dripping for this stranger, but you feel like you need this. You spin around to talk to Adrian through the kitchen window. "I'm going for a break." You call out and Adrian waves his spatula over his shoulder to dismiss you. He's never been one with words. You reach behind you to untie your apron and shove it under the counter before you stride down the counter at the same pace he walks until you meet him at the side entrance to the dinner. He pushes the door open for you and you step outside, inhaling the fresh air. "I don't really smoke." You confess, turning towards him just as he reaches for your waist to pull you into his chest. "It's not a cigarette I want right now." He rasps, his hard cock pressing against your hip and you moan, reaching up to cup his cheeks, dragging his face to yours.

Javi leans into the kiss eagerly, having missed the physicality of sex since ending things with Lorraine. He’s almost given in and called her a few times but had resisted so far. Now, he’s wrapping his arms around you and dragging you closer, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth with a moan.

Your tongue slides against his as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass through your dress. You moan into the kiss, grinding against him as he walks you backwards towards the wall of the diner and you gasp when he kisses your jaw. “Tell me what you want, hermosa.” He demands and you whimper, “need you to fuck me.” You order, reaching between you to squeeze his cock through his pants.

Javi groans into your mouth, twitching in your hand. “I can fuck you.” He promises, breaking away from your lips to kiss along your jaw. His fingers trail around your hip and push into your panties to find your clit and slide his fingers through your wet folds to press inside you slowly. “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good around my cock.” He tells you as your walls hug his fingers.

His fingers are thick and stretch you, making you moan his name as he starts to work you open on them. You’re dripping wet for him and you fumble with his belt, trying to get his pants open. “Fuck. This uniform is so hot.” You murmur, his gun still on his hip as he pumps his fingers. You finally get his pants open and reach in to pull his hard cock out, moaning at the girth you discover.

He chuckles against your pulse as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them up. Wanting you to feel good when he slides inside you. “So is your uniform.” He pants. “Serving me coffee and pussy.”

“Better leave a good tip.” You tease breathlessly as he presses his thumb against your clit and you pump his cock, loving the way he twitches in your palm. His breaths are hot against your neck and you need him to be inside you. “Javier. Please.” You beg, walls fluttering around his digits as he works you up.

​​“You don’t want to cum like this?” He is halfway teasing but he curls and presses his fingers deeper. Pressing against that spongy spot that has you gasping out his name. “You just want my cock?”

“Oh shit.” You gasp as he presses his fingers against that spot. “Yes. Shit. Keep- keep going. I’m so close.” You pant out your confession as you grind down onto his fingers, your grip on his cock tightening. He chuckles and it makes your stomach clench, sending you over the edge and your knees buckle while you clamp down on his fingers.

Javi’s body pressed against you keeps you upright against the wall. Groaning into your skin while you soak his fingers and he pumps them in and out of you with a squelching sound. Enjoying the way you are whimpering and his cock pulses in your hand.

You try to catch your breath as he works you through it until you regain your senses. You let go of his cock to cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his after you demand, “fuck me.”

Javi licks into your mouth again, pulling his fingers out of your dripping pussy to reach for his wallet. Always keeping a spare condom in the side pocket, he pulls it out blindly and drops the wallet on the ground in his hast to rip the foil packet open and roll it on.

You shove your dress up your hips and watch him roll the condom down his cock. He’s thick and you would go down on him if you knew him better. “Baby, please.” You beg, whining as he grabs your thigh, lifting it over his hip, and you groan when he notches himself at your entrance and starts to push into you.

Javi doesn’t just thrust into you roughly, but his hips are firm as they press you into the wall. Filling you with a smooth roll of his hips that is taking your breath and making him choke out in pleasure as he bottoms out. “Fuuuuuuck.” The curse is growled into your mouth, following his tongue as it slides against yours and his eyes close at the hot clutch of your cunt around him.

He stretches you out and you grip his shoulder as he starts to move inside you. Your tongue tangles with his and this is pleasure you haven't felt for a long time. He is strong beneath your touch as he rocks into you and you moan, tilting your head back against the wall when he adjusts his hips, "fuck, that's good."

Javi grunts in agreement, moving to kiss every inch of your neck and shoulder that he can reach while he’s rocking into you. His hands around your back, holding you as he thrusts. The jingle of his belt is loud but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even care if anyone manages to see you, he’s too focused on how good you feel around him.

Anyone could see you from the road but you don't care. Adrian could come out and find you but you don't give a fuck. Not when Javier is making you feel like this. He thrusts into you, his hand sliding down to your ass and you moan, rocking your hips to meet his, his belt hitting your thigh with each thrust.

“Fuck, you’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?” He pants as he fucks you. “I can feel it. Cum for me.” He wants to feel you cum on his cock, needs to feel it because he can feel his own body tensing to cum. It’s been so long since he’s fucked anyone but Lorraine that it’s overwhelming. “Cum for me, baby.”

His words have you falling over the edge. His cock pushes deep and you clamp down on it with a cry. Your nails dig into his uniform as you cum for him, squeezing his cock inside your fluttering walls. “Cu- cum for me.” You plead, wanting to watch him fall apart.

Javi’s jaw tenses. nostrils flaring as his hips snap forward three more times before he is faltering. Burying himself deep with a groan as his cock pulses inside you. Flooding the condom with his seed.

You love the way his jaw clenches as he twitches inside you. “Fuck, you’re so handsome.” You caress his cheek as he works himself through his pleasure until he lowers your thigh from his hip. You kiss him softly and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock as he pulls out of you.

“Fuck.” Javi hisses as he slides the condom off quickly and ties it closed. “Now I do need a cigarette.” He chuckles, shoving the used condom into the trash can and tucking his cock away. He zips up and looks at you as you adjust your panties and pull your dress back into place.

You stumble slightly and he reaches out to stabilize you. “Sorry. Just not used to cumming that hard.” You confess with a giggle and he chuckles, rubbing your arms. “You want your breakfast? Come in and have a smoke and your food.” You tell him, opening the door to the diner and he follows you inside, playfully smacking your ass which makes you giggle.

Javi goes back to his seat, sipping his coffee as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. Watching you move over to the window where his meal is sitting, having obviously been waiting for him. Grinning, you turn back and bring it over to him and he smirks. “Why won’t you get a drink and sit down with me?” He asks, inhaling a drag from the cigarette. “Not like you have a ton of tables to check.”

You glance at the kitchen window where Adrian is cleaning the griddle and you nod, grabbing a cup of coffee for yourself. Your pussy aches a little as you take a seat next to him and he taps his cigarette on the ashtray sitting on the counter. "So what made you want to be a cop?" You ask, eying his badge.

“Didn’t want to be a rancher.” He snorts, picking up his coffee cup and taking another sip before he sets it back down and picks up his fork. “I studied philosophy and criminal justice in college.” He admits, cutting into his pancakes and then picking up the syrup to drizzle over the top. “Don’t see a lot of work for a philosopher around here.”

You take a sip of your coffee and you chuckle, "I don't know. Some people around here need to take a good look at their lives. Maybe you could help them." You tease, "but being a cop...it's a hard job. Not one I'd want to do." You confess, "I bet it's hard to deal with the smugglers."

“Yeah.” He frowns slightly. “I try to prevent as much as I can, but I’m not in the DEA.” He has talked with agents a lot and even been told he needs to apply, but he hadn’t decided if he wanted to leave Laredo or not. His dad would be all alone. He never said it, but he could tell that he had missed Javi while he was in college.

You nod in understanding, “I heard the president talking about stopping the cartels but who knows what will happen. If you did join the DEA, I’m sure every woman in Laredo would miss you in uniform.” You wink, taking another sip of your coffee.

He chuckles. “Yep, I’m sure old Mrs. Murphy will miss calling me out to report that someone’s walked through her flowerbed.” He tells you. “It’s her cat, every time.”

You giggle, “she probably just wants to see a sexy cop.” You tease and he continues to eat his food. “I’d definitely be calling you to my house at every chance and you’d have a different kind of pussy to deal with.” You wink playfully, resting your elbows on the counter.

After scooping up a bite of his eggs, he smirks at you and turns the fork around to offer you the bite. “I’d be having a different kind of meal too.” He promises, that smirk broadening into a grin when you take the bite off of his fork with a look of surprise on your face. “Where do you live?” He asks. “Professionally speaking, so I can keep an ear out for the call on the radio.”

You grin after you swallow the eggs he offered you. “For professional purposes?” You ask and he nods, his knee pressing against yours under the counter. You tell him your address, “so if you’re in the area, stop by.” You wink, “and you can have your meal.”

He arches a brow, making note of the address. It’s not too far from his normal patrol route. “Gotta warn you,” he takes a bite of eggs and then forks up a bite of the pancakes for you to eat. “I’ve got a hell of an appetite.”

“Good thing I can cook up a storm.” You tease, wrapping your lips around his fork to chew on the bite. Adrian had left for his break so it’s just the two of you in the diner. “And I definitely offer dessert.” You wink after you swallow, “you are welcome anytime, officer.”

Javi smirks and nods. “Definitely take you up on that.” He promises. “Although if keeping the handcuffs on is a turn on, I can always use them on you.” He jokes.

“Or I could use them on you.” You challenge playfully and he chuckles, shrugging one shoulder, “never tried that before.” You smirk, “it would be fun. I mean it, you’re welcome anytime.” You promise and he nods just as his walkie talkie beeps. “Come in Peña.” The dispatcher’s voice is muffled but you lean back, knowing your time with him is over.

Javi sighs and rolls his eyes but he reaches for the radio. “Peña here, what’s going on?”

“Domestic dispute. Thanksgiving dinner gone wrong. 112 Sanders Ave off of Clark near the football stadium.” Kathy at dispatch says, knowing Javier is on his break but the woman had been panicked.

Javi is moving, dropping his fork and standing up as he keys his mic again. “10-4.” He says. “Enroute, five minutes.” He goes to pull his wallet out of his pocket and smirks because he had to pick it up off the ground earlier. “Listen, thanks for the food and the company.” He tells you, handing you several bills. Enough to cover the meal and a good tip. “I’ll try to come back.” He promises.”

You nod, watching him shift off his stool. “Let me get you a coffee to go.” You rush around the counter and grab a paper to-go cup, filling it up and you hand it to him. Your fingers brush his and you wish he wasn’t leaving so soon. “I’ll see you around.” You murmur, glad that Adrian isn’t here to see you step forward to kiss his cheek. He smiles and nods, “see you soon.” He says and makes his way out of the diner. You watch him until his patrol car disappears and you sigh, leaning against the counter for several moments until you clean up his plate.

The entire time he’s gone to the call, he’s thinking about the sex, the conversation. He had enjoyed his time with you, more than he could have imagined in that situation. He takes care of that issue, calming down the couple that had been arguing over the man watching the game and not helping out for Thanksgiving dinner. After that, he had a call for fireworks, basically just telling the kids to space out the explosions, and not set them off near buildings so they don’t catch on fire. After that, it goes quiet and he finds himself driving back to the diner to see if you are still there.

You are refilling the condiments, distracted thinking about Javier, when the man himself strides back into the diner. Your eyes widen and you nearly knock over the sugar as you stand up, brushing down your apron. “You’re back.” You declare and he nods, walking over to the counter, “can I get you a coffee?” You ask, heart pounding in your chest.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Too late for that.” He checks his watch and raises a brow. “When do you close tonight? I can’t see too many more people coming if they aren’t already here.”

You check your watch, “in the next fifteen minutes if no one comes in.” You tell him, “you sure you don’t want anything?” You ask as you start to put the condiments away on each table.

He smirks. “Nothing but a date.” He props his hands on his hips and looks at you as you work. “Don’t think we can go out tonight but, what do you say?” He had been thinking about you the entire time he was working and was eager to come back. It’s a step in the right direction and tells him that he was right to end things with Lorraine.

You are shocked that he came back to ask you out but your heart pounds and you blurt out a “yes” before you can even process it. He grins, nodding his head, “I, uh, I’ll give you my number.” You scramble for your notepad and write your number and address down for him. “I have tomorrow off if you, uh, if you’re free. If not, call me and we can figure something out.” You tell him with a smile that won’t leave your face.

Javi grins, taking the slip of paper that you had written his order down on, now having your number on it, and folds it over to tuck into his shirt pocket. “I’m off too.” He tells you. “Perks of working the holiday.” He jokes. “You want to get dinner? Let someone serve you for a change?”

You nod, “that sounds good.” You can’t stop smiling. You truly dreaded coming into work today but Javier has changed everything, making this a great day. “Seven?” You suggest and he nods, stepping closer to you. He glances around to see if Adrian is nearby until he cups your cheek and you lean in to press your lips to his. The kiss is sweet and short and when he pulls back, you cover your lips with your fingers, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, officer.” You say and he chuckles, offering you a wink before he leaves the diner. “He’s going to be trouble.” Adrian calls out for the kitchen, “mark my words.” He says and you roll your eyes, “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” You finish your shift with a grin, planning what you’re going to wear tomorrow night for your date.

**** 

Javi hadn’t called that night since you had plans, but he’s pulling his truck up to your address five minutes before seven. It’s been a long damn time since he’s gone on a first date and Chucho had smirked when he had seen his son taking pains with his appearance and applying his new cologne. Now he wonders if he should have brought flowers since he’s already fucked you, but he can’t leave and go get some. Rolling his eyes at his stupidity, he opens the door and reaches for his cigarettes while he waits to knock on your door.

You rush around, making sure you look good. You’d picked a classy but sexy dress to impress him and it’s silly because you’ve already had sex, but you like him. A lot. You want to get to know him more and you want to make a good first date impression. You spray your perfume and when the doorbell rings, you inhale deeply, checking your appearance in the mirror before you open your front door. He’s wearing jeans that cling to his thighs, making your mouth water until you take in his checked shirt and the cowboy boots. Fuck, he looks sexy. “Hey.” You greet him softly, leaning against your doorframe after you open the door.

Javi smiles as he takes in your dress with a slow perusal of your body, up and down until he’s looking at your face again. “Hey.” He murmurs, his eyes already darkening in approval. “You look good.” He tells you. “Real good.” If he hadn’t promised you a date, he would be trying to talk you into bed right now.

His compliment makes you shiver in arousal and you’re tempted to drag him off to your bed but you need to get to know him. You want to know more about him. “Thanks, handsome. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.” You say and leave the door open as you find your purse. “You ready?” You ask and he nods, stepping back after you close the door so you can lock up.

He guides you towards the truck and opens the door for you. “So how do you feel about going across the border for dinner?” He asks. “There’s a great little restaurant on the river that serves the best food you’ll ever eat.”

You nod, “I’m down for anything.” You promise and you get up into his truck, watching him close the door and walk around. He comes across as a strong man and you love that he takes your hand as soon as he is driving down the street. “I’m really happy you came back to ask me on a date. I kicked myself for not getting your number.” You confess, squeezing his hand.

He hums as he guides the truck down the road towards the river. “I had to leave sooner than I wanted to.” He reminds you. “Asshole husband wanted to sit on his butt watching the game instead of helping set up for the entire family coming over.” He snorts. “Poor bastard never spent days making tamales at the table with mama.”

You scoff, “I feel bad for some women. They are completely stuck in their homes doing everything instead of following their dreams, doing what they want. I mean, I work in a diner but at least I’m standing on my own two feet and not dependent on some asshole who doesn’t do shit for my weekly grocery money.”

He finds that refreshing and he nods. “My mama was a “homemaker”.” He tells you. “But she ran our house, our lives.” He chuckles. “Pop would drive mama to the store for groceries because when they were first married he told her he expected the shopping to be done by her.” He shoots you a grin. “She made him eat those words and he ended up loving going shopping with her every week.”

You giggle, “your mama sounds like an incredible woman.” Javier nods, his brow furrowed, “she was.” Your smile drops and you squeeze his hand, “I’m sorry. I lost my parents when I was eighteen to a car accident. They left me their house and that’s how I’ve been able to survive.” You confess, “I- I’m sorry. It hurts. You want to talk to them, tell them everything that happens in your life, but they aren’t there. It’s horrible.” You admit, feeling your eyes sting with unshed tears for your own family.

“I’m sorry.” Javi flips his hand over yours and laces his fingers through to hold your hand. He squeezes it gently. “I know you have to miss them. I miss my mama every damn day.” He murmurs quietly. “Don’t ever apologize for missing someone you love.”

You love that you can understand his grief and he can understand yours. It's hard to relate when your partner hasn't lost a parent so you feel even more connected to Javier. He pulls up outside the restaurant moments later and helps you out, his hand on your back as he guides you into the restaurant. You feel protected and you love how he takes charge as he gives his name and pulls out your chair when you sit down at the table.

He tells you what he plans to order, “it’s the best you’ve ever had.” He promises, tapping the menu. When the waitress comes up, he orders two beers after checking with you and then looking back at you as she walks away. “So, tell me how you came to be at the diner?” He asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in there before, but I work odd hours a lot.”

You tap your fingers on the table, “my friend, Pam. She’s well, she was my mom’s best friend and she owns the diner. After my parents died, she was my rock and offered me a job. I planned to go to college but that kind of got pushed aside from grief and I’ve been there ever since. Maybe one day I’ll go to college but for now, I don’t mind working at the diner. I take weird shifts since a lot of the other girls have families. I’m happy to help them out since I’m alone.” You confess, offering him a shrug of your shoulder.

He nods, knowing that he doesn't mind the long, odd hours that come with his job sometimes. Although Lorraine would constantly complain when something would interfere with her plans. Like public safety and criminals would just stop at five when everyone else got off work.

The waitress brings back your beers and you tell Javier to order so you can have the same thing. “I’ll see if your recommendation is up to scratch.” You tease, picking up your beer to clink it against his. “To first dates.” He toasts and you smile, “to first dates.” Javier smirks after he has a sip, “so what happens if my recommendation isn’t up to your standard?” You giggle, setting your bottle down to take his hand in yours, “then you won’t get the blowjob I’ve been imagining since you left the diner yesterday.”

His cock twitches in his jeans. “Blow job?” He asks, sure that you’re fucking with him. “Thought good girls didn’t like to suck cock?” He had stopped asking for a blow job after it was treated like a chore. He had taken the hint, but he damn sure hadn’t gone down on Lorraine either - just sticking to sex. He had counted it as another strike against the relationship. If the sex life dried up and they weren’t even married, what would it look like in ten years? He didn’t want to find out.

You lean closer, lowering your voice, “who said I was a good girl?” You tease and you love the way he inhales sharply. “Baby.” He murmurs and you turn his hand over, tracing circles on his palm, “you’re sexy and capable, why wouldn’t I want to be on my knees for you?”

Javi shivers, feeling his body respond to the promise in your eyes. “Then you’ll be on them later on.” He promises, imagining the way you would look up at him with his cock in your mouth. “And then I’ll see how loud you can scream my name.”

You pick his hand up to press a kiss to his palm before you lower it back to the table, “I’m excited for that.” You murmur, “I, uh, I don’t usually - this isn’t what I do.” You clarify, “you’re the first man I’ve slept with since my ex and I broke up about six months ago. There’s something about you that makes me want to throw caution to the wind.”

“I don’t think any less of you.” He promises, smirking slightly. “I was right there with you, just as guilty.” He winks playfully and tilts his head. “Why did you and your ex break up? Was he just stupid?”

You sigh, “he wanted me to move across the country to Florida. I couldn’t leave my parents’ house. I know it’s stupid but it’s the last connection I have to them. I couldn’t sell it and move. He refused to stay in Laredo and we broke up. He’s dating some girl in Miami now. It wasn’t meant to be.” You confess, “and you? Why did you break up with your ex?”

Javi knows this might be something you don’t like but he sighs. “She was pushing for marriage and wouldn’t listen when I told her that we needed to fix some things in our relationship first.” He tells you honestly. “She kept pushing for me to quit the department, go work for her dad.” He snorts. “I don’t want to fucking sell furniture.”

You nod in understanding, “you can’t just get married without sorting those issues out. That’s a hot ticket to divorce. And you definitely don’t look like a furniture salesman. Annoying fuckers.” You snort, “you need to make the right choice for you otherwise you’ll be too old with kids and look back thinking what the fuck did I do with my life?” You know life is short.

He laughs and nods. “Exactly.” He shakes his head. “What about you?” He asks. “You want kids? The life?” He isn’t opposed to it, but it’s not like he is rushing to find a woman to pump out kids for him. He just kind of assumed they would always one day happen, although one day seemed to be a far off concept.

You shake your head, “I’m not in a rush. I do want to get married, have kids. My parents had a great marriage. They were partners but they - my mom could only have me. They wanted more kids. I would like a couple of kids. A husband. A dog. All of it. But not yet. I am still figuring myself out.” You confess, continuing to trace his palm.

“And what have you figured out so far?” He asks, finding it easy to talk to you. You aren’t playing games, being coy. It’s nice to just talk about things without any expectations or debates about what he should want. He got plenty of that from Lorraine’s family.

“That I am stronger than I thought.” You confess, “after my parents died…I thought I would crumble. But I didn’t. I got stronger and I miss them so much but I’m surviving. I need to find who I am without my grief. I am slowly getting there.” You murmur, “I want to enjoy life to the fullest. That’s my goal. In honor of my parents.”

“That’s a good tribute to them.” He agrees. The rest of the dinner is amazing, both of you talking about everything and anything. Javi tells you some jokes that make you laugh and there’s plenty of flirting as well. Even as you agree that it’s the best food you’ve had. Now you are in the truck parked in front of your house again and Javi wonders if you are going to invite him in.

Javi comes around to open the passenger door and he walks you to the front door of your house, his hand on your back until you turn to face him. You step closer, placing your hands on his chest, “do you want to come in?” You ask, biting your lip, prepared for him to say no and you should be more coy but you want him again.

He licks his lips and nods. "I want to come in." He promises you, happy that he had slipped another condom into his wallet. He presses closer and leans in, kissing you softly before he pulls away. "Open the door, hermosa." He hums, his hands sliding down from your hips to your ass. "This time I want to see you naked."

His words make you grin and you fumble slightly as you grab your keys until you manage to get the door open. You step inside, his hands around your waist as you walk in and he kicks the door shut behind him, spinning you around to press you up against it. You gasp in delight and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.

This time he can spend time on you. Stripping you down and feasting on your body while drowning himself in the pleasure of it. Everything blurs in his mind, all his problems fade and you are exciting. You are just as eager as he is. His cock is already starting to hard just from your soft lips yielding to him and his tongue slides against yours as you gasp into his mouth.

His thigh pushes between your legs and you grind down onto him as his tongue tangles with yours. You moan into his kiss, your hands sliding to the buttons of his shirt, starting to work it open so you can touch more of him.

Javi likes that you are undressing him. Likes that you are taking charge even if you are the one with your back against the wall. He pushes his thigh up a little higher as you grind down on it and he can feel the dampness starting to grow. "Fuck." he groans, breaking away and kissing down your neck. "No panties?" He twitches against your stomach.

“I was feeling lucky.” You tease, shoving his shirt open and you caress his chest once his skin is bare. “Shit. You’re so handsome.” You murmur against his hair as he kisses down to your collarbone and you scratch your nails over his nipples, grinding onto his jeans.

Javi hisses your name, hands sliding back up your dress to find the zipper. He doesn't want to just push your dress up again but he needs to touch you. "You are fucking gorgeous." He finds your lips again to kiss you as he drags the small zipper down.

His words make your body heat up and you know he means it, it’s not just to get into your pants. You haven’t even made it down the hall, the chemistry between you sizzles and you arch your back to allow him to pull the zipper down, his shirt hitting the floor when he finally shrugs out of it when you whine.

He chuckles, stepping backs so he can peel your dress down and reveal your bra. "Fuck," his hands cup your tits and he is delighted to find that the snap for your bra is in the front, letting him unclip it easily.

His eyes are dark and you love how hungry he looks as he pushes your bra off your shoulders and cups your tits as soon as it hits the floor. Your hands slide down to his belt, working to open in your desperation to see all of him, feel all of him.

Your hands are hot and eager on his skin, opening his belt with a hunger that jerks his hips towards you as you pull at the belt. "Let me- let me get you to the bedroom." He grunts, knowing that he wants to spread you out.

You nod, knowing you want him in a bed so you shimmy your dress down, kick off your heels, and take his hand to guide him to your bedroom while completely naked. His free hand works on his belt, letting it drop to the floor, and you open the door to your bedroom.

"Cute bed." He hums, noting your flowery bedspread. "Maybe I should have brought my handcuffs to tie you to it."

You smirk, “next time, officer.” You promise and waste no time sinking down to your knees, working on the zipper of his jeans, “now, I do believe I promised you a blow job if your recommendation was good enough and that was the best food I’ve had in a while.” You smirk and lean in to kiss his belly while you open his jeans until you reach in to pull his hard cock out. “Fuck. It looks as good as it feels.” You murmur, gripping him until you lean in to flick your tongue over the drop of precum before you take him into your mouth.

"Oh fuck." Javi's eyes roll back in pleasure and he fights to open them again and keep his gaze centered on you. "You- fuck, you - you are good at this." He pants out, reaching out and caressing your cheek and jaw as you take him deep into your mouth and hollow your cheeks around him. "Fuck."

You moan around him, loving the way he tries to not thrust into your throat but you want it. You grab his thighs, managing to pull his pants down further so you can cradle his balls while you take him deeper, choking when he hits the back of your throat. You splutter slightly and take a deep breath, pushing his cock down your throat as you breathe through your nose.

He likes that you choke but keep going. You don’t care that your eyes are watering and your makeup is smearing. Your eyes are watching him and your mouth feels like heaven around his cock.

“Fuck, “I’m going to cum.” Javi warns, loving how you just hum around him. A few seconds later, he’s cumming down your throat, growling your name and panting breathlessly. 

Pulling off his cock once you’ve swallowed every drop, you love how he is immediately hauling you to your feel and pushing you down on the bed, “It’s your turn.” He smirks, spreading your thighs as he settles between them, finding a pretty shaved landing strip. “You groomed for me?” He asks playfully. “You shouldn’t have.” 

You chuckle, flushing and shaking your head, “just wanted to make sure your dessert was presented nicely.” You tease, watching him settle between your thighs. He kisses your skin and you whimper, “hope you like it, officer.”

Javi smirks and nudges his nose against your clit, inhaling the heady scent of your arousal. You got wet while sucking his cock and he uses his fingers to pull your folds apart to expose the sensitive skin. “Let me show you how much.” He coos before he is sliding his tongue through your folds with a pleased groan.

You whimper, running your fingers through his hair, loving how his tongue feels. It’s wet and hot and makes you gasp when he flicks it over your clit. “Baby.” You whine, “you feel so good.” You compliment, tugging on his hair.

Javi wants to make this good for you. You sucked his cock and your cunt feels like heaven. He wants to see what you look like when you fall apart on his tongue. Eager to see how you moan and thrash around for him as he flicks his tongue over your clit.

It’s mind blowing how good his tongue feels against your clit, sucking on your folds and he pushes his tongue into your pussy. You watch him, shifting onto your elbow to watch him, “fuck, handsome, you’re so good at that.”

He hums against your folds, winking at you playfully from his place between your thighs, his mouth still attached to your cunt. He loves how vocal you are, how sweet the whines are when your thighs tense. His fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place.

You rock your hips against his face as he works his tongue deep in your pussy, your fingers tangled in his hair, and his nose presses just right against your clit. “Fuck. Oh shit. That - that’s it.” You pant, loving how good it feels as he works you up.

He wants you to cum. He wants to see your cunt flutter before he slides inside you. Groaning into you as your fingers tug at his hair and his cock twitches against the sheets. He pulls his tongue out of your pussy and flicks it over your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh my - fuck!" You cry when he sucks on your clit and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You love it. You fucking love it. You gasp, thighs starting to shake around his head, and you moan his name when you finally fall apart. You cry out, thighs squeezing his head while you soak his chin.

Javi moans into your folds. He loves when a woman comes apart for him. It’s addictive and he loves that just as much as he loves cumming himself. Lapping at your juices until he pulls away with his mouth shiny with your slick, he kisses your clit and then starts to work his way up your body.

You pant, catching your breath as he kisses up your body, wrapping his lips around your nipple, and his cock is hard against your thigh. You reach down to wrap your fingers around him, pumping his cock, “need you inside me, baby.” You demand breathlessly.

“Fuck.” He groans against your chin. “Do you have a condom in your nightstand?” His pants are too far away for his liking and he doesn’t want to pull away from your grip.

You nod, stretching out after you release his cock to grab a condom from your nightstand. His hands squeezing your ass as you turn onto your side, grabbing the condom. You shove it into his hand and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours to kiss him.

Javi can kiss a woman and open up a condom without looking at it. Focusing on you as he pulls the rubber out and rolls it down his cock. Groaning as he pumps himself a few times to position himself between your thighs.

You moan into his mouth when he starts to enter you, stretching you out like he did the day before behind the diner. "Fuck." You pant against his chin, shifting your gaze so you can watch him push into you. "You're so gorgeous, baby." You murmur, kissing along his jaw after a moment of watching him until he's pressing against your cervix.

He chuckles, thinking that should be his comment to you. Turning his head to press his lips to your and give you a moment to relax before he starts to move.

You let him set the pace, lifting your thighs onto his hips while your hands explore his chest, up to his shoulders, and down his back until you’re squeezing his ass. He’s strong above you, making you feel like the world outside doesn’t exist, and that makes you whimper into his kiss.

Javi is a passionate lover, he pours himself in the intimacy with total abandon. Forgetting everything else but the way you move under him and respond to every thrust.

His thrusts are deep but unhurried, making your chest heave against his, his hand coming up to squeeze your breast and you whine his name. "Feel so good, baby. Better. It's gotten better." You moan, wrapping your legs around him.

Your comment makes him huff against your chin, smirking slightly as he continues to rock into you. “And the next time will be even better.” He teases. “And then even better the time after that.”

"Fuck, you're gonna have me addicted to you." You tease, "gonna need to keep you in my bed every damn day to use your cock." You chuckle when he twitches inside of you. "And I want - God, I want you in it every day."

He groans, completely agreeing with your line of thinking. “Works for me.” He kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. “Pussy feels amazing and you are incredible.” He squeezes your breast gently.

You smile at his words, glad he’s on the same page, and you rock your hips up to grind against him, moaning when his pelvis rubs your clit. “Fuck yes. There.” You pant when he hits something incredible inside you and his pelvis rubs your clit. “Keep - keep going. Just like that.”

He pants, trying to keep his hips angled the same way. Wanting to hear you moan again. “There?” He asks, huffing proudly when you nod. “Yes, just- oh god.” You whimper, making him rock his hips a little harder, knowing you are close to cumming.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Ja-" You cut yourself out with a cry as you clamp down on his cock, lost in the sensations of your orgasm while he continues to rock into you as best he can while you squeeze him.

He grits his teeth, hissing in pleasure as he works you through that orgasm. Loving how your walls spasm around him and flutter. Your eyes skip closed and your head tilts back, letting him kiss along your chin as he works you through and pushes towards his own.

The pleasure makes your toes curl and you whimper, walls fluttering around him. "So good. So good, baby. Want - need you to cum for me." You plead, scratching down his back as you rock your hips to meet his.

Your lips meet his and he groans into your mouth, ramping up his thrusts and hearing his hips slap against the back of your ass as he fucks you. Grunting in pleasure as he gets closer and closer.

The moment he falls apart makes you moan into his mouth, your tongue sliding against his when his groan vibrates against your lips and his cock twitches inside of you. You caress his back, letting him rock himself through his climax.

“Fuck.” He hisses, kissing you again and collapsing against you for a moment. He can savor it, rest for a second and not immediately pull away. It’s not like you’re behind the diner this time. He kisses you softly a few more times before he finally reaches between you to grip the base of his cock to make sure the condom stays in place.

It’s impossible to not relax into the sheets beneath you. Your body buzzing from the orgasms and you watch him as he ties off the condom and tosses it into the bin near your bed. “Come here, handsome.” You order, dragging him back into your bed so you can pull him close to kiss him. “That’s was so damn good.” You murmur, running your fingers through his hair.

He chuckles, his head leaning against the headboard and his arm comes around you as you snuggle against him. “Damn good.” He agrees. “Want a cigarette but I don’t want to move.” He’s relaxed and blissful right now, body humming with pleasure and making him a little drowsy.

“I’d offer you one but I don’t smoke.” You murmur, caressing his chest, “you maybe want to come over for dinner? When you’re free?” You ask, wanting to see him again even if he’s not left your place yet. You want to keep this going.

“When?” He asks, even though he’s not even digested the last meal that you’ve shared together.

“Whenever you’re not working. I work the day shift tomorrow so I'm free tomorrow night. If that’s not too soon?” You bite your lip, wondering if he’s going to get scared off by you being too eager.

He smirks as he looks down at you. “Whatcha making?” He asks playfully. “Have to be pretty good to beat those pancakes and pussy.”

**** 

“Fuck baby, I’ve got fifteen minutes.” Javi grumps against your lips, fumbling with his belt and pushing you against the wall of the diner again. It’s been two weeks since Thanksgiving and he’s been over at your place every night since the first date. Chucho chuckled whenever he saw Javi, sometimes he was only home to wash his clothes or change. “Fuck, pull my cock out and I’ll get the condom.”

You whine when he pulls back and you work on opening his pants to pull his hard cock out of his uniform. “Shit, Javi. Hurry up. I need you.” You plead, knowing you don’t have a lot of time and you want to have him inside you again. You’ve had sex every day since the first day you met, you’re addicted to him, and you desperately need him right now.

“Hurrying, baby, fuck.” He twitches in your hand and nearly laughs in relief when he finds the condom he has stuck in his pocket when he got dressed this morning. He had known he was coming since you are working the late shift tonight and won’t be home until late. Your house feeling like home to him since he’s spent nearly every night there. “Fucking thought about this all damn day.” As he pushes your panties down, he kisses you again and pushes the condom into your hand before he slides his hand between your thighs to rub your clit.

You fumble to open the foil packet, letting it drop to the ground as you work fast to roll the condom down his length despite his fingers working your clit. “Fuck. Me too. All damn day. Think of you whenever anyone orders the breakfast.” You moan, squeezing his length. “Come on, baby. Fuck me.” You plead and let go of him.

He’s shuffling between your thighs and grips your leg to lift it up and position himself before he’s pushing deep. Swallowing your soft cry of pleasure and giving you a groan of his own as he immediately starts to fuck you.

He stretches you out and you whine, tilting your head against the wall of the diner, his lips immediately attaching to your skin there. “Oh God.” You pant, gripping his shoulders as he thrusts into you, still dressed in the uniform you love.

Javi grunts, driving into you over and over again his knees hit the wall behind you. “Fuck baby.” He’s completely wrapped up in you, hasn’t even thought about Lorraine since that second date with you. He’s been happier and lighter since you’ve been with him.

He grunts as he rocks into you, knowing there's a diner full of customers that haven't got a clue that you are outside getting fucked by the handsome cop who came in for coffee and a donut. "So good, Jav." You whimper, lifting your thigh a little higher and he pushes deeper, making you moan. You were wet as soon as you saw his patrol car pull up and you are already climbing to your climax.

“Cum for me baby.” He begs against your pulse, pressing kisses to your galloping pulse and scraping his teeth over your skin. “Fuck, I want you to cum for me.”

You can't deny his request, your pussy fluttering around his cock until you fall over the edge. Gripping his uniform in your fingers, you clamp down on his cock with a cry out his name you can't guarantee the diner didn't hear, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

Javi is cumming right after you are. Pent up from thinking about this, about you all day. He’s groaning your name and moving up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as he floods the condom with ropes of his seed as his knees buckle slightly.

You love how he feels when he cums, the way he tenses up, and you slide your hands down, caressing his badge as he pants against your lips. "That was a nice surprise." You smile, "I love when you come to see me at work."

He hums as he kisses you again. “Wanted to come see you.” He admits. “I’ll be back when you close the diner.” He kisses you again and starts to pull out of you gently. “Make sure you get home safe.”

You smile, “my hero.” You coo and watch as he ties off the condom while you pull your panties up and push your dress down your thighs. “I’ll see you later then. You want a coffee to go?” You ask and he nods, playfully smacking your ass once he’s all tucked away. You gasp, smacking his chest, and you walk back into the diner to grab him that cup while Adrian eyes you from the kitchen window. “Here you go, baby.” You murmur as you hand him the cup, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you later, officer.” You love how he winks before he strides out of the diner, eyed by several of the women but you know you’ll be in the one in bed with him later.

At the end of his shift, Javi pulls back up to the dinner again. Parking the car and turning off the engine while he watches you work through the windows. You move with grace, picking up the condiment bottles to wipe down and store for the night. It had been a hard end of shift, he had a young boy die in his arms. A drug overdose. Hours spent at the hospital and plenty of paperwork, but the worst part was telling those poor parents their son was never coming home. He sighs softly as he sets out of the car and leans against the hood, lighting up a much needed cigarette.

You see Javier waiting for you after you lock the front door and Adrian lights his own cigarette. “That one will be trouble for you, mark my words.” He says and strides off, “goodnight.” You call out to him and shove the keys in your purse, making your way over to Javier. “You look stressed.” You observe, “what happened?” You ask as you step closer to wrap your arms around him.

His arms wind around you and he drags you close, needing your warmth to chase away to sorrow. “Had a kid die tonight.” He tells you, his voice rough with emotion. “Overdosed on cocaine.” He swallows harshly and sighs. “Fucking sixteen years old. In the fucking morgue.”

“Shit.” You murmur, resting your cheek on his chest, feeling his heart pound. “I’m so sorry, baby. That - I can’t even imagine.” You hold each other, knowing how his job takes a toll on his mental health. He feels helpless sometimes and doesn’t feel like he’s doing enough. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, pulling back to look at him.

“I know.” The compassion and worry shines out of your eyes, making him fall for you just a little harder. You are gorgeous, kind, compassionate and warm. Exactly the kind of woman his mother would have picked for him if she had been alive. She would have loved you. He reaches out and cups the back of your neck to drag you to him for a desperate kiss, needing to feel something other than loss.

You kiss him fiercely, wishing you could take away the pain in his eyes, and he’s so damn brave. Not many people could handle that job. You peck his lips when he pulls back, “let’s go back to mine. Get some food.” You caress his cheek and he nods, walking you over to your car. “I’ll see you at home.” You promise and slide into your car. He waits until you’re pulling out of the parking lot to get in his car and follow you to your house.

He hopes that you don’t mind his cruiser outside your house, but you’ve never said a word about it. He doesn’t have the energy to go back to the ranch and get his truck. Drained emotionally and needing something that he can’t say out loud. He needs comforts that only you can provide.

When he walks behind you while you’re unlocking the front door, you nearly drop your keys but you manage to open it. You step inside and groan when you step out of your shoes and throw your purse down. He works on removing his holster, kicking off his shoes, and you turn around when he removes the cuffs. “Give those to me.” You demand, holding out your hand. His eyebrows raise, “you want me to use them on you, hermosa?” He asks and you smirk, “no. I want to use them on you.”

He’s surprised by your answer, but he trusts you. Only frowning slightly as he hands them over and finishes removing his utility belt and radio. He turned it off at the end of his shift, but he’s happy to have the damn thing off. “What do you plan to do?”

“I want you to strip down and I’m going to handcuff you to my bed. Make you forget about everything except how good I’m making you feel.” You explain as you step closer to him, “and I want to make sure you have the key.”

You nod, setting the key down on the counter to make sure it’s safe, and you bite your lip, “strip down. Now.” You order, “I want to see all of you, baby.” He nods, reaching up to start unbuttoning his shirt and you watch him with hungry eyes.

Stripping down is almost cathartic, the weight of his duties sliding off like his clothes. He hesitates on his briefs but you nod. “Those too.” And he hooks his fingers under her elastic band and drags them down so he is standing naked in your entryway. His cock is half hard, but he doesn’t shy away from you seeing him.

You love how strong he looks but you want to break him down, let him take the weight of the world off his shoulders. “Go lay on my bed.” You order, “I’ll be in there in a second.”

He nods, turning and walking down to the bedroom and pulling back the covers to lay in the familiar sheets. He watches the door, getting even harder at the prospect of turning everything over to you and letting you control his pleasure

You strip down to your underwear, leaving him to wait for you, and you grab a cup of ice, bringing it with you along with the handcuffs. You want to take him out of his mind and you love how he looks in your bed, his cock resting on his lower stomach as he waits for you. “Hey baby.” You smirk, striding over to the bed and you set the cup of ice on the nightstand. “You wanna give me a safe word in case you want out of the handcuffs?”

He’s rolling his eyes and snorting. “Let me out of the fuckin’ cuffs.” He chooses, smirking when you huff at him. “I’m good, baby. I promise.”

You giggle, “whatever you say, babe.” You straddle him, loving the way he groans and you grab his wrist, lifting it to your headboard to cuff one hand. You work fast to secure his other hand and you look down at him, “fuck. You look good like this. At my mercy.” You scrap your nails down his chest, loving the way his cock twitches against your ass. You bend down to press your lips to his for a moment until you pull back, reaching for the cup on the nightstand. “What-?” He asks but you shush him, taking a piece of ice in your hand. You shuffle down his body, pressing the ice to his chest, chuckling when he hisses, and you slowly drag the ice cube over his nipple. He clenches his jaw at the coldness but you remove the ice cube and flick your hot tongue over it.

He hisses at the sensation, drawn to the contrast of hot and cold and how it makes his skin ache. You are distracting him, you are his distraction. Blanking out his mind to everything but your touch. “Take off your panties.” He grunts. “Want to feel your pussy on me.” He begs but you just smirk and shake your head. “I’m in charge baby.” You coo, caressing his cheek and dragging the ice cube down the edge of his jaw. “You just lay there and let me take care of you.”

He groans and you giggle, dragging the ice cube down his neck, your tongue following its path. He hisses and you smile against his skin while you circle his other nipple with the ice. It’s melting fast and soon you are flicking your tongue over his nipple while you grab the cup of ice to get another cube. With the new cube in hand, you drag it down his belly, pressing hot kisses in the wake of the cold until you approach his cock. You settle between his legs and drag the ice along the underside of his cock that rests on his belly. He hisses and you smirk, removing the ice to drag your tongue along the same path, taking the head of his cock into your hot mouth.

“Fuuuuuck.” Javi hisses, eyes closing and his head tilts back against the pillows. His arms are stretched above his head and he loves how you are making him forget everything. It’s beautiful, all he can think about is what you are doing to him and how he wishes he could touch you. “Fuck yes baby,” he groans, opening his eyes and looking down. “Try- try the ice in your mouth.” He pants.

You pull off of him, shoving the small ice cube in your mouth then you take him again. The hot and cold are a striking contrast and you groan at the way his cock twitches in your mouth while you drag the ice cube down his length.

“Shit- oh fuck!” The handcuffs rattle slightly as he tugs against them and he can't help but try to rock his hips up. “You are - fuck - you are so goddamn perfect.” 

He would deny he has ever whimpered in his life, but an almost tortured sound comes out of his mouth. Jaw slack and eyes closed again in pleasure as you suck his cock. “Fuck- I want- fuck, I want to lick your pussy.” He groans.

You should deny him. Make sure this is only about him, but his whimper and plea are so delicious. You pull off his cock and shift off the bed, shoving your panties down and taking your bra off. “You want me to sit on your face, baby?” You ask as you straddle his stomach, letting him feel how wet you are. “Please baby.” He huffs and you giggle, shifting up until you’re straddling his face. His hot breath washes over your folds and you lower your cunt to his mouth while gripping the headboard.

Javi can be generous, but he’s more so with you. He’s a little submissive. Something he had never had in a relationship before, something he never even thought about wanting but it seems natural with you. Sometimes you need him to give you what you need and right now, you are giving him what he needs. His tongue slides through your folds greedily, hungry for the taste of you and to give you a bit of the pleasure you give him.

You gasp his name as his hot tongue slides through your folds and flicks over your clit. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, trying not to grind down on his face when his hands are cuffed. You let go of the headboard to squeeze your breast with one hand, closing your eyes at the sensation, and you squeal when he sucks on your clit. “Javi, baby, you’re so good. Such a good boy.”

His neglected cock twitches at that statement and he should be pissed but he’s not. He’s liking it. He groans into your folds. Licking at your clit as much as he can.

You rock your hips, grinding down onto him as you reach back to wrap your fingers around his cock, wanting to feel him twitch in your hand while you rock on his tongue.

Javi groans happily into your cunt, bucking his hips up into your grip. Right here is where he could die happy, buried in your pussy with your hand wrapped around his cock. He’s never had the kind of feelings for someone like he feels for you, wanting to put you first instead of himself.

You work yourself on his tongue and it doesn't take long for you to fall apart above him, squeezing his cock as your thighs smother his face. "Fuck!" You cry, nearly falling backwards as you cum on his face.

Javi chuckles breathlessly, knowing that if he was uncuffed, he would flip you over and push into you right this second. He loves how you cum shamelessly, loving orgasms and sex as much as he does and you don’t play coy or demure.

You pant as you relax above him, releasing his cock from your grip, and you shift off his face. “I’m gonna ride you now.” You tell him, moving to grab a condom from your nightstand. “Gonna need a new box.” You tease as you straddle his thighs, opening the condom to roll it down his cock.

“That’s because we fuck all the time.” Javi groans as you wrap your hand around him and roll the rubber down his length. He smirks. “You’re addicted to my cock.”

“Don’t hear you complaining, officer Peña.” You snort and shift closer until you’re positioning him at your pussy so you can sink down onto him. “Fuck. I am addicted.” You confess breathlessly as he stretches you out. “I love it.” You whimper, shuffling a little until your knees are digging in the mattress so you can start to move on top of him.

“You look good on my cock.” Javi praises breathless. “Feels even better.” He watches your tits bounce slightly and groans when you swivel your hips and clench down around him. “Fuck, one day-“ he pants. “One day I’m gonna feel you without the condom.”

“I’m on the pill. I just - I wasn’t sure what you wanted.” You confess, “you want to feel me bare? Fill me up? Cum inside me? Officer?” You coo as you lean closer, pressing your lips to his chin as you rock back onto him.

Javi groans and chases your lips, huffing out a curse when you pull away from his reach and he can’t drag you back. “Yes, fuck yes.” He hisses. “Want to feel you bare around my cock.”

You know it’s a rash decision but you’re lost in the lust and security that you take the pill like clockwork. You shift back and lift off his cock, pulling off the condom, and you moan as you notch him back at your entrance, slowly sinking down to feel all of him without the barrier between you.

Javi moans your name, his hands curling into fists and he curses that he can’t touch you. “Fuck baby, yes.” He groans. “Just like- fuck- move.” He begs.

You chuckle, loving how wrecked he looks, and you shake your head. You stay still on his cock and he tries to rock his hips but you clench your thighs to stay still. "Hermosa." He whines and you lean forward, pressing your lips to his, "fuck, I love to hear you beg. Now I want to hear you moan." You murmur and rock back onto his cock, starting a pace that makes you look like you're in the Kentucky Derby.

His toes curl in pleasure and his entire body tenses. “Fuck!” He yelps, wanting more and not sure that he can take it. You are perfect, tight and hot around him and like a vice when you roll your hips just the right way. You’re beautiful and he loves it.

You love how wrecked he looks, his eyes glazed over as you rock on top of him. “Feel so good, Javi, baby. Oh shit. Feel like you’re in my guts. I love this.” You pant, your palms slapping against his chest as you ride him.

He’s never been such a passive participant in sex but all he can do is let you ride him, his hips are planted against the bed. His cock twitching every time you slam back down on him. “Fuck you need to cum.” He begs. “Cum baby, I’m not gonna last.”

He’s so whiney and you love it, reaching down to rub your clit, and you moan his name. “Feel so good, baby. I’m gonna - shit. Oh - oh!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock and you soak him, loving how you feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You clamp down around him and his feet curl in pleasure and he can’t help but rock his hips up. Your hips have stalled and you aren’t moving as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck baby, fuck, fuck.” He hisses, feeling his body pulling tight.

You want to see him fall apart, feel it inside you, so you grip the headboard over his head, stretching over his body. You slam your hips down against him, the sound filling the room and you lean in to kiss his jaw. “Cum for me, baby. Fill me up. Want you to cum inside me.”

It’s like he needed your permission. Rocking his hips up, your name is called out loudly as he buries his cock deep and paints your walls with his seed. Panting and whining as he rides out the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

The sensation of his hot cum filling you up has your walls fluttering around him again, a soft cry escaping your lips while you grind back against him. “Oh God.” You pant, shifting to press your lips to his as his cock twitches inside you.

Javi takes control of the kiss even if he can’t pull you closer. His tongue sliding into your mouth possessively and his moans flowing into your mouth as he rides out his orgasm. Only tempering the kiss when you collapse against him in pleasure.

Panting against his jaw, your body is buzzing but you manage to shift off him, fumbling for the key you placed on the nightstand next to the cup of now melted ice. You reach up, wanting to release him from the cuffs, and manage to free him after some struggle to get the key in during your post orgasm haze.

Javi watches you fumble with the key, his smile soft and he lifts his head to kiss right above your breast. “I love you.” He murmurs softly.

You are surprised, eyes widening and you stop what you’re doing to look down at him. He stares back and you see the apprehension in his eyes until you grin, “I love you too.” You surge down to press your lips to his, “I love you.” You murmur between pecks. “Let me -” You manage to finish unlocking his hands, the handcuffs heavy as you set them down on the nightstand.

His arms go around you, pulling you close and rolling you onto your back so he is hovering over you. Caging you with his body. “You have been the best thing to happen to me.” He promises, kissing you again. He’s not a man who gets sappy or waxes eloquent poems or constantly says ‘I love you’ but he shows he cares and he is happy you feel the same way. Feeling like this is supposed to be.

You can’t stop smiling, sliding your fingers through his hair and down his shoulders, “I love you, baby. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.” You promise and sigh, feeling safe and warm in his arms. You can’t believe how lucky you are to have met him, to have him.

He kisses you again, rolling over and tucking you into his side. “Give me about ten minutes and I’ll show you how bad I can be.” He teases playfully, closing his eyes and sighing happily.

You giggle, caressing his chest, and you close your eyes. You never imagined you’d find someone like Javier and you can’t wait to see what the future holds for you. You hope he’s your person.

**** 

“Why are you nervous?” Javi chuckles as he holds your hand, pulling up to the small ranch house. “He’s going to love you.” It’s only two days later, but Javi knows that it’s the perfect time to introduce you to his dad. Wanting this to be permanent and let you get over the big ‘meet the family’ fear that you have.

You squeeze his hand, “I don’t want him to think - we got together so soon after you broke up with Lorraine and I just - I don’t want him to think less of me.” You confess with a shrug, “it’s, uh, it’s important that he likes me.” You bite your lip and look at his childhood home.

“Baby, he’s gonna love you.” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it. “He never really liked Lorraine, to be honest.” He flashes you a grin. “So you’re already better.”

You chuckle, relaxing a little, and you let him open your door before you walk to the front door and Chucho opens it, a big smile on his face. “So you’re the reason my son can’t stop smiling nowadays.” He winks and Javi blushes, “Pa.” He says and Chucho tuts, “he’s never here but I can see why. He didn’t exaggerate your beauty.” He says and you fluster, reaching for his hand and he pulls you in for a hug. You tear up a little, reminded of your father and how long it’s been since you had a hug like this, and you hug him back. “Javi said you are a charmer. I guess that’s where he gets it.” You tease and Chucho chuckles, guiding you into his home, and you immediately feel at ease.

Javi smiles at the way his dad is flirting with you. He would barely talk to Lorraine and it’s just another indicator that he has made the right choice with you. “Let me get everyone a drink while you two talk.” He winks at you and goes into the kitchen.

You sit down on the sofa with Chucho and demand he tells you about Javier and he chuckles, “Oh, I have some stories.” He begins to tell you about a teenage Javier and you hear the phone ring.

Javi rolls his eyes as he picks up the phone. “Peña residence.” He answers like he has his entire life. “Javi.” He groans and turns towards the kitchen door to make sure you don’t hear him. “Why the fuck are you calling, Lorraine?” He demands quietly.

“I’m surprised I got you. I’ve heard all about your little diner skank that you’ve been fucking. My friends have seen you around town. Told me all about your little dates. You never took me bowling.” She huffs and Javier rolls his eyes, “what do you want?” He demands again and she snorts, “I was calling to tell you I’m pregnant. I just found out. Went to the doctor to make sure and I’m about ten weeks.”

Javi’s stomach drops, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut. “Bullshit.” He huffs, “we used a condom every time.” Lorraine scoffs. “You know it’s not one hundred percent.” She reminds him and he shoves his hand through his hair. “So what? You need money for an abortion?” He asks, hoping that she wants to get rid of the baby.

She scoffs, “I’m not getting rid of it. I’m keeping the baby.” She declares, “and I want us to meet. Try and work this out. I know your dad will kill you if you don’t stand by me, do the right thing. You need to take responsibility for your actions, Javier.” Lorraine announces and hears his heavy breathing through the phone.

Fuck. Javi’s eyes close and he screws his face up in anger and confusion. She's right, Chucho would kill him. “Goddamnit.” He hisses, angry at himself because he’s going to have to break up with you. “Yeah, fine.” He spits out. “Tomorrow.” He hangs up the phone and sighs.

You are laughing at something Chucho says when Javi walks back into the room, looking a little pale. “Everything okay, babe?” You ask and frown when he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah.” He murmurs and hands you a coke and his pop a beer. “Everything’s good.” He shrugs. “Got asked to take a double shift tomorrow.”

You nod, not sure if you believe him, but you can ask him later and you watch him as you sip your drink. He’s tense, like when he’s had a bad shift, but you try to focus on Chucho, wanting to make a good impression. Soon enough, you’re saying goodbye to Chucho with a promise to see him for dinner and Javier guides you to his truck to drive you home and you’re hoping he stays the night again since you don’t have an early shift. “What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, reaching out to caress his arm as he drives, “you seem so tense. You need a blowjob?” You tease, sliding your hand down to his lap.

“No.” He grabs your hand before you can touch his cock and laces his fingers with yours. “No, I’m good, baby.” He promises you. “I just have a headache.” He’s fucking praying that this is some kind of horrible joke or desperate attempt to get him back and he can tell her to fuck off and then explain everything to you. “I’m sorry I’m not better company tonight.”

You stare at him until you nod, “it’s okay. I have some Advil if you want.” You offer but he shakes his head, “I think I need an early night. Too many damn long shifts.” He says and you bring his hand up to kiss the back of his. “Go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you later.” You promise, not wanting him to get sick because he’s working too hard. He pulls up outside your house and you shuffle closer, leaning in to press your lips to his cheek. “It was great to meet your dad. I really like him. Good thing when I love his son.” You smirk and nudge your nose against his when he turns towards you.

“I love you.” The gruff words come out a little desperate, like he wants you to remember that in the future. He kisses you, devouring your mouth in one last kiss like it will be his last and he hates to break away. “Goodnight baby.”

You peck his lips, “goodnight, handsome.” You pat his chest and grab your purse, shifting out of his truck and you make your way to your front door, feeling his eyes on you as you unlock your door. You wave to him before you step inside and he sits there for a second until he finally pulls away. He needs to speak to Lorraine.

**** 

It takes him two days to call you. Swallowing harshly as the phone connects, his heart leaps when he hears your voice but he hates what he has to do. “Hey, it’s me.” He announces. “Hey baby, I’ve tried to call you.” You pout softly, and he closes his eyes. “Yeah I know. Listen - I, this isn’t working out. Okay?” He tells you. “I’m not gonna string you along. So yeah.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut when you hear his words. You choke, trying to get your voice to work, “I- I don’t understand. What’s - why?” You blink, trying to stop the tears. “It’s just too much. I don’t want anything too heavy. I want to have fun.” He lies and you frown, “I didn’t want - I didn’t - okay.” You choke on a sob, “uh, I guess this is goodbye.” He hums, “yeah. Goodbye.” He says your name and the line goes dead. You sob, letting the phone hang from the cord and you collapse on the wall.

**** 

“Why the fuck do you want to go here?” Javi protests, pulling away from Lorraine as she steers him towards the dinner. “What does it matter?” She smirks at him and reaches for his hand again. “You’re through with her, right? So she’s just a waitress.” Javi shakes his head. “Goddamnit Lorraine.” He hisses and she pouts, stroking her flat stomach. “Don’t curse, it’s not good for the baby.” She’s been smug about their relationship, happy that he is back with her, even if she knows that he is unhappy. 

You are clearing a table when the bell above the door rings and your eyes widen when you see Javier and Lorraine. “Son of a bitch.” You mutter, unable to believe he’s back with her. He told you stories about how she would bully him into working for her dad, or calling in sick. She is controlling and you can’t believe he’s gone back to her. Maybe you were just a bit of fun. Your coworker offers to take the table but you shake your head, knowing you can’t run and hide. You walk over to their table and set some menus down. “Can I get you anything to drink?” You ask after you introduce yourself, feeling Javier’s eyes on you as you look at Lorraine.

“Baby, what should I have?” She asks coyly. “You’ve been here so much more than I have.” She flutters her lashes at Javi and he huffs, pulling his hand away when she reaches for him and leans back. “Just order a fucking drink.” He hisses, wishing that she had chosen any other restaurant in Laredo, but he’s sure she’s done this on purpose.

“I can’t have coffee. Maybe decaf.” She hums and you nod, “I’ll get you a decaf.” wondering if she has sleeping issues. You grab Javier a coffee without him asking and set them both down on the table after you breathe deeply at the coffee pots. “Can I get you anything to eat?” You ask, trying not to cry at how insane this situation is. “There’s a lot of things I can’t have but I’m starving. I’m eating for two.” She grins, placing her hand on her lower stomach. Your eyes widen and you nearly drop your pad, feeling like your heart has been crushed and you finally look at Javier.

Javi wants to just disappear, his eyes find yours and he begs you to understand. “Ten weeks.” He chokes out, wanting you to know that he didn’t cheat on you. This is a fucked up situation and he wishes it was you sitting opposite him.

You swallow harshly, knowing he got her pregnant just before he met you and it stings. You want to crawl under the table and sob but you won't give Lorraine the satisfaction. "Co-congrats." You offer him a weak smile and she beams, "we are so happy." Javier doesn't look happy but you tap your pen on your pad, "food?" You choke and Lorraine hums, ordering the oatmeal and Javier orders the All American just like he did the first time you met him. "Coming right up." You squeak and slam the ticket down for Adrian who offers you a look that says "I told you so" and you rush out the back door, covering your mouth as you try to not cry.

“Where are you going?” Javi is halfway out of his seat when Lorraine grabs his arm. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He hisses, jerking his arm away from her. “Quit being a bitch.” He turns around and strides towards the back door, bypassing the bathrooms.

The door opens and you are leaning against the wall when you see him walk towards you. "Don't" You plead, shaking your head. "Don't make this worse. Just go back in there and - and be with her." You plead, knowing that hearing his excuses will make you cry.

Javi stops and takes a breath. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He promises you. “I’m so fucking sorry, hermosa.” He whispers before he turns back around and leaves like you want him to.

You watch him go until he heads back inside and you tilt your head back, refusing to let the tears fall and give Lorraine the satisfaction. You know he didn't cheat on you and that's what makes this worse. You love him but he has to be there for his child. Javier isn't the kind of man to walk away from responsibility and you know that's what he is with her. Time wasn't on your side and that's tragic. You compose yourself and walk back in, grabbing the food from the hot plate and you set it down. "Enjoy." You say flatly and walk off, leaving them to eat. When they are done, you remove the plates - Javier's food is hardly touched- and set the check down, not saying a word. Javier grabs his wallet and sets down more cash than the check. You don't walk over there to grab it, watching as Lorraine makes a show of getting out the booth and placing her hand on her stomach like she's seven months gone. "Thanks so much." Lorraine smirks, "maybe we will be back here with our baby for breakfast after church. We will see you then." She chuckles and grabs Javier, his eyes meeting yours and he nods before she is dragging him from the diner. You don't see Javier again. You decided, just before Javier's wedding day, to go on a trip. Get out of town and escape from the news that your love had gotten married. You don't hear the news that he didn't marry Lorraine until you return. When you're back. you hear that Javier had left to go join the DEA. Timing was never on your side.

**** 

“Where do you want to go eat?” Chucho asks and Javi shrugs. “Don’t know too many places open on Thanksgiving.” He answers, although he immediately thinks of the diner. He’s driven by there a few times in the days since he’s been home, but he’s never stopped in. “Well, damnit, I’m hungry.” His dad grumbles and Javi shakes his head. “Come on.” He huffs, grabbing his jacket. “Since you didn’t go grocery shopping, let’s go somewhere. Maybe they are still open on Thanksgiving.”

You smile at the old man who gives you a large tip for the holiday. You shove the money in the tip jaw to be split between you and Adrian when the bell rings. You turn around and your eyes widen when you see Chucho followed by a man you haven't seen in years. You inhale sharply, walking over to them. "Chucho. It's good to see you." You smile at the old man who you've seen at the store and around town several times. He never tried to justify his son's behavior and you never held malice towards him. "Happy Thanksgiving." You say and glance around, "pick any table. I'll get you some menus."

Javi stares, unable to believe that you are here. It’s like he’s dreaming like he has so many times before, coming into the diner to find you waiting for him. He murmurs your name and nods. “Good, uh, to see you.” He tells you, his heart pounding but you have to hate him, or at least think he’s an asshole. He is an asshole for what he did to you.

You finally look at him and God, he's still so fucking handsome. He has more lines on his face, but he still makes your heart pound. You hadn't heard about a child being born so you don't know what happened but you had heard Lorraine is now married to some big wig oil guy living in Dallas with two kids. "Good to see you." You murmur, turning around to grab some menus.

Javi’s eyes drop down to your ass before he looks away guiltily. He doesn’t need to be eying you like he had a chance, you’re probably married and have a couple of kids by now. “You shouldn’t have let that one get away.” Chucho tells him, having watched the way his son watched you. “Colombia might have been different.” Javi sighs and leans back. “Yeah, I know.” He grunts, glancing back at you as you come back with the menus, “believe me.”

You set the menus down, “coffee?” You ask and both men nod. You walk off to grab the pot and two cups, hating how your stomach feels like lead around Javier. It’s been years but you still think about him. You’ve been in and out of relationships but no one ever stuck in your heart like Javier did. Ridiculous considering you were together for two months. “What can I get you to eat?” You ask, grabbing your pad.

Chucho orders the Thanksgiving special and looks towards his son. Javi doesn’t even glance at the menu, too busy staring at you. “The All American if you still have it.” He tells you softly, glancing at your hand and noticing that you aren’t wearing a ring. You might just not wear one at work, but he’s selfishly hoping you are single even though you deserve someone to love and worship you.

Your heart twists at the familiar order and you nod, “hash browns, not grits.” You remember and he offers you a soft smile that makes your throat tighten. “That’ll be right out.” You nod and take the menus, handing the ticket to Adrian. “She owns the place now.” Chucho tells his son, not having spoken to him about you until today.

Javi’s brow shoots up and looks over at your back, watching as you methodically organize the condiments to bring over to them. “She deserves it.” He murmurs, thinking that you deserved a lot of nice things in life. “How often do you come here?” He asks.

“Couple of times a month when I want breakfast.” Chucho confesses, “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t your business. She’s a good girl and I think you made a huge mistake letting Lorraine drag you along but it wasn’t my life. She is single, in case you were wondering. No husband or kids.” Chucho reveals quietly, tapping his fingers on the table.

“Pa.” Javi hates how his entire body thrills at the news that you are single. “She hates me. She has to fucking hate me after what I did.” He reminds his dad. “There’s not a chance in hell I would ever have another chance with her.” He watches as you turn back towards him and swallows. “Shit.”

You set the condiments down, feeling Javier’s eyes on you, and you smile at Chucho, “it’s good to see you again.” You tell his father, “your food will be out soon.” You walk away from the table, feeling Javier’s eyes on you and you reach for the menus, deciding to clean them off while you wait for their food.

“The least you could do is apologize.” Chucho huffs, making Javi’s shoulders round slightly. He knows that he owes you an apology and he sighs after a moment, tapping the table and standing up to walk over to you. “Can I talk to you?” He asks, sure that you will tell him to fuck off.

You glance at the empty diner and nod, gesturing for Javier to walk out the back door with you. You will let him give you his explanation, curious about why he didn’t end up marrying Lorraine. “Talk.” You order when you’re outside.

He’s nervous, rubbing his hands on his jeans and chuckles slightly. “Uh, so- uh, I owe you an apology.” He starts off. “I’m sorry. Lorraine called me, that day you met Pa and she told me she was pregnant.” He explains, knowing that it’s no excuse. “I was - shit, I was so angry at myself, because she wanted to get married for the baby, and I fucking just knew I had to marry that bitch.” He sighs. “And?” You prompt. “The night before the wedding she claimed she ‘had a miscarriage’.” He snorts. “I knew then that she had been faking the entire thing. Her cousin confessed. She knew we were together. Someone had see us out in town and she lied because she knew I wouldn’t shirk my responsibilities.”

You cross your arms, letting him sweat. You’ve had a lot of time to think about what happened. You huff, “did you not get her to take a pregnancy test?” You ask and he shakes his head, “she had a scan and a doctor’s test result.” You snort, “she’s inventive. Smarter than I gave her credit for.” You rub your forearms, “you really hurt me. I thought we had something. I really loved you. You devastated me and I had to work hard to recover from that, which is insane because we only dated for two months. You’ve been on my mind during every date I’ve been on. Compared every man I’ve been in a relationship with to you. I hated you for so long because you haunted me.” You shake your head and lower your arms, stepping back.

Javi sighs softly and doesn’t reach for you. “It’s safe to say you haunted me too.” He admits. “I- I came by your house.” He confesses softly. “The day I- my wedding day. I came to tell you how stupid I had been. How I wasn’t marrying her and that if you could take an idiot back, I would love you forever.” He flashes you a rueful grin. “You weren’t home that day. Or any day for the week that I came to your door.” He snorts. “Almost thought you had sold the house and moved.”

You stare at him, seeing the truth in his eyes, "I left town. Went away so I didn't show up at the church and try to get you to call it off." You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head. "I loved you so much I even considered telling you I'd be there for your child with Lorraine but I didn't want to be selfish and break up a family. I left and when I came back, I heard you'd joined the DEA. figured something had happened to the baby and you'd left Lorraine."

“Never was a baby, just a woman jealous that I had moved on.” He shakes his head. “I haven’t even dated since then.” You snort in disbelief and he nods. “I’m serious. I- fuck-“ he shuffles slightly in embarrassment. “I paid for sex when I needed it.”

Your eyes widen, "you paid for sex? You could've gotten sex for free every day night here." You chuckle and he shakes his head, "did it for intel on Escobar and for company, I guess." He shrugs and you smirk, "guessing you learned a few things down in Colombia?"

Javi smirks back at you and nods. “I have.” He admits. “Gave me a discount if I made them cum more than once.” He jokes.

"You must've gotten it nearly free." You playfully roll your eyes, remembering how good he was. "I've missed you. You look - you look like you've got the world on your shoulders." You observe, "not as carefree as I remember you."

“Colombia was tough.” He admits, shuffling slightly. “I’ve missed you too. A lot.” He had thought of you every day but figured that might be a little creepy. “You look good. Happy. You bought the place?”

“Yeah. Took some equity from my parent’s house to buy it when the old owner wanted to sell. I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else and I love it. It’s home for me.” You smile, glancing back at the diner. “I’m happy but not as happy as the time I spent with you.”

“Me neither.” Javi shuffles again and looks down at his feet before peering back at you. “I have no right to ask, and tell me to go to hell if you want, but how about I take you on a date?” He offers. “You might find I’m a miserable son of a bitch and the best thing I ever did for you was leave.” He shrugs. “And then you’ll at least get dinner out of it.”

You are shocked and bite your lip, uncertain of giving him a chance after how much he hurt you but you remember it wasn’t him, it was Lorraine. You nod, offering him a soft smile, “I’d like that. Just - just don’t hurt me again.” You plead softly, “you want to go get your food? It should be ready.”

“Only if you sit down with us?” He asks, smiling in relief that you are willing to give him another chance. Those two months were the best of his life and he still loves you now. Your memory helped him through some tough times and you didn’t even know it.

You nod, “okay.” You open the back door and Javier follows you inside. Adrian has the food ready so you grab it, carrying it over to the table, and Javier sits down, winking at you. You head over to grab a cup of coffee, “Adrian. You can take a break.” You tell the cook who grunts and eyes Javier through the window. You make your way back to the table with your cup of coffee and you take a seat next to Javier. Chucho’s eyes widen and you smile, flustered by the knowing look on the old man’s face.

“You apologize?” Chucho huffs and Javi rolls his eyes. “Yes, pa, I apologized. I have a lot to make up for.” He glances at you and smirks. “But I’ll grovel as long as I need to.”

You look at Chucho, “he has a lot of grovelling to do.” You tease and Chucho nods, “he absolutely does.” He raises his eyebrows at his son as he cuts up his food. After they eat, you clear the plates and Chucho goes to take out his wallet, “it’s on the house. Happy Thanksgiving.” You smile and Chucho shakes his head, “she’s always giving me free food.” He opens his wallet and pulls out some cash, “get yourself something nice or put it in the tip jar.” He says and it’s clear this is a routine the two of you have.

“How long are you going to be open for?” Javi asks after Chucho makes a comment about being out in the truck and leaving his son behind.

You glance at the clock, “not too much longer. I like to shut earlier on Thanksgiving nowadays.” You admit, “give Adrian time with his boyfriend and I was planning on having a bath.” You chuckle, “got myself some new bath bombs.”

Javi frowns for a moment before he understands. “Oh, those little fizzy things, right?” He asks, not having taken too many baths. He mainly sticks with showers. “That’s good. Hopefully you’ll be able to unwind.” He comments. “You still have the day after Thanksgiving off?” He asks. “Or does the boss work all the time?”

“I have Jean opening tomorrow so the boss has the day off. I was thinking about doing some Black Friday shopping. Unless someone else would like to do some groveling?” You hum, tilting your head at Javier.

He grins at you. “I think I should probably start, don’t you think?” He asks, shrugging slightly. “I can hold your bags if you want.”

“You hate shopping.” You remember and Javier chuckles, “exactly. Part of the grovelling process.” He winks and you smirk, looking at Chucho who is grinning. “Very well, Peña. Pick me up tomorrow at 10am. Bring your badge. I think it could come in handy in standoffs for the good stuff.” You wink and Javier snorts, “it’s a date.” You smile, “yeah. It’s a date.” You murmur softly, heart thumping again.

**** 

You hadn’t been lying when you said you wanted to go shopping. You’ve dragged him to every store in town, but Javi hasn’t complained. He’s let you shop and given you his opinion as you look through different items. The grin you throw at him occasionally tells him that you are testing him, but he just smiles back and offers to hold whatever bag you are carrying.

When you pull up outside your house, you turn towards Javier. He’s told you some things about Colombia during the day and you can see how haunted he is by his time there. You haven’t pushed but he’s not the Javier you knew, he’s deeper, darker, but there’s times where you see the funny, lighthearted Javier you loved and you know you’ve changed too. You still love him but now there’s more to love, no matter how dark those parts may be. You turn to look at him, “I think I need help taking all these bags into the house.” You hum, grabbing your purse.

“Of course.” He climbs out of the car and opens the back door. You’ve also got a ton of shit in the trunk, but he doesn’t complain as he starts to pile bags onto his arms. Hopefully he can get it all in two trips. Maybe three with that new coffee maker you bought at Belk.

You grab some bags and make your way to your front door, unlocking it, and you punch in your alarm code while Javier walks in behind you to place your bags down. You walk into the house to turn on the lights while Javier finishes his last trip for your things. He shuts your front door and you walk over to him, “thank you for doing that. Very good groveling.” You tease, placing your palms on his chest.

He huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes at you. “At least you’re having fun with this.” He tells you. He licks his lips and his eyes slide down to your mouth before he looks up again. “You need me to do anything else for you?” He asks, voice dropping slightly.

You bite your lip, knowing you shouldn’t rush into anything but you’ve lost so much time with him thanks to Lorraine. He left to go fight the bad guys in Colombia and you can’t blame him for doing what he thought was best. “You could kiss me.” You murmur and he nods, leaning in to press his lips to yours.

Kissing you is like coming home. Javi groans as you soften against him, folding you up in his arms and deepening the kiss. Almost fearful of being rejected he takes his time and slowly slides his tongue against your lips to beg for entrance.

You eagerly open your mouth, your tongue sweeping against his and his groan vibrates against your lips. The kiss makes your heart flutter and you slide your hands to cup his cheeks, pressing yourself against him and you’re brought back to that first night you slept with Javi.

Kissing you know is just as addictive as it had been so long ago. Maybe more so because he knows exactly what he has. He curls you into him, eager to taste every bit of your mouth and overwhelm you both with the passion the is mounting.

​​You can tell he’s changed. His kiss is harsher, more desperate, and you can sense the turmoil behind it compared to the playfulness of so many years ago. You let him back you against your front door, your fingers working on the buttons of his shirt while he hardens against your thigh. You whine when he pulls back from your lips, kissing down your neck while his hands fumble with the button of your jeans. You moan when his fingers slide under the denim, finding your clit, and you manage to get his shirt open, trailing your hands along his chest.

He needs to pull away and ask if you are okay with this, if you want him, but he can’t. Too afraid of rejection right now as his fingers caress your folds and rub circles on your clit. He promised you he would grovel and he huffs to himself as he kisses down your chest and mouths at your breast over your shirt and bra, biting sharply before he’s sinking down to his knees in front of you.

You look down at him in surprise, shocked that he’s on his knees, working on pulling your jeans down. “What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly and he looks up at you, smirking, “I said I’d grovel on my knees.” You chuckle, nodding as you step out of your jeans and he hooks his fingers in your panties, dragging them down. “I’ve missed you.” You gasp when he leans in to kiss your thigh.

“Missed you too.” He groans. “Missed this pussy. Your taste.” He presses his nose to the thatch of hair between your thighs and inhales. “Your smell. You have the best fucking smell, baby. Missed your laugh. Your smile.” Everything that he lists is punctuated with kisses around your pelvis and thighs. “The way you would curl against me to sleep.” He looks up at you. “I wasn’t lying to you, I loved you. I still love you.” He promises. “I never stopped.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at him. No one has ever compared to him and you know you'll always love him. You run your fingers through his hair, "me neither. Always loved you." You promise and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds. "Fuck." You pant as he flicks over your clit, his hands grabbing your ass to tilt your hips. You lift your leg onto his shoulder and you whimper when he wraps his arm around your thigh, burying his face in your cunt.

He’s sloppy and eager, rushing to make you moan his name again. He has dreamed of that sound for years. Closing his eyes and humming as his tongue flicks over your clit again and moves lower to push inside your wet walls. Drowning in your essence happily as he grovels before you.

It's been so long since you were worshiped like this and you tilt your head against the door, closing your eyes. "Fuck, Peña. Missed that tongue. You've gotten better." You observe, loving how he laps at you and it doesn't take long to work you up. You're soon panting, chest heaving, and your thigh shakes when he sucks on your clit. "Oh fuck!" You yelp, stomach twisting as you fall apart on his tongue.

His hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as your knees threaten to buckle and he moans into your cunt. Working you through it with determination until you’re whimpering and then he’s pulling back with a satisfied grin. “Still tastes so good.” He praises, kissing your hip.

You drag him up from the floor, lowering your leg and you press your lips to his while you push his shirt off his shoulders. "Bed. Want you in my bed." You order, letting his shirt drop to the floor as you grab his hand and drag him to the same bedroom he knew those years ago.

He chuckles as he lets you take him wherever you want to go. “I want to be in your bed.” He promises, reaching out with his free hand and snagging your waist to drag you closer and pressing his lips to your again. Sliding his hands up your back to unclip your bra beneath your t-shirt.

You let him pull your shirt over your head after he breaks the kiss, dragging your bra down your arms, and you toss them to the floor as you stumble into your bedroom. "Fuck, you've gotten more handsome." You observe when he pushes you onto your bed and you bounce while he works on taking off his jeans as he kicks off his shoes.

​​“That’s you.” He huffs. “Prettier than the day I met you.” He kneels on the bed after he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it. “Fuck- I - I don’t have a condom.” He groans, eyes slipping closed. “I’ve been tested, but I-“

"I'm on the pill. I'm clean. I trust you. Please Jav. I need you." You know it's reckless but you want to feel him again. "If not, I have a condom." You add, wanting him to be comfortable and you bat his hand away to pump his cock.

“Fuck, you know I want to feel you.” He groans and rolls his hips into your firm grip. “Lay back and spread your legs, baby.” He begs. “Let me fuck you.”

You nod, spreading your legs, and he shuffles closer. When he notches himself at your pussy, your eyes flutter closed when he pushes into you. “Look at me.” He demands gruffly and you whimper, opening your eyes as he shifts to hover over you. You immediately cup his cheeks, bringing his mouth down to yours. You shouldn’t forgive him for breaking your heart but you need to. He was trying to do the right thing which was being with the mother of his child but you know he didn’t love her, he loved you.

Javi gives you everything in the kiss. Everything he has emotionally. Pouring himself into you as he slowly inches into your body. Sliding into your heat and feeling like he's come home again.

You caress his shoulders and down his back, loving how he feels. Your walls flutter around him as he stretches you out and you close your eyes, “love you, baby.” You murmur, feeling surrounded by him and you love how he starts to move. He feels more experienced and stronger but you don’t mind.

“Feel so good, so perfect.” He grunts, trying to keep from thrusting too deep or too hard so quickly. You probably haven’t had sex in a while and he doesn’t want to make even a second of this uncomfortable.

You can see how tense he is with the way he clenches his jaw and you want him to fuck you, to claim you. “Need more. Want you to make me yours.” You order, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Once you give him permission, Javi lets himself go. Snapping his hips harshly and filling you with hard strokes that gave him grunting as you clung to him. “Fuck, fuck.” He hisses. “Need this, need you.”

He takes your breath away as he thrusts into you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Your heels dig into his ass and your nails scratch down his back. “Javi!” You cry, watching his nose flare as he rocks into you. “I- shit - so close. Keep - just like that.”

He grunts, it’s all he can do right now as he rocks into you. Feeling like your walls gripping him is his salvation and losing himself in the soul searing pleasure.

Your walls flutter around him as you are pushed higher and higher. His lips press against your neck, shifting his body to kiss down and take your nipple into his mouth. It’s hot and he bites down, making you react immediately. You clamp down onto his cock, your moan of his name echoing in your room as you soak him.

It’s what he needed to feel. The hit clench of your walls around him, the slick drenching his cock. Javi groans your name, pushing deep as his thrusts falter and he starts to pulse inside you. Closing his eyes and your name becomes a prayer on his lips.

You kiss everywhere you can reach as he twitches inside you, painting your walls. He pants when he stills above you and you caress his back, your body buzzing with emotion. Tears sting in your eyes and you sniff, making him jerk his head up to look at you, “did I hurt you?” He asks immediately and you shake your head, “no. No. I’m just - I’m happy.” You murmur, “so happy that you’re here.” You confess and he kisses your lips, nudging his nose against yours before he kisses your forehead. “I’m not leaving.” He promises and you caress his cheek, closing your eyes. “I’m home, baby.” He vows. 

**** 

“Javi!” You call out, “can you get your Pa another beer?” You ask and Javier comes back from the kitchen to set a beer down on the table for his father and he sets your glass of wine down on the table. “Thanks babe.” You peck his lips when he leans in to kiss you and his head caresses the baby that you cradle. “How is he?” He asks and you smile, looking down at the baby. “Fed and ready for a nap with his daddy. Mama needs her wine. Good thing I have milk stored.” You chuckle and you adjust the baby in your arms to slide him into Javier’s arms so you can tuck your breast away. 

Chucho looks away to be polite and Javier carries the baby into his room, laying him down in his crib. He watches his son for a moment and caresses his cheek, grabbing the baby monitor. He walks back into the dining room and sets the monitor down, picking up his beer, “the food looks delicious, baby.” He says and you smile, “Javier did most of the work today. Adrian helped me prep. We split the cooking so he could take some home to his boyfriend.” You confess and Chucho hums, “it looks incredible, mija.” Javier raises his beer, “happy Thanksgiving.” He toasts and you clink your wine glass against his bottle and Chucho’s bottle. “To the day we met.” You toast back and Javier smiles, leaning over to kiss you softly. This Thanksgiving is very different from past ones. No longer hanging around a diner for a breakfast during his shift, this year he’s spending Thanksgiving with his Pa, his son, and his beautiful wife. He’s truly blessed.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐬

summary_ having an affair with General Acacius overseas while conquering lands turned into a problem after coming back to Rome, when you fell for a gladiator that turned out to be a missing prince.

warnings_ CRINGE, girthy age gap (legal) (I’m 20, sorry) historical inaccuracy, angst, violence, gore, animal death, sexism and misogyny, fluff but angst, a lot of canon divergence bc I said so. NO PROOFREAD, BEWARE!

note_ i can’t remember if Denzel’s character was named Macrino, I can’t remember which year the movie is set in, I can’t remember many things but let me know if I fucked up too much. And listen to fallen fruit from Lorde while reading.

♪ ♫ Pedro playlist | ✰ Index (+ fics here)

𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𓆇𓆸

The sea was a free land. Nobody could conquer it because there wasn’t anything valuable floating around. Perhaps at the bottom of the ocean, a treasure may lay, but no man had shown the desire to dive into the deep.

The screams of the innocents are loud enough to make you feel empathy for them. But Acacius had trained you to put a mask of neutrality when leading war.

Loving the most effective soldier of Rome was your little secret. He married the daughter of an old emperor and he fought to get her privileges and prevent her from danger.

Always the insane little girl running around the palace, rambling about plants, the stars, a dream of Rome in flames. It was enough to be secretly sent to a scribe's university in Egypt for some time.

Upon your return, not much had changed, only that your father, once lead of the council, then the wise of Rome had died. Consequently, your evil stepbrothers were crowned emperors. They named you a soldier and made sure you were at every battlefront, hoping for your death.

But your general trained you well, and with months of practice, you ended up tangled up with him on his sheets in Greece.

Adultery was considered a crime in Rome and you’d give the perfect reason to your brothers to burn you like a witch. Or worse, to send you to fight at the arena of the Colosseum.

But the people who accompanied you and Acacius overseas were loyal and couldn’t care less if you had an older man fucking you each night. They only cared about you being a good soldier on the battlefront and being a good princess in Rome.

With a couple of hours left to be home again, you had your wounds checked. Conquering Numidia was one of the last African cities to be marked by the Romans and your brothers desperately wanted to own it. Only a few burns scattered across your leg and your shoulder needed stitches were the price to pay.

The wooden floor creaked and the general turned around alert but as soon as he saw you, he seemed to calm down.

Your arms wrapped around him and he immediately had to lean and kiss you. His lips tasted like devotion, peace, and lust. Acacius always grabbed your hips first. Then he moved to your waist, only to end up caressing your cheeks as his lips kept marking you his.

“What did the doctor say?” asked Acacius as he gasped for air.

“Nothing to worry about…” You nodded at him and he turned his back to you again, looking at his open windows, to the sea.

“What about yours? How is the scar on your nose?”

“It’s fine. Could’ve been worse” You walked towards him, sensing he had bathed like you as well, his hair looked perfectly curly and you couldn’t help but smile.

You could stay looking at the horizon forever, just because he was by your side. The sound of the waves calmed your mind after another day of calamities brought by war.

“For those who chose the sea, greatness waits at the end of the rainbow,” you said smiley. But the general remained stood silent.

“Those are ludicrous tells, the truth is that even war has infected the sea as well.”

“Because we chose to fight, then yes, the sea is also an arena. But if we chose not to, the way will not depict war” his eyes kept looking at you, completely fixated and even threatening, like Acacius was trying to understand how much you were judging him.

“We do this because we don’t have any other choice, princess y/n,” Acacius said, finally turning to look at you.

“We could run away, to the south, the islands of the Tyrrhenian Sea are empty, nobody wants to live there” your voice trembling, nervous and waiting for his response. He stared at nothing, probably thinking. And that made you uneasy.

“I can’t leave Rome, I have to go back to…” he said coldly.

“Your wife….Right”

Silence. Even the sea seized the sound of the waves.

“Haven’t you told her?”

“What’s there to be told? I said this was only a thing of passion and lust” You bit your tongue at his harsh words.

“Was it? Would you say that all those nights you shared your past with me meant nothing, Marcus?”

There it was. His most personal name, that one nobody used. The general got closer to you, paying attention to your face. Princesses did not have scars, but you did. He wanted to say so much, but he couldn’t. You noticed how his fingers were about to trace the pink scar on your chin but he moved away.

“I was drunk most of the nights, doping the pain” Finally your eyes crystallized.

“Do you love Lucilla, General?” His steps stopped then turned around to face you one last time.

His eyes looked doubtful but soon landed on his feet.

“… I do love her” you nodded, holding the tears and bursting out of his room in anger.

“Of course you do”

Your disappointment was so evident that Acacius was able to look at your face reddening and tears falling freely. He could only sigh and go back to pack his things and get ready to arrive in Rome again.

If only you knew…

…

The crowds of Rome couldn’t stop screaming your name. It was “PRINCESS Y/N!” and “ACACIUS!” everywhere.

You were no hero, you just wanted a peaceful life in a free Rome with the man you loved. And you can feel his hand brushing yours while his left salutes the parade of people chanting both of your names. The truth is you have no purpose but to serve your brothers and pretend that is your life.

The twins always hated you. Their mother was a wealthy woman but yours was the emperor’s true love. The twins used to pull your hair and always picked poisonous berries to give you as a meal while being toddlers. It got worse as everyone noticed you were your father’s favorite. And with him gone, you were utterly alone in the world.

Your clumsy steps made you arrive later. There was no crown for you waiting like it had been for Acacius. Geta and Caracalla were talking to him. And when you noticed the sword in the general’s neck, your face went serious.

“Do not forget the privileges we’ve made for your wife” you heard Geta saying.

“Same benefits we’re making for your whores, frater” The twins turned to look at you, quickly releasing Acacius and going straight to you. Their golden armors were a mere matter of display. They could barely wield a sword. They were bad with the bow and arrow and their reflections were poor too. They were good with numbers and shapes, but that wasn’t much in the city they shaped. One full of segregation and violence.

“Dear, soror… you’re back…” you think Geta gets closer to hug you, but his hand has raised and he gives you a sharp slap across the cheek.

“Dazzling and with such a big mouth as always” he added while you looked down, your cold hand against the reddening skin and sending him the worst look you had.

“Leave the princess alone, emperor. We should be focusing on the games ahead. We brought many slaves that some of them could fit as gladiators” Acacius said, looking affectionately at you, with disguise.

Caracalla only laughs in your face and his monkey reaches you for some seconds, but your brother pulls him away quickly. You wonder how far his disease has spread. Before leaving Rome, he was completely against seeing a doctor.

“Acacius is right, Geta. Let’s focus on the games” the twins agreed but sure, they had to humiliate you one last time.

“Alright then. But the next time I see you, dear y/n… I don’t want to see your hair down freely. You look like a whore and not the princess of Rome” he whispered loud enough to make everyone hear. But finally, the twins were gone.

“Are you alright?” The general asked but you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t need your help, Acacius. I’ve dealt with Geta and Caracalla since the day I was born. Which was before we met you” he sighed, understanding you were still mad from your last conversation. He appreciated your free hair, long and healthy despite the fires you went through while in combat.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt. It’s enough they sent you to serve in the war when you should be here, safe from the horrors”

“Go home to your wife, Acacius. Your dinner will be cold…” you spit out with a bitter tone before walking away, disappearing through the walls of the palace.

…

Standing naked, dripping, and waiting for servants to dry you up, you stare at the dress hanging in your room. It had been months since you wore a dress, used to armor and tight braids, and the sensation of the fabric felt odd.

As a kid, you wished to befriend your servants, but they remained professional and apologetically brushed away your questions. Which made you feel even more lonely while they dressed you up; placing gold jewelry and rings with quartz, spraying perfume, and cleaning your teeth. Geta and Caracalla always stole the sweets from you as kids, you thanked them because instead, it was Caracalla who ended up with a decayed tooth and a gold one as a replacement.

“You’re ready, princess,” said one of the servants and you smiled at her as a thank you.

The whole time while you and your brothers awaited to arrive at the Colosseum, you ignored them. You sneaked away as soon as you arrived. Knowing the place like the palm of your hand, you took a secret passage, in hopes to go and tend your horse to delay the entertainment as long as you could.

Gladiator fights were of no interest to you. But the people loved it. Their ignorance made you understand why they hadn’t tried to throw your brothers from the thrones.

But being months away made you forgetful of the architecture of the Colosseum, forgetful enough to end up in the cells of gladiators. Looking perplexed, you gulped nervously. There were indeed many slaves brought.

Being the only woman there made you the center of attention. Even worse when you looked exactly like a princess would do.

“Princess y/n, What are you doing here?” Asked one of the high-rank soldiers, running towards you.

“I wanted to tend my horse. It was brought here by accident” you replied, eyes wandering through the cells, noticing the people inside them were full of new people, probably from Numidia. You wonder if they recognized you.

Your eyes met the ocean-blue ones of a man, he certainly recognized you as he looked at you with anger. You gulped once again, looking away from him. But his gaze had been so strong that you didn’t hear a servant come running from the end of the hallway.

“A TIGER ESCAPED! A TIGER ESCAPED! CLOSE THE DOORS!” he screamed and soon everyone went into panic mode. You didn’t have enough time to process what he said and do anything. You stood there confused for some seconds. The violent roars of the animal could be heard closer. You looked around trying to find a weapon.

“Stay behind me, princess,” said the same soldier but you didn’t trust him so you went to grab a bow and arrow. The prisoners yelled and quickly you understood they were having a private show. They hated you for being Roman, and they thought they would see you dying.

But you wouldn’t give them that satisfaction as much as you sympathized with them.

The tiger appeared, big and imposing. The animal was angry, visibly distressed, and ready to attack.

You had killed men, but an animal was different. There was no exact description of what to do. Just pure instinct. So you try to calm yourself before the tiger spots you and the soldier, who are the only ones that remain vulnerable. The guards closed the entrances as protocol, unbeknownst that you were there. And it had been too late to use the secret passage.

You felt the same man’s eyes on you and indeed, he looked carefully at you, probably wondering what would be your next move.

“PRINCESS, STAY AWAY!” The soldier screamed when the tiger came running towards you two.

The tiger jumped and threw the soldier, roaring as it tried to kill him. So you ran away in hopes of aiming at the eye of the animal to gain time. Your hands shaking and you could feel your legs get tangled up in the fabric of your dress. But your nervousness isn’t visible as your hands work on getting ready for the arrow. You don’t have time to calculate, the tiger has already bitten the soldier’s fingers.

You hit it very near the eye and the animal roared even louder, in pain. That’s when you spotted the sword the soldier had left behind, where you threw yourself to, as the tiger had tried to attack you again. The man with blue eyes pushed the sword towards you from inside the cell and you didn’t even look to thank him, you only grabbed the weapon and rolled to the right before the animal could scratch your face and kill you.

You heard the soldier cry out in pain but you couldn’t help him. Thinking you could end the beast chasing you, you failed, sinking the sword in the ribs of the animal. You felt a deep scratch in your arm and you cried out. Anger quickly builds up as you know you had to get out of there before everyone at the coliseum found out. The tiger roared one last time and before it could throw you to the sandy ground you grabbed another arrow and directly pierced the eye of the animal. Blood starts pouring and before the tiger can try to bite and break your neck, your hands end up in its mouth.

The fangs were dangerously digging into your hands and more blood started coming. Scarlet droplets fell all over your face and you didn’t care. You screamed in pain and pulled all the strength in your body to put the pressure on your arms and hands. The men inside the cells cheered and made you even more angered. Until you had torn open the tiger’s mouth, breaking its jaw and killing the animal.

Breathe….

Pushing the dead animal aside, you sighed, resting on the dirty floor for a couple of seconds before taking a long breath and standing up.

Every man inside each cell looked at you quietly. What’s there to say?

Five guards open the main entrance and look confused at the mess, then at you tending the heavily injured soldier.

“Bring a doctor,” you tell them and they nod without asking more questions. Only one comes to your side.

“The games are about to begin, princess. I must escort you back to where you should be” Trying to catch your breath, you nodded.

“Do not say a word about this mess” The guard only bowed his head in agreement.

The least you could do was to put some bandages around the bloody hand of the soldier. Then you cleaned yourself and noticed you were a mess.

Giving that soon-to-be gladiator one last look, you tried to thank him with your eyes for what he had done to help you. He understood, giving you a cold nod.

And as you walked towards the royal platea, you wondered if that was the slave your brothers mentioned. A poet…

“Oh heavens! What happened to you?” Asked Lucilla as soon as you tried to take a seat beside Geta. Then everyone turned to look at you in horror. You noticed Acacius looked worried and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the blood in your dress and bandaged arm.

“An accident” you replied politely at the woman, not in the mood to face the wife of your ex-lover.

“You look horrible,” said Caracalla.

“It won’t; happen again, frater” you tiredly answered, sinking onto the chair, ignoring Acacius’ eyes on you.

Soon you are surprised to see the gladiator who helped you in the arena. You don’t face him when he ends up winning and he looks at you. But you do notice Lucilla’s behavior and quickly you have connected the dots.

What an odd coincidence…

…

This time, you checked the animals first, then you made sure nobody had seen you entering the cells, but you went where the mysterious gladiator of blue eyes rested.

“Barbarian, monkey eater, slave, gladiator…. Prince of Rome, How may I call you? Hanno or Lucius?” Soon you had him inches away from your face. At that moment, you had time to appreciate his features. He was handsome and looked pretty much like he belonged to Roman royalty. But his gaze was fueled by anger and pain.

“What do you want?”

“I know Lucilla came before me. She had been waiting for you ever since I can remember” he looked at you with cold eyes and unbothered. But you knew he was curious about you too.

“What do you care? You’re the princess, you support all of this” his anger was palpable, it was part of his way of fighting you had noticed.

“Who did you lose?” You asked.

“My wife” he replied after a little silence, you nodded apologetically. He didn’t believe you.

“My father was a friend of your grandfather, part of the council. Now I realize that when he was elected emperor, he started hunting you down. I’m sorry”

“You don’t. You joined their cause and you fight proudly on the battlefront. I saw you…” you chuckle sarcastically.

“The twins you met the other day are my half-brothers. And they have tried to kill me since I was born. They sent me to war as punishment, but Acacius trained me well enough to survive each battle”

“So what? Should I pity you?”

“No, please don’t. But I don’t support any of this. I want to be a free woman and be with the man I love but I don’t think I’ll live enough to make it happen” he seemed interested in your words but pretended he wasn’t. Either way, you kept talking.

“You can’t kill Acacius. He’s leading a rebellion against my brothers” he stood quiet, trying to taste the lies in your words. But you seemed very truthful.

“Interesting that you want his head when all I’ve wanted is his heart” Through the cell his eyes sparkled and looked tentatively at you, for some seconds you got too attached to them.

“What about Macrino?” The old man had been trying to gain your brother’s trust and you thought that was suspicious.

“Don’t trust him. Stop sharing any detail that could tell him what you want or fear”

“I don’t trust you either”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, a little smile unconsciously appearing on your face. And to your surprise, Lucius smiled too. There was something about you that he found lovely. You seemed honest, but he couldn’t trust you yet. So he cursed once you had left, you had him looking forward to meet you again.

…

Across the room runs a large table filled with food. A variety of fruits, bread, lamb, duck, pork, and lots of wine. Your hands float around the punch though, reminding you of the first time you tried Egyptian beer. You ended up drunk with Marcus Acacius, laughing on the sand and soon both ended up naked. You frown, trying to forget that messy night.

“You’ve been oddly quiet these past days,” said Lucilla appearing by your side, grabbing more fruits and placing them on her plate.

“I’ve been busy”

“Have you met Macrino?” She said pointing in disguise at the man who laughs with some senators and your brothers.

“He’s been around for some time. But I don’t like him” you confessed.

“I’ve also met his poet gladiator” you added, opting to not look at her eyes because she responded very shocked.

“What?”

“He wants to kill Acacius for the death of his late wife, avenge his homeland, etcétera etcétera. I told him not to because we plan to free the city. You can’t proceed with the nonsense of taking him out of the Colosseum. Your son can’t be the alibi to start a revolution, Lucilla” you said whispering. She gasped in shock, wondering how you knew already. All while you carefully watched if any of your brothers or that nosy man were looking. Not even Acacius was looking.

You sigh, shrugging and looking at the woman.

“As soon as he came out wielding that sword in the arena, your face said everything. Then just by hearing his mysterious backstory. It was obvious, Lucilla” She didn’t say anything else, so you continued.

“I shall repeat myself once again. You won’t encourage Acacius to get your boy out of the Colosseum.”

“Why not?” you chuckled at the woman.

She was very pretty, sweet and caring. No wonder why the general loved her.

“You and your husband were lucky that I found out one of your maids heard everything and was about to spill it”

“What did you do, y/n?” She asked tired, thinking destiny was so meticulous and how you had ended up in such a position to hear and stop the maid before chaos unleashed.

“Let’s say I granted her eternal silence,” you said, Lucilla sighed, understanding. And before she could thank you, you spoke again.

“Wait till Lucius is in the arena to save him. And stop looping Acacius into this madness, you’ll make him get killed” She understood everything by the way your eyes looked at her. It shocked her, but she remained calm as you left to sit at the table. Only a woman in love spoke with a mix of venom and sweetness like that.

Taking a seat beside the General, he turned to look at you.

“What were you talking about there with Lucilla?” He asked in a very low but deep tone.

“Just gossiping about Senator Brutus and his new wife…” he knew you were lying but tried to act normal.

“Princess y/n… How true are those rumors about you breaking the jaw of a tiger?” asked a scribe, making you look away from Acacius, Lucilla returned to the table and your brother was already laughing at you for something you couldn’t hear.

“Well… it’s true, domine.” The table burst into laughter. Only the general and his wife remained silent.

“You did what?” Asked Acacius looking at you in horror.

“A princess shouldn’t be in combat” added Macrino, making you set your eyes on him.

“Oh I am a princess but I’m also a soldier, domine. And I have to thank my brothers because they made me a woman capable of wielding more than one weapon by sending me to war” The twins stopped laughing. Geta sipped from his wine and returned to you.

“That’s true. While you were there getting battle scars, Caracalla and I focused on diplomacy, ensuring we gained more land” You want to laugh at his face. The council did that, not the twins.

“Did you ensure the poor were stable by cutting from the rich? Did you do the math to financially cover each branch Rome rules, Geta? Or did you and Caracalla just point at lands on a map to get like prizes?”

“y/n…” Acacius whispered your name, trying to make you stop. The tension has risen very quickly.

“You have one task, soror. To give us India. A woman shouldn’t even be speaking on the table” Caracalla said when you were about to stand up and burst out. Marcus grabbed your hand under the table.

And immediately calmed you down.

“I’m only saying you should wisely rule this great empire. Do not let it fall…”

Soon the chatting turned into drinking after the awkward moment. When most of the men were getting drunk you returned to the table, cautiously grabbing food again. When you looked up, you encountered the image of Acacius kissing Lucilla. And it made your blood boil.

In a thick piece of fabric, you placed bread, some fruits, cheeses, and a small piece of lamb.

“What are you doing?” you nearly screamed when you noticed Acacius standing by your side.

“I’m grabbing food”

“Isn’t it a little late to eat again?” He wasn’t judging you, he never would, but he was very curious.

You would start up a little fire after seeing the painful image of him kissing his wife.

“It’s not for me…” before he could ask you you sprinted away. His blood boiled too, his hand firmly grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“What are you playing?” He asked.

“Playing? I’m definitely not”

“Is this some kind of punishment for what I told you days ago?” You sighed.

“I didn’t mean to say it was nothing. But… you have to wait, y/n” Acacius whispered and you chuckled.

“I’ve waited long enough to realize you will always be trapped in a marriage with two different kinds of love. And Lucilla will never love you like you want because her heart will always beat for that gladiator whose name was carved from the Colosseum”

You had raised your voice, Lucilla was looking at you two, and everyone else was drunk. So you violently flinched away from the man, who looked at you with a mix of pain and rage.

You leave and he immediately sends a guard to follow you in disguise.

“We must talk,” Lucilla said to Acacius, taking his hand.

He nodded.

…

What did that man have that made you feel safe? He didn’t protest when you walked inside his cell. He didn’t demand you to go away. He quietly lets you inside, talk, and explain yourself.

Two visits filled with food from your dinners were enough to let him know you had no intention of killing him. Your curiosity must’ve been too big, his eyes too attractive, and an odd vibration that warmed your chest.

To be honest, you had no idea why you came back to him. You just felt something. And you hated to admit it.

“If the emperors have made your life so difficult, Why didn’t you leave?” Lucius asked. He had eaten everything you gave him and was sitting beside you on the dirty floor.

“Every time I tried to escape, I couldn’t make it far enough. So I stayed and accepted my fate. To serve them will keep me alive ” he nodded, finally understanding why you hadn’t revealed yourself against the evil emperors.

“You didn’t come down here just to talk”

“I didn’t. I- I guess I just want to believe you’ll do something greater than I have always tried. Everyone talks about your rage but I think you quite act like a prospect hero… with honor” you revealed and wanted to cut your thong like you did with that old maid. You hated oversharing. But instead, Lucius chuckled and you frowned confused, expecting him to talk.

“You reminded me of my wife…”

“How so?”

“She said similar things to you” Most unexpectedly, you blushed. Thankfully the darkness of the cell made it unnoticeable.

“I’m trying to find a way to get you out of here before your mother does something rushed”

“I was very harsh with her”

“How couldn’t you? I would have behaved the same way. But she loves you and she doesn’t want to let you go just when she found you” Lucius smiled once again, making you remain still, unsure of what to do next. Soon you realized the sun was very close to coming up again.

How many hours had you spent talking with the rightful Prince of Rome?

“I must go, Geta and Caracalla will know I spent the night away,” you said standing up, trying to clean the mess your dress had become.

“Will I see you again before that revolution happens?” You smiled, walking back near him.

He was tall, you had to completely raise your head to face him.

“The final day of the games is closer. I’ll bring you more food and I’ll try to see what will the next encounters look like”

“Thank you. I judged you too fast…” he said and you chuckled.

“You still have time to change your mind”

You didn’t notice when he closed the distance. Just when his face had been inches away from yours, you gasped.

But neither of you two protested, your lips touched his at the same time.

Tasting the wine you brought him made you feel intoxicated. No intrusive thoughts appeared while you kissed him.

You could only taste his passion, his need to take control. But all his hidden softness too. One of his hand caressed with softness your cheek and the other grasped your neck.

“Stay safe, Lucius,” you said as you moved away from him.

…

The whole day was lost because you spent it sleeping. Only when you woke up for dinner, did you learn you had missed the games of the day. But Lucius was alive at least. You dreamt of his kiss but when you woke up you had an odd sensation in your stomach. Confusion filled you and then… ache.

As you brushed your hair, you got lost looking at a red candle. It had been a present from your father some years ago. A red candle to be lit whenever you felt like you needed to feel love, he had said.

The wise emperor had wished to see his daughter with her true love. Just like had always wanted but couldn’t.

There was a broad shadow that you spotted through the mirror. It made you pull out a silver knife and point a the figure.

Soon the cape was removed and you sighed but also gasped shocked to see Acacius standing in the middle of your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked worriedly, standing up and hurrying to close your windows.

“You had spent all these past nights in the Colosseum,” he said, sounding a little angered.

“Now you’re spying on me, Acacius?” He sighed exasperated.

“What are you doing with that gladiator?”

“What do you care?” You asked with defiance.

“He’s going to get you in trouble, princess y/n” Your eyes pierced his, but you decided to move away, leaning against the towers of your bed.

“He deserves more. And not only him, but every slave we brought and all those we left in ruins” you admitted, looking at the fire of the candle.

“They do, but it’s not our duty, at least not yet. We need to focus on the plan we have…” you wanted to roll your eyes and yell at him, his wife could’ve ruined everything and he was only paying attention to you.

Only paying attention to you?

“Stop going to see that man”

“His name is Hanno and I’ll visit whenever I desire” you spit out with bitterness and you knew he was angry. Acacius clenched his jaw and sighed once again. Under his cape rested his armor, his hair messy, and his scars fading.

“Why? Because he makes you feel things?”

You remained quiet. As simple as it was, his question took you by surprise.

“I-… I don’t know. I had no reason to go back to him, but I did it anyway”

“Oh heavens, y/n. Don’t you see that I’ve always told you to wait? Because I’m counting every golden coin I have to give you that house on the island you always point at. To leave Rome with you…”

It took you on a curve. You didn’t know what to say, only the tears wanted to be present.

His hands found your hips and his lips seek yours. Sometimes, while being overseas, you two would argue. And the only cure was to be silent and kiss after a day of ignoring each other.

This time feels different. You feel so confused.

His forehead softly bumped yours and you two stayed like that for some time.

“If you had those ideas to fulfill with me. Why do you remain married, Marcus?” He smiled.

“That’s different, satis. I was set to marry when you were very young. I just can’t undo it.”

“Why do I feel like you’re only doing this because you feel pressured?”

“It’s not like that”

“Either way you wouldn’t tell me that you love me. So it’s in vane…”

“BUT I DO LOVE YOU!”

You frowned, biting the inside of your cheek. For a moment you thought you could only hear how your heartbeats slowly thumped. What you wanted to hear for years had been delivered. It felt good, even right to hear it. And when you were about to believe it, something clicked.

“No, Marcus. You just realized you hate the idea of me falling in love with someone else. Even worse when it’s the son of your wife”

Without the strength to say anything else, you moved away. Your feet quickly dragged you out of your room, and then out of the palace.

You walked through the streets of Rome, seeing all the hunger, poverty, the lack of love from the government.

By midnight you arrived at the shore. The warm sand cured your bolting mind.

There was an imminent battle coming up. You had a place in the rebellion. And yet you had to be only thinking in two men. Who had made a mess of you in a matter of days.

You had nothing with any of them. It was just the causality of what they made you feel.

Lucius made you feel like the woman you would’ve been if you had escaped Rome years ago.

Acacius made you feel adored like the woman you turned into wasn’t as bad as you thought. He believed in you.

But it wasn’t enough. None of them were enough. Your mind was spiraling and you realized you were sobbing in the middle of the dark. You can hear and faintly distinguish the sea. You had cracked, like the fallen fruit every poet and philosopher always mentioned.

And even when you knew you had to only focus on the war, you still didn’t know what to do. You barely knew the men that had you losing it.

_________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @willowpains @nicolebarnes

I don’t love the ending but I genuinely don’t know who should reader end up with. PLEASE SEND IDEAS!!

[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[kamisatomay018]

I’ll Always Stand Up For You

Sylus x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of childhood trauma, alcohol addiction, angst with lots of comfort, fluff!

Here is the Sylus version, enjoy!

Your life before you met Sylus was nothing but painful. Being the eldest daughter of two parents who failed at their jobs, you had to shoulder the responsibility of raising your two siblings. Your childhood memories were filled with covering your young siblings’ ears while your parents yelled and fought with one another after drinking too much. Glass breaking, cursing and screaming were all that would be heard all night long. You were only 6 years old when all this began, and it traumatised you for life. But that would only be the beginning of your suffering.

Your parents hated you for no reason. Perhaps they saw you as a burden, perhaps they were just vile people at heart. Your family was broke thanks to your parents, and you can no longer remember just how many days you spent skipping meals so that your family would have food in their stomachs. And yet, neither of them were ever grateful. You barely managed to get education thanks to your brilliance in studies which thankfully landed you scholarships. However you didn’t even get the chance to go to college, because your parents were so deep in debt that you needed to take up the burden and start providing for them.

Since the day you turned 16, you started doing odd jobs, exhausting yourself everyday so that your family wouldn’t go hungry. A waitress, a bartender, a babysitter; you name it, and you did all the jobs that you could get without needing a college degree.

And still, your family remained ungrateful.

They called you all the time, asking for money as if you weren’t out there working endlessly to pay their bills. You barely had two pairs of clothes, your once soft hands had gone rough from the labour you endured daily. Trying to put food on the table, pay off debts and endure your family’s emotional torture was too much to bear for you. You were deep in depression, hanging by a thread until you knew you’d break.

But everything changed the moment you turned 24. The day, you met Sylus.

Was it a coincidence, or was it luck? You could not tell. You worked at a restaurant he owned as a receptionist, when one fine day he walked in, and his ruby eyes landed on you. Never had he seen a beauty like you, never had he felt so drawn to a woman before. You were the most simple girl he had ever seen, and yet, he couldn’t get his eyes off of you.

From there began your fated encounter with the leader of Onychinus himself. It took him a very long time to gain your trust. But sylus was a man of patience. Truthfully speaking, he could’ve just used his aether core to know everything about you. But something in him told him to stop. The sadness and exhaustion in your eyes had made his heart churn, and that was the day he vowed to himself that you would never work yourself to death the way you had been doing since you were just a teenager.

Falling in love with Sylus was your saving grace. He was the air you needed to breathe, the pillar you needed to lean against and the embrace that always caught you before you fell. He brought colour into your life, he gave you a taste of things that you could never even dream of in your wildest dreams.

He had unlimited wealth, and his way of showing love for you was by spoiling you rotten. But to you, money had a whole different value, it was something that you could never waste. It took you months of convincing and reassurance from Sylus that he was more than happy to spoil you, and that you deserved it. And it took you months to confide in him of the truth about your life.

The day he learnt of just how much you had been suffering at the hands of your failed parents and ungrateful siblings, he truly wanted nothing more than to throw them out of your life. But he knew that even after everything you had to suffer by their hands, you still cared for them, even if he could never understand why. How could you ever be so selfless? That; sylus soon understood, was one of the main reasons why he fell in love with you.

It was the way you cared, the way you didn’t care about his own past, about his misdeeds. You just saw sylus, and you loved him unconditionally. Your love was enduring and passionate, it was never ending. You kept Sylus a secret from your family, not wanting them to exploit him for his money. Sylus had long since offered to just shut your family up with some money so they’d leave you alone, but you firmly stopped him from doing that. It was his hard earned money, and with how greedy your family was; they’d never stop asking him for money at your expense.

So Sylus respected your wishes, only after you complied with some of his conditions. Soon after he began dating you, he realised that you had a sharp and brilliant mind and he got you a better, well paying job in Onychinus itself, and he made sure that you never spent your hard earned money on yourself. Why? Because that was his job now. He spoiled you absolutely rotten, treating you like a princess. Soon, you got used to it, but even then you managed to surprise him by giving him small yet meaningful gifts from your salary. And that man cherished every single thing you gave him.

A crow keychain? It was now attached to his bike keys. A new blazer? He wore it to every important meeting. A new pendant? He swore to get buried in it but never take it off.

His love was pure, and so the day he knelt down on one knee to ask for your hand in marriage under the snowfall, you had no hesitation in saying yes and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

You were so grateful for Sylus that you could never explain in words. He gave you everything that you had desperately needed in life- love, security, kindness and respect. He made sure to never raise his voice when you were around because he knew it triggered you due to your childhood, he took care of you when no one else had, he spoilt you with endless luxury, but most of all, he made you truly feel important.

Along with your engagement however, came one burden- breaking the news to your family. You had sat down with Sylus, telling him nervously that you didn’t want to hide such an important news from them, and that if, and only if, he wanted to, you wished to introduce him to your family. You hadn’t seen them in years now and they never even showed any interest in wanting to see you. Their calls were always only for money, so Sylus couldn’t fathom why you were still attached to them.

But as understanding and patient as he was, he agreed to your request with a loving kiss on your forehead. After all, there was no way he was letting you go there all alone.

You both dressed up simply but elegantly, Sylus deciding to use one of his simplest cars- an Audi- to drive you to the apartment your family lived in, an apartment that you had rented for them.

To say that your family was shocked was an understatement. They were baffled the moment they saw you and Sylus, a man with an intimidating aura that screamed power and luxury. He held your hand in his, after he had promised you that he would be as civil as possible with them upon your request. But he had made one thing very clear- he would not tolerate any nonsense that came at the price of your respect.

The atmosphere was unbelievably tense as you broke the news of your engagement to Sylus. Your parents were infuriated that they had no idea that you were dating. But not for the reason any ordinary person would think. They didn’t care who you were with, they cared about the fact that they could see just how rich Sylus was, and that they could’ve had so much money by now. Of course, they didn’t say it out loud, but Sylus knew. One look at their greedy faces and he knew that he hated them even more now.

Soon your two younger brothers, whom you had been protecting all their lives, appeared, shocked to see you with a man as perfect as Sylus. They snickered to each other, looking at you condescendingly. “Wow, sis. Never thought that you would end up with such a good man.” Their comment made your parents laugh too, and your heart ache.

But Sylus? He was not amused. Not at all. His ruby eyes became darker as he glared at the two sorry excuse of brothers, his fist clenching. You noticed immediately, placing your hand over his before he could say anything. He was forced to keep quiet after he saw the subtle shake of your head and your pleading eyes. He wanted to get you out of here and just shower you with affection. You were an angel, and you didn’t deserve any of this.

“So son, when is the wedding? We expect it’ll be quite lavish, yes?” He heard your mother say, making him feel absolutely disgusted, even though his expression remained stoic. Him and be her son? Absolutely not. “Soon.” was all he replied with, although he was tempted to tell them that he didn’t want to invite them at all.

“A man of a few words, aren’t you? Ha! Thats what makes a good man.” He heard your father say to him. Sylus raised his eyebrow at that. What irony, he thought, for this man and his sons were the exact opposite of that. “Indeed.”

Meanwhile you remained silent, knowing it was taking everything in sylus to keep his promise of being civil to your parents. You were so grateful to him, as he continued holding your hand. That however, caught your mother’s attention as she saw the shining diamond ring on your finger, a big solitaire adorned with rubies, a symbol of your love with Sylus.

“You greedy girl, is that how I raised you!? How could you ask for such an expensive ring from your fiance?” She snapped at you, her voice loud which made you flinch. Sylus felt it immediately, as he pulled you closer, looking at your mother darkly. Seeing Sylus’ intimidating glare her sharp gaze faltered a little, but she continued to look at you in a disgusting manner.

Your father also looked at the ring now, and he scoffed. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Hoarding all your finance’s money for yourself while your poor family lives in such bad conditions? I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger!” Your younger brothers sneered at you, shaking their heads. You felt your breathing get heavier, remembering just how damaging it used to feel being around your family.

But then, all your thoughts were silenced by the familiar warm embrace that once again caught you right before you felt yourself fall. Sylus.

He stood up abruptly while hiding you in his arms, his evol emanating from him as it surrounded you both with its dark glow. Your family looked up, afraid of the man as he glared down at them with such anger in his eyes.

“Say that again. I dare you. Call my love a gold digger again, and I will make you beg me to kill you.”

Your family was speechless, stuttering and trying to find words. But Sylus didn’t give them a single chance. “You all are so fucking lucky to have this angel in your lives, yet all you have done is make her life hell, make her cry, make her ache. She has spent the better part of her life putting food in your worthless bodies and you have the audacity to call her a gold digger?”

“And you two.” He spoke, seething in anger as he turned to your brothers. “You are disgraces at the name of brothers, failures as men. You forgot so easily just who had been protecting you and feeding you since the day your worthless selves were born? Sitting here with no jobs, no ambitions laughing at a woman who pays for your food, for your clothes and for the roof above your goddamn heads, tsk, feel some fucking shame.”

You didn’t stop Sylus, rather, you felt yourself fall so in love with him again. For the first time, someone had stood up for you. For the first time you were the one hidden in someone’s arms, away from the pain. For the first time, you were taken care of in the face of danger.

“From this day forth, you all will get no money from her. My fiance will no longer send your worthless selves any money. Try to harm her, and I will make you regret every breath you take. Be glad that I am sparing your lives, because it is her love that has made me merciful. This will be the last time you see us. Once you learn just how difficult it is to earn money without a roof above your heads, you will understand how much she has suffered. Truly, I have not seen people as useless as all four of you.” Sylus spat harshly, giving one final glare to your family as he gently picked you up in his arms, hiding you away from them as he walked out, still seething in anger.

Once he reached his car, he let his evol open the door as he sat down, settling you down on his lap. “Sweetie, are you alright?” You heard his deep comforting voice, coaxing you to look at him. And you did just that, letting him see your teary eyes. Sylus swore that there was nothing that hurt him more than seeing your beautiful eyes full of tears. He’d rather take a hundred bullets, get stabbed all over than see you sad. He kissed your tears away, holding you close. “Sweetie, I’m so-“

You didn’t even let him finish, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt as you kissed him oh so lovingly. Sylus was taken aback, but he melted into the kiss immediately. His arms enveloped you once more with such protectiveness that it made your heart skip a beat. God, you didn’t deserve him.

“I love you…I love you so much Sylus..” you spoke breathlessly against his lips, parting just enough to look into those beautiful red eyes of his. He smiled at your words, as if those were the most beautiful words he would ever hear. And that was definitely true. “I love you more than anything, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for saying all that to my family..”

“You’re not upset?” He asked, caressing your cheeks gently. You shook your head immediately. “Why would I ever be upset at you standing up for me..? That’s the first time I felt someone protect me like that..”

His eyes softened, as he kissed your forehead. His gaze was full of love, as he spoke gently “Sweetie, I will always stand up for you. I will always protect you. You can lean on me, yeah? You’re never alone when I’m here.”

You smiles even wider at his words, nodding in response as you took a moment to hug him tightly. “You were always right, I should’ve cut them off long back..I just…I don’t know why I couldn’t do it..”

“It’s because you have a heart of gold, sweetheart. You are pure and loving, even to those who do not deserve it. But don’t love someone at the expense of the love you should give to yourself. You’re worth more than all of that, okay? You deserve only the best.” God, how was it that Sylus always knew the right thing to say?

“You’re right, Sy..thank you for always being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you..” you spoke, your eyes genuine and loving.

He smiled at you, kissing your lips softly as you felt him whisper a lingering promise “You do not need to know sweetie, because I will always be there with you. Forever.”

[chithereader]

losing my cool / aaron hotchner

part 2 to playing it cool !!! hope you like it word count: 1.6k pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader genre: angst at first, but fluff!!!!!! cw: more sickeningly sweet and soft aaron x reader, mentions of insecurities

The smile on Aaron’s face slowly fades as he takes in your frozen stance. You’re staring at him like he just shot you in the back and worry starts to fill him, “Honey..?” waving his hand in front of your face, hoping it would be enough to break you out of your stupor. 

 “Hello?” Still waving his hand in your face, your eyes darted to his. Your body is in a state of shock– in your mind, there’s a tiny version of you desperately digging her way out of a landslide of disbelief. Waves and waves of doubts and insecurities hindering you from processing what is happening. 

Aaron watches as your mouth moves with barely any sound coming out. Like a fish out of water, you’re scrambling, “W-what?” That’s… a bit too shaky to be good. 

He pauses to think. The doubts are starting to creep up on him. 

Maybe he was too rash with his question. 

Maybe that wasn’t the best way to spring it on you. 

Maybe he should have waited for a better time.

Maybe he should have planned something. 

Maybe she isn’t ready.

Maybe she just doesn’t want to marry me. 

He tries hard to swallow all these dark thoughts, clearing his throat to fake the confidence that’s slowly diminishing, “I said, ‘Marry me.’” After he says those words again he stills, hoping that this time he’ll get an answer. And that.. it would be the answer he so badly wants. 

But time slows down and his heart soon follows as he watches tears start to pool in your eyes. You’re shaking your head– they’re tiny shakes and you look panicked. This isn’t good. Not good at all. 

He really wasn’t expecting this. It never occurred to him you’d say no. Or ..not yes. Aaron’s mind is running a million miles per hour. He doesn’t know what to do, or say. He barely even knows how he feels. And so he defaults to doing the one thing he does best (as a prosecutor at least): object. 

This is triggered by your movement. You move around him, leaving the kitchen towards your living room. Your goal was to sit on the couch, craving some stability as your legs get weaker the more you’re processing what was asked, how you reacted, and how it could be coming across. 

But Aaron’s legs are longer than yours. Before you even reach the couch, he’s holding your arm firmly and gently at the same time. He’s got that furrow in his brows that makes him look stern, but his eyes betray him as you can clearly see the worry in them. 

“Well yes!” he says in disagreement. He doesn’t understand why you haven’t said yes, and as much as he isn’t the kind of man to ever force a lady into anything, a part of him is scared of what he’ll hear if he asks you why you’re not saying yes. 

Though instead of allowing that fear to paralyze him, he allows it to control him. To bear its face because the softer, more rational part of him is hiding. 

You’re avoiding his gaze, crossing your arms– you’re turning away from him. “No- Aaron, you– I don– I ca–” 

You know he’s studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your face, your neck, your body. He’s taking in everything he can because you’ve given him absolutely nothing so far. And oh how you wish you could voice it all out. 

You just wish it was easy to say I don’t think I’m enough for you. What if you realize one day that I’m not good enough? Are you sure? Are you sure about this? About me? What if you start to want someone smarter? Prettier? Hotter? What if you want someone who is as accomplished or important as you? What if you get bored of me? What if– 

You’re broken out of your thoughts when he suddenly straightens. He looks as if he’s realized something and the next thing you know you’re hit by a gust of wind because he’s running up the stairs. 

Within an instant you run after him. A dozen scenarios are running through your head, the worst being Aaron packing your things because he’s going to ask you to leave. Your heart beats faster as you reach the top of the steps. You peek into your room and see him rummaging through drawers. 

Your worries quiet significantly when you realize they’re his drawers. And just when you’re about to approach him, he turns around meeting you halfway. You’re both illuminated by the sunlight that’s coming through the bedroom window you’re standing in front of. 

He’s still. He’s got a serious look on his face. You take him in, trying to read him but he’s got his profiler look on– unreadable and determined. His voice rattles you, “I’m sorry. That was a mistake.” Firm and devoid of any emotion. 

Oh god.

You’re shaking your head, reaching to hold him by his arms. You start to cry, “Aaron please, that’s not what I–” but… he’s going down on one knee. 

What?

He watched multiple emotions flicker on your face. Defeat, panic, confusion– “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said that. I– I planned to do it better than that. I don’t know why I let it slip out, you deserve better than that.” 

Before you can process it, Aaron’s holding out a ring. He’s holding your hand in the other while tears are streaming down both your faces. You have no idea how you heard it but you guess it’s simply a testament to how attuned you are to him when he whispers, “Please, please, please. Will you marry me, honey?” 

Time stops. Literally. You can feel your heart in your chest beating louder, heavier. It’s pounding as if begging to be heard. Begging to let Aaron know that it beats for him and him only. You’re lowering yourself to kneel before him. You want to see his face properly. His eyes. His nose. His lips. This is the man you love. This is the man you want to marry. Your eyes are simply capturing every angle of this moment. 

You’re leveled now. Equals. You grab both his hands in yours and you stare into his brown eyes. You want him to know you mean it, as you nod your head slowly and breathe out, “Yes.” A smile breaks across his face, tears starting to stream again. 

You watch him as he tries to put the ring on your finger, getting it on the first try even if his sight is slightly hindered by his tears of happiness and relief. The sun makes the ring sparkle, catching your attention and you look at it properly for the first time. 

It’s beautiful. Aaron would argue that the stone screams you – grace, loyalty, peace. He catches your eye and the both of you start to smile. You start to giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms snake around your waist. 

He buries his head in your neck, breathing in your scent while silently thanking the heavens for granting him this. You break apart, startled to hear tiny footsteps nearing. The both of you start to stand up from the floor, straightening yourselves out and wiping the remaining tears staining your faces. 

You both look to the door, waiting for the little boy to show himself. You hear a soft knock right before the door opens slowly, a head peeking in, “Daddy?” 

Aaron goes to the door, opening it more for Jack to come in. The little boy goes straight to you and you pick him up in your arms with ease, resting him on your hip. You have your left hand holding him stable, and even though the little boy’s still groggy with sleep he notices the sparkling addition to your hand. 

You take notice of how his little face lights up in excitement and you have no idea what about it he understands, “I help Daddy buy you that!” His voice is full of pride, genuinely proud that he had played a part in picking. 

You’re confused, not fully understanding what Jack means. Looking to Aaron for an answer, you’re surprised to find him blushing. He looks shy and he’s shrugging at you but you can tell he’s trying hard to play it cool. The smile fighting its way on his face betrays him. 

You decide to take your chance on the adorable kid that is now fiddling with your ring, watching in amazement at how much it’s twinkling in the light. Children are the most honest people you know anyway. Pursing your lips with squinted eyes, you investigate “What do you mean, bubba?” 

“Daddy asked me what ring pop you want, so I asked you when we watched Spiderman and you said your favorite is the green one so I tell Daddy you want the green one!” 

Your heart stutters and the tears start coming in again. Aaron asking Jack for his opinion for your engagement ring. Jack thinking it's a ring pop. Jack asking for your favorite ring pop flavor. Jack being proud that you got the ring you want, pop or not. 

Brought out of your thoughts by Jack wanting to leave your hold, you put him down. You watch as he happily walks out of your room, presumably to go to the kitchen. You look at Aaron again, and just as you’re about to say something about what you just found out, you realize one thing. Spiderman.

You gasp. Covering your mouth in surprise, you slap his arm lightly, “That was our third date!”

Aaron laughs loudly, rushing out of the room before you can throw questions at him or even comments about how insane he is. He couldn’t care less. He was right. 

a/n: just want to say thank you so much for the love and support i've been getting for my hotch fics!! as someone who's new here, it all means so much to me <33 i recently made a masterlist as i plan to write so much more and branch out to other characters i've been perpetually in love with!! leave requests of what you want to read or characters i can write about, i'd love to write for you guys ◡̈ tagging the people who wanted a part 2 for this: @pear-1206 @dedicatedfangirl2001 u guys are so sweet

[nemesyaaa]

ohhh that's so good !! i wish they could fix the situation because it's killing me. let's all praying on a happy ending but this is legit fucking magnificient and i love this with my whole heart. your capacity of writing smut, angst and fluff is beyond the limits. im thinking of house of Nebraska by Ethel cain so i'm literally about to kms in my room. someone call an emergency 🦋😵

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, raw with unshed tears, the vision of your ex-fiancé with another woman blurred by nothing but the tears brimming at the edges of your vision, so different from the ones that ran down your cheeks the day you'd said yes to him. — i'm not okay and i can't save my tears

you could feel how tired rafe was getting of your rant by the intensity of his lips on yours, using it to interrupt you, his fingers sliding under your jaw to help hold it up to meet his; and just like always, he didn't need to say one word for you to understand what he was communicating to you. — the audacity of this man....

the moment his eyes found yours, it felt as if all the air was punched out of your lungs, like the entire planet just stopped spinning. it didn't matter that the jewelry store's display was separating you; it felt like the first time he looked into your eyes and told you he loved you. — ignore me, i'm just trying to take a deep breath but i'm still sick to my stomach

"that's my fiancé!" rafe shouted as the nurse pushed him further from the door, "i have to go see her! you have to let me see her! just tell her that i'm here, she'll want-" — i'm not good, i'm not good, i'm not good, i'm not good 💔

but when you pulled it open expecting to see your mother, it felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, like your heartbeat shot through the roof just from the sight of his downcast eyes. —hes BACK. For the best or the worse 💀💀💀

touchy subject II pairing: reader x exfiancé!rafe synopsis: seeing your ex-fiancé after four years. warnings: heavy angst. some fluff. miscarriage/stillbirth. vehicular accident. wc: 2k part 2 of touchy subject. part 3 / the final part coming soon. click here for part 1

you could feel your heartbeat in your throat, raw with unshed tears, the vision of your ex-fiancé with another woman blurred by nothing but the tears brimming at the edges of your vision, so different from the ones that ran down your cheeks the day you'd said yes to him.

"of course i'll marry you." you pulled rafe to stand up, your arms around him before you could even think about what you were doing, rafe letting out a sigh of relief. "wait, wait, i gotta ask you something." you rushed out, pulling away from the hug, his hands still staying on your waist.

"what is it?"

"is this just because i'm pregnant?" you ask, rafe's brows furrowing in confusion, yet you left him no time to respond, "it's just- i want to marry you, but i don't want you to feel like you have to ask me just because i'm pregnant, and if you want to wait until the baby's-"

you could feel how tired rafe was getting of your rant by the intensity of his lips on yours, using it to interrupt you, his fingers sliding under your jaw to help hold it up to meet his; and just like always, he didn't need to say one word for you to understand what he was communicating to you.

the moment his eyes found yours, it felt as if all the air was punched out of your lungs, like the entire planet just stopped spinning. it didn't matter that the jewelry store's display was separating you; it felt like the first time he looked into your eyes and told you he loved you.

you wanted to run, to make sure you wouldn't have to face him, to have to hear what his voice sounded when you'd already managed to forget how it was to hear it in person, but it was like your feet had rooted to the ground within the few seconds that he spotted you.

and you begged to whatever entity that once you saw him approach the exit to the jewelry store, the other woman long forgotten, that your fight-or-flight instinct would kick in, but luck was never really on your side, because there he stood, his face the same as the last time you saw him, with a few lines added here and there, and a part of you couldn't help but ache at the thought of having missed the moment they appeared.

you looked up at him, into the same eyes you'd once imagined your daughter would have, the thought making the bout of nausea in your throat even worse. a part of you wanted to congratulate him, to tell you that you were happy for him, but it felt like the words were choking you, like they were burning in your throat. but the choice to even say something was taken from you, when you heard the bell above the door to the jewelry store let out a cheery ring.

"rafe…?" the red-haired woman called out, her brows furrowed in question, and the moment your ex turned around to face her, you took the opportunity to turn the other way, begging that your feet would take you away before you threw up on the spot.

"i saw him yesterday."

"it was the first time you saw him in person since you left, correct?"

"yes. i sometimes checked up on his social media, but seeing him like this... so close to me i could touch him... it was pretty jarring. it felt like no time had passed, but also like i hadn't seen him in decades."

"and how did he look?"

"handsome." you chuckled softly, your hand going to fiddle with the locket around your neck, sliding it up and down the golden chain, avoiding looking at the zoom meeting displayed on the laptop screen. "he looked just like he looked with me. he looked happy."

"happy anniversary, rafe." you smiled softly as you pushed the gift box at him, your fiancé letting out a small tut.

"you know you didn't have to get me anything, right? you're enough for me already. both of you are."

"yeah, yeah, stop being all cheesy and chivalrous and open it already." you urged, watching as he lifted the lid of the gift box, his eyes widening as he looked down at the present, but before he could say anything, you stopped him, "look at the back of it!"

rafe rolled his eyes, picking up the steel watch from the box, and you could see his gaze soften the moment his eyes spotted the engraving on the back of the watch, the edges of his lips almost automatically twisting up at the words 'evelyn cameron'.

"is it bad that it makes me feel bitter?" you asked, chewing at the inside of your cheek, "that it's been four years, and i haven't been able to move on, but he has? that he's managed to be happy, but i haven't? that i don't know if i ever will?"

"the loss of a child..."

you couldn't help but tune out the words of your therapist like they were nothing but background noise, not knowing if it would be worse if she tried justifying your anger or if she tried to get you to understand why rafe had managed to move on, your eyes instead focusing on the heart-shaped locket you'd opened, the faces of the couple staring right at you.

"rafe, where are we?" you laughed softly, your feet hurting from the heels you were starting to regret wearing, the blonde having parked his car in front of a random house.

"you didn't think i wouldn't get you an anniversary present, did you?" when you didn't immediately answer, he pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense, shaking his head, "come on. lemme show you."

the two of you got out of the car, your heels clacking against the stone pathway leading to the house, rafe's muscular arm keeping you close to him, helping you walk.

when you got to the door, he let go of you, and you watched as he took out a set of keys without saying anything, twisting them in the lock and pushing open the door, looking to you enthusiastically, extending his hand to you.

the moment you stepped over the threshold, you were enveloped by warmth, rafe flicking on the light next to the entryway before turning to you as your eyes got used to the light, sliding his hands onto your waist, pulling you as close to him as the growing child allowed.

you looked into his eyes, yours filled with confusion while his were filled with nothing but sincerity, his thumb stroking your waist. "rafe, what's this?"

"it's our home." he said, bringing his hand to your bump, "i know it's not much, but it's got enough room for our family."

"rafe, this is-"

"this is my anniversary present for you. i won't take 'no' for an answer." he brushed a strand of hair away from your cheek, tugging it behind your ear, "i want us to build our own home. our own life."

you kicked the radiator in frustration; it seemed like no matter what, the place wouldn't warm up. you'd called a maintenance guy, but they told you that it'd take at least a week for them to get someone there, and in the middle of winter, your only option was to light the fireplace in the middle of the living room while you waited for your mom to arrive with a portable radiator she told you she'd borrow you.

you sat in front of the blazing fire, your fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of the worn-out ultrasound picture you'd looked at a million times, your voice coming out weak from the sobs you were holding in your throat.

"hi, evie." you said softly, looking to the small urn next to you, engraved with the name of your daughter as well as today's date, only five years before. "happy... happy birthday."

"hi, baby." rafe's voice called out from the speakerphone of your car, the windshield wipers wiping away some of the rain falling down on you as you drove through the dark streets lit only by the yellow streetlights above, "are you almost home?"

"i am." you chuckled softly, "seeing my mom was so nice, even though she kept being all cheesy about how big i'd gotten. i swear, she almost cried."

"come on, she's gonna meet her grandkid in a month, of course she's gonna be all cheesy. if my dad had a paternal bone in his body, i'm sure he'd be ecstatic."

"yeah, well, you're not the one whose stomach is constantly getting pawed by people." you let out a snort, looking out into the road, "listen, i'm gonna drop by the store cause little evie's craving chocolate, do we need anything?"

"nah, just need you two home as soon as possible."

"aye aye, captain. see you soon, baby." you laughed, hearing the noise that signaled that the call had been ended, eager to get home and off your feet.

but before you could even realize what was happening, you were faced with a second pair of headlights that was approaching you, another car lit up by your own yellow headlights. and you swerved.

maybe it's a part of the so-called mother's instinct to blame ourselves when something happens to our child. no matter how many people told you that it wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could've done, every bone, every cell in your body couldn't help but beat yourself up over what happened.

rafe ran down the hospital hallway, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the feeling of his heartbeat in his ears making him feel nauseous, the man sure that it was beating 200/bpm, but finally, when he reached the hospital room the reception had guided him to, a sense of relief took over him.

a nurse walked out of the room, startled by the man, her eyes widening at the obvious sense of urgency he was displaying, "can i help you?" she asked.

"no, no, i'm just here to see my fiancé." rafe said, his hand going for the door, only to be blocked by the nurse.

"i'm sorry, but the patient has told us that she doesn't want any visitors."

"what?" rafe let out a dry, humorless laugh, his brows furrowed, "you have to let me see her, that's my fiancé. that's- that's the mother of my child."

"i'm sorry, but the patient-"

"hey!" rafe pounded the palm of his hand on the door, the hospital bed visible from the rectangle of glass on the door, the man able to see your mother hunched over your bed, holding you. "let me-"

"sir, if you don't calm down, i'm going to have to call the guards and they'll remove you from the premises."

"that's my fiancé!" rafe shouted as the nurse pushed him further from the door, "i have to go see her! you have to let me see her! just tell her that i'm here, she'll want-"

the door to your hospital room swung open, rafe meeting the crestfallen eyes of your mother, her lips pulled into a straight line. "rafe, she doesn't want to see you."

when you heard the doorbell ring, you wiped away the tears that had ran down your cheeks; you didn't want to make it obvious to your mother that you'd spent the last fifteen minutes crying, and even if she could tell by the redness of your eyes, you knew she wouldn't mention it.

you pushed yourself off the ground, placing the small urn and the ultrasound picture on top of the fireplace as you straightened out your sweater, your feet cold against the hardwood floor as you walked to the front door.

but when you pulled it open expecting to see your mother, it felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs, like your heartbeat shot through the roof just from the sight of his downcast eyes.

"rafe."

[tamwritesstuff]

for anyone in need of a little bit of angst, here's a snippet of the conversation between lucanis and viago after crow!rook gets stuck in fade jail :)

Lucanis strides into the Cantori Diamond looking like death.

The casino is bustling with activity as usual. The movement of people, the clinking of glasses, the sound of coins exchanging hands. It almost makes it seem like any other day. Lucanis knows it’s not. He had never enjoyed places like this — not the way Illario did �� and even being on the top floor of the casino, above all that noise didn’t make him any more comfortable. Still, he had always found the time to greet some of the other Crows wandering about the room, even if it was just a quick nod. Now, fledglings flinch away as he walks past them not paying them any mind.

Teia sees him approach from the other corner of the room, and something in her posture seems to relax. “Thank the Maker!” she exclaims, running to meet him. “What in Andraste’s name happened, Lucanis? You sent word you were all going to an island to stop some ritual and then we didn’t hear from you in days!” she frowns, “and after the things we’ve been hearing from Minrathous—”

Lucanis can feel her anxious gaze on him, waiting for a response but he has no words for her. He closes his eyes, chest roaring with pain. Joder. Caterina’s training hadn’t prepared him for this. All his life he had measured suffering in broken bones and stab wounds. Now his heart is faced with a loss so devastating it reverberates through his entire being.

“Lucanis?” Teia calls softly, almost startling him.

“Ghilan’nain’s been slain” he manages to say at last. The only good news he has to offer. She makes a sound of surprise, turns to look at Viago only to find him already looking at them. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stares at Lucanis.

“Where’s Rook?” he asks, voice deceptively calm.

Lucanis goes still, grief and pain wreaking havoc inside of him. He doesn’t know what expression is reflected on his face but it must be enough to convey what his words cannot because Viago takes a step back. “No,” he says and there’s a sharpness in his tone, a denial that Lucanis knows all too well. “No” he repeats, turning his back and leaning his hands on the table for support.

Teia stares at them, horrified, “How—”

Spite growls. He tricked her! He took her away from us!

Lucanis can feel the demon’s anger like a mirror to his own, a painful, angry thing wanting to be let out and ravage the entire room. And yet when he speaks the words are deadly soft. “The Dread Wolf betrayed us, betrayed her” The words are a new kind of pain. He pauses, hoping that if he doesn’t breathe too deeply he won’t feel the hollow echo of his empty chest. “He trapped her in the Fade”

Viago turns abruptly. He doesn’t make any move to strike, but there’s a cold violence to his gaze, like the silent swish of a blade right before it draws blood. They stare at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. Then Viago's face changes, hard blankness breaking for a moment to reveal the feelings beneath. Loathing.

[dollishsz]

HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."

[rafescherie]

“show me how much you hate me” — rafe cameron

synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ pogue!reader and rafe have a complicated relationship — despite the tension and hatred for one another, they always found themselves entangled when they needed to let go pent up frustration.

warning ᝰ.ᐟ 18+ MDNI ! heavy smut, hate fucking, praise & slight degradation, unprotected p in v, angst & tension

my first published work, pls be nice !!

word count ᝰ.ᐟ 878

god, you hated him. you despised everything about him — his short temper and manipulations, the way he treated you and your friends, that cocky grin on his face any time he’d noticed how easily he’d managed to get under your skin. you hated him, a feeling of irritation clouding your judgement as soon as you laid eyes on him.

you hated him. hated the way his thumb expertly rubbed circles against your puffy clit, the way his thick cock slid perfectly against your sweet spot as it rendered your brain fuzzy, the way he still wore that cocky smug grin over his lips even while his cock was buried deep inside of your soaked pussy. you despised him — because as much as he got on your nerves, nobody could make you feel the way he could.

“that’s it, being such a good slut for me.” he’d murmur, fingertips digging roughly into the fat of your waist when he guided your hip grinding. you’d think he was some sort of sex god, the way he was so easily controlling the situation despite the fact that it was you grinding on his lap, desperate for your own release. “taking my cock so well, pretty girl.”

your eyes screwed shut as you tried to concentrate, the sound of rafe’s agitating voice ripping through the high you’d been chasing for the last twenty minutes. god, it was like he couldn’t even go five minutes, without talking. “shut up, rafe.”

his usually blue piercing eyes were darker now — lust lacing them as he watched you needingly bounce on top of him. he can’t help the chuckle he lets out at that comment, cock twitching inside of you. truthfully, this hatred and fury you both shared for one another only served to turn him on more, the reason you’d ended up in this mess in the first place. “watch your mouth, pogue.”

the grip on your chin is gentle but firm suddenly, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. he wanted you to remember who was in charge, even if his back was pressed against his truck’s driver seat, your slick body pressed tightly against his. his lips connect with yours, plump and swollen from the way he’d just had your pretty little lips wrapped around his dick. the kiss is sloppy, guided roughly by his tongue as you started to helplessly grind against his lap again.

the whimpers you let out as his pubic bone scratched the surface of your swollen clit, the spongy head of his cock hitting that special place over and over again within your needy cunt — it was becoming too much as you felt your stomach twist and tighten. you’d knew you wouldn’t last much longer, especially with the filthy words that fell from rafe’s mouth every few seconds.

“telling your friends you hate me,“ his own breathing had began rigid as he spoke, hips now desperately meeting with yours as he chased his own high. “while your needy pussy eagerly takes my entire cock. what would they think about that, sweet girl?”

“‘m gonna cum, rafe,” your words slipped past your lips sounding more like a whine than anything else, eager to feel that familiar feeling of blissfulness as you felt yourself cream around his cock.

“show me just how much you hate me, my pretty slut.” he moaned out, thumb finding your clit like he’d memorized where it was. walls clenching as your orgasm took over, the loud whine you let out at the feeling was enough for rafe’s cock to twitch once more inside of you, lips tentatively finding the sensitive buds of your nipples. your body shook against his, the feeling of him stretching you out feeling delicious.

“atta girl,” he’d grunt against your chest, that same shit eating grin you hated so much on his face, serving to have your tight cunt clench against his cock, a groan spilling from his mouth.

he shifted under the weight of your body on his, lips attaching to yours once again when he started practically pistoning himself inside of you, desperate to reach his own high. the way your hips lazily met against his with each thrust, too much of a mess to think properly, was enough for him to find that clearance. a loud groan escaped his mouth at the feeling, squelching sounds so damn loud within the vehicle as his cum shot up inside of you, marking you as his silently. you couldn’t help but let out another moan, the feeling of being so full and stuffed sending your already over sensitive pussy a reminder of the way you’d just came on him.

panting filled the truck, air sticky — unsure whether it was from the heatwave taking over the outerbanks, or the workout you’d just shared, practically stuck to rafe’s body. your eyes met his, rolling them lightly at the smug look on his face. “dont get any ideas, i still hate you.”

“sure you do, sweetheart.”

you hated him. you’d never hated anyone more than rafe cameron, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting up with him almost nightly to feel his thick cock bury itself inside of you once more, secretly adoring the way his fingers dug into your soft plush skin and left bruises.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! :) mayhaps can i request your HC's for viktor x an artist reader. 👉👈 ur angst drabbles have been sustaining my life since season 2

There’s a saying that if an artist loves you or falls in love with you, you can never die.

A saying that Viktor didn’t give much thought until it was very clear that he was your forever muse, your reason to keeping your passion alive through experimenting art styles to maximise the effect you wanted your art to have; almost in the exact same way a scientist would conduct experiments in order to understand how something works and how to properly utilise it.

However each and every one of your art works came out looking like masterpieces that should and probably would be studied by future artists themselves one day, given how beautiful they were.

But also because they all included a man with amber eyes and soft chocolate hair hard at work with his own projects as blue sparks are captured liked shooting stars flying past his beautiful face. He truly was a once in a lifetime experience that you wanted to eternally capture within the pages of your sketchbook.

It literally didn’t matter what he did, whether it was tinkering, experimenting with the hexcore or just simply existing, you wanted to capture as much of Viktor as you possibly can whenever you can.

Viktor, in your eyes, was the kind of man people would kill to create sculptures of and artworks that would be seen in grand museums, within a beautifully intricate frame that only added emphasise to his importance to the artist in question. The artist being you of course.

So needless to say whenever you were with Viktor you made sure to have your sketchbook and pencils in hand as you knew that you’d end up wanting to sketch him for the millionth time that day.

However your favourite sketch of him came when you made him smile, genuinely smile.

The image of his bright and handsome smile was all you could see for hours on end as you found yourself absentmindedly sketching his face, his smile, the wrinkles near his eyes and his wind ruffled hair to perfection.

You then found yourself staring at it as though reliving the moment where you heard his laugh reach your ears like a harmonious melody, swept upon the wind that ruffled his hair and into your ears and your ears only.

To be loved by an artist was to be seen and you saw Viktor in a way that nobody else could, not even himself, and it showed in your work as you made him look like an angel disguised as a human given how frequently you used the colour gold whenever you drew him. From his eyes, to his clothes, everything with Viktor had hints of gold to it.

So much so that you had to get more colouring pencils of the exact same shade of gold so frequently that the manger of the art shop knew your name and the muse of your latest works at this point.

‘Drawing Viktor again I see?’ They’d teasingly ask as you’d shrug your shoulders.

‘Guilty as charged.’ You would reply before taking your things and leaving.

Viktor didn’t pry into your sketchbook, it was your belonging and he didn’t feel it was necessary for him to pry into it, but his curiosity didn’t help him one day as he found himself drawn to the sketchbook that you seemed to had left in his lab.

The first few pages were merely parts of the academy that you frequently visited, from the gardens, to the library, to even the lab he was stood in. Each one was increasingly more impressive than the last with how lifelike you made each one as though he could fall into the scene you had created; a true testament to your talent, creativity and insane attention to detail.

However the further the sketchbook went, he could easily see a decline in inspiration in your art. only for it to pick back up again when you had started drawing him doing the most mundane of things -at least in his mind he thought so- as simple sketches to portraits solely done by oil pastels or only colouring pencils. All just to emphasise his features and the concentrated furrows of his brows, a large variation of colours you’ve used so effortlessly to make up his face in a way that he could never imagine.

And yet Viktor found that there was more artworks of yours regarding him, artworks that seemingly continued endlessly and were just as hyper detailed and colourful as the more of himself that he saw, each one touching his heart in a way that made him realise that this was how you genuinely saw him; an angel in human skin as the way you depicted him was either simply human or an ethereal being coated in various shades of gold.

Through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of you, Viktor knew that you only conveyed what you believed to be true and the fact that you saw him in such a way was enough to have him struggling to breath, but in the best way possible.

You way you saw him transcended beyond the person he saw each and every day in the mirror. You saw him as a man of infinite beauty, wisdom and strength in a multitude of ways while never shying away when it came to his leg nor disease.

If anything you made those parts of him stand out the most in a way that told him that you found these parts of him a strength and perfection in your eyes. Telling him that you didn’t wish him to be anything other then himself, for he was perfect and so much much that only your art could help describe.

Viktor; a man on borrowed time became a man immortalised within the pages of his artist lover.

He even seen the sketches of him fast asleep against his workbench you’ve done and even then you took your time making it look like he was staring into a mirror of himself.

You’d catch him flicking through your sketchbook but you couldn’t say anything against it as the way his eyes light up and soft smiles upon looking at your latest works, looks that only made you want to draw Viktor even more if it meant this sight becoming more common with the passage of time.

‘You like them?’ You’d ask from the doorway.

‘I love them my dear.’ He replies softly as he presses his forehead against your own, making you smile fondly. ‘But was the drawing of me sleeping necessary?’ He adds playfully as you chuckled.

‘Oh it was very necessary my muse.’ You replied with equal playfulness as you kissed his nose. ‘I saw an opportunity and couldn’t let it pass me by without at least drawing it first,’ Viktor scoffs but the smile upon his lips remained, ‘and besides you looked really peaceful and relaxed that I wanted it to be something I remember. Hoping I get to experience more moments like that to be my muse for my future drawings.’ You finished.

‘I’m glad the to could do that for you my dear.’ Viktor closed his eyes and rested his head further against yours, wanting nothing then to capture this moment within his mind forever, secretly hoping to continue to be the muse of your art projects as your artistic range grew.

‘You’ve always been my muse,’ you said, closing your eyes, ‘you will always will be my muse.’