#*nod from padre

[sprinket]

So I reset, and I am back making buildings 🔨

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary A case brings you and Sam to church, which means Sam needs to dress up as a priest. It's not your fault that it brings such sinful thoughts to you, but it is your fault that you start acting on them… CWs Priest!Sam. They're gonna have to burn down this church. Is it a daddy kink if you call someone Father? Rated 18+. 5.4k words.

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

You walk into the church dressed as one of the parishioners, right behind an elderly couple who nod and smile at you, but then your eyes fall on Sam and you have a hard time controlling your expression. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson don’t need to know that the sight of their new priest just made you very wet.

Sam and Dean are off to the side, greeting everyone coming in. Dean looks damn nice too - it’s hard for him not too, but your eyes are glued to Sam. The way the black accentuates his long limbs, his broad shoulders. The way he’s just listening intently to someone telling him something, slowly nodding along. It makes your mouth feel dry. You’re a lapsed Catholic so you weren’t exactly excited about this case. But things are looking up.

You make it to the front of the line, where Sam and Dean make a show of introducing themselves, some throwaway Irish names.

“Deloris Van Cartier,” you say with a coy smile as you shake Dean’s hand. He only makes a face that shows his renewed annoyance at the name you insisted on, but when you extend your hand to Sam, you see the small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His mouth that you’re really taking an interest in right now. He must notice, because when you look up into his eyes again, his hand still hasn’t left yours, his index finger splayed over the inside of your wrist.

“Anything?” Dean mutters and you blink to break the eye contact with Sam, look over at him.

“Nothing so far,” you say, then look back at Sam, only to catch him looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “But I’ll keep watching.”

Service is boring, but it allows you to keep looking at Sam. He and his brother are sitting in the front row, exchanging low words every once in a while, both looking around. It allows you to see his strong profile, expression awake and curious. His hair is sticking out a little on one side, and you want nothing more than to brush it behind his ear. Or tug your fingers into it, make him look at you. You shift in your seat, earning you another friendly nod by Mrs. Johnson. If only she knew. 

After mass, the church empties. Some people stand around, talk, and it’s a good way to ask about the recent murders. The downside is that the Johnsons introduce you to their single neighbor, Jerry. Jerry talks at you like he’s trying to say something like I’m gonna give you the night of your life, then rub at your thigh for two minutes, before asking if you came. You manage to disentangle yourself from that conversation quickly.

When Sam, Dean and you finally check in with each other again, everyone else is gone.

“There’s something suspicious about that padre,” Dean says, blue steeling hard, so you know he’s picked up a trace. He’s capable, so you don’t feel bad about what you suggest.

“Maybe you go and follow him,” you say, “and Sam and I make sure there’s no other clues here?”

For once, Dean doesn’t catch that you’re just trying to get his brother alone. It’s shocking actually, but you’re not gonna question it. Maybe the idea of you and Sam fucking in a church is a little too salatious, even for Dean. He pretends to be the sex-crazed one, but you’re almost certain he’s pretty vanilla.

Not Sam though. Sam is a goddamn freak. Literally.

So Dean leaves, but then Sam, to your utmost disappointment, actually starts searching the fucking church for clues. That’s okay. You’ll get him where you need him.

You watch Sam as he moves, all the way on the other side of the church. He’s got that intense look on him, the one where his lips are pressed together, his forehead knotted. You stop where you are, two rows of pews between you and him. Take a careful look around to make sure there really is no one else there. Then your hands go to your knees before travelling under your dress and quickly pulling down your panties. You push them into your handbag, then put the bag on one of the seats. You also take off the cardigan you were wearing over your summer dress to cover your shoulders, lay it next to the bag. Clear your throat.

“Sam, I think I found something,” you say and his head snaps up, eyes searching you out. You nod at the ground. “Some kind of weird inscription. Looks like it was scratched in recently.”

And Sam, sweet lamb, he thinks you really found something, walks over to you with long strides, expression attentive. 

He looks at the ground before you and you can immediately tell he doesn’t see the made-up scratches, but is too polite to say it. He stops at arm’s length from you, head bent down.

“I don’t see it,” he says and you point at the ground. 

“That’s cause you’re all the way up there, giant man,” you say and Sam huffs and then lowers himself, drops into a squat.

You step forward before he can tell you again that he doesn’t see anything. You gently lay your hand on the back of his head and then you’re pressing his face against your crotch.

Sam’s hands shoot to your thighs and for a second you wonder if he’ll push you away. Sam has a hard time initiating stuff, but when you do, he’s like a switch that’s flicked. 

His hands wander up, quickly, under your dress, up the back of your thighs, roughened, tough hands against the milky softness of your skin there before his big paws find your ass cheeks, squeeze them hard and then pull you harder against his face.

He takes a deep breath, so deep and lustful that it makes your eyelids flutter, and you make a fist of his hair at the back of his head, pull it without pulling him away, while Sam keeps massaging your ass. 

You can feel the tip of his strong nose pressed against your softest parts, the thin fabric of your summer dress still separating you, but not by much. Sam’s shoulders rise again as he takes another deep breath. He must smell your wetness, the earthy musk. The one that's all for him.

He pulls back his head a little, lets go of your ass cheeks, but only to grab the hem of your dress, push it up. His eyes are on your pussy, and he groans when he sees you're not wearing any underwear. He tilts his head up, chest rising and falling slowly while his strong fingers press into your skin.

“For me?” he asks, voice husky and you feel a messy grin sneak onto your face.

“Always for you,” you say with a smile that you’re only pretending is coy. Sam narrows his eyes up at you.

“Is it a… priest thing?” he asks, just slightly tilting his head. You shrug, all innocence.

“It’s mostly a you thing,” you reply, then bite your lip, drawing Sam’s gaze there. “But the priest thing isn’t hurting.”

You see the small tug at the corner of Sam’s beautiful mouth, the slight raising of his chin, the same one he does when he discovers something interesting in a book, but also the one you’ve learned to spot when he’s thinking up something nice for you.

With your dress still bunched up in his fists, Sam pulls you in. 

His mouth lands high on your thigh, warm breath fanning over the skin before determined lips press against it. You feel another gush of wetness join what is already there as you scratch your fingernails down the back of Sam’s head, eliciting a low groan from him, but then he detaches from you, looks up at you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, “don’t stop.” But he just raises his eyebrows a little.

“Sam?” he asks. You need to swallow, almost painful arousal shooting through your core, a tight fist of need.

“Father,” you say instead and Sam nods slowly.

“Keep your hands by your side,” he says, voice low, but you’d think he shouted with him quickly your hands leave his head and drop to your side. One side of Sam’s mouth twitches into a half-smile.

“Good girl,” he says and then lowers his head again.

Your eyes nearly roll up and a needy whimper leaves you at the mix of his words plus the feeling of his open mouth pressed just to the side of your pussy. He’s kissing you, strong lips and wet, hot tongue darting out, like he would kiss your mouth, but he’s keeping an inch of distance from your clit, taking his time as his mouth makes you wetter than you were before.

His stubbled cheek brushes against your lips and it feels like a hundred volts pumped into you, only that little touch making your breathing come out chopped, your hands form into fists to keep them where he told you to keep them. You can feel your wetness start to travel onto the inside of your thighs, desperate and waiting for any relief, and at the same time sure that direct contact will kill you on the spot.

Sam’s tongue and lips are still exploring you, taking his sweet time, and if you had the wherewithal to look down, you’d see his eyes are closed in reverence as he is lost to the taste of your skin, the warmth of it. 

“Please,” you mutter, the word leaving you without intention, just the single thing your brain can still come up with. But if anything it makes things worse, because he pulls his head back and looks at you again.

You must be a pretty sight - cheeks flushed, eyes closed, brow knotted, hands tight fists at your side. Sam squeezes your thigh where one of his hands is holding it, and you manage to blink your eyes open, look down at him.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice stern and challenging. You lick your lips, try to calm your breathing, concentrate on what you’re saying.

“Your cock, Father,” you breathe out and you can see the effect it has on him, the tensing of his beautiful features.

Sam lets go of you, presses himself up to stand. He briefly sways, his hands already going to the fly of his pants, his large, imposing body so close to you you can feel his body heat radiating off him.

“Oh yeah?” he says, his own breathing heavy as you hear the clink of his belt buckle. “Down your throat or in your cunt?”

You press yourself closer to Sam, his words nearly making you dizzy, but not as dizzy as the need between your legs. Still, there is nothing better than seeing Sam lose it like this, watch all his self-control and strength come apart.

“My mouth,” you reply, voice breathless, and you’re almost certain Sam didn’t expect that, because he looks away from where he’s opened his pants, at your face, eyes going wider for a second, before his hand shoots to your neck.

He pulls you up towards him so hard you feel the stretch in your neck and calves as you try to meet him as much as possible. Sam’s kiss is hard, all lips and teeth and uncoordinated as he pants into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You just have time to grin against him before you drop down again and then go lower, your hands wandering down his body. 

Your knees meet the cool stone floor as you keep looking up at Sam’s face. He looks even more hulking from down here, miles and miles of long, lean limbs, making you feel tiny. Since you no longer need to hold on to him, your hands go to his opened fly, one diving in and taking him out.

You can’t help the moan that leaves you at the sight of him, thick and quickly hardening. Since you don’t have the self-control Sam has, you lean forward immediately, lips wrapping around his head, gently suckling.

A long, deep groan leaves him, making your eyelids flutter. Two things you were more than happy to learn about Sam once you started hooking up: he’s well-endowed, fitting his large frame, and he’s vocal.  

Popping your lips off him, you stick out your tongue, begin running it along Sam’s length, the soft skin of him kissing your cheek and lips, spreading your saliva over your chin. His hand wanders to the base of your neck, long fingers tangling in your hair there and gripping it hard, whether to encourage you or control your onslaught impossible to say.

You go back to the head of his cock, suck it into your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks, before taking in more of him. Sam grunts again, his hips slightly rocking forward before he controls himself.

“Touch yourself,” he breathes out and it takes a moment for the words to seep into your cockdrunk head. Your eyes open, just for a moment, and then your hand drops between your legs and you begin petting yourself.

You’re careful with how sensitive you are, your thighs slightly twitching. You’re uncoordinated, blind with lust, can’t settle on a rhythm, on a spot. Your middle and ring finger dip into you, their entry easy with how wet you are, but they feel all wrong, they’re not bringing you any relief, only more need, more want.

The sound you make around Sam’s cock must betray your frustration, because with his grip in your hair, he pulls you back, tilting your head so you look at him. There’s spit all over your mouth and your eyes must be misty as you open them, your chest rising and falling quickly. Sam’s raised eyebrows ask a question without words.

“Can’t reach where you reach,” you press out, unable to form a full sentence. “Doesn’t feel as good as you.”

Sam’s upper lip pulls up and then suddenly the hand at the back of your neck is gone, only for it to wrap around your upper arm like a vise.

Sam pulls you to your feet and then forward, and you nearly go tumbling with your needy lack of coordination. But he’s there to hold you up, and when you see where he is dragging you, renewed arousal makes your knees buckle. 

Your front meets the altar at the head of the church, not too hard, but hard enough that your hands go out to steady yourself. Not that you could go anywhere, not with how close Sam crowds in behind you. One of his hands flies to your front, under your breasts, running over the fabric of your dress, blindly searching but only touching, only taking you in, while his other pulls up your dress again.

“You need my help to go deep?” he pants and you nod, before Sam’s other hand pushes against your back, making you lean forward until your cheek meets the surface of the altar, cold marble burning against your hot skin. “Need me to show you the depth of His love? Of mine? Hold up your dress.”

Your hands go to your hip, bunching up your dress and how exposed it makes you to Sam sends an intense shudder through you. His hand wanders higher, to rest between your shoulder blades, keeping you down and in place where you belong, while his other moves behind you.

It’s his finger that enters you, though, not his cock, and despite that being a significant improvement, you still mewl in disappointment.

“No, need more,” you moan, your voice cracked and broken. “Need your cock, Father, please.”

Sam huffs as he slightly twists his finger inside you, making you feel how deep his long digit is going as he explores your inner walls.

“Don’t be greedy,” Sam answers, his finger only blurring the edges of your need. “You’ll get what I give you.”

You flex your fists, bite your lip, then clench your pussy in the hope of feeling more of him, but Sam is taking his time, until he finally pulls his finger most of the way out of you, and pushes in again with two.

You turn your head, your forehead pressed against the surface below you, as a long drawn-out moan leaves you. The urge to rock your hips back is overwhelming, but you’re too worried that Sam will take the game to the next level, will withdraw to teach you a lesson. Still, it’s almost impossible not to.

“You need to be opened up,” you hear his low voice, the sound of it making you feel like a feral animal. “Be a receptacle for the Lord.”

You have something brewing in your brain and on your tongue about what you’d much rather be a receptacle for, when suddenly you hear voices.

Your eyes fly open and Sam’s fingers stop moving. You’re pretty sure the voices are coming from the vestibule, the door luckily closed. The volume of the voices remains the same and it sounds like they’ve stopped outside, but still. They could walk in any minute.

Sam pulls his fingers from you, and you’re getting ready to push down your dress, mentally already flattening your hair, calming your breathing, even though you know there is no way someone could walk in now and not know what you have been doing. But that’s not what happens.

You feel the pressure of it against your entrance, and for a second, you are struck dumb by what is happening, and then Sam’s cockhead penetrates your folds, slipping into you and you know.

The sound that leaves you is accidental and animalistic, the surprise and stretch making you feel like you’re losing your mind. One hand lets go of your dress and shoots forward until your hand is resting just below you, and you lean down, sink your teeth into the skin on the back of your hand to stop any other sounds from leaving you.

It’s a good thing, because Sam presses deeper, your whimpers muffled against your flesh, eyes squeezed shut. He’s breathing hard, but low, his fingertips squeezing you where he’s holding on to you.

“Can you be quiet?” he half whispers and you’re honestly not sure you can. But the alternative is having him pull out, and that is not an option, so you quickly nod. Sam must see your head move because he presses deeper.

The voices are still there but either retreating or just difficult to hear with the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can feel Sam disappearing into you, know that the sight of it is like a magic trick being performed, how much of him fits inside of you. It’s why you love being able to see how he fucks you. But right now, you can only feel.

Sam bottoms out, his pelvis pressing against your ass as if he’s hoping to bury even more of himself inside of you, but there's no room, no more room anywhere in you with how absolutely he fills you. You concentrate on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth, but already you can feel your own desperate clenching around him, your body looking for friction, release, anything.

And then Sam pulls out and you can’t help but arch your back, needing to feel as much of him as possible. The pull in your back muscles is almost painful, but it’s a wonderful accoutrement to the drag of Sam’s cock. He pushes in again before he’s fully left you.

Your clit is screaming for attention, your body is screaming to come and you want nothing more than to grab all parts of Sam, inhale him, suck on his skin, but all you can do is lie there and take what he is giving you. His thickness rubs along your most sensitive spots, begging for more stimulation, but you get what you get.

Sam pulls out and pushes in a few more times, and then you’re finally sure the voices are retreating. Your body relaxes somewhat and Sam lets out a long, tense breath. His hand on your back finds your shoulder, squeezes it.

“Oh God,” you whimper, finally daring to make a sound again and his hand moves again, wraps around your face, fingers pressed against your lips.

“Never heard that thing about using the Lord’s name in vain?” he asks, voice shaking a little, but you can barely hear him, instead press your tongue against his fingers, then suck two of them into your mouth. Sam groans roughly, his next push into you harder, less controlled.

“Fuck,” he grunts and then pulls his fingers from your mouth and his cock from your pussy. You whine, but only until his hands grab your hips, turn you around.

He is a sight to behold, when you turn around and face him. He looks like the Almighty himself, wrathful and powerful and beautiful. He leans his head down, presses his forehead against yours and you press back, desperate to touch him.

“Need to taste you,” he says, and you moan at his words. “And then I need to really fuck you.”

With that, he leans down a little, his arms going around your waist, yours around his shoulders, and then Sam lifts you up onto the altar. He pushes you back, bullies you into position until you are lying down. Roughly hoists up your dress again.

This time there is no preamble, no playing around. Sam goes for your clit, sucks it into his mouth and your body bucks up at the sudden assault, loud whimpers bursting from your mouth. He lets go of your clit, then drags his tongue along your entrance, swirling as if he’s tasting ambrosia, before running it up and going for your clit again. He must be tasting so much of you, plus his own pre-come, and momentarily you’re jealous that he gets to savor the cocktail of both of your essences mixed, and you don’t.

You want to grab his head, press him against you, but you remember his words from earlier. Keep your hands by your side. Maybe he still wants you to do the same. So instead, you extend your arms to both sides, hoping that keeping your hands as far away from him as possible will do the trick.

You raise your legs though, and Sam uses his big hands to press them up against your torso, slings his arms over them to keep you in place. The last glimpse of him that you see is him staring down at your pussy, his own lips parted, heavily panting.

Sam dives in, licking and sucking and even nipping at you when he can’t control himself. He’s pressing his face so hard against you you’d be worried how he’s still breathing, if you had a single coherent thought left in your brain. You feel his thick nose crush against you, the press of it making the muscles in your stomach contract.

You can only lie there, eyes closed, lips parted, needy, desperate and pathetic noises leaving you. A high whimper when Sam sucks on your clit hard, making your lower body buck, half to meet him, half to get away from him, but Sam keeps you in place. There’s no way for you to move.

You feel your orgasm approaching rapidly and for a moment, you let your eyes flutter open, the darkness of your eyelids making you feel almost too much. You look up, at the vaulted ceiling, the rich, gold decorations and then, as you press your head back, your shoulders twisting up, pushing yourself down to feel more of Sam, your body making the choice for you, you see Him.

His arms are stretched away from his body in a mirror position of you. Long, dark hair, on his head and shorter on his face, a lean but muscular body. His face filled with such deep longing. Just like yours must be.

You burst into your orgasm, fingers desperately trying to hold on to something, body bucking up as Sam keeps tongue-fucking you roughly, and you are filled with so much light and heat you think you’re about to implode. Your cries are high and loud. Someone walking in wouldn’t know if you’re in pain or ecstasy. 

As your body stops its shaking Sam gives your clit another quick suck, making you gasp and flinch. He lets go of you and you drop your legs, then close them, roll onto your side. You’re painting and shivering.

You feel Sam’s hand low on your spine and you turn your head when you feel him lean over you, meet his lips. His kisses are frenzied and you can taste the sweet tang of your pussy on his lips and tongue.

You shuffle, bring one leg under him and then to his other side, Sam now between your thighs and his lips twitch, a sinful smile on them, before he grabs your hips and with one hard tug pulls you closer to the edge of the altar, closer to him. He straightens a little, positions himself to penetrate you again and you raise yourself on your elbows, chase his jaw with your lips.

“Make me good, Father,” you pant, licking at him, only getting the dimple in his chin. “Fuck your goodness into me.”

Sam pushes one of your legs open, then looks at your face as he presses his cock into you. Your eyelids flutter as you’re tossed between the shores of feeling too much and already feeling like you could come again. He leans over you, his hair falling into his face, and sinks home.

You kiss him again as Sam starts fucking you, deep, intense thrusts that immediately respark the flames of your arousal. One of the straps of your dress has fallen off your shoulder, and Sam hooks his finger into the fabric, pulls it down, revealing your breast to him. You move your leg higher on his side and in response, Sam hooks it over his elbow. He drops his head, finds your nipple and runs his tongue over it, then sucks it into his mouth and gives it a gentle bite. You moan loudly, grab his biceps to have something to hold on to as Sam begins snapping his hips against you.

The stretch of Sam’s thick cock is rooting you perfectly in the moment, your body rejoicing at the intense intrusion. He’s breathing hard now, low grunts leaving him as your pussy drags pleasure from him, your lips meet his cheek and lips, your fingernails dig into his arms. He’s got you under him, strung like a taut wire, but it’s his groans that are becoming more intense, more uncontrolled. 

“You want me to make you full?” he asks, voice deep and cracked, so raw you feel it in the tips of your fingers and down to your toes. “Make you full of His love?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Make me so full, so full it runs out over your big cock.” Sam groans, picks up his speed.

“Come with me,” he pants. “I want you to.” You’re pretty sure you nod, but you can’t be fully certain. What you do know is that you bring one hand away from Sam’s arm to between your legs, to where Sam is opening you up so perfectly. It’s all wet and warm there, and you begin petting yourself.

“You’re gonna come on my cock?” he asks, his voice becoming strained.

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to make any sounds anymore.

 “You’re gonna let me ruin you?” he asks, interrupts himself with a loud moan.

"Yes," you gasp, your orgasm within reach, so close you can taste.

“Gonna let me make you a sinner?” Sam asks, voice raw and forced.

You open your mouth to answer, but it’s too late - the feeling too intense, too overwhelming, as a high whine leaves you to accompany your second orgasm.

Sam grunts loudly, maybe at how tightly you’re squeezing him, how eagerly your walls are pressing against him, trying to keep him there, sucking him in, and in the next second, just as you barely manage to open your eyes, he comes too.

His shoulders are heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, the most sinful, perfect moans leaving him. He presses his open mouth against your jaw as he keeps grinding into you to fuck his come deeper into you.

Sam goes slack over you, his big body untensing, his broad chest expanding against you on every breath. His face is still pressed against your neck and you run your hands from his arms to his back, stroking him, just needing to keep touching him.

You both lie there as your breathing slows and ultimately syncs, as you both come back to yourselves and each other.

“What the fuck? ” he mumbles against you, sounding very much like himself again. All you can reply with is a fucked-out chuckle.

“I think I skipped Sunday school when we covered this part,” you say, your fingers running into his hair, twirling one strand between your fingers. “I only remember the part about the good Samaritan.” And Sam doesn’t react, just keeps breathing delicious warm breath against you, so you poke his shoulder.

“Get it?” you say. “Sam-aritan?”

Sam’s shoulders begin shaking, and then he presses himself up, the breath and the press of his nose against you disappearing, but at least you’re rewarded with seeing his face. He looks down at you, expression amused and critical at the same time. The way you know him.

“You just got me to fuck you in a church,” he deadpans, “and now you’re making bible puns?” You shrug.

“I contain multitudes,” you reply. Sam raises his eyebrows.

“That’s Walt Whitman,” he corrects you. You press your lips together.

“It’s a good think you’re handsome and fuck like a god,” you reply, “because you’re a goddamn smartass.” Sam chuckles, making your heart bloom with warmth, and then he pushes himself up.

"Language," he says, but there's little authority in it now.

Once he’s standing, he slowly pulls himself out of you before helping you sit up. He wraps one arm around you to help you drop off the altar, and you can’t resist getting both your hands on him to steady yourself. And as if you’re not swooning enough already, Sam’s hand goes up, runs over your hair where it must be messy from how hard he fucked you.

You both flinch when you hear the creak of the door and then you turn, and there’s Mrs. and Mr. Johnson walking in. You drop your hands off Sam quickly, forcing a polite smile, while Sam clears his throat, crosses his hands in front of his body.

There’s a short moment where the four of you just stare at each other, no one saying anything. You blink repeatedly and hope no one notices your shifting around when you suddenly feel Sam’s come begin to run out of you.

“There’s a…” Mrs. Johnson starts, pointing over her shoulder at the door leading to the outside. “We were… looking for you…” You nod, widen your smile.

“Father and I were just…” you start and then you realize you have no idea where you meant for that sentence to go.

“Praying,” Sam quickly adds. “We were praying.”

“How… nice,” Mrs. Johnson says, and her husband nods along.

“But now we’re gonna go outside,” you say, and then you quickly cross the distance to the bench where you left your things, strategically holding the cardigan in front of you. Sam is right behind you, throwing the older couple another friendly smile. The two just continue staring. 

Sam presses his hand against the small of your back to get you moving, and then you’re both hustling it out of the church. However you can’t stop yourself from grabbing his hand once you’re out of sight, just as you’re about to walk out of the church into the sunlight. 

You squeeze Sam’s hand and he squeezes back, and when you look up at him, you see his dimpled grin, barely contained.

Maybe you should consider going to confession this week, you think, as you try to hide your own grin.

[pampelushka]

Jake Seresin's mom group

You can't convince me Jake would not enjoy the mom group dynamics. He would bask in the attention the moms would inevitably give him.

This is crack treated only semi-seriously. Tbh, I giggled my way through this thing.

***

Jake's heart is overflowing with love as he watches his little girl bounce around the park. Her big brown eyes wide with joy, her smile too bright for this dull world. She’s the most beautiful human being under the sun, parental bias be damned. 

Resting in his palm, like a treasure, is a glittery pink bow, long forgotten by its little owner, traded instead for a little too big, well-loved San Diego Padres baseball cap adorning her long chestnut curls like a crown for the princess she is. 

“She’s the sweetest,” Veronica leans in, bumping into his shoulder. Her eyes follow his line of sight and she smiles, a pleased private thing, only for Jake to see. They stand like this, shoulder to shoulder, watching the scene unfold in front of them. 

The kids play some sort of game only they know the rules of. They're in the middle of an excited outburst when Veronica's little boy, overwhelmed by the noise, new surroundings and too many friends all at once, starts to spin on the spot, screaming his lungs out.

And Jake’s little girl, bless her, joins him in immediately, matching his energy. She spins with her arms outstretched, dress twirling. Leaning her head back, she loses the cap, but she doesn’t care. Jake watches enamored, noticing that with her head thrown back like that, her hair almost reaches under her knees. It’s a miracle, she hasn’t yet pulled half of it out by stepping on it. 

The rest of the kids run to join them too, making it look like a flash mob, rather than a successfully dissolved tantrum. They soon switch to a weird version of tag, chasing each other while still spinning.

That’s when Jake turns back to Veronica, not really keen on seeing the next skinned knee the game will inevitably bring upon them.

“She’s always ready to include him, no matter what,” Veronica says gratefully. “Got a heart of gold, your little one,” she adds, squeezing his shoulder. Her words make Jake’s heart expand in his chest. 

Sometimes, the feeling gets so big. It’s like he’s ready to explode any moment, letting it consume him in a way only love can do. But then he holds it in for a while, cradles it in his aching arms. And lets it loose to the world. Everytime, his heart stays a little bigger than it was before, aching with the intensity in the best possible way.

“Well,” he aims for a joke, because there’s no way he can let her see what’s happening inside of him right now, “She’s got it from her dad,” he says with a smirk. 

Veronica laughs at that. “Sure, ‘cause you’re such a sweetheart yourself.” 

Jake winks at her, enjoying his own secret joke, while maintaining his persona. He was not talking about himself, but she doesn’t know that. Him. Not yet. 

“Yeah, well, I made the raspberry pop tarts she loves so much,” Veronica says, waving her hand at the table their little group is currently occupying. 

Jake nods his thanks while he turns around to take in the rest of the women currently setting up what looks like an entire aisle of snacks of the nearest supermarket spread onto the wooden picnic table. 

They might not look like it, but they're his people. Together, they form one very average mom group - perfectly curated, very typical, a bit bonkers. Just the way he likes it. They’re like pokemons and he has them all. 

There’s Alice, the I-can-and-I-am-doing-it-all single mother, who hit on him HARD the first time they met but backtracked immediately when he flashed her the ring on his left hand, becoming his bestie instead. They’re THE team when it comes to field trips and class meetings. Always ready to jump in and help each other when life and school pick ups get complicated.

Then there’s Tess, the overzealous extroverted stay at home mom, who will plan everyone’s week just so she doesn’t have to stay with her kids at home alone. Play dates and coffee dates organized for the rest of the school year, art supplies always ready.

Veronica, always complaining about anything and everything, but secretly the most tender and loving person, who makes the best and most beautiful cakes. She’ll also drive around half of the town just to come back for you when your car won’t start.

Also Emily, the chaotic mom, always running late, kids in mismatched outfits picked by themselves, her cheeks covered in sparkles from the last time her little boy wanted to try his hand at make up, fake Anna and Elsa tattoos covering her forearms. 

And then there’s Jake, the designated dad of the group. Always cracking jokes, always low-key flirting with all of them at once, basking in the attention naturally given when a group of mothers adopts a fellow parent who also happens to be a man. 

They've been his village for the last five and a half months, since his little girl started school and Bradley left for his latest deployment. 

They follow all the unwritten rules of any mom groups out there:

Do not ask too many questions. Any information must be given freely.

Talk about the kids. Safe territory.

Complain about your partner once in a while. The group’s foundation stone is solidarity. 

Engage in the WhatsApp group chat, for fuck’s sake. We need to hear your opinion. 

Be there for each other. Everyone needs an adult conversation once in a while.

“Oi, darling, careful,” they hear from afar, and that’s Emily. Arms full of backpacks and hats and snacks, finally arriving, only forty minutes late this time. She’s stumbling behind her three kids that are already running wild joining their other friends on the playground. 

Jake runs up to her, taking all the backpacks from her arms. 

“Hi Em, are you moving or something?” he asks jokingly, looking down at the amount of stuff she’s bringing. 

She just laughs. At herself mostly. She may always bring chaos with her, but she’s never in a bad mood. “The camo one is yours, actually,” she says, nodding with her chin to an old worn-out camo backpack that’s got a pink stuffed arm of Jake-doesn’t-know-what peeking out of it.

“Mine?” He asks, eyebrows raising. 

“Yeah, Bee said it was her dad’s?” she says, frowning. “She gave it to Timmy last time he was at yours. Apparently, he had collected too many rocks and needed something to put them in, so he could bring them home,” she clarifies while unloading another snack aisle on the already overflowing table.

At the same time, Jake spots the rooster keychain dangling from the zipper and understands. “Oh, right. Her dad’s,” he mumbles with a little smile.

The thing is, they haven’t met Bradley yet.

The thing is, they haven’t heard of him yet either. At least as far as he knows.

Though their little girl is always talking about her dad, they have no idea there’s two of them. 

He fights the urge to giggle. It’s a little stunt they pull anytime they get the chance. And they move a lot, so there are always new opportunities waiting. 

It doesn’t work out everytime, but when it does, it’s glorious. 

“Jake, did you manage to get that gluten-free cake thingy for Hallie?” Tess asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Of course,” he drawls, “but I’m never going back to that shop ever again. As much as I love Hallie,” he adds quickly. 

Tess frowns but Alice snorts, almost drowning in her Iced Blond Vanilla Latte. “You should have seen him,” she’s laughing now, coffee splashing around as she shakes with it. “He almost fell out the door, basically running to my car,” she heaves with laughter, taking the piss out of Jake, because she knows she can. “He jumped in, go, Alice, go!” She mimics Jake’s drawl, which earns her the group’s full attention and one very intense green-eyed stare.  

“And I’m like… all confused, what the fuck’s going on, is there a zombie going after you?” she’s acting out the whole scene now. “But before I can even start the car, there’s a lady bursting out of the shop, Sir, sir!” And Alice apparently missed her calling because she should have been an actress. Jake can already feel the embarrassed heat reaching his cheeks. “And she’s waving the paper bag with the cake up in the air like it’s a handkerchief and she’s flagging down fucking Titanic.”

She has too much fun with the story. That’s when Jake needs to intervene and try to save some of his own dignity. If that’s even still possible, that is. “Alice,” he cries out, “you saw her! She was insane. She literally wrote her number on the,” he lowers his voice, because there are kids running around and he’s a good parent, for fuck’s sake. “Fucking paper bag.” He says, eyes wide, emphasizing the words quietly. He rummages the table to find said gluten-free cake thingy, and from underneath pulls out a paper bag, which has, indeed, a phone number written on it in big black, desperately looking numbers. 

“And,” he continues pointedly and fishes out the receipt from the bag, ���on the fucking receipt, too,” he says, pulling out the thin strap of paper, showing the unmistakable digits to everyone. He holds it high above his head, pinning Alice with his glare. She’s still laughing, nonetheless. “She would have written it on the fucking cake, if she could,” he mumbles, scrunching the receipt and paper bag in one ball and throwing it into the trash can resolutely. 

They’re all laughing now, mostly at his and Alice’s dramatics, rather than Jake’s despair, but he’ll have none of that. “I’m a married man, for fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, arms crossed over his chest, lips pouting, willing the blush from his cheeks away. 

“Speaking of which,” Alice sidles up to him, “When’s your significant other coming?” she asks, eyebrows raised, all business like. 

And suddenly, there are four very intense pairs of eyes on him. They circle him like prey. “You promised.” 

Yeah, he did.

Jake thinks back to the day he made that promise and his heart thumps a little faster in his chest. It was the day Bradley finally came back home. After long, long six months of deployment in stupid, far away, across-fucking-too-many-time-zones Japan, he came back. And Jake was so happy, holding their girl and his husband in his arms, after so long. The three of them finally together again. 

He made that promise on a whim, out of pure happiness.

“Should be here any minute,” he says, smirking, confidence back where it belongs. 

“Oh, I can’t wait to finally meet her.” - “Is she even real?” - “She must be a real one, putting up with you.” - “Little Bee must be her mini-me, right? ‘Cause she sure didn’t get those curls from you, blondie.” - …

He doesn’t correct them. 

His eyes go back to his little girl. She’s sitting in the grass, laughing at something Timmy just said. The sun is painting her hair in gold, her skin too. She’s picking daisies the way all the kids do - the cap in her lap full of flower heads with no stems. Jake forgets how to breathe for a while. 

Until…

“God almighty!”

“Holly fucking shit!”

And of course, that gets Jake’s attention. “Come on, there are kids arou…” His scolding fades away as he catches the sight of his friends. They are staring, jaws half way on the ground, hands on chest. 

He follows their line of sight and oh… 

He forgot. He totally forgot. 

Bradley had an official meeting today. Which means he’s now striding towards them, all easy confidence, crossing the park like the whole world belongs to him, in his uniform. 

And Jake stares too. 

Because he’s allowed to. Because he couldn’t for so long. Because it’s Bradley. 

It’s that simple.

He’s … Gorgeous. He’s always been the most handsome man Jake has ever laid his eyes upon. And he still is, after all those years. Even with silver strands in his chestnut curls, even with his midsection getting fuller over the years. All of these things only add a layer of beauty to the man he once was. A layer of life. A shared one. A layer of love. 

The uniform leaves nothing to imagination, hugging him at all the right places, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders, his impossibly long legs, the swell of his strong arms. The sun finishes the picture by painting him in every shade of gold, from his curls, to his skin, to the deep brown of his eyes. The uniform cap is tucked under his arm. The wings, pinned on his chest proudly, glitter with light. 

Eyes and heads turn in his direction. Women stop in their conversations, ducking their heads, trying not to stare too obviously. And failing. Kids stop in their tracks, eyeing him suspiciously - in the intense way only kids are able to. 

But Bradley’s eyes are on his own target. He strides with intent, crossing the grass like it’s tarmac and he’s ready to embark on a mission. Only the mission is Jake. 

He doesn’t slow down until he’s right in front of their group. All eyes on him. He stops then and smiles, eyeing Jake’s friends with amused grin - Jake’s forever favourite expression of his. 

Jake’s always so excited about the big reveal. He can’t wait to see his friends finally connecting the dots. Laugh at their surprised faces. But he always misses it, too busy staring at his perfect husband. 

Alice is the first one to come to her senses. She clears her throat, breaking the moment of silence. 

"You looking for something, Sir?" she squeaks, cheeks pink, all her usual game gone with the wind.

Bradley smiles a bit more, steadfast and confident. “No,” he answers simply. And there’s a whole life hiding behind that one short word. “I’ve got everything I need,” he adds, locking his eyes with Jake. 

And Jake knows what flying feels like, he knows what being the best of the bests feels like, what being completely utterly totally free feels like. But nothing ever compares to this. 

He can’t hold his act any longer, he needs his husband’s arms around his waist, his lips against his lips, the affection currently consuming his whole body and soul out of his system before he explodes with it.

He takes a deep breath. How is it possible that after all those years, he still gets butterflies in his stomach just by looking at the man? He smiles at that thought and makes a move to finally step closer and erase the distance between their bodies, but someone beats him to it. And Jake can’t even be mad about it.

“Daddy!” a happy squeak breaks the silence and Bradley has just about the right amount of time to turn around so he can catch his little girl jumping into his arms. She hugs him with all of her body, koala-style, burying her face into his shoulder, uniform be damned.  

“Hi, sweetheart,” Bradley says with the soft voice he only keeps for his little girl. He hugs her back tightly, but she’s a kid at a park and has no time to waste, so it only takes a second before  she wiggles her way out of his embrace, running back to her friends again.

She makes room for Jake to finally step in. He leans in, planting a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“Hello, darling,” Bradley purrs, pulling him closer by the belt loops on his pants.

“Hi, husband,” Jake says, grinning into another kiss, chasing Bradley’s lips. 

Loud gasps slice through the air behind his back. 

[justageekk]

IN WHERE: your boyfriend has a baby fever

THIS ONE SHOT IS: fem!reader x dean huijsen

note: i don't speak english, only spanish n a little portuguese. any errors are the translator's fault.

w: dialogues in spanish (translation at the end of each one).

request open!

You had said yes out of courtesy. An afternoon taking care of your cousin’s baby. A simple couple task: changing diapers, heating up bottles, watching cartoons.

But what you didn’t know… was what it would do to Dean.

Dean sat on the living room floor, the eight-month-old baby between his legs, gently stroking his head — the baby wearing a Real Madrid jersey Dean himself had bought.

“Míralo. Es que me lo como, ¿eh?” (“Look at him. I could eat him up, seriously.”)

You approached with a little smile, already shaking your head at the way he was melting. “Sí, amor, sí lo vi. No te encariñes.” (“Yes, love, I saw him. Don’t get too attached.”)

Dean looked up at you and grinned, completely soft. “Demasiado tarde, cariño. Estoy completamente vendido.” (“Too late, love. I’m completely gone.”)

He shifted the baby on his chest, holding him like he belonged there, his hand rubbing circles on the tiny back. Then he said it.

“Yo ya estoy pensando en el nombre del nuestro.” (“I’m already thinking about the name of ours.”)

You laughed nervously, unsure if he was serious or just playing around. “¿Nuestro qué…?” (“Ours what…?”)

Dean’s eyes didn’t waver. “Nuestro bebé.” (“Our baby.”)

You sat down on the floor in front of him, watching how the baby slowly drifted to sleep against his chest.

“Dean…”

He looked at you with that soft smile that always undid you.

“Lo digo en serio, amor. No ahora, no mañana, no te asustes. Pero un día, sí. Quiero tener un bebé contigo.” (“I mean it, love. Not now, not tomorrow, don’t panic. But one day, yes. I want to have a baby with you.”)

You felt a knot tighten in your throat. You bit your lip, trying to process the weight of what he’d just said. “¿Y si no estoy lista nunca?” (“And what if I’m never ready?”)

Dean leaned toward you slowly, careful not to wake the baby, and cupped your face.

“Entonces no pasa nada, cielo. Te tengo a ti, y eso ya es más que suficiente.” (“Then it’s okay, my love. I have you, and that’s already more than enough.”)

You leaned your cheek against his hand, your eyes locking. “¿Y cómo sería? ¿Nuestro bebé?” (“And what would they be like? Our baby?”)

Dean chuckled, looking down again at the tiny boy sleeping on his chest. “Quiero una niña, igual de guapa que tú.” (“I want a little girl, just as beautiful as you.”)

“¿Una niña, eh?” you murmured with a smirk. (“A girl, huh?”)

He nodded, still stroking the baby’s soft hair.

“Sí, con tus ojitos. Que me llame ‘papá’ y me tenga comiendo de su mano desde el primer día.”(“Yes, with your eyes. Calling me ‘daddy’ and having me wrapped around her finger from day one.”)

Your chest tightened in the best way. You knew him. Once Dean wanted something, he meant it.

“¿Y si es un niño?” (“And what if it’s a boy?”)

“Pue’ lo voy a amar igual.” (“Then I’ll love him just the same.”)

You let out a quiet laugh and reached out to touch his cheek.

“Estás enamorado de un bebé que aún no existe.” (“You’re in love with a baby that doesn’t even exist yet.”)

Dean raised his eyebrows, his tone certain.

“AÚN no existe… pero va a existir.” (“Doesn’t exist YET… but they will.”)

“Dean…”

“¿Mhm?”

You smiled softly, eyes watery without meaning to. “¿Tú te das cuenta de lo mucho que te quiero?” (“Do you even realize how much I love you?”)

He tilted his head and returned the smile.

“No más que yo a ti.” (“Not more than I love you.”)

“Eso es imposible.” (“That’s impossible.”)

Dean glanced down at the sleeping baby again, adjusting him with the gentlest touch.

“… el día que sea padre… ese día me hago el hombre más feliz del planeta.” (“…the day I become a dad… that’ll be the day I become the happiest man on Earth.”)

You grinned.

“¿Aunque llore toda la noche tu bebé?” (“Even if your baby cries all night?”)

Dean nodded without hesitation.

“Aunque grite, vomite, y no me deje dormir.” (“Even if they scream, throw up, and don’t let me sleep.”)

“¿Y si sale rebelde?” (“And what if they turn out rebellious?”)

He winked. “Tú lo educas y haces de mamá mala y yo quedo como papá bueno.” (“You’ll be the tough mom and I’ll be the cool dad.”)

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh.

“Tonto. Voy a buscar la forma de que tú quedes como malo.” (“Idiot. I’ll make sure you’re the bad one.”)

You both laughed in a whisper, careful not to wake the baby.

“¿Y si no quiere saber nada de fútbol?” (“And what if they want nothing to do with football?”)

Dean shrugged with a soft smile.

“Pue’ será pianista, actor, astronauta o lo que le dé la gana… pero va a saber que lo esperábamos con amor desde antes de existir.” (“Then they’ll be a pianist, actor, astronaut — whatever they want… but they’ll know we loved them before they even existed.”)

You rested your head against his shoulder, your voice barely a whisper. “Estoy segura, cariño.” (“I’m sure of that, love.”)

© justageekk, 2025

[roosterseresin]

hangster 45. running hands through hair pls pls pls pls

oh yes. ohhh yes.

It's late when Jake gets home. A meeting went long, and then he had to spend 45 minutes convincing one of the better young pilots to not give in her wings just because she had to eject earlier in the week. The Bronco is in the driveway, but based on the lack of texts he's received, Jake's pretty sure Bradley's passed out after a long day of flight training.

So he's quiet coming inside, placing his bag on the floor of the foyer instead of tossing it, bending down to take his boots off with his hands rather than toeing them off and making a whole bunch of noise. Sure enough, he hears Bradley snoring like a jet engine when he creeps into the living room. The Padres game is on the TV, volume low, and they're losing to the Phillies by 2. Jake holds in a laugh; normally, Bradley would be pacing and hollering at the players on the screen. Instead he's dead to the world, draped across the couch, head on a pillow and one leg hanging off the whole thing altogether. His curls are messy, falling over his forehead in locks of chestnut. With his mouth wide open and his head tilted back, he looks less like he's asleep and more like a corpse. But the snoring assures Jake that he's still kicking. Jake heads for the kitchen, unbuttoning his khaki shirt as he goes. There's a beer and a pint glass both waiting for him in the fridge, and he smiles at it; Bradley always chills his glasses for him. When he's shed his shirt, Jake pads into the living room and settles on the floor by Bradley's head, sipping on the cold beer. Bradley snores right in his ear, snuffling in his sleep. Jake turns to him, reaching around with his free hand to brush the hair from his forehead. It doesn't wake Bradley, but he does settle a little, so he keeps on doing it. He has to crane his neck to watch the game, but he doesn't mind. The hair running through his fingers is soft and clean, free of the gel they both use to tame their hair to regulation standards. Jake loves when Bradley leaves his hair natural, bouncy and wavy. In the sun, it shows the same dark caramel as his eyes. He's quietly yesss-ing a home run when Bradley wakes, so he doesn't notice it at first. "You're home," comes Bradley's sleep soft-voice. Jake looks over at him, smiling right away. Bradley's eyes are bleary with sleep, cheeks flushed Jake's favorite shade of pink. He's blinking at him sleepily, half-smiling. There are freckles on his nose, and he chilled Jake's beer glass, and he's wearing Jake's t-shirt, and Jake is in love with him. He nods. "Yeah, B. I'm home."

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: cussing

Novel Attraction - Part 1

The air inside the Santo Padre Public Library is thick with the scent of old paper, fresh ink, and the faintest trace of lemon-scented cleaner.

Rows upon rows of tall, wooden bookshelves stretch towards the ceiling, their contents a mixture of well-worn novels, encyclopedias, and neatly organized reference materials.

The glow of the midday sun filters through large arched windows, casting long golden streaks across the carpeted floor.

It’s your first day as a Digital Archivist, a position you worked hard to secure.

All be it in this small boarder town, apparently some big wig philanthropist has funded the position to the local council.

The title alone carries a sense of importance—you’re not just shelving books or checking out library cards, you’re preserving history, digitizing rare texts, and maintaining both a hand picked and online record of Santo Padre’s past.

You’re proud of it, a chance to preserve something for future generations.

When your not in your office, most people naturally assume you’re a librarian.

Which is exactly what you let the two Reyes brothers believe.

You're behind the front desk, carefully scanning and cataloging a set of old town records for the archive, when the sound of heavy boots against the wooden floor pulls your attention.

Their entrance is a sharp juxtaposition to the quite of the library—Angel Reyes first, his stride confident and lazy at the same time, followed closely by his younger brother, Ez Reyes.

You clock them immediately they are a contrast to each other as well. Ez, with his thoughtful expression and quiet intensity, browses the bookshelves with purpose, while Angel...

Angel is looking at you.

You meet his gaze before returning to your work, sorting through a selection of old records brought in by a lovely older woman thirty minutes ago.

Angel's dark brown eyes, sharp but amused, scan you like he’s already decided you’re something interesting.

There’s something off-putting about the way he carries himself—relaxed, but predatory, like he’s already planned five different ways to mess with you.

And then, just like that, his full lips curve into a smirk.

"Damn... the library got an upgrade."

"Can I help you?" you ask, keeping your tone polite and professional.

Angel leans an elbow on the counter, his body angled towards you in a way that feels far too familiar for a first meeting.

His scent—leather, cologne, and a hint of woodiness—lingers in the space between you, dispite your stuble lean backwards.

"I don’t know, cariño. Can you?"

His voice is low and teasing, like he’s never been turned down before.

Ez, still searching through books, rolls his eyes.

"Ignore him, he doesn’t get out much."

You bite your cheek to keep from laughing.

Angel narrows his eyes at you, like he can sense you trying not to laugh at his expense.

"You new?"

You nod, returning your eyes to your cataloging once more moving the triplet loupe over the old faded print. "First day."

"So, you just woke up one day and thought, ‘Damn, I wanna work at the most boring place in Santo Padre?’" he quipped ducking his head to try to catch your eyes.

"I don’t think it’s boring!" You offer politely.

He tilts his head, watching you.

"No? Tell me, what’s the most exciting thing that’s happened here? Some abuelita lose her library card?"

You cross your arms, finally looking up "I’ll have you know, libraries are important. They preserve knowledge, history, culture—"

"You’re in Santo Padre. We don’t do ‘culture’ here, we do tequila and bad decisions."

Ez, flipping through a book, doesn’t even look up.

"You do bad decisions. I read."

"Oh, I like you" You chuckle at Ez’s comment

Angel glares at him, then turns his attention back to you.

"So what, you just sit here all day playing with books?"

You hesitate, not bothering to correct him.  "Yea we'll go with that."

Angels smirk returns.

"Cute. Guess that explains why you still look so..."

He gestures vaguely at all if you.

Ez, finally deciding on a few books, approaches the counter.

"She’s probably smarter than both of us combined, Angel. You could learn something."

"Thank you... " You trail off not knowing his name.

"Ez, Ezekiel" he returns offering his hand.

You shake it lightly, offering your own name in return as Angel scoffs and rolls his eyes.

As you check out Ez’s books, Angel continues to watch you. His gaze lingers on your hands, your mouth, the way you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his stare.

As they turn to leave, he calls over his shoulder—

"See you around, librarian."

Ez mutters something about Angel being annoying as they step outside.

And just like that, they’re gone.

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting waves of heat over the cracked pavement of Santo Padre.

The small town hums with a quiet sort of life—the occasional roar of a motorcycle, the distant laughter of children playing near the corner store, the faint smell of spices drifting from a row of street vendors.

You take your time exploring, letting yourself breathe it all in.

There’s something endearing about the town, despite its rough edges. It’s not a place that pretends to be perfect—it just is.

Eventually, your wandering leads you to a small shop with faded red signage and a hand-painted wooden board.

Carnicería Reyes.

A butcher shop.

You hesitate before stepping inside, the little bell above the door chiming softly.

The cool air inside is a relief, carrying with it the rich, savory scent of freshly cut meats, spices, and something vaguely smoky.

Behind the counter, an older man with weathered hands and a measured expression looks up from where he’s wrapping a cut of beef.

"Buenas tardes, señorita. First time here?"

You nod, offering him a polite smile. "Yes, I—uh, I just moved here for work. I was just exploring the town."

His dark eyes study you for a moment, quiet and knowing, before he gives a slow nod.

"Good. People should know where their food comes from."

There’s something steady about him—like a man who has seen too much, lost too much, and has learned to speak only when necessary.

It’s oddly comforting.

As you browse, he speaks again.

"So what kind of work brings you to Santo Padre?"

You glance up from where you’re inspecting a pack of chicken thighs. "I work at the library, archive work mostly."

The corner of his mouth lifts just slightly.

"That must be important work."

You nod. "It is. I love it."

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—approval, maybe, or respect.

"Not many young people are interested in history anymore. It’s good that you are."

You smile, a little surprised by how easy the conversation feels.

"I think history matters. It reminds us of where we came from."

The man’s hands still for just a fraction of a second before he resumes wrapping a fresh order.

"Yes," he murmurs, "it does."

The bell above the door chimes again, and the moment is shattered by the sound of boots on tile.

"Pops! You got any—"

Angel Reyes stops mid-step.

You turn just in time to see his expression shift—from casual indifference to something else.

"Damn. First the library, now Pops shop? If I find you at the bar next, I’m gonna start thinking you’re stalking me."

Felipe, calm as ever, wipes his hands on a rag and nods.

"I see you've met my son, Angel."

You glance back at Angel, who’s now grinning like he just won a bet.

"Small world, huh?" He grins

You smile politely. "I guess so."

Angel leans against the counter, studying you like you’re some kind of rare curiosity.

Felipe doesn’t react, but you catch the hint of a smirk as he hands you your bag.

You thank him, pay for your order, and turn to leave.

Just before you step outside, Angel calls after you—

"See you around, querida."

You don’t look back, but you can hear the grin in his voice.

[simpcityy]

I'm Not Her Pt.2 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel… Uhhh I think that is all for now.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

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You woke up to the smell of bacon being cooked. Odd? Who is cooking if no one is home. Sitting up from your bed, you glanced at the time seeing it was 10am. Walking out of the room the smell of bacon got stronger. In front of you was your father Miguel cooking breakfast. You quickly rubbed your eyes wanting to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Buenos días, cariño*” Miguel glances back at you hearing the creek of the floorboards. You only stood there in shock. He’s home for once and calling you with love and affection. “I…Um…good morning?” You finally replied back sitting down on the chair slowly. He placed a plate in front of you and took a seat across from you. “(Y.N) …Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre*.” He began. “I know I left you all on your own, but I have to man up and fix my mistakes.” He looks at you before slowly holding your hand “and I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll try my best.” He smiles before slowly releasing your hand. You only stood there stunned thinking about it. Did Lyla talk to him? Did Peter? So many thoughts were running around your head before letting out a sigh. “I …what made you have a change of heart…you know that yesterday was my- “he cuts you off, “I know it was your birthday and I’m sorry” he pulls out a box from under the table. You were so shocked about this new side of your dad that you didn’t even see the box when you sat down. “Happy Late Birthday “he smiles, sliding the box towards you. You slowly open it inside before gasping seeing the latest technology you’ve always wanted. You dug your hand till it hit the bottom and saw a ticket to your favorite concert. “How did you know I wanted this? I always begged you to let me see this singer, but you wouldn’t hear me out…I…” you are feeling so many emotions. “I told you I was going to try my best to fix this” he smiles before letting out a grunt as you tackle him into a hug “thank you! Thank you!” You chanted. Miguel only lets out a small smile rubbing your back affectionately. You let him go and walked to the top cabinet grabbing a glass to fill. “let’s have breakfast before you head to work “you smile enjoying this small moment with him. Maybe your wish did come true, to stop feeling alone. 

You walked down the halls of your high school. It was going to be your last year and you promised your friends you were going to make it a blast. Humming out a song you unlocked your locker. “Hey boo you’re in a much better mood.” Lyla appeared inside your locker snapping a selfie with you. “Glad you’re here, did you talk to my dad?” You asked her while collecting the items you’ll need on this day. “ wha? No, I didn’t. Why do you ask?” She looks at the selfie editing it. “He came home and made breakfast. He also got me tickets for the concert.” You smile enthusiastically looking at the AI. Lyla watches you “he did?” She was concerned, if she remembered correctly…Miguel was at the base this morning working but then again, he did slip out for a moment so maybe that’s where he went. Lyla only smiles “I’m so glad boo! Maybe Peter talked with him?” You nodded “I was thinking the same. Alright, I got to go Lyla.” You closed the locker going on to continue your education. Lyla stood in the pitch dark of the locker in deep thought “I’ll have to talk to Miguel” she mutters before disappearing. 

School for once was a day you enjoyed, maybe it has to do with the fact you're slowly getting your father back. You’ll have to thank Peter once you get the chance to visit the Society HQ. You start to wonder what made him realize he has a daughter here. All this thinking made you hungry, spotting your favorite empanada stand. You walked over and got in line. ‘Maybe I’ll order extra to bring home’ you thought before smiling, giving your order to the kind old lady. Once you reached home, you closed the door behind you. “Are you home?” You call out placing the bag on the table. “Ya has vuelto de la escuela*?” Miguel emerges from the kitchen door. He glances at the bag. “Y eso?” He walked over looking into the box. “ I got you some empanadas” You smile before letting it falter seeing him sniff the bag. His face of disgust was present, “I’m not hungry, you eat it.” He quickly replaces the face of disgust into a smile. Something wasn’t right here, he loved empanadas. He would never reject it. “But it’s your favorite?” You sat down and grabbed a couple for yourself. Miguel grabs a glass of water, his back turned to you. He panicked for a bit before adding on, “Yes but I think I ate too many last time that it just makes me dislike it” He walks over rubbing your head, “It will go away and I’ll go back to liking them okay?” He pressed his lips to the side of your head before sitting down next to you. “Cómo fue tu día en la escuela*?” He asked. You only nodded taking his excuse before smiling, feeling his lip on the side of your head. “ It went well!” You ate the empanada while telling him how your day went. 

Lyla stood behind Miguel watching him work away. “Hey Miguel” She appears in front of him. “Quick question” Miguel looks up at her and only grunts telling her to go on. “That was nice of you to get (Y/N) tickets to the concert” She sits on his shoulder waiting for his response. His answer only made her glitch and worried for you.

“What tickets?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Authors Note: Thank you so much! Your comments and likes made me see how this NEEDED to be a series. I'm still working on the other two projects hopefully next week I'll be able to complete the series for Location Status. So, I can focus on my other projects. Sorry for any grammar on the first part, I was using a tablet and it was all new to me. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 66💕) Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Please reblog so others can be aware of my works! ILY 💕

Spanish Translation: (Remember some have double meaning or similar meaning) 1. “Buenos días, cariño: Good Morning Sweetie 2. Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre: Listen, I know I'm not the best father (Dad) 3. Ya has vuelto de la escuela: Are you back from school? 4. Y eso: And that or whats that? 5. Cómo fue tu día en la escuela: How was your day at school?

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley doesn't hear from you after the first game, he thinks that's it. But you got his heart pounding and made him smile, and he wants to see you again. The realization that maybe something that perfect should be left as a one night stand hits him hard, but he wants to know if there could be more.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst and smut (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was laying in bed on Saturday morning with the New York times app open on his phone, scrolling to find your article. When his eyes settled on your name below the title, he tapped on it. The app took him to your full biography and a picture of you in front of Wrigley Field. 

You even looked beautiful in your stock photo image. He was tempted to save it to his photo gallery, but instead he skimmed your bio. You'd lived all over the country and played every sport imaginable as a child. You had graduated first in your class from Syracuse University, and you were undefeated at sports trivia.

The smile on his lips grew as he read the article that you must have submitted before your deadline last night. Your writing style was fun and entertaining, and you had even mentioned the comment he made about the catcher for the Angels. Bradley groaned and tossed his phone aside. He wanted to see you again.

But as he got out of bed and headed for his bathroom, he reminded himself that last night had one night stand written all over it. You were in California for work. You both said that hooking up like that wasn't something you normally did. He was sure you just did it for a bit of fun. Bradley was an idiot for catching feelings after a few hours with you, but it felt like he already knew you. Talking to you in person felt like reading your articles, because your writing matched your personality so well. Witty, intelligent, funny and charming.

"Chill the fuck out," Bradley told himself in the bathroom mirror. "It's done."

Then he spent the day trying to think about anything that wasn't sports related. He even took a ten mile run up along the beach to kill some time. And when Nat asked him if he was going to the Hard Deck, he decided that would help. 

But everyone there was wearing Padres gear and talking about that game one victory. And Bradley swallowed hard when he saw that Shannon was working behind the bar. He hadn't thought about her much recently, and she definitely hadn't crossed his mind at all when he'd been with you. But nevertheless, Bradley smiled when she greeted him.

"Hey, Rooster," she said with that grin that he was so used to. And she poured him a beer before he even asked for one. "You think you'll stick around for last call?" 

He watched her hand as she slid the beer across the bartop. "I'll let you know?" he asked, barely able to meet her eyes. 

"Sounds good. I'll start a tab for you."

He just nodded and turned to find the other aviators. Sleeping with Shannon tonight might help Bradley get you off his mind. But did he want to? He kind of liked the way warm thoughts of your voice and your smile kept bubbling to the surface. He could hear you asking him if he'd write back to a text from you. Honestly, he had been low key hoping you'd contact him today, and then he could have proven that he'd write back immediately, just like he promised. 

But he'd heard nothing. No text. No call. You hadn't done anything with his phone number. 

"What's your problem?" Nat asked, pinching his arm until he snapped out of it. "I asked you three times if you wanted to play pool with me."

"I'm not in the mood," he groaned, rubbing his arm as the TV screen caught his attention. They were playing World Series highlights and talking about tomorrow night's game. 

"Why are you pouting?"

He rolled his eyes. "Nat, I'm not pouting."

"You are. Is this because Bagman is flirting with Shannon?"

Bradley glanced over his shoulder and saw that Nat was correct. Jake was leaning on the bar, trying his hardest to get Shannon to smile. "Nah. I told you, that's just casual. Doesn't mean anything." He sipped his beer.

"Well whatever is bothering you, either tell me about it or get over it, because I want to beat Javy and Reuben at pool for once."

Bradley closed his eyes and told her, "I met someone at the game last night."

"No!" she gasped. "Tell me everything."

After he hesitated for a beat, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped on your name in the NYT app before handing it to her. He watched Nat as she skimmed the screen and examined your photo.

"Oh! You met her? Oh, shit....you hooked up with her!"

"Yeah," he grunted, glad that his best friend didn't need much help to figure out exactly what was going on with him. She never did. 

"You like her! Why can I so easily picture you happily married to a sports writer? You could have six kids, and each one would play a different sport. One would play softball, one would be a kickass hockey player, one would play soccer, you'd probably have a ballerina-"

"Nat," he said, cutting her off with a laugh. "I'm not going to see her again. I gave her my number, but I haven't heard from her." He turned back to the bar to find that Shannon was alone again. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he stayed until last call.

"Bradley. She's probably covering game two! You could go back to Petco Park tomorrow."

"Yeah," he grunted. "She's definitely covering game two. She told me she was. Right after I gave her my number which she hasn't used. It was just a hookup, Nat."

"I'll buy you a ticket," she said, fishing out her own phone. "An early Christmas present."

"Don't you dare. The resale price is up to almost a thousand bucks for the nosebleed seats."

She sighed and said, "Fine. But you should still think about going."

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After you spent most of your weekend in your hotel room doing research and writing, you decided to take a few hours off on Sunday afternoon. And it was during this time, when you went for a walk through Balboa Park, that you let yourself accept the fact that you'd been working like a maniac all weekend to try to keep your mind off of Bradley.  

Your hotel room smelled like his cologne or aftershave or maybe his laundry detergent. It was nice. Kind of comforting. You wanted to lay in bed with him until you smelled like it, too. But on Saturday morning, when you had thrown away the rogue condom wrapper, you decided it was better to throw away his phone number, too. You tried to rip that sheet out of your notebook since you no longer needed those stats, but you couldn't do it. Instead it was tucked away with your other work items, and you hoped you wouldn't cave and contact him.

After you took a shower, you grabbed your bag and your media pass and headed out early so you would have time to get some food when you got there. You liked that the ballparks usually served up local treats, and you'd get there in time to actually enjoy some fish tacos or a poke bowl tonight. You even thought about grabbing a local beer and drinking it on the main concourse before heading up to the box. You decided to go up and set down your computer and then find the beer cart.

But when you approached the narrow stairs that would take you up to the press box, you froze.

"Ace."

He was standing there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, an earnest look on his handsome face.

"Bradley," you gasped as your heart thudded with excitement. "What are you doing here? Did you win another contest?"

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I bought a ticket."

You knew the tickets were reselling at a premium price, and as he pushed away from the wall and dropped his arms to his sides, you asked, "Really? You're that much of a Padres fan?"

He shrugged and kind of shook his head, but your breath caught in your throat when he said, "You never texted me, Ace. I haven't stopped thinking about you for a single second, but you didn't text or call me."

He was close enough now that you could smell him, and you almost whimpered as your eyes fluttered closed. "You really wanted me to use your number?" you asked, meeting his eyes once again.

"Of course. That's why I wrote it down," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Shit, I shouldn't have come here to see you." He was blushing profusely and looking at the floor. "You wanted that to be a one time thing, didn't you?" he asked, glancing up at your eyes with a slight grimace on his face. 

Well now you weren't so sure. You thought he had just written his number down as a tactic. It wouldn't have been the first time you had a guy see how far he could get you to go while making you feel like you had some sort of safety net. Making you think he was really into you. But maybe Bradley actually was?  

"Bradley, I-"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "In an effort to not completely ruin the perfection of Friday night in my mind, I'm gonna go."

You watched him turn, and he made it about ten steps before you ran to him, reaching for his bicep. "Bradley, wait." When he stopped, you bumped into him, but he steadied you. You swallowed hard. He was so attractive, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him all weekend. Inviting him back to your hotel room again had been a fun fantasy you'd indulged in since late Friday night. "Do you want to sit with me again? In the box?"

He looked surprised now. "Yeah."

"Okay." You linked your fingers with his and led him back to the stairs. He still looked a little tentative as you added, "Let's go."

When you used your card to open the door, you made it halfway up the stairs before you paused and turned to look at him. He was one step below you, and your height just about matched up with his. He still looked a little surprised, but there was a soft smile on his lips now, and you wrapped your fingers a little tighter around his.

"To be clear, did you buy a one thousand dollar ticket so you could stand at the bottom of these stairs and try to see me again tonight?"

"Yes," he said clearly and without hesitation. You shook your fingers free from his and wrapped both of your hands around the back of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. Your nose brushed along the side of his as you felt the prickle of his mustache against your skin. And then his hands were on your waist as he welcomed you into his arms. He parted his lips for you as you dragged your fingers up into his hair. Then he broke the kiss long enough to rasp, "I like you, Ace."

You kissed his lips once more before running your lips along his mustache. He squeezed your waist a little tighter as the door opened behind him. When you saw that it was Raya, another sports writer, you took Bradley by the hand again and led him all the way into the box.

"Don't get into any trouble today," you whispered, pushing him down into the same stool he had occupied on Friday night. "I got you in with my pass."

"I'll be so good," he promised, looking up at you with eyes far too innocent for the rest of his smirking face. And somehow you doubted it.

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

Bradley couldn't keep his hands off you as you worked. He kept finding ways to trace little circles along your back. The pace of game two seemed to be a lot faster as the Angels got into a better groove against the Padres, and you were frantically keeping your stats as you typed away. 

"You want something else to eat?" he asked you between innings as you scribbled out some notes that he supposed must have made sense to you.

"Yes, please," you said, turning to smile at him. You watched Bradley stand, and he headed to the table lined with food. You seemed surprised that he had been sincere when he said he wanted you to text him. Yeah, he'd been joking around a little bit when he wrote his number down in your notebook, but he was kind of crushed when he hadn't heard from you. 

When Bradley turned to take the food back to that little spot you and he were sharing in the last row, he saw the reporter in front of you turn around and start giving you a hard time.

"You gonna bring your boyfriend to each game, New York?"

Bradley wanted to punch this asshole in the face, because who even made comments like that? But instead he watched you sigh dramatically and say, "At least I can get laid, Quincy. You're such a hater. Now turn around, I'm busy."

But Bradley did shoot Quincy a glare for good measure, and he didn't take his eyes off him until he had turned around. "More food," Bradley told you, setting the plate down where you could reach it without it being in your way. Then he settled onto his stool and draped his arm across the back of yours while you picked at the food. 

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thanks," just as the Padres hit a home run. Bradley desperately wanted to cheer, but nobody cheered in the press box, apparently. So he sat quietly while you updated your stat sheet and ate a taco. 

"Which team do you cheer for, Ace?" he asked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know, when you're not working and allowed to cheer."

Your lips parted in silence before you pressed them together, and then you said, "I never tell anyone my favorite teams."

Bradley examined your face for a beat. "You want to tell me, don't you?"

"Oh my god," you moaned, head tipped back. "Yeah, I actually do."

As Bradley shook from the laughter he was trying to hold in, you leaned in close to him. "You can tell me," he said, grinning. "I'll keep your secret."

You let your palm come to rest on his abs before sliding it along to his waist as you pressed your lips to his ear. "You can't tell anyone. Ever."

The feel of your lips on him, about to divulge something so important to your career had him pulling you closer. You laughed softly as your lips bumped his ear, and Bradley stifled a moan. 

"I won't say a word about it," he promised.

"My favorite team is the Toronto Blue Jays."

That was about to become Bradley's favorite team, too. Maybe he could go to a game with you when you were allowed to cheer. 

"Do you know what their mascot is named?" you asked as you eased yourself back into your seat. When he shook his head, you picked up your pencil and wrote in the margin of your stat sheet.

Ace.

Bradley laughed again. You had him smiling or laughing nonstop right now, and he couldn't believe it was already the eighth inning. It was getting late in the game now, but you were still writing. 

Do you want to come back to my hotel with me again?

And then he realized that this was the first time he'd thought about fucking you all day. 

Bradley leaned in close and kissed your neck a few times before he said, "Only if you save my number in your phone." Because as much as he'd been thinking yesterday about how good it felt to have sex with you, he wanted to hear from you when it wasn't a game day. He wanted to keep talking to you.

During the break at the end of the inning, you pulled your phone out and made a show of flipping to the previous page in your notebook and entering his phone number into your contacts list. Then you turned your phone screen away from him and typed something out, and he just waited to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. When he did, he looked at his messages and saw that you had sent him a photo of you with the Toronto Blue Jays mascot. And you captioned it with: Be honest, which Ace do you think is cuter?

He typed out to you, I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm wildly attracted to blue feathers.

When you looked at your phone again, your laughter was loud enough to have Quincy turning around and earning another glare from Bradley. And just as the ninth inning started, you texted Bradley one more time. I hope you replaced your wallet condom, Boy Scout Bradley. 

Truthfully, he had not. Getting lucky hadn't been his primary thought when he was just wanting to see you again. He muttered, "We're gonna need more than one, Ace."

And as your hand came to rest on his thigh, you tapped your lips with your pencil eraser. "I saw them for sale in the hotel lobby."

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

You couldn't remember feeling this way ever before. At least not with someone you barely knew. Bradley had your bag on his shoulder and he was practically carrying you across the parking lot as you laughed. You liked him a lot. He came back to see you again today. He was so funny and sweet, and you should have texted him on Saturday. 

"You seem very eager," you whispered against his cheek as you kissed him at the crosswalk. You were running your hands all over his shoulders and dipping your hands inside his Padres jersey. 

He picked you up to carry you across the street with the crowd of other pedestrians. "I'm hoping you'll show me your blue feathers tonight," he rasped, making you laugh even more. 

"I knew you liked the other Ace better!"

He kissed your neck, and once he had you inside the hotel lobby, he said, "No, you're my favorite."

"Condoms," you whispered, pointing toward the small convenience shop next to the front desk. Bradley set you down and grabbed up all ten double packs of condoms and dumped them in front of the young guy who was working at the front desk.

"Is that all you needed, sir?"

Bradley pulled out his credit card and handed it to him, looking at you while he said, "Well no, that's not all I need." His gaze was openly needy as he looked at your face, lingering on your lips. You felt warm all over, and when Bradley had all twenty condoms in his hands again, you hooked your fingers though the belt loop of his jeans and pulled him toward the elevators. 

"Let's go, Boy Scout."

Bradley groaned as the elevator door opened and you pulled him inside. He stood before you with your computer bag, so many packs of condoms and an erection that you could plainly see behind his zipper. You giggled and ran your thumbnail up and down his zipper as you said, "You're adorable."

He swallowed hard as you led him out on the top floor and down the corridor toward your room. "Ace? Baby?"

"Yeah?" you asked, unlocking the door as he stood behind you and let you feel him pressed to your lower back.

"Maybe you should finish writing your article first? I don't want you to get too close to your deadline again."

You opened the door and backed into the room, pulling him in with you. "No," you whispered before you kissed him hard. "I want you right now."

You grabbed one of the double packs of condoms from his hands, and he let the rest of them fall to the floor. The smile that you and he shared had your tummy doing somersaults as he gently set down your computer bag. You continued to back up slowly to the bed as he followed you. When you toed off your shoes, you watched him pause to pull his off as well. And then you were holding up the condoms and walking backwards across the bed on your knees until you reached the middle. 

Bradley was frozen, just staring at you with a crooked smile on his face and his hands on his zipper. "I'm waiting," you whispered. And then you weren't waiting anymore at all, because Bradley was on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as his weight pushed you down into the bedding.

You moaned into his kisses as you ran your fingers through his hair. He already felt, smelled and sounded familiar to you. He tugged on your shirt until he was kissing you through your bra.

"You don't taste like beer today," he murmured against your skin, teasing you with his mustache. 

"No, you managed not to spill," you replied, pulling your own shirt off as he unhooked your bra. His mouth was all over your breasts once he tossed your bra on the floor, and you were arching your back up against him. "You feel good."

He groaned into your skin while you felt him grind against your core through way too much fabric. "Ace." His hands were cupping your breasts as he let his lips drift down your belly until he was kissing along the top of your jeans. You unbuttoned and unzipped your pants and let him pull them down your legs. And then he was still fully clothed, giving you head just like two nights ago.

He was good at it, too. But when you started to touch your own breasts, he got distracted, lips grazing your clit as he watched you. When he lazily brought the pad of his thumb up along your slit and started teasing you, the sounds you made were so needy. You thought he could probably get you off like this if you wanted him to. 

But you sat up and made quick work of his jersey buttons while he slipped his index finger inside you. "Bradley," you moaned softly as he kissed your neck and finger fucked you. He just seemed to want to make you feel good, and your hands stalled as you pushed his jersey down off both of his shoulders. Your palms came to rest on his warm biceps, and you could feel his arm muscles working as he fingered you. 

"Tell me what you want, Ace," he grunted, stroking your clit with his thumb. He'd said that on Friday as well. 

"I want you naked and inside me."

He let you undress him then, and you took his cock in both of your hands. You watched him roll onto his back as you teased him with your fingers, running your nails down along his thighs. The veins in his neck were strained, and his cheeks were flushed as his eyes darted from your face down to your hands and back up. He was glorious. Huge everywhere. Tan and muscular and perfect. So hard and eager to please. 

When you straddled his hips and planted your hands on his shoulders, he pulled you to him, kissing your lips until you were laying flat on him. His length was gliding through your soaked pussy, and you moaned at the feel of him rubbing slowly against your clit. You mumbled his name, but he just kissed your lips harder, wrapping those big hands around your hips. 

With each little movement of your hips grinding against him, you were closer to fucking him, so you gasped, "Condom." 

"Mmhmm," he hummed, one big hand at the middle of your back while he reached blindly around the bedding in search of the small package. His lips were still soft and perfect on yours, unhurried as he handed you the condoms. You pressed your forehead to his as you fumbled trying to open one of them, and then you were sitting up between his legs, rolling it down his length, ready to go.

You guided yourself down around his cock, and he felt incredible, just like before. "Oh god," you whined softly, taking every inch of him while he grasped your thighs hard. 

"So pretty," he whispered, watching you fucking him. Soon you were riding him fast and rough, bracing your hands on his abs. You couldn't even talk or formulate words as you whimpered, because he was hitting that sweet spot inside you. With every movement you were getting closer, and Bradley looked like he was struggling to keep it together. 

You took his right hand, and brought it up to your mouth, sucking on his index and middle fingers to get them wet. "Baby, it feels too good," he groaned, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Then you guided his hand down to your clit, and you started cumming almost instantly. You held onto his wrist, rubbing your clit against his fingers with each stroke of your pussy along his cock.

Loud, incoherent noises filled the room as you came, riding him without finesse, head tipped back. And then Bradley was sitting up, right arm wrapped around your waist while he braced himself with his left palm on the bed. He whispered praise against your skin, pausing to kiss you as he thrust his hips up to fuck you as you came down from your high. "You're so hot. So good."

He sucked on your neck before his movements became jerky, and then he was chanting Ace! as he came too. He collapsed back against the bed with you held tightly to his chest, and you ran your fingers along his sweaty neck and up to stroke his jaw.

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

Bradley had nearly fallen asleep with your warm body draped over his and his soft cock still buried inside you. And then your phone alarm went off, and you were instantly scrambling to find your jeans amongst the pile of clothing on the floor.

"Shit," you muttered, glancing at him as you silenced your phone and checked the time. "I need to finish writing and submit my piece."

Bradley nodded and rolled onto his side and reached for a tissue to take care of the used condom. The last thing he wanted to do was go home now, but you had work to do, and he needed to be on base in the morning. He stood as you scooped his jersey up off the floor, but instead of handing it to him, you slipped it on. It fit you like a cute, little dress. 

"My article is almost done," you murmured, retrieving your bag from near the door where he had set it down earlier. He smiled as you stepped around all the other packs of condoms. "I just need to add in my stats and proofread everything."

"Okay," he whispered, unwilling to break the spell that he felt like he was under when he was in your presence. "I can head out." He started to reach for his undershirt and boxer briefs, figuring you could just keep his jersey if you wanted to wear it. 

But Bradley found himself wanting to ask if he could see you again. You saved his phone number this time, and while you were going up to Los Angeles for game three, he was hoping you'd be back in San Diego again. He was almost pissed now that the Padres were up two games to none in the World Series, because the more games that these two teams played, the longer you'd be in California. And LA was a hell of a lot closer to San Diego than New York City was.

As he held his clothes in his hand, you bit your lip and looked at him while your computer booted up. "You can stay. If you want?"

He froze, trying to process what you meant. "Stay?"

"Yeah," you whispered, taking him by the hand. "While I write."

He instantly dropped everything back to the floor as you pulled him to the desk chair. He sat down and then you sat on his naked thigh, entering your impressively long password and pulling up your mostly completed article. You flipped through your notebook to your stats sheet, and Bradley let his hand come to rest on your leg. 

"You wanna help me?" you asked, typing away. "Tell me when Soto was on third."

Bradley skimmed the sheet and found the information. "Bottom of the sixth inning. Right before Grisham hit a double." He leaned in and kissed your neck as you murmured thanks. 

"And when did Hill replace Darvish?"

Bradley read your sloppy notes and smiled. "Halfway through the seventh inning."

"Perfect," you whispered, and Bradley held you quietly as you scrolled to the top of your article and read it out loud. Your voice was captivating, and you somehow made the game he had seen in person even more interesting. He chuckled at the part where you mentioned how the Angels' coach had tripped coming out of the bullpen, and you smiled at him over your shoulder before you finished reading. 

"Damn, Ace," he muttered as you saved it one last time and logged in to submit the article. "That was brilliant." Bradley was getting hard again. Some sort of combination of what you said and how you said it turned him on. 

You closed your computer and laughed softly, nudging his erection with your knee as you turned in his arms. You glanced down at his cock, standing at attention for you, and Bradley could feel himself blushing. "Oh," you gasped, running your fingernails along his length as you grinned. "Eager again."

Bradley groaned and let his head tip back as you kissed his neck. "I think I'm always going to be eager for you. Talking about sports and wearing my Padres jersey are certainly helping."

Your laughter was his undoing as your lips met his warm cheek, and then Bradley watched your face as your pussy cradled his cock so that he was gently throbbing against your clit. "How many more condoms do we have?" you asked, fingers in his chest hair. 

"Nineteen," he replied, voice deep and raspy with need. 

"I'll be right back," you promised, kissing his lips before you stood and grabbed the unused condom from the bed. His jersey was open, offering him a peek here and there of your tits and belly as you moved. Then you were rolling this condom into place and straddling his hips on the chair.

Bradley pulled the jersey open wider so he could watch you sink around his cock. You felt like perfection, and the way your body looked as you took him was making him dizzy.

"You know," you sighed as he bottomed out inside you, "if the Angels start a different pitcher for game three, it could really throw off the Padres plans."

"Yeah?" he asked, stroking the soft skin of your waist as you rolled your hips. "Tell me more."

"Mmm, well, they've been following the same plan the whole season, right?" you asked, your lips grazing his as you spoke. 

"Yeah, they have," Bradley agreed, already ridiculously close as you fed him this brand of dirty talk.

"I think they should try something new and start Hermans instead," you whined, kissing him hard as you rode him.

"Are you trying to turn me on right now, Ace?"

"Yeah," you gasped as you fucked him harder. "Is it working?"

"You know it is, Baby," he groaned, grinding his hips up to meet yours. "Fuck, you already know how to make me wild."

Then you were gasping out pitching stats, your voice breaking as you rode him so well. Bradley was barely keeping it together, and then your fingers were in his hair, tugging at the roots. He knew what to do now; he licked his fingers and brought them to your tight clit, and your eyes went wide. 

"Yes!" you gasped, seemingly surprised that he had you cumming almost instantly. And the sight of your tits bouncing in his face was the last thing he saw before he sucked on your nipples and came hard.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as his breathing evened out. He was trying to focus on your words, because they sounded very important. "If the Padres sweep the Angels, then I won't be back in San Diego. But if they go to a game six scenario, maybe we can see each other again?"

Yes, your words were very, very important. He wanted you to come back to San Diego, but he was determined to see you even if you didn't. "I could come up to LA. Get a ticket for game three. If you want."

You pulled away from him, and then Bradley was looking up into your surprised eyes. "Yeah?" you asked softly. 

"Sure, Ace," he mumbled, running his knuckles along the soft valley between your breasts. "I'd love to. But it's up to you."

Your voice was soft. "Okay."

Then Bradley kissed your lips and said what was on his mind. "We should keep doing this. Me and you. Until the World Series ends. Until you have to leave California."

He could feel your pussy squeeze his soft cock as you started kissing him and running your fingers through his hair. And a few minutes later, he had you in your hotel room bed, snuggling up with your back pressed to the front of his body as you both fell asleep. 

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

Bradley is out there dropping a cool grand just to try to verify if that was actually a one night stand or not. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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[misfit0789]

Jersey Swap

Georgia Stanway x Reader

Summary: Georgia visits R at her professional baseball game.

Word count: ~650 words

Warnings: None

Short little thing I wanted to post based on Georgia being at the New York Mets game the other day.

"I never get tired of seeing you in those pants" I jump as Georgia smacks my ass before wrapping her arms around me from behind and laying her head between my shoulder blades.

"Babe! I know you love me in these almost as much as I love you in your kit but," I turn and press a kiss to her forehead, "you only have a few minutes down here before you have to be up in the suite for the game. I think David has the jersey's we are swapping. I mean I have tons of your jerseys already but what's one more?" I smile, she rolls her eyes before pulling away from me and heading towards my twin in the dugout. I sigh and follow behind her.

"Ahh there is my favorite sister-in-law," David cheers opening his arms and pulling Georgia in for a hug. "Oh how I've missed you. I still don't get how you can put up with her."

"She's your only sister-in-law genius," I state grabbing the jerseys off his shoulder, but not before landing a slap to his head. "Besides you saw her when we were in London playing the Phillies. Now give me my wife so we can take some pictures before I have to go warm up Tylor." I joke pulling Georgia by the arm into my own arms. I press a kiss to her head as she giggles but waves by to David.

"Bye Dave, I'll see you after the game, we're going to dinner tonight anyway." She calls, he nods and gives a thumbs up before making his way to the bullpen. "Now, where were we?" I smile and hand her my jersey for her to hold in the picture, not noticing the camera crew already taking pictures of us.

"Okay you two, just a few more pictures and Y/n you're all set to go warm up." The social media team member says, we both nod and hold up each other's jerseys smiling for the camera. Once they finish with the pictures I hand Georgia her jersey to hold on to for me.

"Thank you babe. I will see you after the game. I love you," I press a quick kiss to her lips.

"I love you too. Go kick some Padres' ass love." I smile and nod pressing another kiss to her lips before moving to put on my catcher's gear.

~~~~~

The game ended in a victory for us winning 11-6 with myself hitting a home run. I finish cleaning up my stuff in the locker room before meeting Brandon and David at the doors with my bag in hand.

"Geeze you take forever!" Brandon exclaims David chuckling at his side, I smile and shove him to the side before moving past him to meet up with our wives for dinner.

"Yea well, I'd like to see you both sit and sweat in that catcher's gear most of the game, then see who can clean up the quickest." I say before opening the door to where the girls are waiting.

"Baby you did amazing!" Georgia exclaims, I laugh and drop my bag to catch her as she jumps into my arms spinning us both around before setting her back on her feet, my arms wrapping around her waist.

"Thank you, my love. Now, I don't know about you but I am starving. Who is up for some food?" the boys yell in agreement before moving to the exit, their wives shaking their heads but following behind. "Why do I talk to those two again?" I ask Georgia, removing one arm from her waist and grabbing my bag so we can follow behind the others.

"Because one is your twin and the other is your best friend." She giggles, I sigh and nod pressing a kiss to her head.

"Right, forgot about that." She smiles and leans her head on my shoulder as we continue our way to the car.

[springwitch8]

professional encouragement (rogue amendiares x fem!v)

summary: after johnny takes the reigns and goes on a bender, v wakes up in a strange bed with a killer migraine and rogue standing over her. rogue has biz with v—she needs sensitive information about one of the merc's more dicey gigs. when v hesitates to answer her questions, rogue resorts to... creative methods of interrogation.

warnings: lesbian sex HOORAY, bondage, praise kink, a sprinkle of degradation/humiliation, overstim, squirting, older woman/younger woman, dubcon (only cause rogue basically detains v but she consents enthusiastically), interrogation, wingman johnny, post-chippin'-in, streetkid v, uses details from "on a tight leash" gig

notes: @my-kitty-tastes-like-nuka-cola and redheadrogue on ao3 have inspired me to write for rogue and val because holy shit, every fic about them is so good but there are like less than 10 on the whole internet. girlkisser rogue amendiares has lived rent-free in my head since blistering love. enjoy 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

"good, you're awake," v stirred from her slumber when she felt fingers grazing her cheek and smooth syllables tickling her ear. rogue, the breathtaking queen of the afterlife, hovered over v with a curious look on her face. "welcome back to the land of the living. coffee?"

the younger woman stretched and rubbed her eyes, giving the fixer a weak nod. rogue turned, flipping her long silver hair over her shoulder as she poured the hot drink into a cup. v rubbed her legs together under the blankets as she watched rogue move about the room with what v could swear was a spring in her step. what had johnny done with her body last night?

"here. should help with the hangover," the fixer handed v a warm mug and sat down on the edge of the bed, eyes scanning the younger woman's frame.

"johnny ask you to babysit me while the pills wear off?" v asked, cutting through the soft hum of the motel's ventilation. a smile ghosted over rogue's face and she shook her head no. "oh. then why are you still here? did he... did we...?"

"do you know why i like working with you, v?" rogue cut the merc off with a question of her own. v shrugged, cocking her head at the fixer. "you're eager. you obviously like to please."

"obviously? or is that johnny's enlightened take?" v shot back, though the quaver in her voice betrayed her vulnerability.

"i don't need johnny to tell me what's right in front of my eyes," rogue scoffed. "you try to hide it, but i've noticed how you blush and preen every time i give you a compliment. you like leaving your fixers satisfied, impressed. it's not a bad thing."

"what's this about, rogue?" v replied, wishing the older woman would get to the point. "guessin' you didn't wake me up just to tell me how good i am at my job."

"all this to say: i know you're not gonna like what i'm about to ask you, but i need you to answer anyway," rogue went on, planting a firm hand on v's outstretched calf and staring straight into the girl's soul. then, her eyes took on a faint glow and suddenly, the image of a man appeared in the lenses of v's kiroshis. "remember this gonk you dropped a while back? name's josé luis."

v's heart skipped a beat. padre had told her to forget that gig ever happened, and for good reason. the last thing either of them needed was to get mixed up in arasaka's war with militech. "i don't know, rogue, zeroed a lot of people lately. might have to jog my memory," v lied, nervously twirling her hair between two fingers.

"hit was for padre. luis was holed up in some valentinos joint. the guy killed a badge, and ncpd looked the other way," rogue obliged. "that kinda mercy doesn't find its way to just anyone in this city."

"seems like you know about as much as i do," v replied casually, praying rogue couldn't pick up on the fight-or-flight reaction going on in her head. "if you have the detes, what do you need me for?"

"just need you to fill in a few blanks for me, sweetheart. think you can do that?" rogue nudged, smiling sweetly while she stroked v's calf absently. v just barely nodded again. "atta girl. who put out the hit?"

"another badge, 'm pretty sure," v answered the question easily. anybody else wouldn't have even been able to get that info out of her, but this was the fixer of all fixers. if v didn't put aside her professional boundaries and give rogue something, she'd never find work in nc again.

"and what did you find when you got into the building?" rogue prodded.

"targets," v responded with a grin, unable to resist making a quip.

"just valentinos? nothing else?"

"if memory serves," v affirmed, causing the older woman to raise an eyebrow at her. "hard to tell what's real and what's not these days. you know, on account of the brain-eating, chain-smoking parasite taking over my body."

"parasite? i'm wounded, v," johnny glitched into v's line of sight, puffing on a cigarette and tutting at his host. v flipped him off, and he returned the gesture. "and just when i thought we were getting somewhere. what's your plan, anyway? lyin' to rogue won't get you out of this; she can fuckin' sniff it out."

"i don't fuckin' know, johnny," v thought back, exasperated. "i'm at her mercy right now because of your gonkbrained decisions. got any bright ideas?"

"you should be thanking me, woman," johnny countered, and v almost snorted out loud at his audacity. "i'm serious. maybe if you're lucky, she'll tie you up."

johnny lifted his sunglasses slightly to wink at v before disappearing into thin air. internally, the merc rolled her eyes. she had a complicated relationship with authority. v hated being controlled but loved being told what to do. johnny had developed a habit of teasing her about it, especially when one of the more alluring authority figures in v's life was around—like rogue, the most powerful and intoxicating of v's superiors, at least in v's opinion. johnny agreed, of course.

"cat got your tongue, honey?" rogue's low, smooth voice interrupted v's internal back-and-forth. the merc snapped out of her trance to see rogue standing directly over her now, a single fingernail tracing her jaw and forcing her eyes to stay on the fixer. "i asked you a question: do you really think you can fool me? you should know i don't take kindly to being insulted."

"i-i wasn't—" v began, heart hammering in her chest.

"you're spooked. you don't wanna sell out the padre in case he comes after you," rogue cut her off, now standing in front of v with her arms crossed. "remember our conversation about balance? equilibrium demands sacrifice. this thing is bigger than any of us."

"and in this case, i'm the sacrifice?" v asked incredulously.

"don't be silly. i'd never put one of my best mercs in mortal danger," rogue purred as v glared daggers into her. "c'mon, it's not as if that old guy is a major threat to you. what is it your chooms in the valentinos say? 'santa muerte strides beside you?' if you felt so inclined, you could kill half the fixers in this city before we could do a damn thing about it."

"that include you?"

"nope," rogue laughed dryly, "be cute to see you try, though."

v's cheeks warmed and she squirmed, never one to back down from a challenge. she had to do something about her situation, finally. she would overpower rogue and get the hell out of there. v sat for a moment, then lunged at the older woman.

but rogue saw it coming from a mile away. she dodged v's charge and reached around to slot a shard in the side of the girl's head. v fell unconscious almost immediately.

by the time she woke up a few minutes later, rogue had tied v's hands to the bedposts with black silk. the silver-haired woman wore a self-satisfied smirk as she admired her handiwork. "cute."

"not cute!" v wriggled uselessly against the ties, and rogue chuckled. "seriously, rogue? restraints?"

"you had your chance to behave, and you wasted it. this is just," she gestured to v's bound hands, "insurance. so you don't leave here until i get what i want. plus, you did try to jump me just now."

"you basically told me to," v muttered, rolling her eyes. rogue caught it but said nothing, getting straight back to biz.

"let's try this again... what did you see when you went to kill josé luis?" rogue rejoined v on the bed, leaning over the young woman's bound frame with expectant eyes.

"i'm not talking. not unless you have a better reason to put my ass on the line than 'preserving balance,'" v said resolutely, squirming against the silk restraints to demonstrate her defiance.

"and here i thought being held captive would be reason enough for you," rogue drawled. "perhaps i underestimated you. or maybe... you're exactly where you've wanted to be all along."

v snorted. "yeah, cause i've always dreamt of being chained to a bedframe in a dingy motel—"

"most competent solo on my payroll, and yet here you are, bound. helpless. if it were anyone else holding you hostage, you would have already chewed through the fabric around your wrists," rogue went on. "but you're not putting up much of a fight, which gives me pause. makes me think i should have listened to the little birdie who told me you'd respond better to..." rogue trailed a fingernail up v's leg, leaving goosebumps in her wake, "encouragement than intimidation."

fucking johnny.

"at first, i thought he was screwing with me," rogue continued, fingers resting on v's thigh. "but then i realized he was being sincere and everything started to add up: the way you trip over your words on the holo, those skimpy little outfits you wear to the afterlife, your obedience and enthusiasm in our biz."

v couldn't resist pressing her thighs together, searching for relief as rogue's hand slid higher inch by inch. the older woman noticed and sighed disapprovingly. gazing at her frowning face, v was caught completely off guard when rogue shoved her legs apart and perched between them in one fluid motion.

"lucky for you, i've been known to give a pretty girl what she wants if she's good for me," rogue teased, smirking as her fingers roamed over v's abdomen and then up to her chest. rogue leaned over the young woman's body as her hands squeezed gently around v's breasts. the merc couldn't suppress her groan. "softer than i imagined. just like you."

"i'm still not telling you shit," v managed, trying not to gasp and shudder as rogue's thumbs danced across her nipples and heat began to build in her core. "save you the trouble: dunno what johnny told you, but this," v gestured to rogue's hands, still shamelessly caressing v's tits. "isn't workin' on me."

"oh, sure. so if i took off your pants, you wouldn't have anything to hide from me? no reason to be shy?"

"none whatsoever," v bluffed, hoping her manufactured confidence would be enough to convince the older woman. but in the back of her mind, v anticipated rogue's next words before they left her mouth.

"hmmm... we'll see," the fixer breathed with a smirk as her hands reluctantly parted from v's chest. rogue teased her fingers down v's abdomen until she reached the button on her black pants. the older woman held eye contact with v as she undid the button and unzipped her pants, dragging them hastily down the merc's toned legs. when rogue turned away to throw the pants on the floor, v snapped her legs together. the fixer noticed and threw v a dangerous look. "don't hide from me."

with that, rogue pried v's knees apart and held them there, gazing at the red lace cloth covering the merc's pussy. lo and behold, the fabric in the middle was dark and damp.

"ohhh, v," rogue cooed at the sight, grinning as the merc's face became flushed. "poor girl. beautiful, desperate, soaked, stupid girl. didn't even try to resist me, just offered yourself up like a needy joytoy."

v writhed and dripped between her legs in response to the older woman's words. rogue hummed in self-satisfaction and brought one manicured finger to v's clothed center, brushing up and down the wet fabric as lightly as a feather. v tried to restrain herself, tried not to buck her hips at the fixer's touch, but failed.

"thought you said this wasn't gonna work on you," rogue teased smugly as the dark red spot between v's legs grew beneath her fingertips. the older woman then found v's clit through the cloth and pressed down, rubbing firm circles into her. "now," rogue slowed her ministrations to a stop, and v whined in protest, "answer my question."

"i might've seen some corp stuff," v confessed. rogue rewarded her by pressing her finger down and moving it back and forth on v's clit. v threw her head back and continued in a breathy voice, not willing to risk rogue stopping again. "think there was a-an suv..."

"recognize any logos?" rogue pressed v as her fingers slipped under the hem of the young woman's panties. two digits swiped through v's folds teasingly, tracing figure eights while avoiding her clit. "name the corp or i'll stop."

"m-militech!" v cried in spite of herself.

"gooood," rogue cooed, rewarding the merc's cooperation with firm circles directly on her bundle of nerves. v squealed and squirmed against the older woman's fingers, and rogue chuckled. "see, that wasn't so hard. then again, you did lose most of your leverage the second i felt you dripping on my fingers. sorry, honey."

"w-wanna be good..." v murmured, her voice high and thready as pleasure bloomed between her legs.

"i know, sweet girl, and you are," rogue leaned in, eyes boring into v's, the tips of their noses nearly touching. "that's why you're gonna tell me who was protecting luis."

"i don't know, i swear... i just went in, zeroed him and left before anyone noticed me," v tried, however unconvincingly. as expected, rogue saw straight through the merc, and her finger stopped its idle motions on her clit. v whined and scratched the sheets beneath her in frustration, to which rogue snickered.

"no, you didn't. fixer asked you to get that info, and you're the best girl in the biz. c'mon, doll, tell me who was pullin' the strings."

god, v had never regretted being an eyewitness to the fifth corporate war more in her life. she could practically read her own gravestone now: here lies valerie, the gonk street rat who couldn't stay out of arasaka's crosshairs. well, fuck it. if v was signing her own death warrant today, at least she was doing it with rogue on top of her. she took a deep breath. "arasaka."

"that's it," rogue praised, quickly maneuvering her hand to push two fingers inside the merc. v couldn't hold back her startled moan. when the fixer curled the tips of her fingers to probe v's walls and ground the heel of her hand against v's clit, the younger woman all but wailed. "having trouble keepin' quiet now, huh? if i had known you'd be this easy, i would've skipped to the good part a while ago."

"'m not a s-slut," v whined, still hanging on to a shred of dignity while rogue's digits worked her open. the fixer chuckled, her fingers never breaking their harsh rhythm.

"not a slut, no," rogue agreed, though the amused look on her face said otherwise. "just a top-tier merc who spills all her intel if you touch 'er right."

not all of it, v thought, holding her tongue for obvious reasons. but it was as if the fixer could hear her thoughts, even over the obscene, wet noises coming from between her legs.

"what was arasaka doing with a militech vehicle? and don't play dumb, i know you go through every computer you come across." knowing rogue would stop fucking her if she offered anything short of the truth, v sighed, resigned.

"they were—ahhh—gonna stage an a-attack," v managed, getting closer and closer to the edge while the older woman drove her fingers relentlessly into v's sweet spot. "make it look like...oh!... like militech hit 'saka."

"highly interesting," rogue mused, stilling her fingers deep inside v, processing the information. v squirmed impatiently, trying to force rogue's fingers deeper. this broke the fixer out of her contemplation. "you're close, can tell. and you have been very good..."

before v could beg to come, rogue leaned over her placed the gentlest kiss on the merc's lips while she withdrew her fingers from her pussy. v melted, beaming to herself even as she ached for rogue to resume working her magic. totally worth it.

"eyes on me now. i want to see your cute face when i make you come," rogue grinned devilishly before scooting down the bed and laying flat on her stomach, face-to-face with the young woman's ruined panties. the fixer licked her lips and slipped the red fabric down v's legs, then tucked it in her pants pocket. rogue rolled up her sleeves and pinned the merc's legs apart before diving in.

"oh god!" v shouted as the fixer licked harsh circles into her clit, three fingers returning to v's warmth. when her digits curled forward into the merc's most sensitive spot, v fucking squealed.

"let me guess: right there?" rogue teased, cocky and self-satisfied. she almost sounded like johnny.

"please, rogue, can i—ohhh, fuck!"

"let go, v. you've earned it." rogue's mouth returned to v's bundle of nerves, closing over it and applying suction while her fingers stroked v's g-spot. the combined stimulation sent the merc hurtling over the edge, mewling and moaning with abandon. only when the younger woman started poking and pushing rogue away from her center did the older let up. well, she almost let up. a lone finger dwelled on v's clit, rubbing soft spirals and eliciting strung-out whines. "want me to stop?"

"mhmmm, 's too much, f-feels like i'm on fire," v said weakly. rogue paused her ministrations but didn't pull her hand back, instead using two fingers to spread v's folds and coax back the hood of her clit.

"oh v, don't you know how nice you'll feel if you let it burn?"

"sh-show me," v whimpered, against her better judgment, but rogue leapt to comply. her finger made direct contact with the little nub at the apex of v's pussy, rubbing firmly from side to side. when she came again, convulsing and gushing, there was only one word on the merc's tongue: "rogue."

"that's a good girl, stay with me," rogue cooed as v shuddered and eventually relaxed in her arms. the fixer freed v's hands from their fabric confines and held her for some time. v then sat up and began to collect herself, to which rogue finally stood from the bed. "beautiful work as always, valerie. knew you'd listen to reason."

rogue winked and walked out the door, strutting as if the sleeve and collar of her top weren't saturated with wetness. the merc sat reeling on the edge of the bed for a while before johnny materialized in front of her, a grin plastered across his face.

"you can thank me anytime, you know," johnny said smugly, his arms folded across his chest. v gave him an incredulous look. "what? we got laid. never thought rogue would be so good at fuckin' chicks, though. shows what i know."

v flipped johnny off. johnny returned the gesture.

"have a nice day, v."

[fanfictionsweetheart]

Community Service

Pairing: Johnny “Coco” Cruz x Reader

Summary: Coco along with Angel, EZ, Creeper, and Gilly got stuck with a community service sentence. While it’s not typically their scene it’s better than doing time. And for Coco it might be the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time.

Trigger/Content Warning(s): massive amounts of fluff

Word Count: 2407

A/N: a gold star for whoever can guess who reader’s brother is from the hints in this fic!

Tags: @staley83

A group of bikers was not the usual sight in the lobby of the Santo Padre community center. The members of the local criminal motorcycle club stood out completely in all their leather and denim clad, tattooed glory.

They were intimidating just by reputation.

And they were used to that.

But the young woman standing in front of them, glittery pink clipboard in hand, showed no fear. She smiled brightly at them.

“Good morning guys,” She said, seeing far too comfortable and casual, “I’m (Name), I’m in charge of this youth outreach program you’ve all been slotted to help with.”

There was a mumbling acknowledgement from the guys, Gilly, Creeper, Coco, Angel, and EZ staring at her cheerful demeanor, confused, surprised, and even a little suspicious. She motioned for them to follow her to the back office where she would go over everything. When they had all filed in she grabbed five blank plastic name tags from the bin on the shelf behind her desk and passed them out to the guys.

“Now I recognize that you are all here for a community service sentence, and I really don’t care how or why you got it, or any criminal history…what I care about is that you all pull your weight and help make sure this event goes well.” She said simply, “Grab a sharpie,” she motioned to the jar she used as a pen holder that was full of different colors of markers and pens, “Write your name on that tag, nicknames are fine so long as they are appropriate for anyone under eighteen to hear. And pick a sticker to put on the tag.” She pulled out a small basket of stickers from the shelf behind her desk and set it in front of them.

That earned her some looks making her laugh and tap her own name tag. It was covered in many small stickers already.

“The kids are encouraged to give stickers to any volunteers they want to,” she said, “But some get shy, so starting out with one helps them feel more comfortable with it. And since this is a holiday event, there will be a lot of kids who have never been to our program before. And as far as they…and their parents…should be concerned you are simply volunteers…of your own volition, and not the courts.”

They men nodded and did what she suggested. Not wanting to ruin this chance. Because if they did this well they wouldn’t have to face any time in county or do another kind of community service that would be more difficult or humiliating. Though the sticker thing was almost too much. Before they pinned their tags on (Name) stopped them.

“I’m sorry, but I do have to show you to the employee and volunteer lockers because…the um…” she motioned to the kuttes they each wore, “Would throw some of the parents off. They are key locks and you will be given the key on a stretchy wrist strap to be sure you have it on you.”

There were some grumbles, “Are you kidding me?” One man asked, he was thin, but she could bet that he had some muscles hiding under his baggy t-shirt and jeans, his chin length hair moving as he shook his head irritated.

“Sadly no. Lucky for all of you tattoos don’t have to be covered, unless they contain nudity or curse words…then…just put a bandaid over the offensive part.” She said and motioned over to the pink band aid that sat on her own bicep covering the bust on the pin up tattoo of the Bride of Frankenstein that was inked there, she grinned at their surprised faces.

The tallest of the group asked to see the full tattoo and she removed the bandaid and showed them that she wasn’t fully nude, but explained she had gotten one complaint once that the bandage style top on the tattoo was too low cut. She replaced the bandage with a spider web patterned one.

“What about this?” A man with a shaved head and longer beard asked, tapping the ‘Mayans’ tattoo on his neck, he was already preparing to have to cover a few of his tattoos.

“That’s fine.” She said, “It’s not tits or the word fuck so…”

He chuckled and nodded. The five men begrudgingly removed their kuttes so she could show them to the lockers after she grabbed her clipboard.

“Okay, to kind of explain what this program is, we’re called Third Space because a lot of kids and teens don’t really have a place to go other than school or home anymore, we offer a program where they can go and their parents know they are safe and they know that they won’t be bored. Like I said, this is a holiday special event, and it’s October so it’s obvious for Valentine's Day,” she joked, “Anyway, put your name tags on and I’ll show you where each of you will be helping out.”

She led them through the large conference hall type room to different booths. The first they stopped at had several large plastic tarps on the floor under some folding tables with a larger folding table in behind them covered in vibrant orange pumpkins of varying sizes. There were baskets of sharpies and spoons and other carving supplies in the center of the four tables.

“Alright, Gilly,” she pointed to the larger man, “You’re gonna be here with Dezerai, helping with pumpkin carving.” She motioned to the punk rock attired black woman who was setting pumpkins on the tables for the kids, her only costume seemed to be the cat ears she was wearing and the whiskers she had drawn on.

She walked over and greeted the man with a smile of her own before the group moved on. Salacia led the group to the booth directly beside it. There were shorter, more toddler and younger elementary schooler sized tables. Each with some paper plates stacked in the center along with a basket filled with tubes of non-toxic acrylic paints, another basket filled with paint brushes, and small plastic cups of (currently) clean water. The back table had three large baskets of tiny pumpkins and different decorative gourds.

“EZ,” she pointed to the youngest man there, “You’re here with Carolina.” She motioned to the blonde haired, brown eyed woman dressed like she had stepped straight out of Woodstock, also with cat ears and drawn on whiskers as a costume, “You’re going to be helping with pumpkins and gourd painting for the kids a little too young to carve, or just don’t feel like dealing with the pumpkin guts.”

The blonde walked over and laughed, “Not everybody is as weird as you and Dezerai who enjoy that slimey crap.” She teased (Name) who rolled her eyes.

“Ha-Ha.” She mock-laughed and left EZ in the blonde’s capable hands.

She led the group to the next booth. These tables were set up with tons of crafting supplies in different baskets. Already prepared masquerade style masks in a few different shapes cut out of plain white card stock paper. Construction paper in every color imaginable. Markers. Feathers. Crayons. Glitter glue. Stickers. Stick on gems. And even Sequins. The volunteer was a young man with brown hair who had an honest to god sweater vest with a Halloween pattern of Jack-o-Lantern and spider webs on. His simple costume was a pirate hat he wore.

“Neron,” she pointed to the only one with a club nickname who decided against using it, “You’re here with Andrew, helping with decorating masks.”

Andrew walked over and nodded, “I hope you can at least draw, the younger ones always ask.” He laughed.

“I’m decent.” Creeper chuckled, “Are you?”

“He’s the one who did this.” She tapped her bicep with a grin, as she and Andrew laughed at their shock that the overly clean cut looking guy was a tattoo artist for his day job.

She led the last two past the next booth to the last one. This one was set up like a photo booth for a birthday party. Different costume pieces and props sat in bins and on tables around the orange and black striped fabric background. Wigs. Hats. Masks. Costume jewelry. Stuffed animals and brooms and plastic weapons. Capes and jackets. Even some printed and laminated cut outs of different Halloween themed pictures and sayings with Velcro on the back go stick to the background. Black cats and spiders. Bats and ghosts.

The volunteer here had long naturally white hair that went down to her butt usually, she had it tied up in a high ponytail and was sitting up her camera and being sure it was connected directly to the printer just behind a curtain to the side of the booth. Out of the way so the kids wouldn’t knock it over. Her simple costume seemed to be the spider web painted on her face.

“Alright, Angel,” she pointed to the taller of the two semi-forced volunteers left, “You’re here with Jessica helping with the photo booth.”

Jessica walked over, “Don’t worry, you got the easiest booth, just gotta put the photos that get printed in a card and give ‘em to the kids.” She said with a grin before looking at (Name), “Salacia’s all set up, by the way.”

(Name) grinned and nodded as she looked over and waved at the face painter they had hired for the day. She looked at the final Mayan, the one who had been vocally upset about removing his kutte earlier.

“And that means you’re with me for the day, Coco.” She said and led him to the booth she had set up.

Tubs of different pony beads and plastic charms sat on each table along with pre-cut, black elastic cord in baskets on the four tables.

“We’re gonna be helping the kids making Halloween kandi bracelets.” She explained.

“I don’t know anything about this kinda shit.” Coco said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t worry it’s easy,” she assured him.

Before he could complain again she cut him off.

“Tell me something, do you sew the patches onto your kutte yourself?” She asked, slipping up a little without realizing it, by revealing she knew exactly what their vests were called, earning a raised brow.

“Well yeah,” he said.

“Then you know how to tie a knot in thread, so you can tie one in the cord. That’s pretty much all you’ll need to help with.” She said.

“Okay.” He said then smirked at her, “How’d you know it was a kutte, though?”

She flushed, feeling caught, images of her hometown and late older brother flashing in her mind. Losing his wife and father both to the whims and at the hands of the out of control club President had sent him spiraling, she still missed him every day.

“My brother was a biker, okay?” was all she said, turning away to regain control of her emotions.

“Was?” He asked.

“He’s gone.” She said after a deep breath before putting her smile back on, “Alright, like I said this is easy, just help the kids tie off their bracelets.”

He nodded, he could handle this. She was right.

“Besides, there was a reason you were each put at your respective booths.” She said with a shrug.

She pulled an already made one out of a basket and put it on her own wrist before handing one to him. He reluctantly slipped it on.

“So why did I get stuck with jewelry making?” Coco joked.

(Name) grabbed the witches hat from a table and put it on for her simple costume. Right when the first wave of kids entered the event hall. She told him she would answer him later.

She put her bright smile back on to greet the kids who came to her booth first.

“Happy Halloween, who wants to make some bracelets?!” She asked the excited group already sitting at the tables.

—

The day had been busy, but went well. And the group of Mayans were honestly exhausted. She walked with them back to their loaned lockers where they retrieved their kuttes. She and Coco had gotten along better as the day went in and he could swear she was flirting with him sometimes. He knew he’d started to flirt with her.

“Alright, you guys did great. I don’t know yet if this is the only time you’ll be helping us, I guess it depends on how the judge takes my feedback.” She said, leaning against a couple of the lockers.

They each either nodded or verbally agreed. They were ready to just get out of there.

Angel, Gilly, Creeper, EZ, and Coco followed her out, back to the lobby. She thanked them again for being good sports with the kids all day and went to head back to her office. Before she could get too far away Coco followed her and grabbed her wrist, figuring he would shoot his shot. Worst she could say is no.

“Tell me if I’m off base here,” He said, “But do you wanna grab a drink with me tomorrow night?” He knew she had a lot of picking up to do after the event that day.

He could hear his brothers behind him snickering, expecting him to get turned down by the overly sweet program organizer. Instead she grinned, cheeks slightly tinted pink.

“I’d love to. Pick me up at eight.” She suggested.

She let him put his number in her phone and she texted him her address. She was slightly shy about it but was excited at the same time.

“You also never told me why I wound up in the jewelry booth?” He asked, chuckling, “Since there was a reason we each got put in each booth.”

Her cheeks were a slightly darker red but she smirked at him, she knew the other guys were definitely paying attention she decided to be honest if not a little bold, “We were sent your mugshots when we accepted to be where you guys did your community service” she explained as she put her phone back in her bag and turning to head back to her office, “I just thought you were cute.” She said with a wink over her shoulder while walking off.

Coco was shocked but just laughed. This could be the start of something good for once in his life.

[sprinket]

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ everybody talks!

"it started with a whisper, and that was when i kissed her!" —neon trees

note: fun fact this was supposed to be titled friends by chase atlantic but then i started going for a cliche hs romance vibe cause i went and listened to a 90s playlist um ANYWAYS @hopelesslyromanticshark HEYYY TWIN SURPRISE MAYBE?? IT WAS ME ALL ALONG 😈😈 ps this doubles as my apology for the pronunciation confusion FORGET I EVER STARTED THAT

content: leo valdez x reader, childhood best friends to lovers, mortal au; oneshot, 4.3k words

warnings: jealousy, little bit of angst (typical teenage drama 🙄), like one mention of not wanting to live, cursing, google translated spanish, lots of pov switches (my bad 😓), vague spoilers for the ballad of songbirds and snakes (like two lines abt it), clumsy confessions, denial (is it really denial if you just suck at feelings??)

"that was supposed to be my ice cream!" you marched up to a curly-headed boy, face scrunched up in childish anger. your parents were too busy catching up with friends to notice that you had strayed off.

said curly-headed boy turned to the sound of a shrill voice, his eyes meeting a pouty face with cheeks red in the summer heat. he raised the cone in his hand a bit higher. "this one?"

you nodded eagerly, hoping he was going to give it to you. "yeah!" you stretched out your hand to grab it from him, but the boy pulled it away at the last second.

he smiled mischievously, dimples flashing as he stuck his tongue out and licked a stripe up the stacked swirls of ice cream. "too bad!"

you gasped at the utter audacity of the other child, your bottom lip starting to tremble. one sniffle. two. soon, you were downright bawling on the sidewalk. the boy’s jaw dropped, his feet taking panicked little steps in place as he looked around.

"hey! hey, you can't cry! i'll ask my mama to buy you one!" he squeaked, trying to comfort you. he patted your back, which was quite hard to do with him bouncing around and holding an ice cream cone.

your sobs were quickly reduced into a sniffle as you blinked at him. "..really? and you're not gonna steal it this time?"

he nodded enthusiastically. "yep! i mean, no! i won't steal it!" he took your hand and ran to his mom, dragging you along.

you ran behind him, your tears replaced with excitement at the newly promised ice cream.

"mama!" the boy called out, stopping in front of a kind-looking woman who looked just like him. "meet my new friend!"

you smiled a bit shyly at the lady, giving her a wave.

she returned the gesture with a smile of her own, before facing the boy with a slight frown. "leo! sus padres podrían estar buscándola! did you ask her parents if she was allowed to go with you?" she chided, pinching his ear lightly.

leo cried out as his mother pinched his ear, even though he barely felt it. "no..! but le debo un helado!" he whined, shaking your interlocked hands for effect. "can you buy her one mama? pleaseee?"

she sighed in defeat, giving into two pairs of puppy eyes. "alright, alright. but we find her parents first, okay? what's your name?" she gave you a little wink, taking your other hand.

"i'm y/n!" you said with a bright smile as she agreed to get you a new ice cream. "my mommy and daddy are over there!" you pointed to a spot not too far from where you stood.

leo's mom nodded, leading your little trio in the direction you said. soon enough, you were reunited with your parents, who gave you a gentle scolding and thanked her. she explained the situation between you and leo, at which all the parents laughed at, much to your confusion. what was so funny about getting your (well, not exactly yours but you had your eyes on it, so, it was technically yours) ice cream stolen?

whatever, at least you got it at the end of the day—and a new friend!

ever since then, the two of you stuck together like glue. if elementary school teachers tried to separate you? either of you would throw a hissy fit. if your high school teachers tried to separate you? either of you would make up some elaborate bullshit about how well you guys work together and how productive the two of you would be (you were sure they never believed it, but they paired up the both of you anyway).

"like i know she probably didn’t get enough love as a child or something but does she have to take it out on her students? why even be a teacher?” you waved your hand in the air, the mess of papers on the desk long forgotten.

"exactly, like she really needs therapy." leo took his bite-ridden pencil out of his mouth to add a point.

"totally,” you agreed. “too bad it’s so expensive, otherwise-“

a cough behind you made you and leo turn around, already dreading the punishment about to befall you. you smile sheepishly at your history teacher, who had her arms crossed. "another word and i'll send you two to detention, you hear?"

the both of you shut your mouths and nodded in sync, waiting until she turned around to whisper. "she's feeling merciful today."

"detention!"

guess not.

you slumped against the desk, resting your head against your arms and sighed loudly. the teacher in charge of detention for the day gave you a glare, turning the page to his boring book about finance or something. you rolled your eyes once he looked away, and looked up at the clock. five more minutes.

you tapped a message on the desk, the morse code leo forced you to learn coming in handy once again. i'm so bored.

leo's head perked up from the similar slouch he was in. me too.

i'm coming over. you rapped your finger against the smooth wood. you were hungry just thinking about him and his mom's tacos. if you didn't know how much leo wanted to be a mechanic, you'd probably beg him to open a restaurant.

a little forward aren't you? he drummed his fingers back, raising his eyebrow.

just as you were about to reply, you were cut off with a "shh!" from the teacher, who then looked at his watch. he gave it a scowl, but motioned for the two of you to leave. "you're free to go."

the two of you raced to the door, eager to get out of the stuffy classroom.

"oh my gosh i thought he was never gonna let us leave!" you groaned, tugging on your backpack straps as you walked home with leo.

"i know! can't believe he wasted our precious hanging out time like that!" leo scoffed, nudging you with his shoulder.

you laughed, shoving him back. "exactly!"

the two of you walked in peaceful silence, up until leo tapped you on the shoulder and shouted, "tag, you're it!" and ran off ahead.

who runs with a backpack on? you didn't care, chasing after him and trying to get him. "not fair!" you yelled.

sprinting all the way, you made it to his house, panting and out of breath. as he leaned against the doorway, you smacked him upside the head. "you're it."

you didn't want to spend your friday afternoon doing extra work, but leo wanted the help and who were you to deny him? you knew it'd probably end up with the two of you on the couch, curled up next to each other and watching a (usually) pirated movie.

"so," leo started. you two were sprawled on your stomachs, doing homework on his wooden floor.

"what is it now?" you exhaled with exaggeration, not looking up from your book. your english teacher had said to read two chapters, but was that really enough? you were too invested, completely forgetting that you were supposed to help him analyze it.

"..wanna take a break?" he was already getting to his feet, looking down at you with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

you pretended to think. "hm, i don't know... shakespeare's getting really interesting..." you shrugged and turned back to your book.

leo pouted. "seriously!? he just spews random bullshit and everyone thinks its poetic!"

you kicked his foot, not letting the insult slide. "you know what? now i'm really not gonna take a break."

"oh come on! if i make you birria tacos will you come with me? my mom's been simmering the meat since earlier," he bargained, waggling his eyebrows.

"..maybe."

"holy shit." you moaned in bliss as you took a bite of one of the tacos leo had so kindly prepared. he chuckled at your reaction, it was the same every time he made it.

he grinned proudly, taking his plate from the coffee table and setting it on his lap. "good, right?" he switched on the tv, resting his other arm on the back of the couch.

you let out an unintelligible noise of agreement, mouth stuffed. you swallowed. "can we watch the new hunger games movie?"

he hummed, taking out his laptop and searching for it on some illegal website. "again? we already watched it in the theaters."

you rolled your eyes. "yes, again. it's my turn to pick."

his lips quirked up the slightest. "yeah, yeah." he clicked on the movie, connected his laptop to the tv and pressed play.

the two of you were watching intently as coriolanus snow kissed lucy gray like a starved man.

"goddamn," you breathed out.

"i know." leo nodded, his eyes flicking to you for a moment. your legs were folded under the blanket you guys shared. during the duration of the movie, the two of you had somehow huddled closer together, probably due to the cold, he thought. his arm was now over your shoulder, your knees touching his.

he felt something stir in his heart. maybe it was the kissing scene, maybe it was the underlying feeling of sadness that came with winter, but god did he suddenly get overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting a girlfriend. he'd probably flirt with every girl in the world if it meant he could find true love. he suddenly felt hyper-aware of the way you were nestled in his arms, of the casual way you two touched each other. leo would love to do these things in a romantic sense. but, not with you, of course. i mean, you were his bestest friend, it'd be weird to think otherwise.

your heart fluttered wildly as you played it cool, not letting the way his legs were intwined with yours affect you. you didn't know exactly when you started feeling this way, all you knew was that something about his touch never failed to send you sparks of fire.

but fire burns.

you heard leo suck in a breath. "you know your friend alicia?"

you froze, the butterflies in your stomach turning into ash. "yeah, she's my friend, 'course i'd know her."

"great, so you wouldn't mind setting me up with her, right?" he winked at you, tugging at the ends of your hair.

you bit your tongue, mood dampening. why did he always have to ruin the moment by asking about some other girl? i mean, am i not enough or something? "..i'll think about it."

he frowned. usually you'd agree right away. "is that a yes?"

"i told you i'd think about it, now can we just watch?" you turned back to the tv, eyes looking but not seeing.

leo didn't seem to get the hint, still pushing the topic. "why think? it's not like you haven't done it before! are you really not gonna help your best friend out?"

"maybe i'm really not," you said sarcastically. it was getting more and more difficult to keep the irritation from your voice, and he was already starting to notice.

"whoa, okay, what're you so mad about?" he took his arm off your shoulder, turning to face you directly. "did i say something wrong?"

"nope."

he took your sardonic tone as your usual sarcasm and kept prodding. "okay... so you'll help me then? i mean, that's all you're for! you don't wanna be my best friend and do your job?" he laughed, poking fun at you like usual. but the feeling in your gut twisted his offhand comment in a way that hurt.

"if you're just gonna keep me around to set you up with a bunch of girls then maybe i don't want to be your friend anymore!" you snapped, agitation finally breaking the thin mask of patience you had.

leo set down his empty plate on the table, needing to give his hands something to do. "i was just- you know that's not why you're my friend!" he chuckled incredulously.

you stayed silent, letting his words dissolve in the air.

his eyebrows furrowed at your lack of response, as if trying to decipher the finality of your words. "you don't.. you don't mean that do you?"

"maybe i do." you stood up, the blanket falling off your legs. you grabbed your backpack, a reminder of what you guys were supposed to be working on.

leo quickly followed suit, springing to his feet and speeding after you as you walked towards the front door. "wait! i was just kidding! c'mon we can talk about this!" a hint of desperation seeped into his voice as he grabbed your wrist.

"we already did." you shot him a glare over your shoulder. he froze. he'd never seen that aimed at him. playful irritation, sure, but never that. not to him. his hand dropped your arm in shock, and you took your leave.

"i said, are you trying to kill me!?" the tv was still on.

the walk to school was quiet without leo, that you'd admit. you even got up a half hour early just so you wouldn't see him. yeah, it was a little petty, but you weren't exaggerating in your words. he had other friends, you had other friends—you're choosing to ignore the fact that half of them were mutual—you guys would be fine without each other. especially you.

except you forgot the fact that you guys were seated next to each other for nearly all your classes. that was awkward. everyone around you sensed the tension in the air, with you pointedly looking away from leo, at the board, and him trying to do the same. you could feel his leg shake the table as he bounced his knee, as well as the side glances he gave you.

even so, you continued to ignore him and the stupidly cute way his lips pursed into a frown. you weren't getting over it that easy.

leo fucked up. like, seriously fucked up. he hasn't fucked up this bad since.. well, since his invention quite literally blew up in his face. but this? this was like your friendship figuratively blew up in his face! and it felt even worse. he took a deep breath, rolling over in his bed with his blanket half-off. he brought the fabric up to his nose, inhaling the faint scent of your perfume that had stayed since last friday. without you, his thoughts felt louder than usual. they ran free in his mind, ranging from what should i eat for dinner? to god, did i mess up our whole friendship? was i taking her for granted when i kept asking her for relationship advice? why did i even do that? i didn't even really like any of those girls. what's wrong with me?

he curled up into a ball, squeezing the blanket to his chest and burying his face in it. leo willed himself to cry, but no tears would come. the overwhelming feeling in his chest had no way to escape. his heart thumped heavily, each painful beat reminding him of why he should've never been allowed to live.

"...and that's why you should- hey! are you even listening?" piper frowned, raising an eyebrow at leo, who was picking at his food.

he didn't answer, too busy moving the gross cafeteria food around his tray as he drooped against the table.

"okay, i know that you've got your little lover's quarrel with y/n, but you've gotta stop sulking and start doing." piper crossed her arms, eyeing him with a very unimpressed look. "did you seriously not hear a word i said? talk to her! apologize! it's been a week already!"

leo groaned, his head resting in his arms. “i know! and- wait did you just say ‘lover’s quarrel!?’” his head shot up, face feeling warm all of a sudden. “pipes, she’s just a friend! like you!”

piper gave him a disbelieving hum. “‘just a friend’ my ass! everyone can see how you look at her!” that’s why all the girls you make her set you up with never go on a second date.

leo genuinely looked confused. “what? i look at her normally, what are you talking about?”

jason, who was silent throughout the whole exchange, chortled a laugh. the two whipped their heads to him, the sudden noise from him surprising. "are you serious? leo, i don't think even i'm that oblivious!" he shared a look with piper that only the two would understand. ugh. another couple thing leo feels he'll never get.

leo's eye twitched. "oblivious about what? y/n's my best friend, i don't see what's so weird about that!"

the pair sighed. "you'll get it one day," jason said firmly, clapping him on the shoulder with solemn resolution.

"okay..?"

a whole week. leo had never gone without talking to you for a whole week! this was driving him insane! yeah, he knew you were mad at him and by default, he was supposed to be mad at you, but it was too much! next period, leo thought resolutely. i'll get her to talk to me next period. which just so happened to be his last period because although he had been thinking of this the whole day, he was too nervous to confront you earlier. he took a deep breath in and walked into chemistry class.

fate must hate him. or maybe his science teacher. right when when he slipped into his seat beside you, she clasped her hands together and cleared her throat. "class! today were going to be switching seats!" leo swore he saw her look at him as he said that. what did he ever do to her!? his heart sunk as he realized he might not sit next to you anymore. surely the teacher's gonna keep us together? i mean, they've all done that since like, the start of the year! she won't be any different.. right?

oh he was so wrong. leo pouted in his spot at the back of the class, watching you from across the room as you chatted it up with some jock. why is she being so smiley!? isn't she supposed to be mad? i mean, yeah, she's only mad at me, but doesn't that mean she's supposed to be grumpy in general!? why am i the only one who looks affected by this!?

the girl next to him cleared her throat, snapping him out of his thoughts. "uh, we need to start the experiment," she said without emotion, as if the mere action of talking to him was boring. seriously, why did everyone hate him today? it's not like they know anything that happened!

"oh.. right." leo took his notebook out and set it to the side, moving the vials to the center of the desk. he felt the girl's stare dig into his side, like she was looking at him with disdain. leo sighed. this was going to be a long period.

how did leo even end up here? parties weren't really his thing. he only came because he heard that you'd be here, but you were nowhere to be seen. leo leaned against a wall, trying not to look like a complete loser as he stood by himself. he took out his phone, navigating to his trusty weather app. where were you? if not you, then jason and piper? even percy or annabeth would do! they're probably each hooking up in a bathroom or something.. he thought with a grimace, trying to get the mental picture out of his head. leo wandered around with a cup of fanta, hoping to see you in the crowd.

you sipped from your red solo cup, the bubbly taste of soda delightfully stinging your tongue. this party's kinda boring... it'd be more fun with- you cut off your thoughts with a shake of your head. whatever. you had girl friends you could hang out with. as you made your way to them, a tap on your shoulder got your attention.. is it..? you turned around. it wasn't. you ignored the feeling in your stomach and smiled at the familiar—but not familiar enough—face of your new seatmate.

"oh hey! i didn't know you were coming!" you greeted with a smile.

he laughed, raising his eyebrow. "you think i'd miss this? i mean, look at me!" he gestured to himself quite vainly. "i throw these kinds of parties!"

you chuckled, nodding along to be polite. "uh, yeah, for sure!"

the both of you fell into an awkward silence that seemed to stretch out for forever.

leo spotted you across the room, the chatter around him seeming to die down as he saw you with that guy. i mean, seriously, he wasn't even your type! and, he'd know your type! like, weren't you guys just talking shit about jason's football friends? you could do so much better. like.. like me. leo's eyes widened. holy fuck. that's it! the feeling in his chest was akin to tightening the last screw of his project. the words his two friends had said to him earlier came rushing back with sudden clarity. they day he finally got it was sooner than expected. with a determined blaze in his heart, he slipped through the crowd and made his way to you.

you took the lull in your conversation as a sign to go to your other friends. "so, i'm gonna-"

"hey, i was going to-" he started.

the both of you stopped mid-sentence after speaking at the same time. you guys laughed it off, with you waving off his muttered apology.

"you can go first," you said, dipping your head at him to continue.

he cleared his throat, looking into your eyes intently. "well, i was wondering if you'd wanna go ou-"

"y/n!" leo strode up to you as if the fight between the two of you had never happened.

your face scrunched up in confusion, too perplexed to remember that you were supposed to be ignoring him. "leo? what are you-" he cut you off, directing his words to the other guy.

"hey, sorry if i interrupted something, but i gotta talk to y/n for a sec," leo flashed his teeth, mischievous dimples showing.

the jock's eyes widened as he took a step back. "oh.. oh, my bad man! i didn't think you guys were- are you really?" he laughed with obvious embarrassment, shaking his head as he retreated. "guess so.." he muttered under his breath as he faded into the crowd.

leo's hand slipped around your waist as he weaved the both of you in between people. his jaw was clenched, a sight you've only seen when he was concentrated on one of his many inventions. "what the hell are you doing?" you repeated your question, ignoring the way his touch sent familiar sparks down your spine. you shied away from it, half to push away your feelings and the other to keep up your fight out of pure pettiness.

his hand twitched as you moved away, his eyes narrowing as he stared straight ahead. but leo made no move to grab you again, ever the gentleman. "just come with me. please."

his tone itself was enough to make you listen to him without question. never had you seen him so.. serious. you found yourselves in an empty guest room, music thumping softly behind the walls.

"y/n," leo murmured, finally speaking as he turned around. his eyes were shifty, looking everywhere but directly into yours. you could see the way he chewed on the inside of his lip, as if rehearsing the words he had yet to say.

"i- i don't want you to talk to that guy." he blurted out after a beat of silence. his cute face wasn't enough to distract you from his words, however.

"excuse me?" you stared at him, your rose-tinted glasses shattering immediately.

leo shifted on his feet, realizing how off-putting he sounded. "not- not like that! sorry, i mean like-" he swallowed thickly, his leg starting to bounce.

"fuck i really suck at this, huh?" he muttered under his breath, before daring to look into your eyes.

"i mean i want you to talk to me instead because.. i like you. i want to be the one you talk to, like we used to. but- more than that because i like like you." he fumbled over his words, trailing off at the end as his eyes dipped down once again.

what? you opened your mouth to answer but he beat you to it to continue.

"i'm really sorry for how i acted like a jerk. and taking you for granted and making you set me up with practically every girl you knew. to tell you the truth, i don't know why i did that, 'cause i never really like any of 'em. or i thought i did and then i just, didn't and-" he would've rambled on forever if you hadn't cut him off with a kiss.

you heard him squeak in the back of his throat, hands tensing at his sides before gingerly wrapping around your waist, as if he was scared of messing up again. the both of you pulled away after a soft minute, his disbelieving eyes staring back at your playful expression. boy, did he miss the way you looked at him like that.

"took you long enough." you laughed, hitting his shoulder lightly. "better not make me set you up with anyone ever again."

his face broke into a wide grin, never faltering even as you punched him. he brought you back into his arms, hugging you tightly. "the only person i'd want to be set up with is you." he drew back only slightly, his hands trailing up your body until he cupped your face, squishing your cheeks gently. "so? will you let me take you on a date?"

your smile was one that rivaled the sun, one he'd like to center his world around forever. "are you kidding? obviously!"

the kiss he gave you after was one you'd remember forever.

("twenty bucks jason, pay up!" piper whispered, peering through the crack in the door.

"..fuck.")

[ravennaortiz]

Eyes

Request for @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog from the posty request. As always 18+!

Angel swallowed hard as your pretty eyes bore into his. It was as if time had stopped. Just you and him, everyone else disappearing into the background. His thumb caressed your jaw line, eyes never leaving yours. He was in a trance unable to look away. This wasn’t the first time in all your years of friendship you guys had made eye contact. It was the first time it felt so magnetic though. He swallowed hard as a small voice in his head worried that this would change things. No going back from here. That’s what he wanted though right?

*Flashbacks*

You were eleven when you first met the Reyes brothers. Your family had just moved to Santo Padre from Lodi, well your family minus you’re dad.  Mrs. Reyes had brought over a welcome to the neighborhood basket. Her and your mother had chatted on the back porch with coffee for a bit. You had sat sulking on the stairs. You missed your home, your friends, and your tire swing in the big tree out front. This would never be your home. You were crying when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking up you met the worried eyes of a boy a little older than you that you would later learn was Angel Reyes. That moment sent you two careening down a path, your fates forever to be intertwined, you just didn’t know it then.

A year later violence snuck in through an unlocked window. This would come to be the night that no one spoke of ever again. You’re mother was beaten unconsciousness and you had broken your arm jumping out of your bedroom window. Adrenaline pumping you had sprinted across your yard and hurled yourself over the fence. You couldn’t remember what happened after that, everything went black until the next day.

Angel though remembered. It was a night burned into his memory. Screams of terror ripping him from a dead sleep. His first thought a wild animal but glancing out his window he saw you tumble from a window. He was up in an instant yelling for his pops as he sprinted through the house. He caught you as you came over the fence. Your eyes meeting his. Wild, unseeing and huge with fright. You screamed yourself into unconsciousness. He was so wrapped up in keeping you safe the gun shots didn’t even register with him until years later. You didn’t know it then but Angel made a vow to make sure no boy or man ever hurt you again.

Present Day

Staring into Angels eyes your mind drifted back to what you had said to EZ and Coco a couple weeks ago. I'm just lookin' for the right one. But them wrong ones keep lookin' at me. They had shared a look that you had ignored then. Looking back now you realized they knew. Truth be told you did too. The right one had been by you all along. He stood six three, was well muscled with tattoos and a beard. The right one who had had the decency to let you go through as many wrong ones as you needed too.

You ran your hands up his jean clad thighs. Your smile widening into a smirk when you felt him tense and heard his breath hitch. He licked his lips as he moved his thumb to trace along your lips. You darted your tongue out to kitten lick it making him arch a brow. Neither of you had seen this coming when he had suggested leaving the clubhouse after hours of partying. “Callin' it quits now, baby, I'm a wreck. Crash at my place, baby, you're a wreck” he had sang off key at you as he slung an arm around your shoulders. You had laughed as you stumbled slightly but nodded. The two of you had playfully danced your way out of the clubhouse to begin your long walk to his house.

*Flashback*

“Let’s go” commanded an all too familiar voice. You sighed as your eyes flew open meeting with your best friends brown eyes. The guy you had been making out with on a car hood quickly detaching from you. “She’s a bit young for you. Say goodbye cause you two are done.” Stated Angel ignoring your attempt to interrupt. His arm was on your pulling you off as he shook his head. For some reason the guy you had been kissing decided to get brazen. “Sorry man. Didn't know that was your girl when she gave me top” he called with a snicker as he high fived one of his friends who had joined him.

The flash of anger darkened Angel’s eyes to almost coal black. It silenced any retort you had. That night ended with you both in a cop car for the first time, but only one of you in cuffs. Every time after that the excuse of  “I had some help. It aint like I could make this kind of mess all by myself.” Would tumble from both your lips when you were bailed out by his pops.

Present Day

Angel wouldn’t admit it, he was nervous, even if you already knew it. You could read him like a book. You two kept nothing from each other. Well except for maybe one thing but that seemed like it was coming to light. The feel of your tongue against his thumb however brief had his heartrate speeding up. Carefully he pressed his thumb against your lower lip. You were quick to part your lips and suck on just the tip making him groan. His eyes on yours even as he felt your hands rub higher on his thighs. His jeans starting to tent.

You sucked and licked the tip of Angels thumb gently. Giving him time to process what was happening. The two of you going slow and testing the waters. Neither one wanting to push the other past what they truly wanted. You kept your eyes locked on his, like so many times before that was the only way you two had to speak.

*Flashback*

You were seventeen when a college age guy was hitting on you and following you. Your eyes had briefly met Angels in passing as he worked on his bike. That was all that was needed for Angel to act.

You were nineteen when you gave him puppy dog eyes. He had rolled his but handed you a helmet and scooted back on his bike. Letting you drive him up and down the main strip. You would hit him with that same look when he was finally a patched member of the Mayans. You wanted to tag along, find yourself a real man, you had teased. He had sighed heavily and told you to no. Later that night he had come roaring up your driveway and met not your eyes but your mothers. He had nodded at the warning he saw there before she called you down.

Over the years the two of you would always have full conversations without a word being said. When EZ went to prison and Marisol was killed. When Angel ended up locked up, when he showed up with a strung out Coco and you helped him with him. When your heart was broken, when the guy you were dating threatened to shoot you.

Present Day

As well as you two were able to communicate with just your eyes, words were needed before anything further happened. Your hands were on his belt buckle when Angel finally spoke. “Wait” he whispered as he swallowed hard. Your hands stilled, lips still wrapped around the tip of his thumb as you waited for him to continue.

Angel took a deep breath as he pulled his thumb from your mouth and cupped your face gently. “I don’t want to mess this up. I want…..I want to be together. I’m not looking for just sex with you” he stated his eyes boring into you as he held your face in both hands now. “I love you”.

“I love you too Angel. I want forever with you” you replied lowly before grinning mischievously. “Should have started this conversation before I got on my knees in your bedroom and you put your thumb in my mouth” you teased making Angel shake his head and laugh. “That's the thing about love, it's gonna do what it do” replied Angel making you laugh.

“Don’t quote Post Malone at me or I’ll have to get up and leave.” You replied as you took your hands off his belt buckle and moved to stand.

“Now now now. Let’s not be hasty” replied Angel as he pulled you on top of him on the bed. You bent your head to kiss him and laughed as he quickly flipped you over. “Keep your eyes on mine baby” whispered Angel as his hands slid under your skirt. That night Angel made love to you for the first but not the last time.

Two years later

“Keep your eyes on mine baby” stated Angel as he held your hand and wiped your forehead. “You’ve got this mama” he stated as he kissed your cheek as you squeezed his hand as another contraction ripped through you.

“I think she has your eyes” stated Angel as he cradled your little girl for the first time. Once again he found himself entranced with a pair of beautiful eyes.

Want more Angel? Click here

Want to make a request? Click here

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Hi! Hope your doing well!

I wanted to know if I could do a request with David Rossi? He has a daughter who has a higher IQ than Reid (it’s like 190 or 200?) has following in her father‘s footsteps and is high up in the FBI like higher than Strauss and he calls her down for a favor because Strauss is bothering Aaron and the team so she’s cracks down on Strauss and stuff?

David Rossi X Daughter Reader

Request: I wanted to know if I could do a request with David Rossi? He has a daughter who has a higher IQ than Reid (it’s like 190 or 200?) has following in her father‘s footsteps and is high up in the FBI like higher than Strauss and he calls her down for a favor because Strauss is bothering Aaron and the team so she’s cracks down on Strauss and stuff?

Third person pov...

Y/N Rossi was in her office in Quantico, she was in thr FBI, she had worked hard and was in a high position within it, Only being 18 she was making a good life of herself with an IQ of 200, it was a normal day she was in her office going over some files when she gets a call.

Wondering who was calling her she picks up. "Agent Rossi speaking" she answers, for work she uses 'Agent' as its easier. "Well hello Agent, this is your padre talking" come her Dad voice, this makes the adult laugh.

"papà non si era accorto che eri tu (1) "she laughs, the man chuckles lightly, she puts down her pen and spins around in her chair.

She looks out the window, her office being on one of the highest floors, a couple below the leader of the FBI. "allora perché chiami, c'è qualcosa che non va? (2) " she asks getting straight into business.

The man sighs wearly before answering

"It's Erin figlia (3) she going after Aaron and the tea. Again, can you do anything?" He askes, the man has just lost his wife a couple months ago.

Struass is pushing the man to leave the BAU, Y/N sighs once again Struass, the woman never knows when to shut up. "I'll see what I can do Papà (4) see you soom" she says, Rossi sighs he sounds less stressed out.

"Thank you piccolo" he says, Y/N sighs ans rubs her forehead looks like she's going to take a trip down to the BAUs floor tomorrow.

The next morning...

Strauss was taking over the case once again, the team gathered around the table, all with sullen looks as Struass looked around.

They were missing one person. "Has Agent Rossi not arrive yet?" She asks the silent room, even the evert rambling Spencer Reid didn't feel like talking to her.

Growing annoyed she goes to talk when a commotion starts in the bullpen, hearing it the team and Strauss stand up and walk out of the room, they are shocked to see Rossi standing with Agent Y/N F/N, one of the only Agents with ties to the chief of the Bureau.

"What is the meaning of this!" Exclaims Strauss, this made Y/N look at the woman, a glare on her young face. He the  looks at her Dad. "I guess that's Struass" he says, the man nods his head.

Y/N cracks her knuckles. "You know Struass if you paid more attention to ypur family than this family then maybe you wouldn't be hated as much" she says, this earns her gasps of shock from around the bullpen.

Struass opens her mouth to retort but the H/C girl is quick with more. "You better leave this team alone unless you want a certain fact of yours to come into conversation" Y/Ns ruthless.

Eventually Struass has enough andeaves the bullpen fuming with anger, Y/N smirks at the woman, She gets a smile of thanks from her Dad.

After everyone calms down Y/N gets to meet her Dad team. She looks at Hotch and waves. "Hello Uncle Aaron" she smiles.

The others stare at their boss in shock. "You know her!" Exclaims Derek and Emily, Hotch just gives them a look. "Of course he knows me !" Smiles Y/N.

Rossi soon saves the team from confusion, as he wraps an arm around his daughter pulling her in for a hug and kisses her forehead. "lavoro assolutamente meraviglioso, piccola, hai bruciato quella strega (5) "He says in Italian.

"What how do you know her!" Yells Penelope, the team stare at the two, wondering how close they were, looking at her Dad Y/N laughs.

"You haven't told them about me" she accuses making the old man blushes embarrassed.

Pulling away her him  Y/N straightens her suit of before talking, she looks around at the team smiling. "Nice to meet you all I'm Y/N Rossi, F/N is my Mothers last name, I use it so Papà and I are safe from people who wish to kill me or hurt him to get to me." She explains.

Everyone takes the nes well and welcomes Y/N into the family, they all thank her for what she did, Derek and Emily loving how she black mailed Struass into finally leaving them alone.

"It was no problem, Papà called about the old witch, of course I had to help him out"she says, Reid was surprised to meet someone who had a higher IQ than him but was happy when she actually listened to his ramblings about anything and could actually keep up with him.

As the day was coming to an end the team had gone home, apart from two,

Y/N and her Dad, the woman was waiting for him to finish up, once he was done the two walk to bus car.

"Thank you again piccolo, we couldn't of done it without you" he confessed. Y/n hugged the man, "it was nothing Papà, you can pay me back by cooking your famous pasta for dinner" she bargained.

This man the man laugh, of course as always she speaks with her stomache. "Pasta it is piccolo!" He announces making the girl laugh.

The end!

Italian translation

(1)

papà non si era accorto che eri tu - Dad didn't realize it was you

(2)

allora perché chiami, c'è qualcosa che non va? - so why are you calling, is there something wrong?

(3)

figlia - Daughter

(4)

Papà -Dad

(5)

lavoro assolutamente meraviglioso, piccola, hai bruciato quella strega -

Absolutely wonderful job, baby, you burned that witch

Hope you liked this oneshot! Sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes.

Request are open!

Word count : 1040

[saturnville]

the man in the suit.

pairing: miguel galindo x afro latina fem oc (eliana)

prompt: miguel becomes infatuated with eliana, the owner of a popular coffee shop in town.

an: I was asked to bring back the Miguel Galindo fics by an anon. it's been over two years since I've written anything Mayans, but I'm always willing to revisit old fandoms, so, here we go, I hope you enjoy.

Her coffee shop was a staple in the town. Known for the rich Colombian coffee beans ground with intentionality, brewed with love, and served in mugs crafted by her own hands. The aura was always calm. Busy, but never so much that guests couldn't enjoy their time. They, just like she often, would get lost in the melodies of indie music that played from the speakers and drunk off caffeine and oat milk. The Tranquil Lounge was a blessing to Santo Padre.

Saturdays were the busiest days in the Lounge. College students stopped by to grind out assignments due the following day at midnight, entrepreneurs chugged coffee like water to finalize funding proposals, and others snuggled by the window with a good book. They were lively and invigorating; her favorite days in the shop.

She danced around her employees, humming a Marc Anthony tune as she topped off a cup with cold foam. Vivir mi vida, la, la, la, la, she hummed to herself.

"I'm very impressed. Most people don't know the lyrics passed the chorus," said an unfamiliar voice. Her teeth gleamed as she smiled softly. Her head still down, she placed a lid on the cup and slid it to the other side of the counter.

"I consider myself determined when it comes to learning song lyrics," she replied. "What can I get you?" Finally, she lifted her head, and she struggled to fight the instinct to gasp. How had he found her little coffee shop in town?

Miguel Galindo was notorious in Santo Padre. A businessman with illegal practices. The government hated him, men envied him, and women wanted him. Everyone in Santo Padre knew who he was and they knew better than to cross him. Their families could end up missing within hours if they upset him. It should have struck fear in her heart, but his presence did the opposite.

Her eyes scanned his attire. Bold of him to wear a white suit to drink coffee. But, it looked beautiful against his olive complexion. It was perfectly tailored to hug his broad shoulders. Her eyes followed its outline.

His brown eyes scanned the beautifully curated menu behind her. Bright colors against the blackboard. Sunflowers, rainbows, and bees decorated the menu. Creative, he noted. "I'll do a hot caramel macchiato. Medium, please." He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. She halted. The drink was $4.

Miguel looked unamused when she parted her lips to object, so she simply took the bill from his hand and thanked him with a smile. "Enjoy, hope to see you back soon."

He nodded. His eyes dropped to her nametag. Eliana, Founder. "Thank you, Eliana. You have a good day, quierda."

She smiled bashfully, "Gracias. You too."

-

Miguel Galindo was enamored by her. He saw the silhouette of her figure when he closed his eyes to rest at night. He heard the southern twang of her accent as he listened to music on the radio, and he saw the richness of her eyes in the mounds of chocolate chips scattered in Christopher's pancakes.

He made frequent appearances at the shop after that. Catching her friendly grin and gentle hands as she passed his cup to him was one of the few highlights of his day. He cherished it, craved it, and adored it.

He felt lucky when he waltzed into the shop one Saturday morning to find it empty. He thought it was a slow day, but she'd closed it for cleaning. And rather than turning him away, she welcomed him in.

"Your usual?" Eliana questioned. She propped her broom against a stable surface and turned to move behind the counter. "On the house."

"Oh no," Miguel waved. "You're not even open, I see." It was Eliana's turn to force an object into his hands. His usual--hot caramel macchiato; medium with a smiley face drawn on the side of the cup.

"You keep me in business, Mr. Galindo," Eliana replied teasingly with a smile. She was so pretty to him. The woman with a mahogany complexion and soft eyes with an unexplainably gentle aura.

Miguel's eyes dropped to the floor as he chuckled bashfully. He had a tendency to pay more than was due, but he credited it as paying in advance for future visits. "I just like to support where I can." Eliana picked up her broom and hummed, instructing him to get comfortable in the cushioned chairs near the window.

His eyes scanned the marvelous artwork that decorated the dark walls. Murals of people parading in fields of palm trees with drums, colorful skirts, and baskets of fruits, vegetables, and grains. They were all of deep complexion. His eyebrow rose.

"Where are you from?" He found himself asking.

"Costa Chica of Guerrero. Mexico." The area where Black Mexicans were the most populated.

"Tu familia?" Your family?

Eliana shrugged a shoulder and bent over to sweep the dirt unto the dustpan. "En México. Conseguí una beca para estudiar aquí. Se graduó con un título en negocios y decidió quedarse. It's a long story." In Mexico. I got a scholarship to study here. I graduated with my business degree and decided to stay.

Miguel mimicked her actions and gestured to the empty seat across from him. "I've got the time if you do."

-

They were polar opposites. She was an extrovert, he was introverted. She loved the fall, yet he found it one of the sadder seasons. Tea was her favorite, though she owned a coffee shop, but coffee was his holy grail. He grew up without his father present, but hers was her rock. So many new discoveries that he basked in like warm comforters on a winter day.

“I enjoyed today,” Miguel said as he walked her to her car. Hours had passed, the sun had set, and their day had come to a close. “I’d like to see you again.”

Eliana hummed as she tapped her key fob. Her vehicle chirped excitedly. She reached for the door handle, but Miguel beat her to it. She thanked him gently and slid into the seat. “Well, you’ll know where to find me, Miguel.”

He chuckled and nodded. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, but. he liked that. Effort was required. He liked a challenge.

“I do,” he replied. “Be ready tomorrow evening. Be safe tonight, Eliana.”

Her brown eyes are twinkled with curiosity. She stretched up and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Wear a white suit.” And with that, she started her car and sped off into the night, leaving Miguel to bask in the eagerness of seeing her again.