sherala007

[sherala007]

The Secret of My Success, ch 1

Harry Castillo x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When not even a professional matchmaking firm can help Harry Castillo find love, he turns his attention to helping his best friend meet their soulmate instead. The surprise of finding his own in the process will challenge the attitude Harry has taken toward dating for his entire life, and open up a whole new world of romance.

(This story picks up where the last chapter of The Unbearable Weight of Perfection leaves off, and will weave in a few other soulmate characters from previous stories just for fun. Don't worry if you haven't read those stories though! I'll be dropping the pertinent references in each chapter's note section to read along with Harry and his soulmate's adventures.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Reader is nicknamed Mack* Continuous warnings for: food/alcohol consumption, tobacco smoking. Mentions of past bullying and mistreatment, a bit of humanizing judgmental behavior. Summary: Harry attends his best friend's engagement party, only to find that Percy's old childhood partner in crime is quite charming in her own right. Notes: In this first chapter, we have references to Tamara's friend the fashion designer whose husband is from Mallorca. Wave hi to Javi G and his amor as you read!

The ringing telephones and buzz of activity from even down the hall doesn’t reach the plush, insulated capsule of this office. The windows are encompassing, giving a sweeping view of the city that would stun visitors and impress investors. The power harness from floor to ceiling views of the most powerful financial district in the world. His back is to that view, phone pressed to his ear as he talks. “I think that with that kind of margin, we would be stupid to invest.” He says bluntly, aware that the news won’t be well received but that’s not his problem. “No, they’ve significantly overstated their assets and at this point, it’s looking more like fraud than idiocracy.”

The knock at the door draws Harry Castillo’s attention, making him look up and frown as his best friend motions for him to wrap up the call. Shaking his wrist and looking at the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist makes him wince. “No, I understand.” He murmurs. “Tom, we will have to discuss this later. Think about what I’ve said.” He tells the man on the other end of the line, rolling his eyes with annoyance when the entire point seems to fly right over that man’s head. “Uh huh, uh huh.” He stands. “Yes. Well, that’s an interesting way of looking at it.” He shakes his head, nodding towards Percy Stokes, rushing him along. “Okay, well, I have a meeting that I’m walking into, so I’ll get back to you on that.” He says abruptly, finally managing to break through the endless monologue before saying a hurried goodbye and pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Come on.” Percy huffs. “We’re gonna be late.” He shakes his head. “And Tamara will kill me.”

Harry grins, sliding his phone into the inner pocket of his suit and pulling down the edge of his jacket to straighten it out. Luckily his tie was still straight and he hadn’t run a hand through his hair. “She would if you were late to your own engagement party.” He agrees.

“Which is why we’re not gonna be late.” Percy says with absolute certainty. He’s waving Harry toward the door with enthusiasm, checking his own appearance in one of the mirrors build into the walls of the office. Harry is technically his boss but he’s far more of a friend. He’d become that along the way, as they both came up through the financial game together. The Castillo family’s connections were pure gold and Harry hadn’t minded being a sort of big brother figure to the new guy in the family firm when Percy had started years ago. Now they’re each other’s number one fan and best supporter in work and out of it.

“Do you have her gift?” He asks, knowing that it’s customary to give your fiancée a gift before the wedding. He had voted on the Tiffany earrings, but he didn’t know what Percy had chosen.

Percy pats the breast pocket of his suit jacket and beams. “The earrings were perfect,” he tells Harry as they dash for the elevator. “I went with the platinum setting. Matches her engagement ring that way.”

“Nice.” He holds the door open for Percy and steps in after he’s in the car, pressing the button for the lobby. “The car is outside; we should be there with time to spare.” He promises.

"Only because your guy finds like...pocket dimensions to drive through." Percy jokes. Harry's driver, an older man named Stanley with a sharp tongue and a hell of a sense of humor, is a goddamn treasure and everybody knows it.

“He’s driven in Manhattan.” Harry snorts. “That qualifies as a combat tour.”

"You're not wrong." Percy snorts. He leans back in the elevator car as it drops swiftly down the controlled track from the thirtieth floor down to the ground. He's jittery and excited and can't stop grinning. Tonight is going to be perfect.

“So who all is Tamara gonna invite from her end?” He asks. “I know that you’re moving to L.A., but we’ve planned all the wedding activities here.”

“She’s got some family coming down, and a few people in from LA.” His Canadian-born fiancée seems to have friends and family everywhere, and he fiddle with the cuff of his shirt sleeve where it lays over the white ink maple leaf tattoo he has from her. “Basically her family and her bridesmaids. If I read the guest list correctly for tonight, the husbands are all home with their kids and the girls are making a weekend of it.”

“That’s a shame.” Harry chuckles. “Seems like I’ll never get to meet the famous Javi Gutierrez.” He jokes. “People say we look like we are related.”

“He’s coming to the wedding,” Percy assures him as the elevator touches down on the ground floor. “His wife is one of Tam’s bridesmaids and apparently he loves weddings, which doesn’t surprise me after having met a bunch of their friends.”

Harry hums as the doors open. “Good, I’ve been wanting to talk about property in Mallorca.”

The two men stride out the glass doors of their office building and slide into a car, but Percy scoffs even before they get settled. “So that’s the travel obsession this month? Mallorca?” Harry itches to travel but never makes the time for himself and everyone knows it. Last month he had been pouring over travel itineraries for New Zealand.

“Yeah, I was thinking that it could be a good investment.” He admits. “Maybe a diversity into a resort style property.”

“You’re going to buy a hotel?” Percy’s eyebrow ticks up skeptically.

“Why not?” He shrugs slightly. “No different than owning the apartment buildings in SoHo.”

“From finance heir to real estate mogul.” The younger man laughs, nudging Harry’s shoulder. “Hey man, if that’s what you want to do? Enjoy it. Make sure they keep an owner’s suite ready for you to drop by whenever.”

“Exactly.” He grins as Stanley guides the car out into traffic and away from the skyscraper. ‘Castillo Holdings’ is proudly proclaimed in large gold letters at the top of the building and on the plaque mortared into the stone pillar beside the doors. “Name it ‘Harry’s Place’ or some whimsical kind of thing.”

Percy snorts. “This from the man who gets a giggle out of taking business dinners to Harry’s instead of Delmonico’s. Of course you would call it Harry’s Place.”

He smirks slightly, tapping his fingers on his knee. Forcing himself not to trace the scars on the side of his thigh like he would do if he was alone. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.” He huffs back playfully.

“Percy’s Palace,” he answers without hesitation, smirking right back at his friend. “Gotta have that alliteration.”

“Palace, huh?” He chuckles softly, nodding in agreement. “I like it. It would be a place that people would talk about.”

“Hell yeah they would.” Taking the approval as a compliment, he grins. “Build it right on the Vegas strip. Blow Caesar’s out of the water.”

“Now you’re talking serious investment.” It’s almost immediately that his mind starts turning over that information. Running the numbers.

"Tam loves Vegas." Percy reveals, his smirk slipping into something much more besotted. After meeting at that fateful Met Gala a month ago, he and Tamara had flown to Las Vegas for a week and spent time wrapped up in each other learning everything they could about the soulmate they had been searching for, for so long.

“You’re lucky.” Harry will admit that easily, not a hint of jealousy, even though he knows that he hides really well. “Honestly, she’s perfect for you.”

"You're next." Percy insists. He leans back in his seat and watches Manhattan roll past the windows, contended as a house cat. "I know you're bummed about not having marks, but I know we can find you the right girl."

“Yeah.” Harry nods, not willing to bring down Percy with his own depressive thoughts. He had tried that route, went logical. Lucy had ended up breaking up with him. “She’s out there.”

"Who knows?" He's trying to be encouraging, but Percy is in that giddy, dreamy place of a new relationship where everything is love-centric. And more than that, his love-centric. "Maybe it's one of Tam's friends?"

“It’s possible.” He chuckles, doubting it. He honestly doesn’t know if he’s meant for love. Maybe he doesn’t have marks because he’s not suitable for that kind of relationship. It happens. It’s just convincing his mother than it’s not the universes fault.

They're a little bit quieter by the time they arrive at the party. The Clover Club is a favorite bar with excellent crafted cocktails, unique beers, and gourmet bar food that is a perfect choice for the intimate engagement party of two people who grew up casual but like to indulge in the finer things now that it's not out of budget.

Tamara, radiant in a white dress with pink flowers, squeaks with delight when she sees the sleek, black Maserati pull up to the curb. She is getting out of an Uber with her parents and little sister but her focus has immediately shifted.

“There she is.” Percy barely waits for the car to stop before he is jumping out. Harry chuckles as he follows behind him a moment later after the car actually stops rolling. “See? We arrived at the perfect time.” He calls out to Percy, waving to Tamara politely even though she only has eyes for her soulmate at the moment.

The couple murmur to each of quietly for a moment, savoring a few sweet kisses after three impossibly long days apart. When Tamara can finally do something other than gaze adoringly into Percy's eyes, she sighs happily and looks back to the people around them. She introduces her mother, father, and her sister to her newly-minted fiancé and Percy introduces Harry in turn.

They seem like nice people, although it’s clear that they are a little out of their depths. He doesn’t miss the speculative looks as they try to take everything in all at once.

"It's our first time in New York City," Tamara's sister Renee explains. "It's...a lot."

"It's beautiful," her mother sighs happily.

"We can't wait to show you the sights." Percy ushers everyone inside. They're the first arrivals, and others will be coming momentarily, but he wants to have everyone settled. "Harry's going to come look at venues with us this weekend but I promise we won't overwhelm you with it. We'll have fun while you're here."

“Yes.” Harry nods, motioning everyone towards the doors. “Honestly it should be quick to pick the venue.”

"Mack is coming too, right?" Tamara asks, glancing over her parents' heads at her soulmate as he holds open the door for everyone.

"Absolutely." Percy nods emphatically. "She's going to be our best ally."

“Mack?” Harry frowns slightly as he looks towards Percy. “The roommate I’ve never managed to actually meet?”

"She works nights a lot," Percy reminds him, waving it off. When Tamara's parents look curious, he goes on. "My best friend growing up became a wedding planner. The event business that she works for offered her a transfer from a smaller office so she took it. She only got to the city a few weeks ago, so there hasn't been a lot of chance to get everyone together yet."

Harry rolls his eyes at the slightly protective tone to his friend’s voice. He had asked about this friend, only to be stonewalled. It had made him a little apathetic about meeting “Mack”.

"You're gonna like her." Percy predicts, pointing one knowing finger at Harry. He'd been cautious about the introduction because he's protective of his friends, not because he thought they would butt heads.

There is no more chance to talk about it though, as they step into the club and Percy turns his attention to the staff. They've booked the event space for the night and paid premium for plenty of the gourmet food and drink options for all of their guests, and he wants the night to be perfect. As perfect as Tamara is. As perfect as their wedding and their future will be.

The warm lights reflect off the brick walls. Gleam against the tap that line the wall, but Harry is more interested in the whiskey. He slides up to the polished bar and taps his fingers lightly, eager for a drink.

"What can I get for you tonight, sir?" The bartender assigned to the private event space is a beautiful young woman with a bright smile and platinum blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She slides over to him with ease, measuring him up at a glance just the way everyone does in this city.

He shoots her a small smile. “Double Highland Park.” He orders. “Straight up.”

"Coming right up." Her interest at least momentarily piqued, she takes another glance before sauntering away to pour the whiskey that was so very rarely ordered. That's a hell of an expensive glass. Maybe this won't be just another average party after all.

“Thank you.” Harry watches her pour, admiring the way she makes it look elegant. The smooth amber colored liquor in the heavy crystal cut glass is slid across the bar to him and he nods. “Thanks.” The twenty in his palm is left in the lacquered top as he takes the glass to lift it for a quick sip.

There is a commotion at the door as more friends pour in. This seems to be a particularly punctual group of friends and Harry tucks that information away appreciatively.

Music starts to pour in through the speakers, a little more festive than most parties, but it’s fun.

Jovial chattering fills the space as more and more people arrive, and people come and go from the bar around him as guests truly join the party. About ten minutes into the stream of arrivals, a tall woman in silk walks through the door to be greeted by raucous shouts from Percy.

Turning towards the commotion, Harry watches as Percy grabs Tamara’s arm and rushes forward to wrap his arms around the woman and squeeze hard enough to make her squeal. Intrigued by the display and wondering if this is the Mack Percy had been talking about.

They're almost of a height, Harry notes with interest — Tamara being fairly tall for a woman he doesn't suppose that she often meets others her size. But the new arrival is decidedly curvier than the willowy actress.

"Let me breathe, Perce!" The woman is laughing, shoving Percy with an air of sibling playfulness. "And let me say hi to Tam Tam, for crying out loud!"

Harry finishes his drink, watching the entire time as the statuesque woman pulls away from Percy and gives Tamara an equally enthusiastic greeting. Whoever she is, she is confident. Many women might be intimidated by the radiating beauty and obvious size difference between her and a famous actress, but not her.

"My mother Bernadette, my father Joe, and my little sister Renee." Tamara introduces her family in turn. "This is Mack. She's been Percy's best friend since they were kids."

So it is Mack. Harry hums, trying to figure out how he is feeling about this development. Percy had never mentioned that his roommate was positively beautiful, confident and voluptuous.

"Next door neighbors," he hears her explain to Tamara's family with ease. "Our mothers served together and we ended up in the same class at school. We were pretty much connected at the hip for a long time."

"I thought you moved a lot when you were a kid?" Renee asks, trying to place all of the story's ducks into a neat row.

"Oh, I did," Percy nods. "We both did. We ended up in Fayetteville when we were...twelve?" Mack nods and he goes on. "I had been in Florida before that, and Korea. But I was born in Illinois."

Harry moves back over to the bar, asking for another refill as he continues to watch the introductions and the way that this friend interacts with the people closest to Tamara and Percy. Sometimes he wonders if he’s too detached, but he also likes to people watch. He learns things about people that way. Reading them.

"We're not doing official business tonight." He hears Mack insist. "We're here to celebrate, not split hairs. I'm gonna go get a drink before you start quizzing me on vendors."

The sharp click of heals announces the approach and he has the new glass of whiskey in his hand right as the figure draped in black silk approaches.

"Hi honey." You smile when the bartender comes over and it's a bright, confident dazzle of white teeth and red-painted lips. "What's the best thing on your menu for a rum drinker?"

"Do you like mint?" The bartender asks. When the woman identified as Mack say yes, the bartender smiles back. "I've got just the thing. Give me one second."

Harry studies you up close as you turn to appraise him. Noting the carefully crafted makeup, professional but bold with the red lipstick. Like you had come from work and dressed up the look with a quick trip into your cosmetic bag. “Rum is best on a desert beach.” He jokes. “Burned to signal a ship to rescue you.”

"Only if you're a snob," you counter, leaning against the bar and noting his simple, straight glass of brown liquor. A subtle whiff reveals it's whiskey. "Sometimes it's okay to just enjoy things because they're fun."

Okay, not a Pirates of the Caribbean fan. “And rum is fun?” He asks curiously, tilting his head as he watches you judge his drink. He lifts his brows and offers it to you to try.

"Oh fuck, that was from a movie?" You snort, laughing at your own self for being the actual asshole in this scenario. "Sorry, no, I clearly haven't seen it. Them? I'm more of a Star Wars girl." When he motions to his glass you raise your own eyebrow in turn. "What is it?"

“Expensive, snobbish, whiskey.” He smirks, wiggling the glass enticingly. Playfully. Something that is a little surprising to him, normally very serious in life. “Highland Park.”

"Sounds like something I can't afford to breathe near," you joke, but since it's just a sip being offered to you by a ridiculously handsome man at a private party being thrown by your best friend, you figure it's safe enough and also too intriguing to pass up. "Cheers." You raise his glass to him and tip it back, taking just a sip but immediately shutting your eyes and practically sighing over the deep, complex flavors.

The smirk turns to a genuine smile as he watches you appreciate the whiskey. The bartender brings back a drink and announces the name “Queen’s Park Swizzle.” She grins and Harry nods. “Another glass of Highland Park.” He orders with a wink and nod towards you. “I think she’s stolen mine.”

"Well I do drink pirate liquor," you joke, and have another sip since he's offered. Once you put the glass down again, you hold out your hand. "I'm Mack." The nickname is more than a decade old now, something that you've absorbed into who you are and made a part of you. So much so that it's obvious who knows you intimately versus who knows you through business based on what they call you. Friends and family? They've all called you Mack since you were fifteen.

“Harry.” He takes your hand and instead of shaking it, he bends down and presses a kiss to the back of it. Smelling the fruity, spicy fragrance of whatever lotion you have used.

Motherfucker. He's charming, too? Your stomach twists, but only because you're not used to this kind of thing. Gentlemanly behavior, most people call it. The men you spend your days around are usually either very in love grooms or very out of love grooms. The former can look right at you and still not see you, which is somewhat sweet. And the later are decidedly not gentlemen. It's such a distracting moment that it actually takes you another few seconds to process who he is. "Wait, Harry Harry? Like Percy's boss? Apparently the only competition I've ever had for the position of that weirdo's best friend?" You motion over your shoulder with one thumb and make a mental note to smack Percy soundly for not telling you his other best friend was so hot. "It's really nice to finally meet you."

“I was starting to wonder if you were real.” He admits as he smirks, standing tall but not letting go of your hand just yet. “Percy has been frustratingly tight lipped about you.” Now he wonders if it was because you were not built like supermodel, but he would hate to believe that Percy thought he was that snobbish.

"A lot of people..." Finance bros "find it weird that we're still friends after so long. They expect one of us to be gay, or for there to be some secret romantic history or something. And there's none of that. We're kind of...extra siblings." Maybe that's why he hasn't said much. It is certainly why you tend to be tight lipped about him to people you aren't sure of. But then...Percy is sure of Harry. He talks about him all the time. "Well, here I am. And here you are. Maybe he didn't introduce us before because he thinks we'll get along too well."

He contemplates that and shrugs. “Who knows?” He snorts after a moment, “maybe it’s because he thinks we wouldn’t get along.”

"Maybe." That has you smirking as you tip back another sip of the whiskey that you're sure costs more than your car payment. "You are a snob."

He chuckles, tilting his head as he picks up his new drink after it’s been delivered. “Tend to be.” He can admit that. “Only about certain things.”

"Like whiskey." Which, you have to admit, he's right about.

“I have been known to drink Jack Daniels.” He admits. “At gunpoint.”

You snort, shaking your head at him. The last sip of the pricey whiskey is gone a moment later, and you set the empty glass aside. "You would not like my liquor cabinet."

“Let me guess…..” he narrows his eyes playfully and looks up and down at you. “Tito’s vodka, a bottle of Whipped Smirnoff, Sailor Jerry, Captain Morgan Original…” he takes another sip of his whiskey. “Annnnnd a bottle of Malibu.” He grins. “The original coconut one.” He points a finger at you from the hand holding his glass. “How did I do?”

"I was just going to say there's no whiskey there, but damn!" Clutching your proverbial pearls, you are doubled over laughing on the bar as you try to recall what is actually on your bar cart at home at the moment. "The vodka is definitely Tito's, but the rum is Kraken. Yes to the Malibu, but you missed the tequila. El Jimador Silver. Which is so much better than anyone gives it credit for."

“It actually is a good tequila.” Harry admits with a grin. “But I prefer Tapatio 110.” He doesn’t have anything against any of the alcohol you’ve listed, if he’s honest.

"That's an excellent choice." He has good taste, you'll give him that without hesitation. The cut of his suit is another, much larger, indicator of that. "So what do you do, Work Friend Harry, other than judge other people's liquor habits and quote movies to strangers?"

He chuckles. “I work.” He admits, shrugging slightly.

"I think we've solved the mystery of how we've never met." You pick up your cocktail now, enjoying the feeling of the cold glass and the sweet, sharp, sour scent. "We're both workaholics."

“Wedding planning, right?” He asks, even though he knows that what you do. “I bet you do a lot of business around Valentine’s Day and oddly enough, Christmas, right?”

"New Years Eve is popular these days, too. And all summer long is pretty constantly busy." You've also been seeing a rash of people lately getting married on their birthdays, which is kind of fun as long as the marriage is a happy one.

“I don’t understand that trend.” He admits, shaking his head. “It smacks of selfishness. Making all of your guests give up their holiday, plus all the staff.” He huffs, watching you switch to your swizzle. “Making them give up their holiday to work a wedding is just wrong.”

"I get wanting to make your event memorable." After all, wasn't that the goal for pretty much everyone? To remember their event forever? "I just think it's an unfortunate truth that sometimes people forget the staff that work these things are actual people with their own families and lives."

Harry nods, thinking about Lucy’s John. It’s strange to think about her again so often lately. Maybe it’s because he met her at his brother’s wedding. “Just promise me you won’t put me at the single’s table?” He snorts. “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

"I promise." Not that there's even been any discussion of how tables will be set up at all, but you'll find a way to make it work. Something about Harry is very endearing despite being so easy to tease. He's a likable guy. "No bribe necessary."

He chuckles. “So how will it work being both the planner and a part of the wedding?” Other guests are mingling and talking but his focus has stayed on you since you’ve joined him at the bar.

"One of the junior girls from my firm is going to help out during the ceremony. It will help her get her footing on a big wedding with a safety net in place, because I'll still be there." The whole thing was already worked out, of course. You weren't the first planner at Sparkling Nights to ever plan a wedding they were in.

“Do you ever work with Adore?” He asks.

Your nose wrinkles, but you nod. “The matchmakers? Yeah. Our firms have a contact but I don’t like to work those events if I can help it.”

He lifts a brow again, noticing the judgement in your voice and expression. “What, you don’t like them?”

“Those girls are…deeply judgmental, at best.” Have you done some judging tonight too? Sure. But nothing like what they do. “Not in the every day way like we’ve done. Drinks or taste in movies or whatever. The ones I’ve met are all shallow to the bone and turn people into math equations. They talk shit about their clients behind their backs all the time, which is just horrifically unprofessional.”

He hums as he finishes his drink. Seeing how it could be seen as judgmental when you job is to literally assign value to someone as if they were an asset. He had stopped his subscription over a year ago, because it seemed like the women just kept getting younger and more obvious in their want of being a trophy wife without having any substantive value beyond their looks. “Well,” he says after he swallows the last burn of his drink. “Worked for my brother.” He tells you. “Married two years.”

Well shit. You glance down at the glass in your hand and remember all over again that there were multiple reasons why you got made fun of in school. Not being able to keep your mouth shut was a pretty old problem. “Good for him,” you manage, feeling very much like you’ve put your foot in your mouth.

“Um hmm.” Harry sees Scott Bledsoe behind you, motioning to him to capture his attention and call him over. “Excuse me.” He murmurs politely, setting his drink down and pulling another twenty out of his pocket to put on the bar. “I see someone I need to speak with.”

"Fuck..." you mutter under your breath, groaning at your own idiocy as he walks away.

******

The party has been going on for hours. Harry has spoken to, or greeted every person in this room and it’s sad to say that his thoughts still drift back to the conversation at the bar. He shouldn’t have walked away like that, it was rude, but it had kind of cut him when she was insulting a service that hadn’t even been successful in finding him a partner. He’s had a few more drinks, probably more than he should have, so he’s outside to clear his head and secretly craving a cigarette.

The scent of smoke is distinct, he knows there is someone out here enjoying the thing he is craving — but it’s to his dismay when that person happens to be a tall, curvaceous woman in black silk.

Harry assumes that you don’t see him, standing farther down the railing and looking over the surprisingly nice view from the roof deck. Groaning quietly when the fresh puff of nicotine wafts his way.

“Would you…like one?” That particular groan is the sound of an ex-smoker who misses it, but there’s definitely a risk that he might be offended by the offer because he’s quit. At this point you’re well aware this man doesn’t like you, but that’s your own fault. You just don’t want it to be too difficult for Percy during the wedding planning.

“I shouldn’t.” His answer is automatic, but he’s moving towards you. Towards the rich and sweet smell of burning tobacco. “My mother always scolds me, but I can’t help it.” He tells you as he pulls an ornate zippo out of his pants pocket.

"I won't tell on you." The antique cigarette case you found at an estate sale ten years ago is still with you, and you click it open to offer him one of the ill-advised treasures inside.

The case is beautiful, sterling silver and trimmed in gold. He plucks a slender cigarette out the case and nods as he puts it up to his lips.

"I'm sorry I put my foot in my mouth earlier." It's the adult thing to do, to apologize, and you'll do it even if it's only to keep things smooth for Percy. I had just come from a meeting at the Adore offices and I was still all riled up about them. I have nothing against the people who use the service, I just think it's shitty the way some of those girls talk about their clients."

He chuckles and shrugs after taking a long drag off the cigarette. Groaning slightly at the taste and approving of the flavor. He glances over at you. “You never talked back about a client before?”

“Not to another professional in any kind of connected field,” you insist. He looks good smoking. A little more rugged. Less like he’s been sculpted from marble. “Usually only to Percy, if I’m honest.”

“So the problem is that they are analytical.” He hums. “And you are emotional.” It makes sense. You probably have an emotional connection to every client you work with by the end.

"The problem is that they treat analysis like the only answer and demean anyone who believes in emotion." You have to qualify it, since you feel like he's barreling toward being upset with you again, and you're trying to prevent that. "Again, I'm only talking about the half a dozen or so women from that office that I've met."

He’s relaxed a little not that he’s figured out that you are malicious. He shrugs slightly. “It’s a numbers game to them. Basic addition and subtraction.” Dating Lucy had given him some insight into that world. It hadn’t been too far from his own, surprisingly.

"How do you figure that?" If his brother had used Adore then he might have some perspective on the whole thing that is different from your own.

“It’s simple.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Some men want a 5’6” woman who weighs less than 130 lbs, preferably with natural blonde hair and reasonably well educated.” He watches as your eyes narrow and wonders if you think he’s listing off his own preferences. “If 47% of their female clients don’t meet that specific criteria, then they have to narrow it down to what fits in that remaining 53%.” He chuckles. “It’s a numbers game. What adds up and what can be overlooked to get to that match that you could possibly tolerate grinding teeth or leaving the towel on the floor for the next 25 years.”

"I guess I don't understand why people care about the height and weight of their partner , or even the hair color, instead of their joys and hobbies and passions." Although, from his estimation? It certainly does hit home how you're still single. It stings like a burning welt but you don't flinch, just cast you eyes down at your cigarette and swallow a sigh.

“Not everyone is blessed to carry scars from their soulmate.” Harry hums with a shrug of one shoulder. Hating how he doesn’t carry them.

"And some of us have them but still haven't made that match." You just shrug, pretending — or pretending to pretend — that it doesn't matter. "It is what it is. I don't believe you have to find your soulmate to be happy. It's just one way of many."

“I can understand what you mean.” He admits. “You don’t have to like those ladies. They are just providing a luxury service to a lot of assholes.” He jokes.

"I guess I just don't like that the ones I've met act like they're the only right answer and still don't respect the people who use their service." A dry, low chuckle escapes you and you shrug. "Or maybe I'm just a bitter, single, fat girl. Who knows?"

He huffs slightly. “You aren’t fat.” He counters, frowning as he looks you up and down. “Not a part of you is disproportionate.” Yes, are you thicker than most women hoping to bag a rich husband in New York? Maybe, but your confidence is refreshing and it doesn’t seem to be steeped in arrogance.

"I don't think I am, either. But to most of New York, it's a sin for women to enjoy food." Either way, you wave it off and take a last drag from your cigarette.

He chuckles. “But they love to go out and be seen.” He reminds you with a smirk. “Where’s your favorite place to eat?”

"I've only been in the city a few weeks." You smile at the question, taking it to mean that he isn't one of the people who thinks eating is a sin. "So far I really like the sandwiches from the bodega at the end of my block."

“You should go to Keen’s.” He suggests. “Real old world vibes and the steak is good.”

"Should I?" A smile curls your lips up, red lipstick unbothered and un-smudged by smoking, and when faced with an abundance of Fuck it energy and the hottest man you've ever spoken to in real life, you sort of throw up your proverbial hands. "Is that where you take your dates to impress them?"

He tilts his head as a curious look enters his eyes. “Only if she’s a steak woman.” He admits. “If it’s sushi, I take her to Sushi Noz.” He arches a brow as he waits.

"I sincerely hope you're not too attached to the sushi idea now that you've said it. I'm definitely a steak kind of girl." The mischievousness of your smile hides the uncertainty there, because you don't necessarily have a lot of experience with guys like this. And even less success. But why not try? "What time should I pick you up?"

You’re bold. His curiosity turns into near amusement, lips smirking slightly as he takes another drag of the cigarette, his last. He grinds out the coal and blows out the smoke. “8.” He decides, chuckling.

"Eight." You echo it, tucking away the disbelief, and nod. You'll have just enough time after the appointments tomorrow to go home and change into something far more flattering and less practical. "Sounds good."

He nods, “sounds good.”

Wandering back into the party so you don't ruin the beautiful (and slightly unexpected) tension of the moment, you find Percy and Tamara by the bar when you slide up to get another drink.

“Sooooooo.” Tamara grins, still riding the high of actually celebrating being engaged this man, as she clings to his arm. “Tell me what you think about our choices for venues?” She asks.

“It will depend on the size of your guest list and how faithful to Manhattan you want to be,” you remind them, but extract a small notebook from your purse anyway. You know they want to stay in the heart of the city and they’re both fairly traditional. “Places like the Central Park Boathouse, Sony Hall, or the Foundry all have very different vibes but still give the traditional elegance you’re looking for.”

“Too bad we couldn’t have the Met.” Tamara sighs dreamily. “Since we met there.”

“You can,” you remind her. They have the budget, after all. “It’s just booked two years out.”

She sighs softly and shakes her head before turning those big, expressive eyes up to Percy. “I don’t want to wait that long to marry you.” She admits softly.

“Me either.” He leans down, kissing her twice and then a third time for good measure. “Wouldn’t it be easiest to book a hotel ballroom?” He looks back at you. “We’re going to have guests flying in from all over.”

“We can certainly do that,” you nod and glance back at your list. “And book a block of rooms for your guests in the process.”

She hums and looks over at Percy. “Where did Harry’s brother get married?” She asks softly. “Maybe we can book there.”

“Lotte?” Percy looks to you and you nod. “It was beautiful. And they were pretty easy to work with, I think.” Expensive, obviously, but he doesn’t care about that. He can afford it and Tamara is worth it.

“Exactly.” He had struggled with the idea of moving himself, but he knew that Tamara needed to live in LA.

“Buck up, soldier,” you tease, nudging his arm. “This is another adventure. You’ll love LA.”

“I know.” He tilts his head and shoots you an apologetic sigh. “I just wish that the timing was better.”

"That's sweet of you," you promise him. He really is your best friend for a reason. "But who are we if we can't handle a curveball here and there?"

“Have you had any luck?” He asks. “You know I can just keep paying rent.” He reminds you.

"You don't need to do that." The little two bedroom in Washington Heights that he welcomed you into when you arrived in the city had been more than enough for him alone and it was just enough for two. Without him, your savings will stretch a few months before you start to struggle, but you just can't let him pay rent on a place that he isn't living in anymore. It doesn't sit well with you. "I have a couple of interviews next week, we'll see if any of them pan out."

“This is my fault though.” He insists. “At least let me pay until you find someone.”

“We’re not talking about rent at your engagement party,” you scold. Truth be told you’ve been looking at moving out to Brooklyn or Queens as soon as his lease is up and there’s not too terrible options that way. Nothing fancy, but you don’t need fancy.

“We’ll discuss it later.” He points at you playfully. “For real.” You had a nasty habit of changing the subject if you were uncomfortable with the subject, and your finances were one of those touchy things for you.

“Sure.” An off-hand dismissal of the topic is pretty on point for you, but you squeeze his arm before turning back to the bar to order another drink. You’re not trying to be flippant, but this is a celebration.

Harry rejoins the party and mingles with the other guests. Laughing and trading jokes, telling stories about when Tamara and Percy met, proud that he had facilitated the entire thing. He chews on his lip as he considers getting another drink and decides that it’s a little too soon for another so he wanders over to the buffet spread.

“Have you tried any of the food yet?” Percy comes up on his side and picks up a small plate with an artfully styled piece of fried chicken with some kind of slaw on it. “It’s incredible here.”

“No,” he admits with a small grin. “I’ve been drinking my dinner so far.” He glances over towards you and then back to the artfully arranged appetizers.

“Any reason for that?” He isn’t going to pretend he didn’t see Harry talking to you earlier. Or that he doesn’t smell like your cigarettes now. You’re the only person he knows who still smokes Camel Turkish Royals and Harry always buys American Spirits when he stress smokes.

“Annoyance.” Harry snorts. “Intrigue.” He admits a moment later. “Ever met someone you shouldn’t like, but you do?”

“Plenty of times.” The two men stand in bespoke, expensive suits and eat gourmet finger food, surveying the pastry around them. “But I assume we’re talking about something a little more striking than a professor or coworker?”

“I’m apparently going on a date tomorrow night.” He snorts softly and picks up a plate with two teriyaki meatballs on it. “I guess I should call and make a reservation.”

“You sound…” Percy frowns. “Less than excited?”

“Given my history with dating?” Harry asks, lifting a brow. “I guess I’m not exactly hopeful.” He admits.

“So you’re not grumpy about it because of the girl, but because you don’t think it’ll go anywhere?” He’s itching to ask who. To find out if the glances he saw amounted to anything. But he doesn’t want to spook Harry too early.

“It never does.” Harry taps the plate and looks around the room. The very symbol of love existing is right here, but it always eludes him.

“It only has to be different once,” Percy reminds him.

He huffs slightly, unable to argue with that, but it’s so vague. “Of course.” He doesn’t want to bring his best friend down, tonight of all nights. “There’s plenty to look forward to, after all.”

“Not to be nosy,” Percy smirks. “But I’m gonna be nosy. Why did you ask if you weren’t excited about her?”

“I didn’t ask.” Harry admits, although his lips twist up slightly in amusement. “She did.”

“Oh shit.” That promotes the younger man to burst out in a fit of surprised laughter, though Percy quickly smothers the sound and peaks it down to an amused giggle. “Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about?”

“I’m sure we are.” Harry rolls his eyes at his friend as he picks up a meatball on the slender toothpick and takes a bite.

“Well shit.” Percy repeats, grinning at Harry like he’s just gotten the best gossip ever. “I mean, I’m not surprised, but I am impressed. I that makes you the third guy that she’s asked out ever.”

“Bullshit.” Harry pulls a disbelieving face because he isn’t swallowing that load of garbage for all the money in Manhattan. “That woman has only asked out three men?” He huffs, nodding towards where you are clearly chatting happily and smiling almost flirtatiously with an older man. He’s old enough to be your grandfather, but still.

"Don't let the extrovert exterior fool you." Lowering his voice, Percy glances over at you and then back to Harry. "That's a girl who lives on romance novels and period dramas, dreaming about her soulmate sweeping her off her feet." He huffs softly under his breath. "But kids are mean. She when through a hell of a lot of shit in school and got bullied pretty mercilessly. The big, brassy, bad ass thing is...it's a defense mechanism. If she asked you? She went out on a pretty big limb."

“I think she felt bad about insulting me.” Harry chuckles quietly. “She was talking shit about the women at Adore.”

"She...kinda hates them." Percy laughs along with him, but he meets Harry's eyes meaningfully. "She was telling me about the meetings she's been having and how shitty they are to her. Personal attacks. She said one of the women in the office had done a statistics sheet on her and it was awful."

“That’s because she doesn’t fit the assumed vision of what a valuable woman in this city is.” Harry agrees, knowing exactly who would have done that statistic sheet on her. “It doesn’t really mean it’s personal to them.”

"No," Percy agrees. "But it's personal to her."

“Believe me, I can understand that.” He had been encouraged to not discontinue his engagement of Adore but he hadn’t seen the point when no one had been compatible.

"All I'm saying is that if she asked, it's not out of guilt. It's genuine interest." Percy does take a moment though, letting that sink in to Harry's mind. "But if you're not really interested in return? I'm gonna ask, as both of your friend, that you tell her up front."

Harry frowns slightly. “So you don’t think this is a good idea?” He asks.

"I want you to accept because you want to," Percy says. "Not because I want you to."

“I would have said no if I didn’t want to go.” Percy should know him better than that. He sighs softly. “I guess I’m just worried that it will turn out badly.”

"No one is saying you have to marry her. But you both deserve a good date." Eternally honest Percy shrugs again. "You've both had a string of bad luck lately, that's all I'm saying."

“We are going to Keen’s.” He tells his friend, knowing that he can count on the other man’s opinion. “She’s gonna pick me up.”

Percy smirks, this time because he knows the restaurant vice was Harry’s. You would have picked Italian. “Her favorite flowers are zinnias. Just…in case you were wondering.”

“Zinnias.” Even though he hadn’t thought about getting flowers just yet he tucks that bit of information away. “Any particular color?”

“Reds. Oranges. Pinks. Yellows. Anything that reminds you of sunrise.” Patting his shoulder twice, Percy is still smiling when he steps away. “Tomorrow is going to be a hell of a day.”

Harry stares down at his plate. “Yes it will be.” He murmurs softly.

******

The morning is a complicated and energetic affair. A large, black rental car arrives in the heart of Washington Heights to pick you up with your best friend and his fiancée inside, then it’s off to get Tamara’s family from their hotel and finally Harry from his place in Tribeca. You’re in business mode this morning, dressed professionally and carrying your necessary resources. Today you’re more than the groom’s best friend. You’re the wedding planner.

Today is casually business. He dresses down, if he’s honest. Jeans, a sweater and a sports coat. Formal enough for some places but casual enough to not scream uptight. Tonight, he’ll change into something else before taking you dinner.

You go over the list of appointments for the day with everyone in the car, because everyone had (of course) had an opinion in where the wedding should be held. Even Percy’s parents had called you to give their opinion, despite currently being deployed overseas. Thankfully, the hotel that Percy and Tamara had mentioned to you last night had actually had availability today to be seen. They’ll be setting up for another wedding while you’re there, but that isn’t a bad thing.

“The hotel is fine.” Harry assures them. “Peter and Charlotte loved it. It held everyone and the staff there is very discreet.” He chuckles. “Uncle Phil got too drunk and they escorted him up to his room without any issues.”

“Everybody has an Uncle Phil of sorts,” Tamara chuckles, thinking specifically of an aunt of hers. “When in the day are we going to the hotel?” She asks, keenly interested in that particular location.

“Second,” you assure her. The earliest appointment of the day is the venue that her parents were most interested in, though you think there’s very little chance of Percy or Tamara falling in love with it. Neither of them cares much for rowing. “The Central Park Boathouse is first. It’s a beautiful venue that will hold your whole guest list with a little room to spare. And it’s perfect for some lovely photos so you wouldn’t have to leave the property for them.”

“I still wish we could book the Met.” Tamara sighs fondly as she snuggles into Percy’s side. “But I don’t want to wait two to three years.”

“I did it in a call this morning,” you let them know, but qualify it carefully. “If they have a cancellation, we’re on the waiting list.”

“Ohhhhhh you’re the best.” She beams and is a hopeful gleam to her eyes. “Whenever.”

“We’ll keep our fingers crossed, but I have a good feeling we’ll find something we love today.” If you’re honest, you don’t hold out hope for the Met. But for Percy you’d try just about anything that would make him and his soulmate happy.

“I think you have to align your expectations with reality.” Harry hums quietly. “It would be nice, but it’s a lofty goal.”

“It’s a dream,” Tamara admits. “But there are no shortage of beautiful places in Manhattan to get married.”

“That is very true.” He agrees. “You just need to find the venue that matches what you two have dreamed about together.”

It doesn't surprise you when the Central Park Boathouse isn't to their taste. You can tell almost instantly that they aren't going to take to it, and while Tamara's parents ooh and ahh and encourage them, everyone ultimately agrees that it isn't right. Focusing on professionalism means you are doing your best not to be distracted by how good Harry looks dressed down for the daytime.

You are dressed very professionally, although he can tell that the carefully crafted outfit has been one that is well used. Still, he admires that your outfit is tailored to your body, fitting it perfectly and enhancing your curves rather than detracting from them.

On the ride over to the hotel, you review numbers with Percy and Tamara. Their guest list stands at just about 150 people and all the places they’re looking at can accommodate that easily. It will feel luxurious and intimate, rather than bustling or crowded.

“Here we are.” Percy pulls the rental car into the hotel’s parking lot and smiled up at the building. He’d been a guest at Peter Castillo’s wedding and thought it was nice, but hadn’t been thinking about his own wedding at the time. The girl he had been dating at the time was…not exactly long term relationship material. By her own admission.

“The bridal suite and groomsman suites are very nice.” Harry assures them. “Separated by a floor but there is a stairwell between them in case you need to access either party.”

“Your brother got married here?” Tamara’s mother asks, remembering that had been mentioned the night before.

“Yes madam.” He tells her with a proud smile. Charlotte and Peter aren’t soulmates, neither one of them has marks either, but they have created a strong and meaningful bond. “Very wonderful societal event.”

“But did you enjoy it?” That is the important part to her. Their family isn’t a part of anyone’s society. They’re not looking to climb into it, either.

“I enjoyed it.” It wasn’t to his taste. It wasn’t even to Peter’s taste, but it was what his bride wanted so he had happily conceded. Peter had always talked about a wedding on a beach. Harry had no idea what he would want.

His tone is soothing. Smooth and reassuring, and she smiles happily, momentarily mollified. The girl is large and grand, more imposing than welcoming, but Tamara has hearts in her eyes. “Even if we don’t have it here,” she hums excitedly. “This is where everyone should stay. We can book a block of rooms.”

“The hotel is a great place to host a large group.” Percy agrees. “The room service is amazing.” Even though he had not been a part of the wedding party, he had booked a hotel room, making a little weekend of it.

“Well let’s get inside and see what you think of the event spaces,” you urge, bringing them into the lobby with you. They can Oo and Ah while you check in at the desk.

This is a space that Harry is quite familiar with. There is a charity function held here every year, so he doesn’t walk with the others. Instead, he hangs back as you talk with a sharp dressed concierge.

The woman in all black with nearly done hair and sharp make up speaks with you for a few seconds before nodding and stepping away. “You’re not going to have a look around?” You ask Harry, surprised to find him wandering toward you as the others inspect the lobby with interest.

“I’ve been here enough.” He shrugs, taking note of the way your back straightens slightly and the toe of your heels is scuffed. “How about you?”

“Never.” You shake your head, suddenly far more focused on the man in front of you than the hotel. “I haven’t had much time to explore since I got to New York.”

“Well then we should change that.” He huffs. “You have to be able to be completely blasé about every venue.” He jokes.

“Is that what’s required out here?” You let out a soft chuckle. “Raleigh has a…we’ll call it a slightly different vibe, but that’s an understatement.”

“Absolutely. New Yorkers aren’t impressed with anything.” He tells you. “They’ve seen it all, done it all and will complain the entire time.”

“Well,” you shrug. “I’ve lived in plenty of places and seen plenty of things. But I don’t mind enthusiasm.”

He chuckles. “Give it time.” He jokes. “You’ll be just a sullen as everyone else.”

“I hope not.” But rather than judgmental, your smile is beaming. Like you’re daring the city to take away your joy. “Or at least I hope it takes a long, long time.”

“You just have to find the beauty in the small things.” He suggests. “Or sarcasm.”

“Or both.” Why does he make you smile like this? It’s like your stomach is doing flip flops.

“Now you’re thinking like a New Yorker.” He jokes. “‘Why not both’ should be etched onto the Statue of Liberty.”

“That would sort of change the tone of the thing,” you joke with a grin.

“Maybe.” He snorts, shrugging slightly. “Never actually seen her up close.”

"But..." you startle, actually taken aback by that. "You live here!"

“And how many times do the locals avoid the tourist traps like the plague?” He asks, arching a brow.

That makes you huff, albeit playfully. "If I find out you've never been to the Met, I'm changing our date tonight."

He chuckles and tilts his head. “No, I’ve been to the Met.” He hums in amusement. Apparently Percy had never shared how he had met Tamara.

"Right..." you realize it just a second later and flinch, hating that you've said something stupid. "Never mind. Forget I said that."

Thankfully, like an answer to your awkward prayers, the event coordinator for the hotel appears in the lobby in the same instant and you don't have to see the realization dawn on Harry's face that his date tonight is with someone who speaks before they think.

Harry watches as you hurry away, embarrassment bloomed on your face and it finds it fascinating. You don’t weigh or measure your words around him. ‘No filter’ his mother would say. He likes it. Makes him wonder what you will say next.

The tour is fairly standard. The ballroom is available for you to tour while it is being set up for tonight’s wedding but the bridal suites are not — for precisely the same reason.

“It’s got enough space for everyone plus dancing.” Harry reminds Percy. “And we can honestly use the penthouse for the after party if you want.”

"The best man?" The event planner asks you with a knowing half-smile. The extra guy in the group who is talking about the after party? At this stage in the game, that is absolutely the best man.

"Of course." Your return smile falters a little, just in the second afterward when you catch her give Harry an appraising sweep of her eyes. Do you have any right to be jealous of someone else checking him out? Absolutely not. Yet? You can't help it.

Percy has already gone off on a tangent about the after party vibe, Harry encouraging him with an arm around his shoulder. The wedding would be for family, for memories. The after party was gonna be for getting wild.

"What do you have as far as available dates?" While Percy, Harry, Tamara, and her parents are all watching the ballroom be set up, you are going to get a little business done. Maybe it will help distract you from that touch of irrational jealousy, while you're at it.

“The first date we have is in nine months.” She rattles off a date with a smile. “There are weddings booked every weekend until then.”

Making note of the date for yourself, you know that's a little longer than Percy and Tamara are eager to wait but they seem to really like this place. "And if the couple were interested in booking a block of rooms here for there guests as well?"

“Of course.” She clicks her tablet and looks at the bookings for that date. “The bridal suite is available as well as a large block of rooms we can hold in reserve for the guests.” She clicks through pages. “We can reserve floors 5,7,9,10,11 and 14.”

"And your team is prepared to work with extra security for the night of the wedding?" Percy isn't willing to take any chances with Tamara's safety and you don't blame him. Being a Hollywood star has its benefits, but also some distinct drawbacks.

“We are equipped to handle all manner of security.” She assures you. “Though some do decide to hire independent advisors as well.”

“Of course. One can never be too careful.” She’s given you a packet of information — printed statistics and suggested floor plans along with contact information for preferred vendors — which will best going over with Percy and Tamara. You’re about to open your mouth for the next of many questions when your work phone rings.

Normally it would be on silent while you’re in a client meeting. Your personal cell phone certainly is, but the cell given to you by your company buzzes insistently in your pocket. And since there is a minimal chance of hearing from some vendors today, it’s good that you left it on. “Excuse me,” you offer the woman a polite smile. “I’ve got to take this.” The number looks familiar but you can’t remember which of the twenty calls you’ve made in the last twenty-four hours it could be returning, so you just excuse yourself to the lobby to take it.

“Hello, this is—” You use your legal name for business, and answer accordingly, “from Dragonfly Events, how can I help you today?”

“Good morning, this is Charlotte Evans, event coordinator for the Met.” She speaks clearly, albeit, a bit rushed. “I believe you had spoken with one of our assistants about being placed on the cancellation list?” The only reason she is calling is because of the name you dropped. Tamara Wilson is one of her niece’s favorite actresses and she had been given so much grief when she had learned that Auntie Charlie had breathed the same air as Tamara the night she met her soulmate.

“Yes, good morning. Thank you for calling me back so promptly.” If this is a polite refusal, as you expect, the call should be over with quickly.

“Of course.” She clears her throat. “The notes say that your clients are Tarama Wilson and Percy Stokes?” She asks. “Would that be the actress, Tamara Wilson?”

“Yes, that is correct.” And you absolutely left their names of purpose. “My clients met at the Met Gala this past May and are quite keen to be married in the same place they met.”

“I see.” Her voice doesn’t betray the wide, excited grin on her face. Auntie Charlie is gonna be the favorite for years to come. She doesn’t add that she had literally been there that night, but hadn’t realized it until the People article came out revealing the announcement about the soulmate pairing. “Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for your clients, we have just had a cancellation this morning.”

“Oh?” Tamara is going to lose her mind with excitement. “And what would the date be for that?”

She gives the date and pauses. “That is sixty-two days from today. I do understand if that is not plausible for your clients.”

“Are there any constraints with that date?” You ask, not wanting to blurt out that they’ll be thrilled to have a date so soon. “Vendors with contracts that must be honored, or anything to that effect?” Your own pauses, Mid note taking. “And could you tell me please, what portion of the museum the cancellation is for?” Met bookings for different areas accommodate different numbers of guests. You want to have all the information before you go talk to Percy and Tamara.

“That is actually why I contacted you first.” She says, saying without saying, that she thought famous clients would appreciate this more than anyone else. “The previous contract had booked the entire venue.” She tells you. “Although the catering contract was booked with the venue, So that would also have to be absorbed into the new contract.”

“That is perfectly fine with us, as my clients have not booked a caterer yet. Can I have their name?” The entirety of the Met? That is hundreds upon hundreds of guests, or a different location for every single part of the wedding. They’re going to scream when you tell them.

Charlotte gives you the name and telephone number of the catering service. “They are quite good, and luckily the menu has not been contracted, so there is that.”

“Wonderful.” Looking down at the notes in your book, you know this is going to work. This is going to be perfect. “I’ll speak to my clients, of course, but I’m prepared to say that we will accept the cancellation slot and the reservations that have already been made. May I call you back in about five minutes to confirm?”

“Please do.” She hopes that you will. “If not, I will have to contact others who have been requesting to be informed about cancellations.

“Five minutes,” you promise her, before politely saying goodbye and pocketing your work phone again. There’s no way it will take that long for them to decide, but you want to be sensitive to the woman here at the hotel who has taken time from her day for a last minute appointment.

Zipping back into the ballroom, you catch Percy’s eye and shoot him a grin. “Pardon me,” you reinsert yourself into the conversation politely but definitely. “If I could check in with my clients for a moment?”

Harry had drifted away but he catches your grin and knows that something is up. He quickly walks over to the very nice coordinator. “While they are talking, would you tell me about hosting cooperate events?” He asks.

It doesn’t take much effort for Harry Castillo to utterly charm just about anyone into conversation, and as he lures her away you make a note to thank him profusely tonight if the date goes well.

“So…” you wave Percy and Tamara over to you and lower your voice so it won’t echo. “The Met called.”

Percy cocks up, attuned to your mannerisms and he knows it had to be something good. “Please don’t tell me the wait time is five years now.” Tamara groans.

“They had a cancellation,” you tell them, barely containing your grin. “It’s fast, but I think we can make it happen.”

“How fast is fast?” Percy asks, eyebrows raised.

“Sixty-two days.” An amount of time that seems fleeting, but your first wedding planner job had been at a soulmate agency. You can do fast and you can do it well.

“Sixty-two days?” her eyes widen and her heart sinks. There is no way that a wedding could be pulled off in sixty-two days. Not the way that they had dreamed of. “Oh god. No. I don’t—”

"Tam." Reaching out, you set one hand on Tamara's arm and smile reassuringly. "I promise you, I can do this if you want to say yes. The previous client had rented out the entire museum, and the caterer comes with the reservation. I've got a florist that owes me a favor and a photographer who will move mountains to be able to take your wedding photos."

Her eyes widen and she tries to let the panic subside. Pushing aside the little voice of doubt in the back of her mind. Her gaze darts to Percy, but he’s already nodding. “Yes.” She whispers, clutching his hand. “Yes!”

"How do we feel about booking that block of rooms while we're here, and even the penthouse if you want that after party?" You know Percy will want it, and it was Harry's idea, so this is going to be a good bridge. It will help the hotel here feel a touch less slighted after pulling out this appointment for you, and it will still get Percy and Tamara the wedding of their dreams.

“I think that is best.” Percy nods and looks towards his bride for her input. “It’s central to all the attractions and just a half dozen blocks down from the Met.”

Tamara hesitates for just a second, but looks to you with pleading eyes. "Do you really think you can do it?"

"I do." A little nod to wedding vows is cheeky, but you mean it. You do think you can do this for them. "I really do, and I think it will be great."

“I really want the Met.” Tamara admits. Grinning at Percy and batting her eyes playfully. “Are you okay with two months? Or should we wait longer?”

"Tam..." Percy takes both of her hands in his and faces her, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. "I would marry you at the bottom of the Gowanus Canal with nothing but mutant fish for witnesses." They both giggle — the weirdos. But they're cute weirdos. "Two months in the place we met sounds perfect."

“Are you sure?” Despite wanting this more than anything else in the world, she wants to make sure it’s what he wants too.

"I love you," he reminds her, with a sort of bashful, gleeful expression. "That's all that matters."

“I love you too.” She promises. “If you told me you wanted to get married in the subway, I’d question your sanity….” That makes him laugh and she giggles. “But I would do it. But it seems like the universe wants us to have this.”

"So we're going to do it?" You ask, letting them have their moment and a sweet kiss to seal the sentiment. When they excitedly say yes, you pull your phone back out. "Let me call Ms. Evans back and get this settled. And then we can get the rooms and the penthouse booked here, as well."

“Not the bridal suites though.” Tamara tells you. “I don’t want another couple to have to book that somewhere else because I was selfish.”

"That sounds more than reasonable." This place probably has a dozen rooms gorgeous enough to host a newlywed couple, so you aren't worried about them having a nice place to crash that night. Not at all. "Let me make this call so we can really dig our fingers into planning."

“Okay.” She is immediately turning and pressing close to Percy. Both of them whispering in excitement. Harry glances over several time as he listens to the many amenities the hotel can offer for a conference or corporate event. He normally just holds any events at the penthouse, but he’s seriously considering this for the year end party.

It takes only a few minutes to step away and make the call, but when you come back to your friends they have their dream wedding venue booked and ready. All you have to do is drop off the deposit check before the museum closes tonight.

The next half hour is spent with the very nice woman who took the time to meet with you today, and she seems more than happy to be able to book the penthouse for a private party along with two full floors of rooms for wedding guests. It may not be the full night, but it is certainly a large check and damn good business for the hotel.

Harry is pulled aside by Percy, hearing the good news and smiling happily. Congratulating the couple and agreeing that it feels like the stars have aligned for their wedding.

By the time the six of you are leaving the hotel not too long after, it seems silly to think anything else could be more productive today. "Well," you tell them, grinning as you mark of Friday, August 6 on your phone with Percy and Tamara's initials. "I know we made a big decision but we have a lot to do now in not a huge amount of time."

“I already have my dress.” Tamara tells you with a happy sigh.

"And we did agree on colors already," Percy reminds you. A clean palate of white and silver with small accents of blue will be doable with any caterer, and blue bridesmaids dresses will be easy enough to achieve. His groomsman probably all own blue ties in the right shade.

“And the caterer has already been decided, right?” Tamara asks. “What’s the meal?”

"They booked the company but they hadn't picked their menu yet." Which was an incredible boon, and feels like it's a little too lucky. "I'm going to give them a call and see how fast we can set up a tasting."

Harry hums. “What’s the name of the company?”

"It is called..." Double checking your notes, you find it scrawled under the guest count for the museum. "Stand & Deliver."

Inside, Harry is groaning quietly but he nods. "They have good food." He assures them. "They catered Peter's wedding." He tells Percy, immediately making his best friend nod and grin.

“Perfect.” Tamara is grinning so widely that her face is threatening to split in two. “So what do we do now?” She asks you, bright with excitement and anticipation.

“Today? Go and enjoy having your parents in town,” you tell her, holding in your private sigh of relief. “I’m going to spend my afternoon setting up appointments for you to meet with your vendors as soon as possible so we can get everything squared away.” Looking at the group of them, you see a hell of a lot of work in those joyful faces, but it will be worth every second. “Why not take your Mom shopping for her mother of the bride dress, or even visit the Met?”

Harry watches you manage the nerves, the expectations with an aplomb that leaves him impressed. “Why don’t you take them to lunch?” He suggests. “I can help her with anything that she needs.”

“There’s a sit down restaurant in the museum,” Tamara remembers, perking up brightly.

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” On the sidewalk, Percy gives you a squeezing hug. “Text me appointment info when you have it?”

“I promise.” There is even a pinky swear involved. A long held tradition from childhood that is an unbreakable promise. “You guys go have fun. Harry and I will take care of some business and I’ll talk to you later.” It’s sweet of him to offer, and you won’t say no, but you also don’t really expect him to want to sit around while you made phone calls and scribble notes to yourself for a few hours. Especially not when you’re supposed to be taking him to dinner tonight.

“I’m assuming the Met needs a signed contract and a payment to reserve the space?” Harry asks when you’re alone for the first time since landing their dream venue. He checks his watch as he estimates how long it would take to get there.

“We have an appointment to sign the papers tomorrow.” You had made sure that was acceptable, otherwise you would have rushed over today. “I’ll have to drop off the physical deposit check today but we’ll give them the rest tomorrow.”

“What do you need to do today besides that?” He asks.

“Phone calls. Lots of phone calls.” His expression is so earnest that you soften a little, feeling your cheeks burn. “And I was going to change before I picked you up tonight,” you admit.

“Do you have an office or do you normally work from home?” He asks, unsure of your business model.

“I do have an office.” You were going to go hang out on your couch with some leftover pizza for lunch, but something nagging in your stomach doesn’t want to separate so quickly. “Are you asking to see my cubicle?” You ask, tone teasing like he has asked to see you naked or something equally as scandalous.

He snorts and shakes his head, amused by the way you are asking. “I actually was going to offer you my conference room if you needed a space to work.”

“That sounds fancy.” There’s still teasing in your voice, but it’s softened.

“Espresso machine.” He ticks off with a small smirk. “There’s a vendor that caters lunch in the breakroom.” He shrugs. “Changes every day. Not sure what today is.”

“You have enough people working on a Saturday to warrant a catered lunch?” In your office, your company was just part of one floor. Staff are in and out all the time because of the nature of what you do. You hadn’t figured his family’s financial empire had anything but a 9-5 existence.

“It’s for the people who come in to work on the weekends.” He tilts his head. “Sometimes normal working hours don’t fit our business. We try to treat everyone like we care.”

“That is…” Your head tilts a little, considering him as much as the offer. “Both unexpected and very nice to hear.” He has a warmth to him that makes you want to believe he knows every employee by name and every birthday, anniversary, joy, and hardship. It’s easy to picture Harry giving a shit about his staff. So easy that you catch yourself smiling again — maybe even a little dreamily. “Alright, sure. Let’s go to yours.”

He nods and he finds himself smiling back at you. You have this way of slipping past his defenses. Making him go on instinct and try to figure you out like some kind of puzzle. “Good, because I’m hungry.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[sherala007]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, Epilogue

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* No warnings to speak of. Fluff, domestic happiness, pregnancy. Summary: The missing piece of Javi's heart is finally returned. Notes: We hate to say good bye to any of these stories, and I will particularly miss this beautiful and supportive found family. Thankfully, we will get to see some of these characters -- and characters from other soulmate stories! -- in Harry's story starting next week!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

Tuesday, June 7, 2033

The envelope in your hand is too thin to feel as heavy as it does, but the rest of today’s mail feels unimportant as you carry the stamped airmail from Mallorca out to the patio. The kids are in the pool with Javi, enjoying another stunning summer day as carefree as can be, but your heart hurts with uncertainty.

“Mi alma,” you murmur, barely loud enough, and motion for your husband to get out of the pool temporarily. “You have mail. It looks important.”

Javi makes sure the kids are safe, moving over to the side and hoisting himself up. “Mail?” As far as he knows, not too many people should be sending mail. At least not to the vacation house you both have rented for the summer.

"Airmail." You murmur, once his hands are dried on a towel and he's reached your side. The little in-ground pool at the rental house isn't overly deep but you both make sure you're watching the kids while he skims his letter.

It’s from his lawyers here in Spain and he frowns. Opening the envelope and pulling out the letter, dread settling into his stomach because he’s sure that it’s something bad. “Oh god.” His eyes widen as he reads.

"What's happened?" Not looking outwardly worried or raising your voice is a measure for making sure Javi's extremely empathetic kids don't pick up on anything potentially being wrong, but your eyes dart over to him while he reads.

“It’s from my lawyers.” He tells you, looking up with shocked yet hopefully eyes. “About the house.”

“The house…?” A streak of panic crosses your eyes, but you blink it back. “Do you mean the compound?”

“The house here.” He explains. “My- my childhood home. They’ve released it.” He waves the letter toward you. “It’s mine again.”

“Oh my god…” Your jaw drops all the way to the patio and you practically jolt forward to grab his arm in your excitement. “Just like that?”

“The government released it.” He grins as he looks at the letter again. “I am encouraged to go tour the home at my earliest convenience.” He looks to you again, this time with a question burning in his eyes.

“Tomorrow?” His eyes are so bright that you can practically see the wheels turning in his mind, like he’s shining a spotlight on them. “Or do you want to find a flight tonight?”

“No, tomorrow.” He is glancing back over at the kids. “We don’t know what the state of the house is like.” He admits. “It might not be habitable.”

“Do you want us to come?” There are only two ways to do this — either he goes alone, or you all go. But it’s up to him. “We could always meet you there after you do a first walk through.”

“Will you come with me?” He asks, taking your hand. He knows it’s a lot to pack up two kids and haul them across the islands, but he wants you there. Regardless of what the estate looks like, it’s his again.

“Of course we will.” Your fingers tangle with his in that old, practiced way. “I just wanted to give you time to process of you needed it.”

“For a while I didn’t know if I ever wanted to go back.” He admits, pulling you close and turning towards the kids as they splash on the tanning deck of the pool. It’s just three inches of water. “But now…”

“You want them to be able to spend time there, too, don’t you?” Your place in his arms is comfortable and safe — two things that he needs right now but instinctively provides to you as a way to create a feedback loop of the feeling.

“Yeah.” He admits, smiling softly. “My- my parents are buried there. On the estate.”

“Then we should make sure we visit them.” His relationship with his parents wasn’t easy, just like yours wasn’t. Being able to see any part of them again will mean the world to him. “Javiera and Luis will be fine, cariño. They’ll be excited to see your old home.”

“Then tomorrow we will go.” He agrees, a broad smile stretching over his face and the nerves that would have once consumed him are calmed by your easy touch.

“I’ll book the tickets tonight,” you promise, soothing his nerves a touch more with a kiss. “Do you want to tell the kids?”

“I think we will tell them tomorrow.” He chuckles. “They may not sleep if they know they get to go on the plane.”

“That’s how I know they’re jet setting babies. They’re the only little kids I’ve ever met that love flying.” This was their first international flight and you can’t believe how well behaved they were. Mostly because they spent a huge amount of the flight pouring over maps together and telling each other stories about the kingdom in the clouds they were flying through.

“It honestly makes me think about getting a plane again.” Javi admits with a smirk. “We could rent it out when we aren’t using it.”

For the first time in a long time, your eyes widen in surprise. "You had your own plane?"

He tilts his head slightly. “Actually, I owned three.” He admits.

"What could you possibly need three planes for?" You ask in complete disbelief.

“Cargo plane, LearJet and a 747.” He tells you. “Different utilizations.” He doesn’t mention that the cargo plane was used for the more nefarious parts of his former family business.

"Sometimes I forget all of what happened before we met," you admit quietly, hugging him tightly again. "We certainly don't need a plane, amor. There's no reason we can't fly commercial like everyone else."

“It would be nice to have a plane available when you need to go back and forth from New York.” He points out. “Spend more time together that way.”

"There are no shortage of flights from New York to LA." He's excited, and it's so wonderful to see. You kiss him twice in quick succession and give him a squeeze that makes him giggle happily. "Do you want to call the lawyers and see if there is anything we ought to know before we go tomorrow? I'll hop in the pool with the kids to get some play time in before dinner."

“Yeah.” He winks at you and leans in to steal another kiss. “We can pack after they are asleep, but don’t take off that bikini.” He warns you playfully.

"I hear baby number three in that tone," you tease right back, but you send that wink right back at him and saunter off to the pool to join your kids.

He watches your ass as you walk away, completely aware that you are aware he’s gawking. He’s still just as obsessed as he was when you first got married. Maybe more so. His little family is everything to him.

****** Wednesday, June 8, 2033

It's easy to get the kids excited for another adventure tomorrow. The puddle jumper you board to Mallorca is a new type of plane for them and the flight is short. They've got snacks and they manage to nap a little on the plane, so by the time you're driving your rental car from the airport out to the Gutierrez family compound they're starting to get energetic and excitable again.

Javi eyes are darting around, looking for any and all changes as he drives the still familiar streets. “This is surreal.” He admits quietly, pointing. “Nick and I jumped off the cliffs right there.”

“A sentence that still makes me shiver.” Cliff jumping, after all, is not exactly safe.

“There was no danger.” He promises you. “It looks more dangerous than it is.”

"I know you say so." He says it every time he tells the story, because he knows you shiver every time. "But you're my husband. I'm allowed to worry."

“And I am here with you.” He reminds you softly, even if he is grinning. “I will get you to do it one day.”

"I highly doubt that." But still, you laugh. "How much farther, amor?"

The stone pillars and the gates to the estate are around the next bend and Javi slows the car down to stop in front of them. The key had been left with the local police and he had reluctantly collected it, a little embarrassed when they had asked if he was planning on continuing the family business. He wasn’t, but he also wasn’t sure if they were happy or disappointed that bribes wouldn’t be coming their way. “We are here.”

“Papá?” Javiera leans forward in the front seat. “Can we see your room?”

“Of course you can.” He promises, twisting around and smiling at his little girl. “But I’ve got to open the gate first.”

“Can I do it?” She asks brightly, already twisting to undo her seatbelt. Javiera is in her exploratory phase, and keys and locks are central to the mystery stories she loves. And loves to invent.

The key is long, old fashioned and he grins when her eyes widen when he holds it up. “Come on, baby girl.”

Your oldest baby jumps out of the backseat of the Range Rover so fast it nearly rocks on its tires, sprinting to her father’s side at the gate with eyes as big as saucers. “It’s so pretty, Papá!”

He picks her up and holds her while she examines the lock carefully. “It is, mija.” He murmurs. “Would you like to keep it?”

“We can keep it?” She is utterly delighted by that revelation, and nods enthusiastically. “We should hang it somewhere!” Javiera decides after a few seconds of thinking. “On the wall, like the pictures Mamá hangs.”

“Or…” he chuckles as she carefully slots the key into the lock. “We can get you a treasure trunk and it can be your lock for it.”

“A treasure trunk?!” She squeals with utter delight, sliding the large key into the equally impressive and ornate lock to give it a twist. “Papá it will be the best treasure trunk! This lock must be a million years old!”

He laughs and nods at her exaggeration. “At least.” He agrees. “If everything is still there, you might be able to have my trunk from when I was a boy.”

“You had a treasure trunk?” Her eyes blow wide again when he puts her down in front of the gate. “Papá,” Javiera looks serious. “You would tell us if you were a pirate king, right?”

He chuckles, winking at his imaginative daughter in a way that will keep her wondering for weeks. “Shhhh.” He tells her, putting his finger to his lips.

She makes the motion of zipping her mouth shut and throwing away the key, then scurries back to the car. “Vámonos!” She cries, excitedly.

He is still chuckling as he climbs behind the wheel and you tilt your head at him curiously. “Arrrrrgh.” He growls playfully.

“Got it,” you grin, laughing to yourself as he pulls through the gate. Javiera’s penchant for the creative and dramatic has you convinced that she’ll follow in her father’s footsteps, taking after her namesake in every discernible way. Your son, however, has a quieter curiosity. Like you and your father — whose name he bears — little Luis is always taking in the world around him but does it at a lower volume than his older sister.

The winding driveway up through the mature trees is beautiful. The landscaping has been neglected and he sees the rubble of a statue that Lucas had hit with the G-Wagon. Or maybe it was bullets. Still, the property looks mainly intact and he is flooded with memories, good and bad.

Your hand slips into his as he drives up the winding path. Well…it’s more like a street. An unloved street that winds the entirety of the compound that you’ve seen photos and heard stories about for the entirety of your marriage. Javi’s childhood home. The place that was stolen from him by his cousin and the entire business.

The only thing you want is for him to be okay during this visit you know it will be tumultuous, emotionally. Which is probably why the first thing you point out is what he has always seemed happiest to tell you about. “Look, cariño, the olive grove.” It looks intact, thank god.

He sighs as he looks over at it, memories swirling. “The kids will love playing amongst the branches.” He tells you. “I did.”

“We’ll build the happiest memories we possibly can,” you promise him, squeezing his hand before he lets go to pull the car around a turn that brings the house into sight.

The house looks the same. Perhaps not as shiny as it had, but there’s not a lot of damage. “There is it.” He murmurs, squeezing your hand. “Home.”

It mostly just looks a bit old, with vines growing and what was once carefully curated plant life having gone a little wild. But other than needing a thorough scrubbing and a gardener to give some professional care? “It’s beautiful.” There doesn’t seem to be anything structurally wrong, which is a miracle. A storm could’ve taken out the whole roof and you never would have known.

He didn’t realize how much he had missed this place until right now. “It is.” He admits softly. He can see it like it was before, but with laughter and happiness echoing through the halls. His kids racing up and down the stairs and through the grand rooms. You lounging by the pool while carrying baby number three or four.

“It’s big like home!” Luis declares happily, his big eyes glued to the house through the window.

“It’s a little bigger.” Javi admits. “There’s another portion of the house hidden from sight behind here.”

"Can we go 'sploring?" Luis asks, bouncing in the backseat at the prospect.

“We’ll explore together at first.” He tells both of the kids. “No running off, right?” He knows how they can be.

"Ooookay." The kids chorus, but they still scramble out of the car the second their father unlocks the doors.

“Are you ready?” You’ve heard the real story, not the romanticized bedtime story that has become a favorite of the kids, right behind how you and he met. He looks over at you with a worried, yet excited expression on his face.

"Let's go look around your house, amor." He's thrilled to own it again. For it to be free of people who don't love and cherish the land the way he does and you both know that the kids will.

The door swings open easily and it’s obvious that the power has been kept on. He’s thankful for that. There’s a layer of dust over everything, but it looks like it had the day he left. “God.”

"It's just been...sitting." On one hand, that's good. But on the other? Depending on how many years it's been sitting untouched, it could have been a place the kids had known their entire lives.

“Honestly? I assumed they would tear it down.” He admits, walking over to a table and running his finger through the dust.

"I'm glad they didn't." Reaching for his hand is interrupted by your son, but you smile to have Luis' little hand find yours instead. He tugs twice in quick succession, which is his old signal when he wants to be picked up. At barely five years old, he is definitely not too big to pick up but it isn't as easy as it used to be. "C'mere bud," you murmur, swinging him up in your arms to set him on your hip.

“It’s bigger.” He whispers dramatically. “I don’t know where everything is.”

"It is bigger." You kiss the side of his head and grin. "Once we get it all cleaned up, we'll make sure you know where everything is in this house just like you do at our house in California. How does that sound?"

“Are we gonna stay here?” He asks, looking around the large room in awe before curling into your arms.

"Not forever." You promise your son, letting him burrow close to feel safe. "But we'll visit here a lot. Don't worry, bud. You're going to get to see your friends and sleep in your bed. But maybe you can make new friends here and have a second bed to sleep in while we're here."

“It’s dirty.” He wrinkles his nose. “Are we gonna have Tally come clean here too?” The housekeeper that had been around since Javiera’s birth is practically like family to the kids.

“Maybe.” She certainly won’t be the first cleaner in the house. You can tell just by looking around that you’ll have to hire a team to come in and scrub the place from top to bottom. But it will be worth it. “If Tally wants to come to Spain with us, that is. It’s her choice.”

“She’s gonna be muttering a lot.” Luis giggles, thinking about how she mutters when she finds his stashes of goodies, broken cookies and smashed cakes, under his bed.

“She shouldn’t be muttering at all, mijo,” you remind him gently. But like all little kids, Luis gets up to innocent mischief around the house. At least you know it’s the innocent kind.

“Sorry.” He turns his wide, innocent eyes on you, already aware that it’s effective against being scolded.

“It’s okay, mijito, you’re not in trouble.” Poor thing. He really is like you — right down to using those beautiful wide eyes to his advantage. One day he’ll learn they don’t get him anything and everything he wants, and that will be a rude awakening. “What do you think of Papá’s house, hmm?”

“It’s large.” He repeats as he looks around. “We could run races in here!”

“I bet we could run races in the backyard, couldn’t we?” You readjust your son on your hip and send your husband a grin. “I bet Papá ran around outside all the time when he was your age.”

“Papá isn’t as fast as I am.” Your son boasts confidently. “I will beat him.”

He looks proud as anything, and you tickled your son’s side lightly until he’s giggling. “Oh you will, huh?”

“I will!” He squeals as he tries to wiggle out of your arms.

“I guess we’ll have to find out when we get outside.”

“Okay.” To his mind, that is a challenge and he is squirming to get down now, eager to explore and make his way outside.

You wander through most of the first floor with two squirmy kids before deciding that a few foot races on the back porch will probably help a hell of a lot. Competitive Javiera isn’t about to let her little brother have all the glory, and it quickly changes from racing Papá to racing each other — which gives Javi time to breathe and take it all in.

Panting slightly, he comes over and wraps his arm around your waist. “What do you think, amor?” He asks softly. “There is so much more, but I think that we deserve to take the time to explore here.”

“It’s yours again, amor.” Your arms slide around his to hold them tight around you. “We have as much time as we want.”

“What do you think about extending our time here?” He suggests. “Do you have anything you need to be in LA or New York for? I can write anywhere.” He reminds you. “Do the kids have anything planned?” He doesn’t remember anything on the shared calendar, but that doesn’t mean that something hasn’t been planned off the books. He’s very involved with both of their activities, but he knows you sometimes plan things with Billie’s twins.

“We cleared our schedule until August.” This summer was meant to be able getting away, and you’ve accidentally gone above and beyond. “Billie was going to bring the boys to come stay at the rental in the beginning of August after Alex goes on location. But that’s six weeks away. If we get this place cleaned up, they could always come here instead?”

“Everyone can come.” His eyes widen in surprised joy, as if the idea just came to him. “The house will hold them all.”

“Let’s take a look at what the cleaning will really take, and maybe we can have a big party for the end of the summer? Have everyone come out here for a week or something.” It makes him so luminously happy that you just can’t imagine not doing it now.

“That would be….” He bites his lip and looks at you with adoration in his eyes. “The last party here was my birthday. The one where Nick came out.”

“Then why don’t we build some more happy memories?” When you turn your head to kiss him you know ours the right thing to do. He’s gazing at you like he did at your wedding. Almost like he did when the kids were born. It’s the look he gives you when he can’t believe you’re real.

“I will always have happy memories with you.” He promises. “This—” he motions to the compound, “Pales in comparison to you. I think…” He smiles softly. “I think that things happened to bring me to America. To you.” He leans in and kisses you softly. “You are my greatest adventure.”

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[sherala007]

AN: I miss Joel. That's it, that's the note. Enjoy this vengeful, ass-kicking Joel. (There will be a part three although I'm not entirely sure what it'll include. Message me about it!) (this is unbeta'd and barely proofread, any and all mistakes are mine) **This is a follow-up to Grown**

Joel Miller x F!reader (sex worker, Joel calls you ‘Pretty’)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) , language, **warning** sex work that turns into assault very quick, domestic violence from a customer, violence from Joel (not to you) age gap (legal), feelings of guilt, fear, **trauma**

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Read part one Masterlist 

-----

You whimper, and not with pleasure. He was squeezing too hard, moving too roughly and it was starting to hurt. 

“Honey, slow down a little, you’re hurting me.” You try to stroke the pale skin of his back, soothe him into calming down a bit, but he lets out an angry huff and the alcohol you’d smelled on his breath and on his clothes when he came in hits you square in the face. 

“Can you just shut the fuck up and let me finish?” He seems to speed up, chasing his pleasure so hard it burns now, the tiny bit of arousal you’d worked up had dried right the fuck up. 

“I will but please, I need you to slow down, it’s starting to really hurt–” The crack was hard enough, shocking enough to freeze the words in your mouth and steal the breath from your throat. The back of his hand had caught you perfectly on the side of your face, close enough to your eye to make it feel like he’d knocked it out of the socket. Something, a ring? Had definitely cut into your skin. You brought your hand up, and saw the evidence of it on your fingertips. 

“For fuck’s sake.” His cock softened, seemingly losing his interest in your services. He pulls away, angrily grabbing his clothes from where he’d tossed them on the floor and started dressing. 

“God, you just couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut, could you.” It’s not posed as a question, more of an angry grumbling. Your heart raced, fear gripping you enough to chill you to the bone, eyes darting to the baseball bat hidden behind your little dresser. It’s a risk to go for it, because if he wrestles it from you, things could get very ugly. You kept quiet. He sits on the bed, and stays eerily still for a moment. You hold your breath, hoping he’ll just leave.

“And to think, I was going to pay you for that.” He turns and there is nothing but aggression in his icy blue eyes. Blood pools and drips down onto your breast but you know in your heart you cannot look away from him. You ignore the pounding pain, the blood in your vision making half the scene red, and keep your attention on him. 

“How many people have you fucked this week?” He gets up, looking around suspiciously, as though he’ll find clients hiding in the walls. You don’t answer. He opens your drawer, seeing the rags and some clothes, but then he spots the small bundle of rations you’d saved, and he swipes them. A week's worth of food and supplies you kept for emergencies and you’re horrified to see him smile cruelly, and slip them into his pocket. 

“Stop–I need those, they’re mine!” You stand, indignant to be hurt, and robbed by this fucking kid, barely twenty and already on the path to destruction. 

“And what the fuck are you gonna do about it? Tell FEDRA I robbed you? You gonna tell them about your little side-hustle too?” You approach him, naked with the fear momentarily replaced with fury but he shoves you back, laughing. “Stupid whore, this is recompense for your bullshit.” With that he leaves, laughing hard as the door slams behind him. 

It's hours before you pick yourself up off the place you landed on the bed, finally heading to your tiny bathroom to clean and treat your face. That’s when you cry. The sight of your swollen eye, the jagged cut that missed it by a miracle pulling sobs thick with despair from deep in your chest. It wasn’t an easy life, the one you’d created for yourself in this dystopian fucking nightmare, but it had worked for you, you’d compartmentalized it enough to almost think you were lucky. 

That little shit had scratched the varnish off, exposing the rusted surface of everything underneath. He’d reminded you, and now with your face in this state, there’s no way you’d forget again. 

-

Beads of sweat collects, and slides down your neck to soak through your sweatshirt. That’s fine, you can deal with a damp shirt, what’s worse is when they fall into the cut under your eye, every drop like a tiny, salty knife. It irritates you but you cannot afford to leave before the shift is done, with your stash stolen, and your face in this state you cannot replenish it for a while. You can’t even afford to head straight home after this round of cleanup, you’ll have a tiny break, and then move onto whatever else is available. This is your life for the next couple of weeks. 

So you buckle down, you focus, and when you’re done you collect your payment and move onto the next. 

You almost start to feel better after the little break, despite being on the gruesome duty of piling dead infected into the QZ’s paltry version of a funeral pyre. Your luck isn’t to last though. Joel has also signed up for this duty, his big frame and grey hair so distinct as he joins the tiny group of you waiting for the truck to arrive. He catches your eye for a moment and does a double take, his usual show of pretending there’s no recognition gone and replaced with a confused, almost furious frown. 

You cannot parse what that look means. Whether it’s worry, confusion at seeing you out working, or just plain disappointment you cannot know for sure. What it feels like, is a sinking stone in your belly and so you look away, pulling the hood of your sweatshirt up and over your head and pulling the bandana around your neck up to cover your mouth. 

The work is hard, but you don’t complain, you push through, ignoring the smells and the sights in front of you. His eyes track you though, even though he doesn’t speak to you. At one point you feel him beside you, his arm pressing against yours as you both reach into the back of the truck to grab whatever nameless, faceless infected thing is closest and wordlessly you both carry it over to the pit. A momentary synergy shared between two people who refuse to break the tense silence. 

It’s ghoulish, the whole thing but you breathe through it, focus and count down the hours. You take comfort in the fact that nothing lasts forever, not this job, not this day, not the pulsing ache in your face, not this fucking melancholy that has you in it’s grip. Not even Joel’s silent, questioning stare. Soon you will be done, you will have been paid for this awful assignment and you’ll be free to go home and sleep for a day. 

Joel lines up behind you when the proverbial whistle blows, and you can feel the almost accusatory way he stares into the back of your head but you ignore him, you collect your payment and you haul ass back home, feeling his eyes until you duck out of his line of sight. 

-

They all know you’re out of commission, the regulars that make up your week, and so everything is quiet when you get home. Until the knock sounds a few hours later. 

You don’t open the door, a bolt of fear strikes through your being at the sound, that little shit could have come back; you were an easy target after all. 

“Who is it?” You grab the bat from behind the dresser, a white-knuckle grip on the handle just in case. 

“It’s Joel, can I come in?” You sigh. 

“Not right now Joel, I’m not working. Come back in a couple of weeks.” You set the bat down.

“I know, I’m not here for that, can I just talk to you? Let me in, Pretty.” His voice sounds clipped, despite his term of endearment. 

“I don’t think you can call me that just now.” 

“Pardon’?”

“Nothing.” You open the door, and greet the wall of him. “I’m not in the mood for visitors right now Joel, I’m sorry.” You cross your arms in front of you, containing the mess of emotions as best you can. He frowns, and you see the hardness of him, the anger and the aggression he never brought to your door. 

“What happened? Who did that to you?” He stares at the swollen mess of your face and you know he sees all of it. The jagged cut, the broken blood vessels in your eye and all of a sudden you feel naked and raw, so much more exposed than you’ve ever felt with your clothes off. 

“Just some stupid kid.” You lower your gaze. 

“What kid? Tell me.” He takes a step forward and you don’t flinch, but you do back up a little bit, unconsciously. “I’m not gon’ hurt you, Pretty. Can I come in? I just wanna talk.” He holds his hands up like you would when approaching a wild horse, or in your case, a wounded dog. 

“Sure. I know, I’m sorry.” You back up and he tsks. 

“Don’t you be apologizin’ to me.” He steps inside, kicking his boots off before gesturing to your table. You follow him and sit opposite. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” He pulls his chair forward, tentatively raising his hands towards you and you let him come close. His fingertips are feather soft when they turn your injured side towards his eye. Something slithers and coils around your heart, wreaths its way through your brain, whispering nonsense about how nice it is to see him this worked up about your state. You shove it away. 

“I was working.” You avoided his eye, uncharacteristically embarrassed about your means of making a living, “he was getting a little rough-“

“Rough how?” His anger swells, a grotesque balloon filled with something sinister. You didn’t want to get into the nitty gritty with him, but something in his expression told you he wasn’t leaving without hearing the whole story.

“We were in the middle of it, and he started going too fast, too hard and well, it wasn’t the most arousing thing so, it was burning and I just asked him to slow down.” You took a deep breath, trying to lower your rapidly rising heartbeat, “I just wanted him to slow down, I asked him and he cracked me with a backhand.” 

His jaw clenched, and he scooted a little closer. 

“He stopped after I started bleeding. I didn’t want him to do anything else so I stayed quiet, I didn’t go for the bat, but he was really mad and then he fucking robbed me.”

“He robbed you?” Any warmth in Joel’s eyes disappeared, ice crawled through your veins at the tone of his voice and it was as though a stranger sat in front of you. You nodded.

“What’d he take?” 

“About a week's worth of work. I had my emergency stash there in the first drawer and he took them. I tried to stop him because fuck, you’re gonna hit me and then on top of that steal? He just shoved me, laughed and told me I wasn’t gonna do anything because it’s not like I can report him to FEDRA without them being up my ass about all this—“ you gestured to the bed with open arms, your little life here, as fucked up as it was, still yours nonetheless. You let go of the breath in your chest, resigned, deflated. 

“He just laughed, and left.”

He said nothing. He sat there, listening to you vent until you met his eyes again. 

“What’s his name?”

“What does it matter, there’s nothing I can do, I’ll just avoid him and be a little more careful about who I let in here.”

“What’s his name, can you please tell me that?” His voice is soft, but it doesn’t match the expression on his face. You have a nagging suspicion that if you tell him, you’re opening a door to something that you will not be able to contain. On the other hand, that would imply that he’d go all cowboy on this kid for smacking you up, that wouldn’t make sense. Joel wouldn’t do that, in order for him to do something like that you’d have to think he cares, and that’s a dangerous road to tread down, he doesn’t. This is just another example of him trying to be soft. You tell him the kids name, and scatter caution to the fucking wind. 

He says nothing. 

“Thanks for checking up on me, I am exhausted.” You get up and he stares up at you for a moment before following. 

“Get some rest, keep that bat near you and if that little cocksucker comes back ‘round, I want you to take out his fuckin’ kneecaps. You hear me?” He slips his boots on, making you smile your first smile since the incident. He smiles back, encouraging you regardless. 

“Bye Joel.”

“Bye Pretty.”

-

Joel saw red. A bloody haze over everything and it only got worse when he realized that half of her vision had probably been the same when the injury was fresh. The nerve of that fucking animal, to smack her around because he couldn’t keep his dick hard, or because he didn’t know how to be with a woman, or whatever other bullshit excuse he’d made up in his head to justify his behaviour. 

He took a deep breath, stalking down the street to find out exactly where this little cocksucker was. He had no doubt he’d find out, no one had managed to stay hidden if Joel needed to find them. Not yet anyway, and he had no reason to believe this kid would be the first to achieve it. So he got to work. 

He bribed, and asked around, he worked methodically through his more informed contacts and finally hit the jackpot. His contact had heard of some stupid kid, laughing about having stolen a fat wad of rations from some ‘dumb whore’, that it’d been so easy, that he had half a mind to go back and take more, take everything. His jaw clenched at the news, thanking his contact while almost blind with rage. 

He didn’t even pretend to think things through, he followed the tip he’d gotten and made his way over to where he might find his target. There was a speakeasy in the QZ that he’d heard about, that he’d been in before but didn’t frequent. It was usually full of the younger, wilder guys that had no qualms and no sense. They served barely passable alcohol, nothing anyone would have paid a cent for in the before time, the patrons didn’t know that though, how could they? Anything worth drinking definitely wouldn’t be found there.

It was late, and so there weren’t very many patrons. They looked at him with curious, suspicious eyes when he made his way through to the bar. The man behind it knew Joel, and raised his eyebrows to see him there, frowning very quickly after he’d come to the conclusion that if Joel was here, something was wrong.

“Hey Joel, everything okay?” The bartender's voice was nervous, “Can I get you anything?”

“You got anythin’ worth drinkin’?” 

“Not really, not by your standards. There’s some decent gin, It’s almost good.”

“Sure.” He accepted the glass, and took a sip. It was awful, but it burned in his throat, helping to ground him enough to look around. “You know anyone by the name of Andrew?” 

“Think so, young kid? Blonde?” Joel didn’t fail to notice the relief on the bartender's face, he wasn’t the target, and so he was all too happy to help find the real one.

“Think so, I reckon he’s been talking a lot of shit about robbin’ a girl-”

“Oh, yeah. That’s him right there.” The bartender subtly gestured to a group of three standing a few feet to Joel's left, the taller one fitting the description, a shit-eating grin plastered on his moon-face. Joel shot back the rest of the piss being passed for gin and made his way over to his target. 

“You Andrew?” He interrupted the kid mid-sentence, barely containing the fury inside. 

“Yeah, who the fuck are you?” He looked Joel up and down, his lip curled in disgust. Joel assessed him right back, he was tall though not as tall as himself. He was sinewy, all angles and hunger. He tipped his glass back as Joel sized him up and he saw the ring on his pinky, something ugly and misshapen and all at once the fury swelled and flooded him like the beach at high tide. 

“You hear me old man? I said who the fuck are you?” His two friends laughed, unthreatened by Joel’s presence. 

“I heard you smacked a girl around, a girl you couldn’t keep your pencil-dick hard enough to fuck and then you robbed her like a dirty, little fuckin’ rat.” They all shut up after that. 

“That true? That what you been sayin’? Or are you keepin’ that second part out?” Andrew’s eyes widened for a moment, before he got ahold of himself once more.  

“I don’t know about no girl, I taught some whore a lesson–” Joel’s hand shot out, almost faster than his mind could catch up and grabbed the kid by the hair and slammed it as hard as he could into the edge of the bar. There was a satisfying crunch when his nose broke. 

There were very few people in the place watching what happened, none of them batted an eye.

“Oh, okay, kinda how I’m teachin’ you a lesson right now, ain’t that right boy?” He held him up by the back of the head, satisfaction filling him with warmth at the way the kid cried and bled like a stuck pig. His friends were screaming, indignant at the assault but Joel was ready. The knife that usually sat in his pocket filled his hand now, shiny and glinting with the threat of violence. He pointed it at the two other boys and suddenly, their loyalty was paper thin. 

“This ain’t for either of you, but it could be.” Joel watched them, daring them to challenge him, they ducked their heads and ran out. 

“Now. I think I misheard you before.” Joel pulled the kid closer, yanking on his hair to make him look into his face. Already, purple was blooming under this kid's eyes, his nose was definitely broken, and he had a cracked front tooth. “I reckon you said ‘whore’, you wanna run that by me again?” 

Andrew coughed, spitting blood out onto the floor, any and all bravado gone in the face of real danger. All too soon he’d given up, all fucking day Joel’s bones had itched to fight this kid, to make him hurt. 

“You hear me boy? I asked you a question, you wanna talk about her like that again?”

“No sir.” He wheezed the answer out, ‘sir’ now, instead of ‘old man’. 

“S’good to hear, you robbed her too huh?” He rummaged through the kids pockets while he stood there, finding a small stack of rations and he pocketed them. “This it?” 

“I used some, but that’s most of it.” He pressed his sleeve gingerly to his nose, wincing when he touched it. 

“Here’s what’s gon’ happen. You, are never to even fuckin’ look at that girl again. If I even hear about you bein’ near her place, approachin’ her on the street, given’ her so much a dirty fuckin’ look, you even speak her name again–I’ll kill you. You hear me boy?” He tightened his grip on the kids hair, relishing the way he grit his teeth against it. 

“Yes sir.” 

“Come again?”

“I said, yes sir.” Fire blazed in the kids eyes, but he didn’t fight back. 

“S’good, s’what I like to hear. Now, you ever second guess what I’m tellin’ you now, you ever forget about this right here-” He flicked at the kids nose, eliciting a response much more violent than the initial break, “you go ahead and ask around about me, I’m Joel, and there ain’t no one in this place that’s gon’ hide you from me. You got that?” He let him go, shoving him back hard enough that he fell on his ass. He pulled the little bundle out of his pocket once more, tapping it against his open palm. 

“Whatever is missin’ from here–you’re gonna replace it. By tomorrow. You find me, and pay it back. Do not make me come lookin’ for you because I’ll break a lot more then just your fuckin’ nose.” He nodded, Joel almost felt bad for him, but then he remembered that this piece of shit had laughed at her. He’d hurt her, stolen from her, and then laughed. Any and all sympathy dried up as fast as small town gossip. 

“Not so fuckin’ funny now huh, boy.” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a curse. The anger in him burned bright enough to make his bones ache, so he left him there on the floor, and made his way home. 

-

The day had been fine, until you spotted him walking towards you on the street. It was just a glimpse of him, but you knew the gait, the shape, the flash of that stupid fucking ring. 

Your stomach sank quicker than a stone thrown in a lake, and you froze there, in the middle of the sidewalk like a fly stuck in honey; until you saw him head on. Ice crept through your veins, a lace pattern of frost replacing your nervous system at the state of him. Worse, was the matching look of fear mirroring yours at seeing you.

He didn’t take another step, once he caught sight of you, he turned and practically ran down the street in the opposite direction. 

Someone had gotten to him, and made a worse mess of his face than what he’d done to you. Joel’s face flashed through your mind as you stood there, with the vision of the kid's obviously broken nose, the purple black bruises under his eyes imprinted in your vision. 

You had to move. You made your way back to your home, almost in a daze, the vision of Andrew so injured following you around like some sort of phantasm. It occurred to you then, almost belatedly how much of a fucking zoo the QZ is, despite growing up and living most of your life there, it almost felt like you’d been living in some sort of rose coloured glass house. Recent events had seriously been one hell of a wakeup call. 

Joel was waiting on the steps outside your apartment when you got there, his expression calm, patient. It seemed absurd to say the first word, so you wait. He doesn’t make you wait for long though. 

“These are yours.” He gets up, pulling what looks to be your stolen rations out of his pocket. That same fear grips you again, but this time it’s out of your own ignorance, a deep realization that you have no idea who this man is, or what he’s capable of. And judging by the state of Andrew's face when you’d seen it, he wasn’t someone to be messed with. 

“You got them back?” 

“They’re yours, they should be with you.” It’s a roundabout answer, but you let it slide. 

“Thank you.” He puts them into your palm, and all you can do is stand there, staring at the space they took up in your hand. They were so light, such a paltry thing to make such a mess of your life. 

“Well okay then.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, and you saw the glimpse of it again, a lost man, doing his best to be soft for another person. A lot of emotions hit you at once and you’re not really sure how to feel, does he feel something for you? Something beyond what clients feel for the woman they pay to fuck? It’s another one of those crossroads you seem to come to a lot when it comes to Joel, one side is safe and completely casual. Healthy. 

The second choice was shadowy, full of uncertainty and very real danger. He gifts you with a rare smile and you return it, almost against your will. His hand comes up, and he cups your cheek so soft you begin to think you’d only imagined what you’d seen on the street, the implications of the returned rations in your hand. You begin to gaslight yourself into a normal, healthy set of feelings for this older man. 

“Joel?” He doesn’t move his hand, his fingers slide down, curling around your neck while his eyes bore into yours. Something about his expression gives you the inkling that if he could, he’d erase the injury on your face. 

“Hm?” 

“What did you do?” Your hand comes up, and rests on his. It’s warm, much too warm to belong to the person who could do what you suspected he’d done. His eyes darken a little, and you see a glimpse of something. 

“I took care of it. You don’t need to be scared of anythin’, he won’t be botherin’ you ever again.” His thumb pressed to your lip, you watched your hands press to his chest. He was so solid and warm, and despite the implications, you felt safe. Safer than any other time in your life. Your body and your brain fought tooth and nail, confused on whether to hold onto the outrageous peace he inspired, or the impending sense of doom that seemed to ripple around him like heat on asphalt. 

He comes closer, and his lips press to yours soft enough to tickle. 

Peace wins. 

He presses kisses to every inch of your face, soft and comforting, curiously paternal despite the relationship you share. The thought should disgust you, but the truth is you needed this, you crave the protection, the feeling of security he provides. 

“Come inside.” You press the good side of your face into his neck and sigh, relishing the way he surrounds you. 

“I want to, but I got some things to take care of.” He holds your face softly, presses a kiss to your forehead before herding you towards your door.

“You’ll come back though?” A pout you don’t want to give him shines out from your face.

“Yeah, ‘course I will. See you soon, Pretty.” With another press of his lips, he’s gone. 

-

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[sherala007]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 14

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 3.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* No warnings to speak of. Mentions of babies, desire for babies, and pregnancy. Summary: The next chapter in your life is as a mom - but also as Mom Friend. Notes: We're trying something a little unconventional with the ending of this story, darlings! The next soulmate story is teased in the last chapter of Javi's story and we hope you'll be excited as we are. 🧡 Next week's epilogue will be a lovely send off for our favorite Spanish Sweetie.

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

Monday, May 4, 2027

"How are you feeling, honey?"

Tamara is all but bouncing in her seat as Tracy and Tandy set her hair and makeup. She's in a silk robe and smiling happily for the few photos you're taking as the Get Ready with Me! post for your social media pushes to be posted throughout the night and into tomorrow. The gown you designed for her to wear – and all its accompanying accessories – are artfully and carefully hung throughout the room. It's a hell of a whirlwind night. The Met Gala is a career dream come true and here you are, with one of your very best friends, even going to walk with her on the carpet to make sure she has help with her gown if she needs it.

“I’m excited and nervous.” She admits, looking like she’s about to burst and maybe throw up at the same time. “I still don’t know how I got this invite.”

"Because you're incredible," you remind her with a beaming grin. The communication had come in through your office – which at this stage of the game is a grand total of six people that run the Del Amor label. An offer of funding and promotion from a New York businessman named Harry Castillo had assured unlimited funding and attendance at this year's Met Gala provided you brought Tamara to represent your label. A myriad of phone calls and emails had followed, and you had found Harry Castillo to be an affable and straight forward man – one who had confided his ultimate goal in you.

He believes a friend of his is Tamara's soulmate and had contrived this whole thing so they could meet. The only condition was that you couldn't tell Tamara beforehand.

"You're incredible." Pumping up your friend's confidence is where you'll put your energy for tonight, since you're practically bursting at the seams with the surprise. "An intelligent, well-spoken superstar and you deserve to have a spectacular night."

“The dress is amazing, by the way.” She has stars in her eyes as she glances up to you in the mirror. The bright lights around it are perfect for applying makeup and the theme is a glamorous gothic to go with what you had designed.

“It turned out to be a little harder than I imagined to get right, but it’s stunning on you.” With the theme being weddings and death, you and Tamara had gone on a long train of thought about how she wanted something more original than a wedding dress and wanted to avoid the Victorian period altogether because it would be the most popular for mourning gowns. What you had decided on together was a dress inspired by ancient wailing women — a Greek inspired gown with a handkerchief hemline and accents of fabric Laurel leaves to mimic the wreath that was placed on a Greek corpse for burial. Her jewelry reflects the coins placed over the eyes of the dead for passage across the River Styx, and the artful tears that make up the most interesting pieces of her dress’s structural elements are the homage to all the mourners who would beat their chest and tear their clothes in procession at funerals. It’s an artful piece and one that both of you are extremely proud of.

“It’s only stunning because of you.” She corrects, grinning at the way you still try to deflect praise. Her brows waggle. “I should have brought you as my escort.”

“I’ll be with you on the carpet,” you remind her, even if you both know you’ll be off to the sides just to watch with eagle eyes to match sure she looks perfect for the photos.

“Not the saaaaaaame.” She pouts prettily but she’s too excited to be upset. “I just don’t know what to expect from this mystery escort.”

“All I know is his name.” And only his first name at that. In Harry Castillo’s e-mail instructions, he had been quite specific in telling you plenty of good things about his friend but in asking you to let Tamara judge entirely for herself. “Percy. That’s it.”

“Percy.” She tries the name, trying to imagine what a Percy looks like. “As long as it’s not that fucker from The Green Mile.” She huffs playfully. “Couldn’t stand him. On screen or in real life.”

You snort, sliding out of your seat to go and fuss with her dress a little. There is a corner that might need to be re-steamed. It's curling in a way you don't like. "I seriously doubt it'll be a fictional character, Tam."

“You know what I mean.” She huffs, waving her hand at you. “Percy-like behavior.” You roll your eyes and she busts into giggles. “I don’t know, I’ve never met a man named Percy.”

"Neither have I." With your face temporarily in her gown, you still shrug one shoulder. "If nothing else, enjoy your first Met Gala. If he's a dud you'll have a good story to tell and if he's not?" You glance over your shoulder and smirk. "Please don't tear this masterpiece."

“Me?” She presses her hand to chest and gasps dramatically. “Sleep with someone on the first date?”

“Oh sure. Sure. You’ve never done that.” All four women in the room dissolve into giggles and you look back at Tamara with a grin. “Especially not last new year’s. Alex’s party will live in infamy.”

“Hey.” She huffs, even though she’s matching your grin with no shame. “That was a great party and we did go on two dates after.”

"I'm not saying you shouldn't have a great time!" More giggles. The room fills with them and it makes you heart light, and even with a bit of hope for your friend. Tamara deserves someone fantastic. "I married Javi the third day I'd known him. I'm not about to say you shouldn't make your own decisions."

Her giggles settle down and she sighs softly. “Because he was your one.” She reminds you. “Brad definitely wasn’t, but he was a good time.”

"Who knows?" You shrug as if you don't already know there is a suspicion. "Maybe Percy is your one?"

“That would honestly be amazing if he was.” Tamara shrugs one elegant shoulder slightly. “I’m ready for my forever and babies.” She admits. “My clock started ticking when I became Auntie T.”

"And you're an amazing auntie." With her dress squared away, you stand back up and squeeze her shoulder as you move past. "Javiera adores you."

“That’s because she’s the smartest, bestest baby, ever.” She huffs proudly.

"She's an angel." Ever since your baby girl was born, you've felt like the whole rest of the world could collapse and as long as you have your sweet baby Javiera, everything will be just fine.

“Yes she is.” Tamara sighs softly. “I want a baby just like her.”

"You'll have one, honey." You lean over to press a kiss to Tamara's forehead. You would never disturb the riot of carefully manicured curls on her head. "You'll have one and Javiera and Sky will have another playmate, and it will be everything you want it to be."

“I’m honestly surprised that Billie and Alex haven’t had a baby yet.” She admits.

"I have feeling it will be soon." Avoiding her gaze and biting back a shit-eating grin, you cross the room to nab the open bottle of champagne and refill everyone's glasses.

“No.” Her eyes widen but she doesn’t press, knowing that it’s in the happy couple to make the announcement in their own time.

"That dinner party they're throwing next weekend?" You waggle your eyebrows at her as you top off her glass. "Might be for a reason."

“Oh God.” Her quick pang of jealousy is quickly overwhelmed by pure excitement for her friends. “More babies.” She grins and quickly starts to fan her face. “Nope, no tears.”

“If you wanted to cry, you should’ve done it an hour ago before I started your makeup,” Tandy chides — teasingly playful as always. “There is not enough setting spray in the world to stop tear tracks.”

“I know, I know.” Tamara stresses, laughing when she manages to stop the emotions from welling over. “Ughh crying on command isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I’ll tell you that.”

"We'll take your word for it, honey," Tracy hums, concentrating on setting each and every one of Tamara's curls just right.

She watches as the team transforms her, completely in awe of the process. Most of the time, actors are friends for the moment. On set besties and then life and projects make them drift apart. But the cast and crew of the movie that had garnered everyone their first Oscar were still tight. Lifelong friends now. It makes her smile thinking of the anniversary party coming up in a few weeks. Everyone who had worked on the film was coming.

It does take quite a bit more fussing, but when Tamara is finally fully dressed and styled she looks like an absolute vision.

“You’re breathtaking.” Tracy declares, stepping back to take it all in. “Stunning.”

Tamara turns toward the mirror and gasps. “It’s- I can’t believe that this is me.”

"You're a hell of a muse, sweetheart," you hum, standing just behind her as she looks in the mirror. "You're going to be incredible tonight."

“It’s just like any other red carpet.” She lies to you and to herself as she stares at the beautiful creation you have put together. “No big deal.”

“You do realize,” you grin and pinch her arm as you pass by her. “That red carpets are still a big deal for me? I still get starstruck.”

“That’s because you’ve only been on a few so far.” She huffs, grinning at you. “Wait until Javi decides he wants to act too.”

“He tried to tell me I should.” Which had been a discussion that had led to no end of amusement on your part. “So I think it’s only a matter of time until he tries it out.”

“I don’t think you would like it.” Tamara admits with a small laugh. “Too many people telling you what to do.”

"The only person who tells me what to do is a tiny princess currently being spoiled by her Meemaw." And you would not ask for a single thing about that sentence to change. Not long after your baby shower, your grandmother had agreed with almost no prodding whatsoever to move out to southern California. Your guest house became her house, and she had taken on the duties of live-in babysitter with gusto. Javi is on set today, while you're in New York for the event, so you're being treated to the occasional texted photo sent to your phone featuring your daughter having the time of her life.

“I cannot believe how spry your grandmother is.” Tamara grins, having seen the photos as they come and absolutely adores your spitfire of a paternal grandmother. There have been times that she has taken the older woman out for lunch dates and laughed until she ached. “I love it, and I know she adores spending time with you and your little family.”

“We’re making up for all the lost time that we can.” It’s so important to you that you get to spend time and share memories with your Meemaw after missing out on so much time together. She’s brilliant with your baby girl, and Javi loves having her around just as much as you do.

“That is the best part of the entire situation.” She’s learned about your dad, about your life before you lost him and a part of her mourns his loss for you. She has always been such a daddy’s girl she couldn’t imagine what it felt like. “I love it. She’s become everyone’s Meemaw.”

"It's the role she was born to play," you laugh. "Meemaw to a bunch of full ass grown adults who want nothing more than to prance around LA with her and listen to her crazy stories."

“Alex adores her.” Tamara laughs with you. “And so does Jason. Billie, I honestly think she forgets that she’s technically not related to her.”

"We're all family now." And you all know it. "She just tied the knot that keeps us all together."

“And now, you’re gonna talk me down from having a panic attack.” She teases, her pulse picking up when the rap at the door to the hotel suite can be heard.

"Miss Wilson?" A young man's voice can be heard from the other side. "Your car is pulling around to the front of the hotel. We're ready for you."

"Oh God....oh god." She's reaching for your hand, her perfectly manicured black and gold fingernails almost talons as she grips you tight. "It's time." She looks over at you with almost a pleading expression. "Tell me it's stupid to be this nervous."

"It's not stupid, honey, but I'm going to be right there with you." Through the course of talking, you've gotten yourself into your own dress and slipped on your shoes – hair and make up long having been done. Your look is far simpler and not as essential as Tamara's and it had been easy enough for you to do most of it yourself. "We got this. Together."

“Together.” She takes a deep breath and pulls herself together. Shoulders rolling back, chin coming up and the perfect air of compete control settling over her. Her smile bright and measured as the door opens to reveal the first person she will come into contact with for the night.

The young man at the door is older than he sounded, and leads you down the hallway to the elevator. This is his job tonight, escorting guests from their rooms out to their waiting cars, and it's by far the most stressful night of his young life. "Right this way," he shows the path with one hand. "As soon as the next car pulls up, you head straight out. There are photographers and gawkers outside but security will keep them back so you can get into your car safely."

“Thank you.” She tosses him an appreciative smile. “You are doing a fantastic job.” Shes always made it a point to thank and praise those that work behind the scenes to pull off an event, knowing they are the true heroes.

"Have fun tonight, Miss Wilson." His face burns at her praise and he looks just as gooey and pleased as just about everyone does when they're on the receiving end of Tamara's praise.

"Come on, Tam," you urge her, heading for the door. "Sure you got everything you need before we leave?"

“Wish I had gotten some of the little travel bottles of tequila Javi was bragging about.” She huffs. “But I have my bag, so I think I do.”

"There will be plenty of tequila when we get there," you predict. Although you could go for some teeny bottles of the liquor that your husband and Alex are currently marketing as a joint venture. That is some good goddamn tequila.

“Yeah.” She grins as she gets closer to the door. “Lots of tequila.” The door opens and there is a million flashing lights as the paps start to shout her name trying to get her to look toward their cameras. Everyone vying for ‘the’ shot.

Good natured as always, Tamara gives just two poses on her way to the car. When the door opens, she slides in and you follow, easily closing it behind you so the driver can pull away from the curb again. "And now," you laugh, blinking rapidly. "I'll be blind for the rest of the night."

“It’s always that way.” She snorts. “I swear there could be a lawsuit about how bright those flashes are.”

Your phone pings with a now-familiar name coming up on the screen. Harry Castillo checking in, because the man is obsessively organized. You shoot off a message to let him know you're on your way and then open up your text thread with Javi instead. "Selfie for my hubs?" You ask, holding up your phone to Tamara.

“Absolutely.” She smiles and leans in close. “Anything for Javi. He’s probably the most perfect friend and I know you think he’s the perfect partner.” She giggles. “He’s probably watching the streaming right now to catch a glimpse of you.”

"I don't think he's the perfect partner, he is the perfect partner." Stated like fact, it seems to be a silly thing. But the thing about you and Javi is how hard you both work at being perfect for each other. Finding the balance and maintaining it isn't always easy, but it's worth it. He's come a long way since the days of impulsively buying massively expensive gifts without a second thought, and you've learned the small and large ways to help him feel the most supported and the most loved.

“I love that for you.” If anyone deserves it, it’s you. You are sweet and kind without any pretense or need for acknowledgement. Fake friends are easy to have, but you are one of the true, loyal people she can count on no matter what. “He’s going to meet us there, right? This Percy?”

"He just arrived. That's what the confirmation text was. Now say cheese!" You snapped a quick selfie with her in the car to send off to Javi, caption it with a half dozen colored hearts, and sit back in the slow moving car. "Harry says he's nervous to meet you. Percy is, I mean."

“Is he some superfan, like Javi was with Nick?” She asks. You’ve been frustratingly stingy with the details of this escort. It’s starting to feel like a set up, but she’s never met a Harry Castillo that she knows of.

“Sort of,” you admit. “But not in the way that he paid to meet you. He’s a business associate of Castillo’s who also happens to be a fan.”

“And so this Castillo sponsored my admission to the Met Gala so he could meet me?” She asks suspiciously.

“Call it a…happy side effect?” She’s intrigued, not annoyed, and you grin. “He’s a massive donor to the Met, apparently. Like able to buy out a table at an event where people don’t really buy tickets kind of massive. He also commissioned me to make their suits.”

“Fucking wow.” She snorts. “He must be richer than your husband.”

The two of you huff in joint amusement. "I'd say that with absolute certainty."

“Well, shit….” She snorts and shakes her head. “I guess it would be rude to blow them off, wouldn’t it?” She fiddles with her bracelets and looks over at you. “We need a code word.”

You look into her eyes intensely, trying your damnedest not to giggle and spoil the joke. "What's your safe word, baby?"

She waggles her brows dramatically. “Peaches.” She provides with a deadpan look before busting out laughing.

The two of you are still doubled over giggling when the car rolls to a stop, and you have to squeeze her hand tightly to have any chance of recomposing yourselves before the door opens. "You ready, gorgeous?"

“As I will ever be.” It’s a lifetime dream to be included on this exclusive guest list and now it’s here. The door opens and she is the first to step out, a dramatic set to her face to match her dress.

The flashes start again, but a man steps forward out of the melee and extends his hand, smiling at her like she’s the only thing in the entire world.

But her focus isn’t on his smile, or even his rather handsome face. It’s on the inside of his wrist, which peeks out of his elaborately styled cuff just enough for her to see the swirl of white against his smooth, dark skin.

A little sugar maple leaf emblazoned on his wrist in white ink.

Just like hers.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[sherala007]

Learning to Live Part 36

summary: It’s a couple of weeks after your wedding, and your period is late… 

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), Husband Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, Angry Javier Peña (not at you), dirty talk, period sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, blood, Javier taking care of you, kinda a sick fic, angst with a happy ending, emotional hurt/comfort, pregnancy discussion, banter, romantic comedy, surprise appearance by your terrible ex, canon typical violence (Javier punches your ex and threatens him), update on Javier’s work with the Sheriff)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (a nurse with no physical descriptions)

word count: 18.9k+

a/n: Hello there! I really hoped to have this done sooner, but my job hunt took up a surprising amount of time. Anyways, this chapter and the next one are going to have some taboo-y smut. Please give it a chance, though! Shoutout to my amazing beta, @devineconjuring

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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When it came to the weekend, your plan was always to sleep in as late as possible. For you, that ended up being sometime around nine a.m. Your husband, Javier, on the other hand? He naturally woke up at six, and his idea of sleeping in was getting up at six thirty. He was a morning person, one of those people who were too alert and energized for it being the asscrack of dawn. 

That could never be you. 

When he found himself awake hours before you, did he leave you in bed to start his day? Nope. He’d make a quick trip to the bathroom before crawling back under the covers to cuddle with you. Your husband was well aware he didn’t have to stay with you—you’d told him many times it was fine if he wanted to do his own thing while you got your beauty rest. He never did, though, because it meant he’d be alone, and according to him, the apartment was too quiet when you were asleep, and it made him feel lonely. So, he relaxed in bed and held you while patiently waiting for you to rouse from your slumber.

Depending on the mood, sometimes you woke up and the two of you cuddled more, basking in the body heat and one another’s company. Other times, the cuddling was a gateway to losing yourselves in each other, having slow, lazy sex that was more about intimacy and connection than getting off. 

There wasn’t a better way for your day to begin. 

On this particular Saturday, two weeks after you became the official Mrs. Javier Peña, your morning started wrapped up in your husband’s arms. His lips kissed your forehead as his hands gently rubbed along your naked back. It was one of those mornings where he’d whisper against your skin, asking if you were ready to get out of bed, and you’d tell him to give you five more minutes, which turned into ten, then fifteen. It was one of those mornings when you didn’t want him to let you go, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved. 

Eventually, your bladder forced you to get up. 

The two of you did your usual morning routine—you took turns in the bathroom, got dressed together, followed by sharing the sink as you both brushed your teeth. There weren’t plans to leave the house any time soon, so Javi was wearing his grey sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, while you wore a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized University of Miami shirt. You’d gotten it on your trip to Florida, and it featured the school’s giant half-orange, half-green ‘U’ behind a smug-looking Garfield, the cat. 

The cartoon character reminded you of your husband, since they shared a distaste for Mondays. So, obviously, you had to buy it. 

Javier was always more awake than you were first thing in the morning. He had time for his brain to calibrate to consciousness, while you needed caffeine to reach his level. Today, something was different with him, though. He was happier than usual. The word you’d use to describe him sounded foreign in relation to his quiet, broody nature. He was… peppy. He walked around grinning like he swallowed the sun and hummed a happy little tune that sounded an awful lot like ABBA’s “Mamma Mia” while pouring you each a cup of coffee. And the affection. He had to kiss you any time he was within reach: your hair, your cheek, your shoulder, your lips, your forehead, your neck. At one point, he held your arm straight out for him to trail loud, smacking kisses up the appendage like Gomez fucking Addams. 

That one made you melt and giggle like a schoolgirl. 

Then there was how you were basically attached at the hip. In the kitchen, as you both made breakfast, he put his arms around you every chance he got and touched you when he couldn’t—grabbing your ass when he walked past you, standing so close to you while cutting vegetables his side was flush to yours, an arm across your back to hold your hip. 

It was a little surprising he didn’t move his kitchen chair next to yours when you sat down to eat your food—an egg scramble with chopped bacon, diced potatoes, red and green peppers, onions, tomatoes, cheddar cheese, and a side of toast. 

You had an idea why he was in such a good mood. It was something you had spoken about the previous day, and you knew it had him excited. You were just worried he might be too excited, given there wasn’t confirmation of your suspicions.  

Javier sat across from you at your two-person table. He didn’t have bedhead, but his hair wasn’t styled either. It was a controlled mess of brown waves, his bangs falling onto his forehead. There was the tiniest bit of stubble on his cheeks, and you knew he’d shave at some point today and trim his mustache, or he’d ask you to trim it. 

The newspaper he’d grabbed from outside your front door was unrolled and laid out beside his plate for him to read as he ate. He did that almost every morning, reading while eating breakfast. Except he wasn’t reading right now, nor was he eating. He was too busy watching with interest as you took your first bite, as if he were waiting for you to need something he could help you with. Now that you thought about it, he insisted on doing most of the cooking prep earlier, and he helped you put on your socks, which was a little weird, but you humored him because he was so happy. 

Wait, was he babying you? Did he feel that you were in some delicate state that required assistance? Whatever it was, he was too focused on you to care about his own food, and you didn’t like that or the babying one bit. You would have to address the elephant in the room so he’d cool it and eat. 

You swallowed your bite, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you met his gaze. “I’ll take one,” you said. 

He smiled. “Really?” 

“If it will get you to chill out and eat your breakfast, yeah, I’ll do it.”

His chair scraped across the floor as he suddenly stood straight up and held out his hand. “Let’s go.” 

Your eyes widened. “I meant after we eat. The food will get cold.” 

“I’ll heat it up. Let’s go.” 

He was determined, so you held up a finger and raised your glass of water to your lips, taking a few big gulps. The cup was returned to the table, and you got up, accepting your husband’s offered hand. He made you giggle when he pretty much dragged you out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into your bedroom to your final destination—the en suite. 

The bathroom’s light flicked on, and Javi bent down to get into the cabinet under the sink. He picked up something and straightened, facing you, his attention on what was in his hands. The long rectangular box was soft in its colors, mostly white with a touch of blue. Bold letters on the front declared, ‘Clearblue Pregnancy Test.’ Your husband lifted it close to his face, his eyes squinting as he read the tiny text on the back, containing the instructions. 

His excitement and impatience were due to the fact that your period was three days late and your breasts had been sore. He had bugged you yesterday to take a pregnancy test, one of the dozen or so he bought when he stopped by the drugstore on his way home from work. You told him there were many times you were one to two days late, and you wanted to wait—you felt like it was too early. Apparently, he took that as if your period still hadn’t come today—day three—that meant there was definitely a chance you were knocked up. 

“Does it say to pee on the stick and wait four to five minutes for the results?” you asked. 

That was standard these days. Earlier in the decade, you had to wait ten minutes for an at-home pregnancy test. Back in the eighties? Thirty minutes. Waiting in a limbo thick with uncertainty for that long sounded like a nightmare, and you were thankful for how far science had come.

He looked at you. “Yeah.” 

“This isn’t my first pregnancy test rodeo.” His eyebrows creased, and you realized how that sounded. Before he could respond, you clarified, “In general. I’ve never personally taken an at-home one, but I’ve had to test patients for pregnancy many, many times at work, and it’s a pretty similar process.” You were a nurse, formerly in the ER, and now in the post-anesthesia care unit (PACU), or, in layperson’s terms, the post-operation department. “A pregnancy test is basically standard procedure when treating a female patient of childbearing age.” 

His face relaxed, and he nodded. He passed you the box, which you immediately opened at the top. 

His beaming smile was back, and he rubbed your upper arms. “I’m gonna go grab the egg timer from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.” He kissed your forehead, followed by your lips, and went on his way. His socked feet padded across the floor as he headed to the kitchen. This was his way of giving you privacy, and you appreciated it. 

You shut the bathroom door and pulled out the test, leaving the empty box on the countertop. Your heart rate picked up in speed. It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t nervous. This plastic stick in your hand had the power to change your entire life with just the appearance of two little lines. In a matter of minutes, it was going to bring you happiness or sadness, and what a nerve-wracking prospect that was.

Taking the pregnancy test was straightforward. When you finished, you laid the stick upside down on the counter so you couldn’t see the results. Javi returned as you were washing your hands. He set the timer to four minutes and put it on the vanity next to the test. He stepped behind you, his arms going around your middle, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. It made you smile as you looked in the mirror, seeing the brown hair on the top of his head resting on your shoulder. You turned off the faucet and dried your hands on the towel hanging on the wall to your left. 

“Javi?” 

His head lifted to meet your eyes in the reflection, smiling. “Yes, Cielito?”

You spun around in his arms to be chest-to-chest with him. Something that happened frequently was getting easily distracted by his handsomeness, as you were now. Admiring his big, chocolate-colored eyes, his full lips beneath his mustache, his nose, and the mess of hair on his head. You couldn’t help but think about how he had a face the ancients would’ve carved into marble to immortalize his beauty. If you could, you’d commission a bust of him to immortalize his beauty. Too bad that wasn’t a thing people did anymore. 

“Cielito?” he repeated to get your attention. 

That pulled you from your reverie. “Oh, right. Sorry. Your pretty face distracted me.” He chuckled. “Anyways, it’s time for a pep talk.” Your palms were resting against his shirt-covered chest. 

His smile didn’t waver. “You’re worried about me.” 

“You’re really excited, and I don’t want you to be heartbroken if it’s negative.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I’m ready.”

“First of all, I love you.” 

He quickly pecked you on the lips while his hands rubbed along your sides. “I love you, too.” 

You smiled, your gaze locked onto his. “And I love how excited you are. It’s adorable, but I kindly ask that you do not baby me.”

He frowned, his palms pausing. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Save that for when I’m super pregnant and can barely move. It will be greatly appreciated.” 

The corners of his lips lifted, and his hands continued their path up and down your ribs. “I can do that.” 

“Thank you. Now, my period being three days late is abnormal. It could possibly indicate pregnancy. However, it might be a side effect of getting off my birth control last month, and my cycle is now messed up—I definitely have my fingers crossed that it’s because I’m knocked up, though. And, hey, if I’m not, we’ll try again next month. It won’t be the end of the world. What we have to remember is this can take time.” 

“You’re right.” He nodded.

“Glad we agree. So, what I’m trying to say is if the result isn’t what we’re hoping for, don’t be too sad, okay? If it’s not today, then maybe it will be next month. We’re just having a good, horny time, babe, and it will happen when it’s meant to happen. You got that, my handsome husband?” 

He snorted. “I’ve got it, my beautiful wife.”

“Great! Go, team!” You held up your hand for a high-five. 

His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled, looking fondly amused. He did what you wanted, slapping his palm against your smaller one in a satisfying smack. He cupped your jaw. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

“And I am so fucking in love with you.” To end the sentence, you poked him over his heart. He grabbed your hand, putting your palm onto his chest for you to feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat. It matched your own, the nerves and excitement making them beat in quick succession. 

He leaned into you, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. It lasted until the timer’s bell started ringing. You broke apart and looked at each other. 

“Do you want to flip it?” you asked. “Or do you want me to?” 

“Will you?” 

Your mouth curved up. “Yes, I can.” You moved a couple of steps and turned toward the counter, Javi taking his place at your back. He had his arms around you, holding you as he looked over your shoulder, watching you pick up the pregnancy test. “Okay. Three… Two… One…” You flipped the stick over.

One line. 

Not pregnant.

It was a quiet kind of heartbreak—no big moment, nothing dramatic, just a line that didn’t show up. It was something so simple, yet the weight was heavy enough to sink your hopeful heart. 

You let out a disappointed sigh and reminded yourself of what you told Javier. 

It would happen, so there was no need to be too sad. You will try again next month. 

Your husband’s arms lightly squeezed you as he cleared his throat. It was comforting to have him here with you, and knowing how you were feeling. “It’s okay,” he whispered. Your eyes found his in the mirror, seeing his sad little smile. “It’ll happen. This just wasn’t our month, and that’s fine. We’ll try again. I love you, mi amor (my love).” He kissed that spot behind your ear, and your free hand went up behind you to slide your fingers into the hair at the back of his head. 

“I love you, too. Thank you, Javi.” 

He looked at you in the reflection again. “For what?” 

“Everything.” You smiled. “Being here and going through this with me.” 

He shared your expression. “You’re the only person I’d ever want to do this with, and I’ll always be here. You know that. This is our life that we’re sharing together.” 

“Yes, it is our life.” Your nails scratched at his scalp. “We’re the motherfucking Peñas, baby, and we’ve got this.” 

“Yes, we fucking do.” 

“I think it’s time we throw this pee stick away, wash our hands, and go eat our breakfast. I am starving.”

“Let’s go, Cielito.” He kissed your cheek. “I’ll heat up our plates.” 

You turned around to face him again. 

“And you need to read your newspaper. Did you even notice today’s front page story?”

He looked a little sheepish. “No… I wasn’t paying attention to it…” 

Because his entire focus was on you—adorable. 

“You’re going to love it. It’s about that huge ass drug bust.” A few days ago, the U.S. Coast Guard seized almost 10,000 pounds of cocaine from a freighter on its way to Texas in one of the largest busts in U.S. history. Javier had obviously been absorbing all the news and had spoken to Steve Murphy, who still worked for the DEA in Florida, a couple of nights ago, to find out everything he knew. 

Your husband smiled. “I probably won’t learn anything new, but it’s interesting seeing what the government is willing to share with the media.”

“Do you feel cool having an inside man who gives you all of the dirty deets?” 

He huffed in amusement. “Yes.”

“Chismoso (Gossiper).”

“Ay!” He pinched your hip, and you laughed. “Tú también eres una chismosa (You are a gossiper, too). Te encanta chismear (You love to gossip).” 

“You bet that tiny little ass of yours I do. Which, holy shit, we were so distracted by the pregnancy stuff I forgot to tell you the hottest goss I heard yesterday.” You meant to share it with him when he got home from work the previous day—it was too juicy for over the phone—but he threw you off when he arrived with a grocery bag full of pregnancy tests and an eagerness for you to take one. “Buckle up for this one, babe.” 

“Cuéntame el chisme, mi amor (Tell me the gossip, my love),” he said, already invested. His hands found their home on your waist. 

“Hold on, let me toss this.” Your body twisted to throw the plastic stick into the little waste bin beside the vanity. Your attention returned to him. “Okay, so Robyn’s mom heard from a friend who is the mother of a girl that works the front desk at the Laredo Police Department and is dating one of the cops—” Javi was employed by the county Sheriff and wasn’t on the best terms with the local police because their Chief was his ex, Lorraine’s, uncle. “—that her policeman boyfriend pulled over a man for running a stoplight on the road coming into town from Mexico.”

“He ran a red, okay.” He nodded. 

“In the middle of the night on a weekday,” you continued. “Think early, early morning when the only people out are those who stayed for last call at the bar and are on their way home.”

He frowned, his weight shifting to one side. “The border has less security that late at night, and it’d be even worse on a weekday. That’s pretty fucking suspicious.” 

“I can see where your head is at, but there was zero mention of drugs.” 

His eyebrows pulled together. “Huh, okay…” The wheels were turning behind his eyes as he tried to figure out where this was going.

“The man wasn’t alone in the car.” 

He perked up. “A woman?” 

“Yes, a younger woman who was definitely not his wife.” 

“Oh shit, who’s the guy?” 

There was no way you could keep yourself from grinning. “Lorraine’s husband.”

His eyes rounded. “Shut the fuck up,” he breathed. 

“I called it.” Referring to a confrontation you had with the other woman on Javier’s birthday when you told her that it wouldn’t surprise you if her husband were cheating on her. 

Javi’s shock evolved into giddiness, his eyes practically disappearing from smiling so big. “You fucking called it! Karma’s a bitch.”

“Not Karma. Her name is Lorraine.” 

That made you both burst into laughter that echoed off the bathroom walls. His happiness had him pulling you into his arms, crushing you against his body. With all of the bullshit Lorraine put Javier through, you felt little guilt celebrating her husband’s alleged infidelity. To be honest, the two of you needed this right now. Something to drown the sorrow you were both feeling and trying to hide. Something to take your minds off that single line that wasn’t the result you’d been hoping for. 

In the back of your mind, you wondered if maybe it was too early and there wasn’t enough of the hormones in your body for the pregnancy test to pick up. The other thing was that the result might be a false negative. Or maybe you were right about your cycle being messed up, and your period would start any day now. 

You didn’t want that last possibility to be true.   

They had a Star Wars-themed wall calendar in the kitchen on which they jotted down their plans for each month and marked important dates. Javier looked at it every morning, counting down the days to various events. For January, he couldn’t wait for the dates during the first week, which were outlined in green and indicated that it was highly likely for his wife to get pregnant. Their wedding day had pink around its edges and was filled with little hearts and ‘Wedding’ written over them in black Sharpie. Then, there were the days between this week and next that he’d been looking forward to, marked in red along their borders. 

These were the dates that would tell them whether they had succeeded in their mission for a baby. 

The first day Cielito’s period was late, he didn’t let himself get too excited, because one day was nothing. That had happened before. But two days? That was new. Yesterday, when he went to the hospital to have lunch with her, and she confirmed it still hadn’t begun and that her tits hurt, that was when he finally gave in to his excitement. That led him to stop by the drugstore after work and fill a metal basket with every pregnancy test on the shelf—every. Single. One. 

There were eleven. 

Who needed eleven pregnancy tests?

The cashier, who was probably in her late teens or early twenties, was chewing a wad of gum loudly. After he piled almost a dozen little boxes onto the counter, the smacking stopped, and she looked him dead in the eyes. 

“You need any more from the back?” 

“I don’t even need this many.” 

When he got home, his wife refused to take a test, and he respected her decision. It was her choice, and he sure as hell wouldn’t try to force her to do something she didn’t want to do. He could wait. He was impatient as fuck, but he’d wait for her. Because she used to take her birth control religiously, she knew when she could expect her period every month. She told him there were times when she was one to two days late, but she had never hit three. With it still not arriving today, the third day, it made him assume there was a definite chance she was pregnant.

Javier was over the goddamn moon when he woke up this morning. The fact that there was even a possibility his wife was knocked up had him beyond excited. He had felt giddy to an almost embarrassing degree—like a kid on Christmas about to open the biggest present under the tree. A grin broke over his face when he got out of bed, and he wore it for so long that his cheeks hurt. 

An interesting development was that just the thought that Cielito could be carrying his child had awakened something deep within his DNA, making him want to take care of her. He didn’t want her to lift a finger. It took a lot for him to rein it in and not do everything for her because he knew she would hate that. Apparently, he didn’t tone it down enough since she did notice he was babying her. He’d have to work on that in the future.

As they got ready for their day and cooked breakfast together, his thoughts raced—cribs, tiny socks, her belly growing—each one sweeter than the last and only fueled the hope that threatened to burst from his chest. He waited for her to bring up the pregnancy test, and the moment the words ‘I’ll take one’ left her lips at the kitchen table, a current of electricity shot through him. His heart thudded wildly and loudly as if it was going to leap from his body and dance across the room. 

There was no way he could hold out until after eating to find out if he finally had an excuse to buy that cute little leather jacket he’d been eyeing in the baby section at Sears. They’d started browsing kid stuff when they went to department stores. Javier was going to go broke buying their kid clothes, but at least they’d have the best-dressed child in Laredo. 

He was thankful when she went along with him and even more thankful for the pep talk. He could admit that he got too excited when the probability of a negative result was so high. Javier had even researched the odds of conceiving in the first month and knew there was only a 30% chance of success. He shouldn’t have gotten ahead of himself, but his heart didn’t listen. The thought spread like wildfire, and he let himself get caught up in imagining their life with a baby. The three of them in the kitchen, their son or daughter sitting in a highchair watching them cook, or him and Cielito holding the baby between them as they danced while something simmered on the stove. He pictured the outfits he’d dress their child in, whether a boy or a girl, and how adorable they’d look in their tiny leather jacket that matched his. 

He got caught up in his dream of having a wife and kid, and a single line on a pregnancy test crushed it. 

When Javier saw the disappointment and heartbreak on his wife’s face in the mirror’s reflection, his stomach dropped. He immediately regretted pestering her to take the test. He should have waited until she felt it was the right time to check. He could see now that when she refused yesterday, she had been trying to save him from this exact situation. She hoped it wasn’t true, but she’d had a strong suspicion the delay was an issue from stopping her birth control.

The giddy, weightless feeling he’d carried all morning turned into something heavier. Sadness settled in, grief for what almost was. 

He tried to smile and comfort her. He did his best to reassure her that this was just a little bump in the road, and it’d happen; she’d get pregnant. They would try again next month. After they talked and laughed, there was still a gentle ache in his chest, a hollow space where hope bloomed too fast and too bright. But beneath the sorrow was something stronger—love. He loved her so fucking much, and he knew everything was going to be okay. 

Now, it was later in the evening at their apartment. The sun had set, and they had already eaten their homemade lasagna, which they had spent two hours making for dinner. They were in the living room, his wife sitting back on a cushion against the couch’s arm. Javier was in his favorite place: between her legs. He was lying on his stomach with his head pillowed on her belly, her bare legs bracketing his sides as he watched an action movie marathon on cable. She was aimlessly playing with his hair with one hand, while the other held the book she was reading—one of her dirty books. He asked what the plot was, and she told him it was about a nurse who accidentally traveled back in time. 

Aside from the television’s low volume, they’d been sitting in a comfortable silence for a while. He loved how happy and content they were just being in the same room together.

“Do you want ice cream?” she asked. 

It was an awkward angle for him to move his head and look at her. Her fingers had paused in his hair, and the book was out of the way for her to meet his eyes. He frowned. “I think I ate the last of what we had in the freezer last night.” It was butter pecan flavor, and he definitely ate it. 

She smiled. “From the empty carton in the trash you licked clean, yeah, babe, you did.” 

He snorted. “I used a spoon. My head wouldn’t fit. Where does my wife want ice cream from?” 

“Well, it’s—” She looked over at the wall clock above the entertainment center, then back at him. “—8:30, so our choices are the grocery store, McDonald’s, whose ice cream machine is most likely broken, or Dairy Queen.” 

“Why did I ask? You want Dairy Queen.” 

“Of course I want Dairy Queen.” 

“Okay, mi amor.” His hands were on her ribs, and he rubbed them. “I know I’m not allowed to wear my sweatpants outside the apartment—” Because his dick was too noticeable. “—but it’s late, we’re not getting out of the truck, and I don’t want to change into jeans, so I’m keeping them on.” He wore the same outfit as that morning: grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

“That’s fine. If the line is super long, it’ll make it easier for me to blow you.” She wiggled her eyebrows. 

Dairy Queen was the place everyone went to when they wanted ice cream late at night, as it was open until eleven on the weekends. Back in high school, it was where he and his friends would go after swim meets and football games. The place's popularity meant the drive-thru line could get a little crazy sometimes, not to mention the packed dining room.

He chuckled. “You’re getting bolder with the public shit, and I don’t know if I should be worried or turned on.” 

She smirked. “Both?” 

“Both? You’re a fucking temptress, and I’m in love with you.”

“I love you, too. So, is that a yes to the risky blow job? No? Maybe?”

“It’s a ‘there’d be too many people around, and I don’t want to take that kind of risk.’” His truck was lifted enough that a standard car couldn’t see what was going on below the dashboard. Another pickup, though, which the town was full of? They’d see everything, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with the police.

She pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

His eyebrow lifted. “Because I’m keeping us from getting arrested?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m sorry for being responsible. Now go get dressed, baby.” He patted her sides. “We’ll get you some ice cream.” 

“Okay.” She marked her place in the book with a bookmark. “Off.”

Oh, right. He’d need to get off of her. Before he did, he shoved his face against her soft stomach and shook his head. 

“Stop that,” she squirmed, pushing on his hair. “I really have to pee.”

“Sorry,” he grunted, pushing himself up onto his arms, then getting onto his knees. He helped her untangle her legs from him, and she swung them off the couch, leaning forward to set her novel on the coffee table. 

“I’m gonna use the bathroom and get ready,” she said as she stood up. His wife was wearing an oversized shirt and a little pair of sleep shorts. She giggled when he smacked her ass as she walked past him. “You keep looking pretty.” 

He smiled and sat correctly on the sofa, his feet planted on the floor. While he waited, his attention returned to the TV. It was the second Terminator movie, the first played before it.

Not even three minutes passed when there was movement to his left, and his head turned to see Cielito coming his way from their bedroom. He frowned because she hadn’t changed, and then he saw the look on her face, and he became worried: her glassy eyes and that small, tight tremble in her chin. It was the one she got when she was trying really, really hard not to cry. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

She didn’t respond. Instead, she crawled into his lap, sitting across it and tucking her head under his chin. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around her. 

“What’s wrong?” he tried again. “What happened?” 

Her voice cracked when she answered, “I started my period.” For the second time today, his heart plummeted, and it broke into a thousand pieces when her body began to shake with sobs. 

“Oh, baby.” He hugged her closer to him, tilting his head to rest his cheek on her hair. “It’s okay, mi amor. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”  

“Why do I feel so sad?” she cried, gripping his T-shirt tightly, tears soaking the cotton. 

He understood why. A small part of themselves clung to the idea that maybe the test was wrong, or it was too early to tell. This slammed those doors shut. It was the nail in the coffin. This made it final. There’d be no miracle, no surprise, no second line appearing late. Just… No. And it fucking hurt, but not in a loud, pronounced way. It was something deep and dull, making their chests feel heavy and ache.

His eyes burned, and he ignored the tightness in his throat. “Because it is sad, Cielito. We wanted it so fucking bad. Even with trying not to get our hopes up, it was already real in our minds, and now we’re feeling that loss.” 

She pressed her face against his chest like she was trying to disappear into him. “I did want it bad,” her words were muffled. She’d calmed down enough; she was sniffling, and he could still feel her tears wetting his shirt. “It feels silly to be this upset over nothing.” 

“It isn’t nothing, and it’s okay to be sad, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I’m sad, too. I’m fucking devastated.  But you know what? This shit we’re feeling? It’s temporary. A day or two from now, it’ll pass.”

“Will it?”

“I think so, once we accept that what you said earlier is true, that this isn’t the end of the world, and it can take time. Remember, this was our first shot, and we get to try again next month. We’re just gonna keep having a good time, and it’ll happen when it’s meant to happen.”  

“I wanted it to happen now.” 

He huffed out a breath. “I did, too, mi amor, I really fucking did. For now, though, we can be sad together. Is there anything I can do that’d make you feel better?”

“Just keep holding me, please.” 

He smiled and kissed her temple, squeezing her tighter. “I won’t let go.” 

“Can we still get ice cream?”

“Absolutely, baby. We’ll get you ice cream.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for.” He pecked her head again. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He held her close with his nose in her hair, smelling her floral-scented shampoo. He’d stay like this for however long was necessary to make her feel better. Frankly, he needed this, too. The comfort. It was soothing to have her in his arms, inhaling her familiar scent. 

Javier felt guilty about today. He knew it was his fault they were so sad. His wife was the more rational of the two of them and was aware of the statistics. She knew her body. She’d even saved him from the heartbreak yesterday when she refused to take a pregnancy test. Yet, today, he got ahead of himself, letting his optimism run rampant, and all it did was give them a false sense of hope that ultimately led to their sorrow. He wouldn’t let that happen again. He couldn’t do that to Cielito. It killed him to see her like this. Next month, he was going to leave it up to her to decide when she felt it was the right time to take a test, or maybe her period would start before they even had a chance, but they’d be ready. They knew what to expect, and it wouldn’t be as bad as today. 

They wanted a baby, and now more than ever, that desire wasn’t going away. They just had to be patient, which would be hard, but it wasn’t impossible. 

The line for Dairy Queen wrapped around the building. They were idling in the middle of the parking lot, with four cars ahead of them to reach the drive-thru menu board. Javier was on the driver’s side of his truck, and his wife was beside him in the middle of the bench seat. Her upper body was turned his way, her fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head while he held her other hand on her leggings-covered thigh. 

He could tell she was feeling better as she smiled at him and told him terrible puns like, ‘Why don’t oysters donate to charity? Because they’re shellfish.’

“You wanna hear another one?” 

He was smiling, staring at her beautiful face. “Yes.” 

“What do you call someone with no body and no nose?”

“What are they called?” 

With a straight face, she deadpanned, “Nobody knows.” 

He laughed. Javier knew why she was doing this. It was something she did at work to cheer up her patients, telling them dumb jokes and puns to make them laugh. She understood that the hospital was the last place they wanted to be, and she did her best to make it as pleasant an experience as possible. That was one of the things he loved about her. She genuinely cared about strangers. Just look at how they met; she came in out of nowhere to help him because that was who she was as a person. 

“Where do you get these?” he asked. 

“It’s a mix of ones I’ve heard and the pun book I keep at work.”

“Of course, you have a book.” 

“I’ll show it to you next time you stop by.”

“I’d like that. Can I hear another one? Give me a fucking awful one.” 

The car in front of them moved forward, so they did, too. For a second, his eyes got caught on the splash of color dangling from the rearview mirror. It was his wife’s wedding garter, the loop of dusty blue satin covered in an overlay of ivory floral lace, with a small satiny bow in the center. It was going to be put in the box with her wedding dress, his black bow tie, and lavender pocket square, but he preferred to keep it in his truck as another reminder of the best day of his life. 

His attention returned to her, and he could see her delight. “I can do that.” She nodded. “What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?” 

That one he didn’t get right away. When ten seconds passed, and he still didn’t know the answer, he asked, “What is it?” 

“A carrot.” 

Javier groaned, and she giggled. “I have a story about a parrot,” he said. 

He glanced through the front windshield to move them up one more spot before looking at her again. 

Her eyes shone with interest. “Color me intrigued.” He loved the feeling of her fingers slipping through his hair. 

“Back in Colombia, before we got Escobar, we received intel that one of his mid-level sicarios, who we thought we could flip, was working out of this house in one of the comunas—those were the poorer parts of the city and some of the most dangerous. So, we get this intel that the guy is there, and we go to bust him. With how we had the operation planned, there was no way he would’ve known we were coming until we were on his ass. I’m running up along the front of the building with my gun drawn, and I hear this shouting, “Corre! Corre! Corre! (Run! Run! Run!)” I’m thinking, fuck, how did they spot us? How did they know we were already here? We get inside, and aside from a couple of kilos of coke, the place is empty. We checked the surrounding area, and the sicario had vanished. Just gone. You wanna know who tipped him off?” 

She was grinning. “You better fucking say it was a parrot.” 

“A fucking parrot!” 

“Oh my god!” she laughed. 

The situation made him distrustful of talking birds. 

“They trained this damn parrot to alert them if it saw the police coming, and this fucker was obedient as hell. One of the men from Search Bloc—that was the local law enforcement unit we worked with—seized the bird and tried to interrogate it.” 

“The parrot? He tried to interrogate the bird…?”

He smiled. It was as dumb as it sounded. “Yes, they tried to interrogate the parrot, and this avian asshole kept his beak shut. After we took him, he didn’t say a single fucking thing. Even had a vet look at him, and they couldn’t get him to talk.”

They moved forward again. 

“What happened to the drug-dealing parrot?” 

Javier snorted. “Sapo.”

“Sapo?”

“His name was Sapo. It’s Colombian slang for ‘snitch.’”

“That is amazing. What happened to Sapo? And lie to me if he died.” 

He frowned. “He got to live, but he was arrested and charged with aiding and abetting. It’s a serious crime, so he was sentenced to life behind bars—” Her eyes went wide. “—of a bird cage.” 

She glared and pulled his hair. “You jackass.”

Javier laughed. He reached across his body to caress her cheek, his face following to kiss her lips. “But you still love me,” he murmured into her mouth and kissed her again. 

“Yes,” was her muffled reply. “I still love you.” 

A horn honked behind them, and it was his turn to glare as he broke away from Cielito to look in the rearview mirror to see what asshole interrupted their moment. It was Terry from the hardware store, and he had to resist the urge to flip the man off as they slowly approached the menu board to place their order. He hit the button to roll down his window. 

“Hi, one moment, please,” crackled through the shitty speaker. 

His head turned to his wife. “Small or medium.”

“Small.” 

“Okay,” he nodded. 

“Thank you for your patience. May I take your order?” the employee asked. 

Javier faced the menu board. “My wife would like—” He ordered the Blizzard she wanted and got one for himself, with crushed Heath bar in it. He liked the vanilla soft-serve ice cream with crunchy bits of milk chocolate-covered toffee and almonds mixed in. 

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.” 

“We’ll see you at the window.”

“Thank you.”

The car in front of them had already moved, so they pulled forward one spot. There were three vehicles between them and the window.

Cielito removed her hand from his hair so she could reach into her purse on the passenger seat and pull out her wallet. Usually, when they went out, Javier was the one to pay, and he would buy their ice cream tonight, however—

She held up her credit card and pointed at her last name. “What does this say?” 

He smiled. “Peña.” 

“Wait!” She went back into her wallet to get her driver’s license and raised it for him to see, but conveniently covered her photo with her finger. She thought it was worse than her last one, which she described as looking like ‘a mugshot if she’d been arrested for public intoxication.’ “What’s my legal name?” she asked. 

It made him chuckle, and he said it, her first name rolled off his tongue, followed by Peña.

Her happiness was contagious. “Hell yeah, it is!”

His wife’s new driver’s license, credit cards, and debit card with her married name had all arrived over the last few days, and she had been insisting on paying for things to show them off. The day her driver’s license arrived, they went out so she could order a drink and get carded.

It was adorable. 

As soon as she had a chance, his wife had gone in to change her name. She told him nothing had ever felt more freeing than filling out the paperwork and leaving her old life behind. To say she was excited about being Mrs. Peña was an understatement, and it filled him with joy.

“I love you,” he told her before closing the distance to kiss her. 

He could feel her smiling. She replied into his lips, “I love you, too.” 

When the kiss came to an end, he nuzzled his nose against her. “I’m really fucking happy you’re a Peña, too.”

“It feels so right.”

“‘Cause it is.”

He finally pulled back and noticed the vehicle in front of them was rolling forward, so they followed. 

She returned her license to her wallet and handed him her card. Javier sighed happily as her fingers went back into his hair, her nails lightly scratching his scalp.  

His head was turned her way. He watched as she rested her chin on his shoulder and hugged his arm. She had the sweetest smile on her face. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“I’m okay. I’m not feeling crampy or bloated, so that’s a plus.”

“That’s good. If you need anything, you only have to ask.”

“Because you, sir, are the best husband in the entire world.”

He smiled. “Because that’s what you deserve as the best wife in the world.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“Never. But, aside from physically, how are you?”

“Um, still a little sad. I don’t want you to be alarmed if I cry more this weekend. Since it’s that time of the month, my hormones will be outta whack, and it might make me extra emotional.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I know.” 

He was familiar with her hormones fluctuating during her period and the potential mood swings. Last month, she had a day where one minute she was crying over dropping what remained of her chocolate chip cookie into her glass of milk, and the next she was so horny, she was begging him to fuck her. As she would say, she kept him on his toes, and he was thankful for all the years he worked in a profession where things changed at the drop of a hat. He knew how to adapt quickly. 

“Yes, you do. How are you?” she asked. 

“I’m okay.” He glanced toward the windshield and moved them up another spot.

“Really, or are you just saying that?” 

His eyes met hers again. “I’m as okay as I can be.” Javier took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, it was a shitty day, but we got through it, and that’s all that fucking matters.” 

She frowned. “Sure, but how do you feel?” 

He matched her expression. “I don’t know, I guess I’d say I still feel sad and disappointed, and that’s fine. Because I know these feelings will go away in a day or two.” 

“Okay, so, until that happens I’m gonna comfort the fuck out of you.” Her fingers were still playing in his hair, and her other arm was wrapped around his; she hugged it tighter.

He huffed. “I should be comforting you.” 

Her eyebrow rose. “What, because I’m a fragile woman?” 

The question made his eyes widen, and he gulped. Well, fuck, that was the wrong thing to say. 

Quickly, he answered, “No. It has nothing to do with you being a woman, and we both know you are anything but fragile. You are a strong, independent woman, who doesn’t even need an asshole like me, and I am so fucking thankful you put up with my bullshit.” 

“Chill out, babe. I’m messing with you.” That had him letting out a relieved breath. “I do, however, want to know why you feel like you should be comforting me?” 

He looked away. “Because I’m the reason we’re sad. I got too excited, and you felt like you had to take the pregnancy test. If I had just taken your lead and waited for when you thought it was time, we wouldn’t have been so crushed.” 

She sat up in her seat. “Look at me.” He did. “Stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault. To be honest, I would’ve cried when I got my period with or without the test, and I’d be just as devastated. We were both excited and hopeful. You did nothing wrong.” 

“Okay.” 

He couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt even with her reassurance.

“Don’t do that, Javier.” 

“Do what?” 

“You’re still blaming yourself, and I won’t have that.” 

He sighed. “I’m sorry.” What else could he say? 

Her arm unlooped from his, and she held up her pinkie. 

“I pinkie promise that it wasn’t your fault and that you did nothing wrong, and what are pinkie promises, Javi?” 

He smiled. “Sacred.” He wrapped his larger pinkie finger around her smaller one. 

“Yes, they fucking are.” 

Other people would probably think it was crazy that a simple gesture could bring so much relief. But for Javier and his wife, it was true, pinkie promises were sacred. They bound their agreements to the same degree as the vows they made on their wedding day, and they could also be the equivalent of a sworn oath. By pinkie promising, what they said was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Breaking the symbolic gesture wasn’t even fathomable to either of them. 

“Feel better?” she asked. 

“Yes.” With their pinkies interlocked, he pulled her to him for a quick kiss. When they separated, they were smiling. 

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. So, here’s how this is gonna go, babycakes. I won’t be the sole comfort-ee, seeing as this situation affects us both. I got to be held by you while I cried earlier, and tonight, you’re gonna be my little spoon, so I can hold you while you’re a sad boy. Crying is optional, but highly recommended for the catharsis.”

His lips crooked up a little. “I like your plan.” 

“Good. Go team!” She lifted her hand, and Javier laughed as he smacked it with his own.

Her arm went around his again, and he reached across his body to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for. Gotta say, we’re really rocking this marriage thing. 

He smiled. “Yes, we are. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

It was hazy, the edges of your vision blurry. The red thread that stretched out before you, however, was vibrant, leading you down a hallway and around corners. You knew this hospital, recognizing the color on the walls, and passing rooms that flickered between memory and something dreamlike, the scenes out of focus. You didn’t know where you were going as you walked, and walked, and walked. It felt like you were stuck in a maze from all the turns, and it seemed endless, walking miles and miles until it finally ended—the red thread leading you into a room.

It wasn’t a hospital room. 

Instead of fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over sterile white walls, they were painted in a shade of daffodil yellow. There was a rocking chair in the corner and, directly in front of you, a person blocking the view of a crib. Even from behind, you knew that brown hair, you knew those shoulders, and that back. You knew the voice, the deep rasp, but words you couldn’t make out. He was talking, and no matter how hard you tried, you understood nothing. You took one step toward him, then two, reaching your hand out to touch him. Suddenly, the thread snaked its way around your waist, and when you tried to move, it only tightened, pulling you back. A dull, dragging ache began to bloom low in your belly, growing deeper, sharper. Your hands went to your stomach to try and get free, but they sank right through, the thread tugging you like an invisible weight. The walls closed in, and searing pain had your eyes snapping open, your heart pounding as a fiery cramp twisted through your lower abdomen. 

“Ow,” you said into the darkness. “Fuck.” 

Beneath the blankets, it was cozy and warm. With wearing a t-shirt and underwear while spooning your human furnace of a husband, the bed was bordering on too hot. You didn’t know if the bead of sweat on your forehead was because of the heat or the pain. Another sharp cramp clenched in your belly, causing you to hiss through gritted teeth, “Jesus Christ.”  

Javi’s body tensed, waking from hearing you. Your arm was draped over his bare middle, and he grabbed your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Cielito?” he whispered. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m cramping really bad,” you replied just as quietly. “My uterus is being a real dick.” 

Immediately, he turned over to face you and rubbed his palm along your arm. His voice was huskier from sleep, “What can I do? Hot water bottle? Pain meds?”

You didn’t want to bother him. Unfortunately, you weren’t going to have much choice with how it felt as though your insides were being wrung out. Each cramp was more relentless than the last, and you needed some kind of relief. 

“Both,” you answered. 

“Okay, mi amor.” He pecked you on the lips before rolling to his other side and throwing the blankets off his body. He groaned when he stood up. The room was almost pitch black, but you could still make out the dark mass of his body as he walked to the bedroom door. 

Apparently, your uterus wanted to rub it in your face that you weren’t pregnant. 

Fucking rude. 

The pain was so bad that you closed your eyes and pulled your knees up, curling into yourself. You hoped the thicker overnight pad you were wearing was enough to keep you from bleeding through and staining the sheets. Minutes must have passed, as you heard Javi shut the bedroom door, followed by the light clunk of him setting a glass of water on his nightstand. 

“Are your eyes closed?” he whispered. 

“Yes.” 

He turned on his lamp. 

“Do you need help sitting up?”

That was something you could do. “No. Thank you, though.” With that, you unfurled yourself, sitting up, and crisscrossing your legs. Another sharp cramp had you hissing and your hand pressing to your stomach in hopes it’d help. 

“Here, baby,” your husband said. 

You blinked open your eyes and accepted the two white pills he dropped into your palm. They went into your mouth, quickly taking the glass of water to wash them down, and handing him back the cup when you finished. 

Javi sat on the mattress, one leg dangling off. He passed you the hot water bottle, its rubber surface slightly worn from years of use and faded to a muted maroon. You clutched it to your abdomen, the soothing heat seeping into your skin and muscles, easing some of the discomfort. Your husband’s hand was rubbing circles on your back. 

“Thank you,” you told him as you leaned to rest your head on his shoulder. 

He kissed your hair. “You’re welcome. Should I grab the towel?” 

He meant the sex towel, which was a big, thick, black towel you put down when you fooled around on your period, or did anything messy. It made cleanup easier and saved you from having to change out your sheets in the middle of the night. 

And this wasn’t him propositioning you. It was his sweet way of offering to help relieve some of the pain by getting you off with your preferred method, and with zero expectation or want of reciprocation. Basically, he was offering you a medicinal orgasm. 

He really was the best husband in the world.  

“I already feel bad for waking you up,” you answered. 

“I’d rather you wake me up than suffer alone, and you know that.” You did, but you still didn’t like bothering him. “Let me help. What sounds good? You wanna start with fingers, and go from there?”

“Tomorrow, when I’m feeling better, I am going to give you the sloppiest blow job.” 

He chuckled. “Is that a yes to my fingers?” 

“It is a yes, with an added pretty please.” 

“You got it, cariño (sweetheart). I’m gonna go get the towel.” He kissed your head again, then got off the bed. 

Even as you experienced another painful spasm, it cheered you up to ogle your husband’s naked butt as he walked toward the bathroom. There was a dark hickey on his right asscheek you left the other night, marking it as yours, that made you smile.

When Javier returned, you pushed the blankets to the end of the bed. He placed the towel under your lower half and had you lie on your side with him behind you, propping his head up with his arm. Automatically, you curled inwards, pulling your knees toward your stomach, but your husband intercepted your top leg, which he brought back to rest on him, opening up your thighs. The heated rubber bottle stayed against your tummy, held there by your hand. 

He leaned in, his lips at your ear as he whispered, “Are you comfortable?”

A pillow cushioned your head, and aside from the pain, you were comfortable. “Yes.”

“Good.” He kissed that spot behind your ear he knew drove you crazy while his fingertips skated along your inner thigh. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Just before his hand reached your panties, it left you for him to lick the pads of two fingers. Finally, he pushed his digits under the elastic waistband. Due to your current state, you were more sensitive, the hormones amplifying each touch. When his careful fingers swirled around your clit, the sensation had your eyes fluttering closed as you moaned his name. 

“That’s it, mi amor,” he purred. “Just relax, baby. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Something you’d never take for granted was how lucky you were that you found a man who was comfortable doing stuff when you were on your period. It was a godsend when your pain was too much, like tonight, and with how unperturbed he was by it, it allowed you to truly relax and enjoy yourself. You had no reason to feel self-conscious that his knuckles touched the pad in your underwear, or that he’d get your blood on him. Between growing up on a cattle ranch and his work in Colombia, Javi had dealt with and seen much worse, and your normal bodily function was nothing in comparison.  

He started circling your bundle of nerves, and you whined at how good it felt. His mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, feeling his warm breath as he rasped, “You’re doing so good for me.” Slowly, he was building you up, the tension low in your stomach tightening. 

He kissed along the exposed skin of your neck, the tickle of his mustache and his fingers making you squirm.

His voice was low, “I fucking love you.” His digits dipped to tease at your entrance, slipping through the mess. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”  

He easily pushed one finger into you, then another. 

“Yes,” you gasped. It felt so good to have something filling you. 

“You like that? You like my fingers inside you?” 

“God, yes.” 

His digits pushed in deeper through the sticky wetness, and he crooked them, rubbing his fingertips along your upper wall, until he found that patch of nirvana that had you sucking in a breath, your eyes rolling back. 

“There it is,” he murmured. He focused on that spot with his fingers while the heel of his palm ground against your clit. “I love making you feel good.” 

The hot water bottle's heat was a lovely balm for the discomfort. When it was combined with him fingering you, the pain all but disappeared, and was replaced with neediness. Each slide of his digits and the friction on your tight bundle of nerves was pushing you closer and closer to coming, your thighs already trembling. 

“I can’t wait for our chance to try for a baby again,” he said. “Sex with you is always amazing, and I never thought it could get better until I got a real shot at knocking you up. You remember that, Cielito?”

How could you forget? According to your calculations, you should’ve ovulated during the first week of the month, but just to be safe, Javi and you fucked nonstop the first and second week. It was the hottest sex you’d ever had, and just the memory of it made your cunt clench around his fingers.

“Yes,” you answered. 

The smile was evident in his voice, “Yeah, you do. We get to do that again. I get to fuck you full of my come over and over again. Keep you all nice and stuffed, to the point your pussy will always have some of me in it.”

“Oh, god.” 

This man knew how to play you like a goddamn fiddle. Between his digits fucking into you just right, the attention to your clit, and the things he was saying, the coil in your belly was close to snapping. 

“My dirty girl, always wanting my come.” He kissed your neck, then nipped at your ear. 

Moans spilled from your lips of their own accord. Javi was into this just as much as you were, feeling his hard cock against your ass. Nine times out of ten after you received your medicinal orgasm, you felt so good that you asked him to fuck you, and he happily obliged. 

Tonight was heading in that direction, too. 

His fingers felt great, but they didn’t quench the needy ache in your core that only his dick could satisfy. There was also all of the baby-making talk—and your near future of being his little creampuff—that had you craving a creampie, and not of the dessert variety. He wasn’t wrong when he said you always wanted his come. Or maybe all of this was the horny talking because you haven’t had sex in a few days—after two solid weeks of fucking your brains out, a break was needed, especially after Javi got dehydrated last weekend. 

“I’m close,” your words came out in a gasp. 

“Come for me, baby,” he said. “Let me have it. It’ll make you feel better.” 

It was audibly wet where he was curling his digits in and out of you. It didn’t take much more to have you cresting, your body tensing up as his name was pushed from your lungs. The coil snapped, the awful pain from earlier exploding into waves of pleasure that rippled from your center to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

Javi’s voice was husky when he whispered in your ear, “Good girl.” He followed that with a myriad of gentle kisses along the side of your neck, his hand continuing to work you through your high. 

When all of the muscles in your body relaxed, you let out a satisfied sigh. This was just what you needed. With how boneless you felt, there was a chance you’d melt into the mattress. His fingers left you to rest his palm on your mound beneath your panties. His lips were still littering the side of your neck with kisses. It made you smile, and you let go of the lukewarm water bottle to reach behind you, slipping your fingers into his untidy hair—you loved when he had bedhead and let his curls run wild. 

He hummed in appreciation and lifted his mouth. “Feel better?” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Javi leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “You’re welcome, mi amor. ” He nuzzled his nose against the spot his lips had been. “Should I clean up?”

Your leg came off of him for you to roll his way, facing him, his hand managing to stay in your underwear. The hair on his head was no longer the controlled mess from the previous morning; it was an actual mess, sticking up in places, with his bangs on his forehead, that you brushed away out of habit. 

“What if,” you started, “and I know this is a crazy suggestion. But what if you washed your hand so the sheets don’t get dirty and then—” you paused. 

He was smiling. “And then?”

“And then we, you know—” You wagged your eyebrows. “—while I’m feeling good.” 

Javi snorted. “We fuck?” 

“Yeah, we fuck, we go to Pound Town, we fold some laundry, we do the horizontal tango—you get the gist. I am asking you for some dick.” 

“And my answer is yes, no matter how you ask.” 

You smiled. “Good. Now, hurry before my uterus betrays me. Again.” 

“We don’t want that.” He pecked you on the tip of your nose. “I love you. I’ll be back,” he said, kissing you on the lips this time. 

“I love you, too.” 

He grunted when he got up from the bed, and once again, you found yourself staring at his ass as he headed to the bathroom. 

Who knew a butt could be so cute? And his back—god, his back. The lamplight was enough to see the definition of his muscles and to take in that honestly insane shoulder-to-waist ratio. There was a Polaroid on the fridge of Javi standing in the middle of the kitchen, facing away from you, while you held up a Dorito at the perfect angle and distance for it to hide his shoulders and back, illustrating how he was shaped like the cheesy chip. It delighted you that he went along with something so silly. It helped that he found your love for the comparison amusing. Plus, it made him feel pretty great about himself. 

He didn’t bother closing the bathroom door as he washed his hands at the sink, giving you a clear view of his profile. The glow of the bathroom’s lights painted his skin in gold. You were propped on one elbow, admiring the strength in his arms, the curve of his nose, and the adorable pudge of his soft belly. 

Javi must have felt you staring as his head suddenly turned your way. The moment your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat, and butterflies started fluttering in your tummy. It was crazy that even though you were married, he still made you feel like a high school girl with a crush sometimes. 

A slow smile tugged at his mouth. He shut off the water. “See something you like?” he asked. His gaze stayed on yours as he quickly dried his hands with the towel hanging on the wall beside the sink, before flicking off the bathroom light and heading back into the bedroom. 

You smiled. “I see a lot I like.” For emphasis, your eyes salaciously trailed up and down his body. 

He chuckled, low and warm as he walked toward the bed, his stiff cock bobbing at his hips. He gave you the same once-over, his desire obvious. His tongue peeked out, licking his bottom lip. “I see a lot I like, too.” 

His destination was the end of the bed, the mattress springs complaining as he crawled onto it. You sat back, sitting up on your arms, and out of habit, spreading your legs to give him room to kneel between them. 

He lifted your leg, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he peppered kisses from the inside of your ankle to your knee, making you shiver. Javi set the limb down. 

“You want my dick?” he asked, sliding his warm palms up your thighs. 

Arousal burned in your core. “More than anything.” 

He pushed the hem of your shirt up enough to bare your stomach. His hands went onto the bed beside your hips, as he bent forward to press his lips to the newly revealed skin just below your navel, placing a single kiss. 

His head rose. “More than anything, huh?” He kept his dark gaze on yours as he continued his journey up your body.

The want was evident on his face, and it had your heart rate picking up. “Yes.”  

“I’d better give it to you then.” He was close enough to smash his lips into yours, his hips settling in the cradle of your thighs, letting you feel his hardness.

Your weight went onto one arm to free a hand, threading your fingers into his hair, and pulling him down as you lay back on the mattress. Javi licked into your mouth, making you moan. He held himself up with a forearm beside your head, his free palm gliding over the bared skin of your belly and under your t-shirt to carefully cup your breast. 

His lips left yours to nibble on your chin. “How do you want it?” he asked, kissing along the underside of your jaw. 

“Like this,” you gasped. “Want you on top.” You had one hand in his hair, and the other clutching his shoulder blade. 

“As you wish, Mrs. Peña.” He kissed down your throat. “Shirt?” 

You frowned. “Stays on, please. My boobs are still sore.” They were tender, which was expected during this time of the month. That didn’t make it any less annoying when you usually loved his attention to your tits.

“No problem, cariño (sweetheart).” His hand came out of your t-shirt as he sat up onto his knees between your spread thighs. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them off your bent legs, and discarding them close by on the bed—he was mindful, ensuring your used pad didn’t touch the fitted sheet. He shuffled closer to you. His fingertips ghosted up the outside of your thigh, causing goosebumps to rise, while his free hand palmed his straining length. He watched you with a little smile. “You want it?” he asked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit. 

You smiled. “Yes, Papí.” That had him groaning, his eyes squeezing shut before they opened again, his pupils blown wide, with only a sliver of brown around them. “Give it to me,” you said.

“It’s yours.” A statement of truth that thrilled you. He positioned himself at your aching entrance and the mess of arousal and blood, the slickness there allowing him to slide right in with one smooth thrust. Your mouth fell open. Not only were you overly sensitive, you were also tighter than normal, making him feel bigger, the delicious stretch stealing your breath. Javier was just as affected as you, his jaw slack. 

This was almost exactly what you wanted. He was too far away, and you reached toward him. He smirked, knowing what you needed, and fell forward onto his arms, your palms grabbing his smooth cheeks—he shaved that afternoon and trimmed his mustache. He was careful not to put any weight on your breasts. “Miss me?” he asked, pulling one of your legs up onto his ribs, then the other. 

“Always.” You tugged him down, and he lowered to his forearms, his lips meeting yours in a hungry kiss. Between his tongue slipping into your mouth and the rock of his hips, you had sparks dancing in your center. 

This was what you wanted—your husband on top of you, his dick inside you, and his lips on yours. You wanted him as close to you as humanly possible without crawling into his skin.

He started moving slowly at first, then building up to long, hard thrusts. With your legs high up on his sides, the angle had you going dizzy with every sweet drag of his cock over that perfect spot inside you. He adjusted his weight, holding himself up on one arm to slip his other hand between your bodies to play with your swollen clit. 

God, it was so fucking good. 

Your eyes were closed, your hands seeking out his ass for something to hold onto, gripping it. The muscles flexed under your palms as you pulled him deeper into you.

Every touch and sensation was bordering on overwhelming. A fire had ignited in your core from Javi pounding into you at a toe-curling pace, and the swirling of his digits. The sounds in the room were beyond obscene—the loud squelching where you were joined, the rough grunts, and soft moans. When it got to the point you both needed air, Javi broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours. 

“I love your needy little pussy,” he panted. “Is this what you wanted?” 

It was hard enough to think with all he was doing to you, let alone speak. Somehow, you choked out “Yes!”

“I can tell.” His words were breathy as he maintained his rhythm, pushing in and out of your sloppy cunt. “You’re—fuck—you’re so fucking wet and warm. You feel so fucking good.” He kissed your lips, then your cheek, and tucked his face against the side of your head. 

He had you mewling. Your nails were digging into his ass hard enough to leave crescent moon imprints. Sweat was forming on your brow, your heart beating a mile a minute. 

“Fuck—” he groaned, “I love being inside you. I can’t get enough—I’ll never get enough.”

He put everything he had into each roll of his hips and press of his fingers. That was how it always was with your husband. His mission, which he chose to accept every time you fooled around, was making you come, and he was going to get you there no matter what it took.

With how his cock brushed over that one spot inside you with every thrust, and his digits circled your clit just right, you were a goner, your head empty of all thoughts. Instead, pleasure had consumed you, lighting up every nerve in your body like the Fourth of July. All of it had your second orgasm fast approaching, its tendrils winding tightly in your belly. 

Javi was speaking, and the effort it took to register anything he was saying was honestly embarrassing.

He sounded wrecked, his heavy breath hitting your jaw. “You’re gonna make me come. Your perfect pussy is gonna milk me dry. You want that? You want my come? You want me to fill you up?”

The thought of him coming inside you had your cunt clenching. Your husband moaned at how you squeezed him. 

“Please,” you practically begged. 

“You first. Let me feel you. Give it to me, and—Christ—give it to me, and you can have what you want.” 

That fire in your center had turned into an inferno, your insides burning brightly. 

“Come on,” he said. “Be a good girl, and take me with you.” 

It didn’t take more than a minute for you to tumble over the edge with a silent cry. Your inner walls clamped around him as euphoria took over every molecule in your body, your back arching and toes curling. Your clit throbbed underneath his skilled fingers, your thighs spasming at his sides. He said something, but you were too far gone to make out a single word, his hips continuing their onslaught. 

He was serious about you taking him with you. He sped up his strokes to chase his own high, grunting with the effort, before pushing into you one last time. His groan rumbled from his throat as he came. His thick cock jerked hard in your depths, feeling him pulse, pumping spurt after spurt of his hot spend inside you. He rolled his hips to fuck it as deep as possible, and when he stopped moving, you sighed happily. 

The room went still and quiet, save for heavy breathing. Your limbs felt noodly—loose, your legs shaking of their own accord. You anticipated your husband’s weight atop you as was usual post-coital, but were pleasantly surprised when he turned you both on your sides without slipping out of you—he did it to avoid hurting your sore breasts. One of his arms was under your neck, the other wrapped around you, holding you close while your hand went into his hair, your fingernails scratching at his scalp. He hummed appreciatively and kissed your forehead.

Together, you stayed like this for some time, basking in the endorphins flooding your systems. There wasn’t a single care that your bodies were sweaty and stuck together where they touched, or that you made a mess of you both, feeling thankful for the towel. This was the time when the world slipped away, and only the two of you remained. 

The peacefulness and how relaxed you were had you dozing off. 

A loud snore from Javi made you jolt awake, your pulse suddenly racing. It seemed sleep caught up to him, too.

“Javi?” you whispered. 

With how his body tensed, and he went quiet, you knew he’d woken. His eyes opened. “What’s wrong?” he gruffly asked.  

The question made you smile. You pushed his bangs off his forehead. “You fell asleep. Let’s take a quick shower and go back to bed.”

He said through a yawn, “Yeah, let’s do that.” His head turned to kiss the skin below your wrist, and he gave you a sleepy smile. “I’m fucking tired.” 

You frowned and stroked the back of your fingers over his cheek. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

“You know I want you to wake me up for shit like this.” 

“Getting your dick wet?” 

He gave you a look. “No. Helping you feel better. Getting my dick wet is a bonus.” 

“Definitely cheered me up.”

“Good.” He pecked you on the lips quickly and smacked your ass, making you giggle. “Let’s go, my beautiful wife,” he said. “I wanna get back in here and cuddle.” 

“That sounds nice.” It really did. “Let’s go, my handsome husband. I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Wednesday, January 27, 11:03 AM

“We’ve been going through the cam footage at the border crossing for months,” Javier said. Sitting at the desk in his office, he pushed the manila folder with printed stills towards Sheriff Arturo. The other man picked it up and opened it, flipping through the pages. “We’re checking both commercial and personal vehicles, and aside from a handful of smaller busts, like those college kids over Christmas break who got caught by border patrol with a misdemeanor’s worth of weed—” Less than two ounces. “—everything so far has been spotless. No flagged tags, no suspicious stops, nothing unusual, which makes me really fucking suspicious.”  

The Sheriff’s eyes met his, setting the folder down. “Why?” 

“Because to be this spotless—” He tapped his finger on the desktop. “—means we aren’t working with just any average crew—they would’ve slipped up by now. We know product is moving north—money, too—but the vehicles crossing the border are clean. That tells me they’re switching them out constantly, so nothing goes through more than once, and leaves us no pattern to trace.” 

“What are you thinking?” 

“That they’re staging locally. Getting the drugs over the border and maybe using a shell property, or a business that doesn’t see a lot of traffic. Somewhere they don’t have to go far, and can easily distribute without anyone noticing.”

Arturo sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You think they’re local.” 

“Possibly. And they’re either using throwaway vehicles, most likely bought under fake names and stripped after one trip, or they’re piggybacking on legitimate imports, slipping in the product with the freight and paying the truckers to look the other way.”

“Border Patrol has the DEA breathing down their necks. If whoever these people are were able to piggyback on shipments, they would’ve been caught by now.” 

Javier smiled. “I thought about that after my amazing wife told me some really fucking good chisme (gossip) last weekend.” Given how his ex, Lorraine, ruined his life, he had zero pity that her husband was allegedly cheating on her. Javier grabbed another folder sitting by his empty coffee cup and passed it over to the older man, who flipped it open. “Schedules for the border patrol agents. They need at least two people at the checkpoint at all times. During the day, they always have five or six times that, with all the traffic of semi-trucks and tourists. Graveyard is substantially less busy. Look at the block of time from one a.m. to three a.m.” Javier pointed at it. “You have those two hours where the agents take turns going on their hour-long lunches, leaving only one guard.”

“And what? One of the agents is dirty? Or do you think the cartel has someone on the inside getting them this information?” He gestured at the papers.

“I’m not sure. What I do know is these fuckers aren’t lucky, they’re informed. I feel like someone’s feeding them, or fed them, intel, and maybe they do have the shift schedules, or were told about the maintenance windows and inspection gaps. I also think, given the possible leak and the possibility that it could be someone here or over at LPD (Laredo Police Department), we should keep this between as few people as possible. I haven’t even shared my suspicions with the narcotics team. One heads-up to the right driver, and we’re back at square one.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. What’s your plan?” 

“Well, that’s the thing, and why I asked to talk to you. I need the traffic stop reports near the border for the last sixty days.” 

“That’s easy. Joy can get those to you by tomorrow.” Joy was technically the Sheriff’s assistant, but she was nice enough to help out Javier, too. He took a small pay cut at the beginning of the year in order for her to be compensated for the extra work. 

“It’s not that easy.” Javier’s hand ran through his hair as he sighed. “I also need the reports from the LPD, and you know as well as I do that if they find out I have anything to do with this, they won’t give us shit.” Because Lorraine’s uncle was the Chief of police and enjoyed making Javier’s life difficult. 

“That is a problem. I’ll take care of the request myself.”

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Anything else?” 

“Not right now. Once I get the reports, I’ll cross-reference with out-of-state VINs, find commercial manifests, and see if I can connect any dots.” 

Sheriff Arturo nodded. “You’re doing good work, Javi. Before I go, ¿Cuál fue el chisme que te dijo tu esposa (What was the gossip your wife told you)?”

Javier sat up straighter. “¿Oiste lo que le pasó a él esposo de Lorraine (Did you hear what happened to Lorraine’s husband)—” He paused when there was a knock on the closed door behind the Sheriff, both men looking toward it.

“Come in!” he called.

Joy cracked it open and stuck her freckled face inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Javi, but your wife is on line one.” 

The announcement made him smile as he checked his watch to see if he was late for their lunchtime call at noon. The clock hands showed it was only 11:13. Maybe she couldn’t wait to talk to him. The thought of that made him go soft. 

“Well, I better get back to work,” the Sheriff said as he got up from his chair. “We were done, anyway.” He looked at Javier. “Cuéntame más tarde (Tell me later).” 

“I will.” He gathered the folders, closing them and stacking them off to the side on his desk. As soon as the door closed behind the older man, Javier picked up his office phone and hit the button for line one. “Hey, baby,” he answered. 

“Hey, babe.” He loved hearing her voice. 

“Couldn’t wait to talk to me at lunch?” 

“No, definitely couldn’t wait.” 

His smile grew, and he leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly wrapping the telephone cord around his finger.

“Yeah? How’s your day?” He heard her inhale deeply, releasing it from her nose in a rush. His hand paused, and his lips turned down. That was her bad day sigh. His tone went gentle, “What happened, Cielito? Are you okay? Do you want me to come down there?” 

“No, I’m okay,” she reassured. “But, I need to tell you something you are absolutely going to hate.” 

His stomach plummeted, and his heart rate rose. He sat forward, resting his elbows on the desktop. “What happened?” he asked again.  

“Well, you know my ex, Daniel? Doctor Douchebag?” 

He’d never met the man, but he had heard more than enough about him. 

The guy was a real piece of work. 

She met him at a hospital in Dallas, where he was a couple of years out of his cardiothoracic residency, and she was a nurse in the emergency room. When he discovered who her father was, he pursued her for the sole purpose of getting an in with her family. 

Her dad was apparently the Bill Gates of her ex’s surgical specialty, revolutionizing it, and in general, a big shot in the medical community. He was also loaded, a pretentious dick, and a shitty father. 

So, she dated this prick, who got what he wanted, meeting and wooing her parents. Then he humiliated her when she caught him cheating with another nurse. It came out that basically the entire hospital knew he was fucking this other woman behind her back. He didn’t take it well when she ended things. One of those, ‘you don’t break up with me, I break up with you’ types. He spitefully revealed that he was using her to further his career, and that he would’ve married her for the connections and money, while continuing to sleep with other people.

Fucked up, right? Javier wanted to bash the guy’s teeth in. What confused him, though, when she told him about this piece of shit, was that she admitted he was an arrogant asshole, selfish in bed, and he thought her love for Star Wars was childish, so, why did she date him? Her answer was similar to why Javier dated Lorraine: she liked the attention. It was also one of the only times when her parents were happy with her life choices, and things were good between them. In those days, she was still vying for their approval, but with how disappointed they were by the break-up, and their attempts to get her to forgive the fucker and take him back, she became disillusioned and more resentful of them. What made it even worse was that they were still obsessed with him and stayed in touch. 

Remembering how these people treated his wife had Javier’s blood boiling, his fist tightening around the handset hard enough that the plastic creaked. 

His voice lowered, “Yeah. What about him?” 

“He’s here.” 

His jaw clenched, his heart pounding in his throat. “I’m on my way.” 

“Javi, no—” She was cut off by him hanging up the phone. His chair rolled back as he stood, Javier shrugging his suit jacket off onto it. He left the room, yanking open his office door and storming down the hallway. He undid his cufflinks as he walked, pocketing them, then rolling up his sleeves. 

“Everything okay, Javi?” Joy asked as he approached her desk, her expression showing her concern. 

“No,” he answered as he went past her, loosening his tie. “I’ll either be back or in jail.”

“Does your wife know?”

“She’ll be the one bailing me out,” he said, continuing down the hall.

He made up his mind a while ago that if he ever had the chance to kick her ex’s ass, he was going to take it. He didn’t care that what happened between them was years ago, or that she’d forgiven the guy. That asshole deserved what was coming to him, and if that meant Javier had to spend some time behind bars, it was worth it. He just hoped Cielito didn’t get too mad at him. 

“Oh, shit,” you whispered into the storage room. Your eyes were wide, staring at the darkened screen on your cell phone now that the call was abruptly over. 

There was no point in trying to call Javier back. He was stubborn and coming down there whether you liked it or not. Was it a good idea to tell him Daniel was there? With how much your husband hated him, no, but this wasn’t something you could keep from him, or wait to tell him when you got home. It didn’t feel right hiding something like this from him, and you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d want to be told. 

How did this happen? Why was Daniel in Laredo when the last time you heard, he lived and worked in Boston? Those were both great questions that you didn’t have the answers to because the second you saw him, chatting with the orderly pushing a bed with a patient dozing in and out of consciousness on it, post-surgery, you booked it to hide in the storage room. 

You needed to come up with a plan to avoid your ex and keep your husband from beating him up. Lifting your wrist, you checked the time—11:20. If you had to guess, you’d already been there for about five minutes. If you hung out for another seven, that should be enough of a buffer for Daniel to talk to the patient’s family, answer any questions, and have Robyn, your co-worker and best friend, take over care. The hope was that he didn’t know you worked there, and this was all one big coincidence, but if he were aware, avoiding him should make him go away. If he asked Robyn where you were, due to the time, she’d tell him you probably went to lunch early. Either way, seven minutes from now, he should definitely be gone, and that will allow you to intercept Javi and redirect him out of the hospital, where you can get him back into his truck and distract him, probably by making out. 

It was a pretty solid plan. 

As you stood there, waiting, you thought it was sweet that your husband wanted to defend your honor. You had to admit it was really sexy, too. Yeah, you were more than capable of handling things yourself and had done it most of your life, but Javi going into protector mode? Dear god, did it rile you up. Even if you loved it, you didn’t think it was worth his getting arrested. 

Minutes passed. You looked at your watch again: 11:27. 

Game time. 

Walking over to the door, you slowly opened it enough to peek your head out, looking down both ways of the thankfully empty hallway. You left the storage room and briskly walked to the nurse’s station at the end of the hall. Before you had to do your Houdini disappearing act, you’d just finished your rounds, so you knew your two patients were cared for. At the desk, you ensured neither of them had hit the call button. Everything looked good. Where was Robyn? You needed her help with the whole Daniel situation. Instead of waiting for her to show up, you left the nurse’s station, heading back down the hallway to find her. 

It seemed luck was not in your favor today. 

“There you are.” The voice behind you had you stopping in your tracks, and a ball of dread settling in your stomach. Well, fuck. There goes your game plan. “I’ve been looking for you.” 

Taking a deep breath, you let it out with a sigh as you turned around. “Hello, Daniel.” 

He was standing there with his icy-blue eyes and his stupid pastel yellow surgical cap covered in trout he’d had since medical school—he said it was good luck. He didn’t look much different from the last time you saw him three years ago, before he moved to Massachusetts. Slightly shorter than Javi, clean-shaven, with a light tan, which was weird since he practically lived indoors, tailored black scrubs, and a watch that probably cost more than your car. Was he attractive? Sure. Hotter than your husband? Not even close. You still considered Daniel out of your league, and it had surprised you when he asked you out all that time ago. You should’ve known he had ulterior motives, but back then, you loved that the cute, young, hotshot surgeon at the hospital, who your parents loved, was interested in you. 

He frowned. “Don’t be like that, Kitten.” The nickname made you shudder. “It’s still Dan.” He couldn’t even smile without looking smug. “I heard you worked here, and thought we could grab lunch and catch up. For old times’ sake.” 

For old times’ sake? He was making it sound like your relationship was all sunshine and daisies, something it absolutely was not. After your breakup, the two of you pretended the other didn’t exist at work, and only spoke when your parents were in town because they always invited him to dinner even after you told them not to. Thankfully, three years ago, with a recommendation your father wrote on his behalf, Daniel ended up getting his dream job in Boston, so you haven’t seen or spoken to him since then. 

When your arms crossed over your chest, you caught him glancing down for a split second to check out your chest. Gross. “No, thanks. I have plans. If that was all, I have to get back to work.” 

“Wait, what about a drink when you get off? This sad little town must have a bar.” 

You glared. “It does, and once again, no thank you.” 

“Then talk to me for a second.” His tone softened, yet it came off as patronizing. “I heard you weren’t doing well, and when our old hospital called me to take the case for this patient here that they were going to fly to Dallas, it felt like kismet, and that I should come down here to check on you. I was worried about you.” 

What in the actual fuck was he talking about? Also, him worrying about you was laughable since he was pathologically self-centered. This guy never truly apologized for what he did to you, and thought he could charm away the damage. You squinted, your eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean you heard I wasn’t doing well?” 

He gave you a look like you should know what he was talking about. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Kitten.” Wow, hearing him call you that was like nails on a chalkboard. “I had dinner with your parents last week, and they told me all about how you made a mistake moving down here, and that you’re struggling, but don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have choices we regret, like how I treated you. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently and wouldn’t take you for granted. Maybe this is our second chance.” 

There was a lot to take in, from what your mother and father said to him to his attempt at rekindling your romance. Each part made you angrier and angrier. The fucking audacity of your parents’ lies, and Doctor Douchebag thinking you’d even consider taking him back. Your eyes squeezed closed, focusing on your breathing to stay calm so you didn’t make a scene. 

“First of all,” you finally said, your attention returning to him, “I’m very happily married.” You lifted your left hand to show him your rings. His eyes rounded, his general smugness fading as reality sank in. “My life is not falling apart. My life has never been better. I have a man who actually loves me, and not the perks I come with. I also love living in this ‘sad little town’ with my husband and our family. My parents? I am no longer in contact with them, and good riddance; they never liked anything they couldn’t control, especially my choices. All that shit they said about me was what they needed to say to make the world make sense to them again. The ideas you had about us getting back together are, honestly, fucking delusional. You seriously thought my life was in shambles and that’d, what? Make me forget about you cheating on me? Or the part where you told me, to my face, that all I was worth to you was my family’s money and connections? You thought you could show up here and play the hero? Go fuck yourself, Daniel.” 

With it being around lunchtime, you weren’t concerned about anyone overhearing. 

He regained his composure, standing a little straighter. “Dan,” he said. 

“Get fucked, Doctor Douchebag.” 

This was a man who wasn’t often talked back to or heard the word ‘no’ enough, which became evident from the look he gave, where his eyes screamed ‘danger,’ and he had a creepy little smile that made the hair rise on the back of your neck. 

See, Daniel grew up privileged. He attended the best schools and was always the best in the room. He was so good at his profession that people let him get away with everything. His arrogance was backed by brilliance, and he weaponized his charm. This all meant he believed consequences were for other people, and he could do no wrong. 

“You know, your parents and I, we aren’t the villains here,” he said. “We just see things clearly.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Sure, you’re ‘happily married’—” He did air quotes with his fingers. “—but we all know you were meant for more than this. More than a town with only one bar and patients who think Tylenol is a miracle drug.” He took a step forward, and you went back one. “You could have everything. Your dad told me about his job offer for you to be the director of nursing back home. Your talent is wasted here. You're giving up money, connections, and status for what? So you can play house with some guy your parents wouldn’t even pay to park their car? You can’t seriously think some hick town nobody is better than me. Your parents want what’s best for you. I want what’s best for you. Let’s go talk about this more over coffee.” He was quick to grab your bicep in an attempt to lead you away, his grip hard enough to make you flinch. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You jerked your arm, but his fingers only dug in harder. He was acting as if he still had some kind of claim to you, making you feel sick to your stomach. The hallway was quiet, save for the soft hum of the sterile lights above. 

“Stop being dramatic. I just want to talk.” 

“I said, let go!” You pushed at his chest. 

Before he had a chance to respond, a voice cut through the tension. Sharp and unmistakably furious. “Get your hands off my wife!” 

Daniel looked up just in time to catch the full weight of a punch square to the jaw. The crack of the impact echoed in the corridor, the thud silencing everything for a moment. The man staggered, caught off guard, stumbling back. You gasped, covering your mouth. Before the surgeon had a chance to recover, Javi was on him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, yanking him close until their faces were inches apart.

“Don’t you ever touch my wife again,” your husband said, low and dangerous. “You think you have the right to grab her and take her where you want, like she’s yours? She’s not. She never was. So, here’s your only warning. You lay a hand on her again, I’ll break it. If I see you even look at her the wrong way, you’ll be eating through a fucking straw. You ever show your face near her again, I will put it through a wall. I’m not fucking around.” 

Stepping to the side, you looked past your husband to see the other man glaring with blood dripping from his lip.  “Who are you?” 

“Her husband, and the hick town nobody you really don’t want to fuck with.” 

Oh. Was it wrong that Javier threatening your terrible ex with bodily harm was turning you on? He had a good twenty pounds on your ex and would easily wipe the floor with him. This was a new level of anger you’d never seen before. You didn’t want him to be so mad, but dear lord, were you dangerously close to swooning. His immediate response to seeing someone causing you distress was to come in swinging, and wasn’t that very sexy of him? What you knew for sure was that you’d never wanted to have his babies more.

Javi shoved him back, releasing his grip on the shirt. Daniel continued staring down your husband as he used the back of his hand to wipe away the blood on his chin and smoothed the invisible wrinkles from his scrubs. 

“Real classy entrance, amigo,” the surgeon replied. “Are you always this protective, or are you just insecure?” 

Javi took an immediate step forward, and it was satisfying to see your ex flinch. 

“You wanna rethink that question, pal?” your husband asked. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket; his white dress shirt hugged his back, revealing how tense he was beneath it. You knew it was taking a lot for him not to kick the smaller man’s ass.

Your ex smiled. “What I mean is that she and I have history. That won’t go away with a ring and a temper. You can threaten me all you want, but one day she’ll realize what she gave up, and that she deserves better than this backwoods fairy tale. I think deep down, you both know that, too.” 

Javier’s voice turned menacing. “She already knows what she gave up, and that’s why she happily wears my last name. It’s also the reason you’re here, grasping at straws, and pathetically bleeding.” He leaned in slightly. “Next time you wanna feel like a big, important man, maybe pick someone who doesn’t have a husband willing to break your jaw for it. You wanna listen to yourself talk more, or are we done?” 

This was when Daniel’s eyes landed on yours. “This is it?” 

You moved to stand beside your husband, his arm automatically going behind your back to hold your hip. The question made your eyebrows pull together. “Dude, this has been it for five fucking years. You’re the one who's too full of himself to accept that someone doesn’t want anything to do with you. So, for the love of god, leave me the fuck alone, and when you talk to my parents, ‘cause I know you’re gonna call my dad after this—you’ve always needed his approval more than you‘ve ever given a fuck about me—please let them know I’m a Peña now. See?” You pointed to your hospital badge clipped to the front pocket of your scrub shirt. “P-e-ñ-a,” you sounded it out for him. “I think it goes pretty great with my first name. Right, babe?” You looked toward Javi, who was already watching you with a smile. 

“It’s perfect with your first name, mi amor.” 

“Yes, it is.” Your eyes went back to your ex. The expression on his face was one of disbelief. This was a hard pill for him to swallow. “I’m not sorry that this puts an end to your dreams of becoming my father’s second son. Maybe if you suck up enough he won’t be too disappointed in your failure to get me back—I just wouldn’t count on an invite to Thanksgiving if I were you.”

“I don’t understand,” Daniel started, “how you can give up everything for something as trivial as love.” 

“Because I’d rather build a life that’s real than decorate one that’s empty, and it’s sad that you don’t understand that. Love isn’t trivial, it’s everything your life is missing.”

He huffed. “I’m not missing anything. I’ve got everything I need—a career, status, respect. Love fades, but comfort lasts. You’ll find that out the hard way, and when you do, your parents will welcome you back with open arms.” 

“You are a sad, strange little man. You have my pity.” Before he could reply, you barreled on, wanting this discussion to end. “Well—“ You clapped your hands together once. “—I hated this interaction aside from when my wonderful husband punched you in your stupid face and threatened you. I can assure you he is going to get majorly laid tonight. Everything is going to be on the table—he could even fuck me on the table if he wanted to, I am so down. So, yeah, fuck off, Daniel.”

“What my wife said,” Javi added. “Fuck off, Daniel.” 

The surgeon tore off his surgical cap, revealing his tousled, dirty blonde hair as he walked away. When he was out of view, you turned to your husband, who faced you. Snatching his punching hand, you carefully lifted it, inspecting it for any injuries. 

“Is there any pain?” you asked. His knuckles were red, with no abrasions or cuts, but there was some swelling. There weren’t any visible signs of a break, which was reassuring. 

“No, Cielito.” Glancing up, you watched his smiling face as you moved each of his fingers, checking to see if he winced or showed any discomfort. “I’m fine. I promise.” 

So far, he looked to be telling the truth. “Let me get you some ice to help with the swelling.” 

He didn’t let you leave, his hands instead moving to caress your cheeks, keeping your eyes on his. “Mi amor, baby, I’m good.” 

“Okay. They might be feeling fine right now, but there’s a chance you might experience some stiffness later.” 

He smirked. “Oh, I know I’m gonna experience some stiffness later.” 

“I’m in nurse mode, babe, is that a dick joke, or do I need to keep an eye on your hand?” 

“It was a dick joke.” He leaned in, kissing your forehead. His arms wrapped around you, and you hugged him back, the side of his head resting against yours. “My hand is okay.” 

“Good.” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your nose nestled into the crook of his neck, inhaling his spicy cologne with its citrusy notes and lovely musk, which mixed with his natural scent, had you relaxing into him. “I am now,” you answered truthfully.

“Good.” He kissed your hair and squeezed you a little tighter.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in the middle of the hallway, holding each other. The Daniel altercation shook you up, and you were thankful Javi arrived when he did. Thinking back on your relationship with your ex, there were a few instances where he felt entitled to grab you like he did today. It usually happened at parties, and you didn’t think much of it at the time. Now, it felt violating and gross, especially since he was virtually a stranger. It was fucked up that after all these years he still thought he had the right to steer you like property. And with who you were nowadays, you couldn’t believe you ever let him treat you like that. It was jarring when he put his hands on you earlier, but you wouldn’t have gone with him without a fight, and a lot of noise. 

Javi leaned back to look at you, and there was something so comforting about gazing into his brown eyes, the dark amber flecked with warmth that radiated his love for you. His large palms rubbed your upper arms.

“You’re okay?” he asked, double-checking.

You smiled. “I’m wonderful.” 

His lips crooked up. “Perfect. Did I hear you say everything was on the table tonight?” 

You giggled, your hands smoothed up his chest to wrap your arms around his neck. “Yes, you did, and I meant everything. You came in here, my knight in a business suit, saving me from that asshole. You can have whatever your heart desires.”

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, yeah. I’m not saying I ever want to see you get that mad again, but it was extremely sexy how you defended and protected me. Really riled up the cavewoman part of my brain that sees you as the perfect mate to procreate with.” 

You could see his amusement. “The cavewoman part of your brain?” 

“Yep. You know, like that deep, primitive instinct you have that makes you wanna put a baby in me.” 

He didn’t get to reply. “And that’s why I’m on birth control and I make my male partners wear condoms,” Robyn said. Javi and you turned your heads toward her, standing there. Her chestnut curls were up in a bun today, and, as usual, her makeup was flawless, with her cherry-red lips and perfect cat eye. “That instinct is dangerous as hell. I’m happy Seb—” Her boyfriend and your husband’s cousin. “—is on the same page as me about no babies, and is very pro-condoms.” She smiled. “Somethin’ I know neither of you is, you nasty freaks. Y’all just goin’ at it raw from the very beginnin’. Crazy kids.” Her attention went to Javi. “Did she tell you I switched to her old birth control?”

“Uh, no, she didn’t…” 

“Well, knowin’ how often she gets creampied, and that it still prevented her from gettin’ pregnant, really sold it for me.” 

“You’re welcome, I guess?” 

“I’m pretty happy about it. So, what’s up with you guys?” She checked her watch before looking at you. “Are y’all goin’ to lunch? It’s about that time.” 

Did she not know what happened with Daniel?

Letting go of Javi, you faced her, while he took his spot beside you, his arm resting across your shoulders. Without thinking, you reached up to lace your fingers with his. 

“Uh, you didn’t hear what was going on out here?” you asked. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “No, I didn’t. Did I miss somethin’ excitin’? My last thirty minutes were spent keepin’ that new patient alive, the one who had a fuckin’ left atrial myxoma excised—” 

“That’s a tumor inside the beating heart that is extremely difficult to remove,” you said for Javi’s benefit. 

“It’s so difficult that there’s maybe a dozen surgeons around the world who can do it, and I stupidly called dibs on the patient ‘cause cases like those usually get life-flighted to San Antonio, or Dallas—we sure as hell don’t have anyone talented enough here. They flew in some fancy guy from Boston for this one. I wanted to chat with him, but he seemed to be in a hurry. Then the patient tried to code on me.” She frowned. 

“A rough one?” 

“Yeah. He forgot how to breathe. Fought the mask, panicked hard, and his oxygen bottomed out. Took me a bit to get him stable, but he’s good now.” She smiled again. “So, what’d I miss?” 

“That fancy surgeon from Boston? My ex.” 

Robyn gasped. “Doctor Douchebag?”

“The one and only.” 

Her eyes were wide. “Oh my god, and Javi’s here. Don’t tell me I missed your husband beatin’ his ass!” 

“Let me tell you what happened…” 

You recounted what she missed, starting with your attempt to hide from Daniel in the storage room. When you got to the part where Javi hit him, she high-fived your husband, and told you both if she’d been there she would’ve throat-punched the fucker. When you finished, she shook her head and said, “Girl, your life is insane. I do not envy you. But you know what?”

“What?” you asked. 

She pointed at Javier. “His life is probably more insane than yours, and I think that’s why he handles all the crazy so well. I hate sayin’ it, but a weaker man wouldn’t have lasted this long. Y’all really are perfect for each other.” 

“Yeah, we are,” your husband said, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

“We sure the fuck are,” you agreed. 

“You guys gonna head to lunch?” Robyn asked. 

Given all that happened, you assumed it took up your designated lunch hour. If Robyn was cool with you going, though, well, you’d definitely love to get your husband alone somewhere. 

Your head turned to find Javi already looking at you. “Lunch?” 

He smiled. “I’ve got time.” 

Your eyes went back to your friend. “We’re gonna go, but let me check on my patients really quick before I leave.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved away your concern. “You covered my longer than normal lunch yesterday. I’ve got you.”  

Her boyfriend had surprised her at lunch with flowers and a new haircut. They lost track of time fucking in the back of his Ford Bronco. 

Girls support girls getting laid. 

“You are the fucking best.” 

“I know. Go.” She shooed you away.

That was all your husband needed to hear. His arm came off you to grab your hand at his side, and pulled you along behind him as he walked around Robyn. 

“Thank you!” you said over your shoulder. 

“You’re welcome!” 

You focused on Javi’s back. “What do you want to eat?” you asked. 

He didn’t stop as he looked back, his eyes darker. He said low enough for only you to hear, “We both know we’re not eating.” 

He made you smirk. “No, we are not. At least not food, anyway.” 

He smiled. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

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[sherala007]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 13

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Javi's low level breeding kink is back, pregnancy, family drama, so much love, surprises. Summary: An expanding family doesn't always just mean children. Sometimes it can mean bringing lost family back into the fold. Notes: Hello my lovelies! We're expecting to have one more chapter of Javi's sweet story and then the epilogue. Thank you so much for coming along for the ride. We hope you've enjoyed it as much as us!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12

Friday, May 22, 2026

Javi paces nervously around the bedroom. Hand running through his hair and he keeps looking at the closed door every few seconds, as if that would make time go faster. “Do you really think this is it?” He asks you, probably for the hundredth time. “I mean it has to be, right? You never get sick when you eat escargot.” His suit jacket has been discarded, along with his dress shirt and tie, leaving him in the white, sleeveless undershirt you tease him about being a ‘wifebeater’. Surely no one actually calls a ribbed tank top that. “Unless they were bad. But I don’t think they were bad. I had the escargot too and I’m not getting sick.” Still, the path between the bed and the wall is being worn down by loafer-less feet. “How much longer?” He asks, even though he knows.

“Thirty more seconds.” You’ve had a chance to wash your hands and your face now, after emptying your belly of the otherwise immaculate dinner that Dieter and his wife had invited you to, and you have a lavender-scented wipe in your hand as you quickly wipe off your makeup. “Do you want to come in?”

“Only if you want me to.” Even though he’s ready to pounce on your offer, he wants to make sure you want him there. While this would affect both of you, he wants you to have a moment if you need it. Unsure which dramatic reveal would be best for this real life hope.

“I didn’t want you to watch me throw up.” You crack the bathroom door open enough to let him come inside, then realize how stupid that is and just open it all the way. “This? I need you here for this.”

“I just wanted you to have privacy if you needed it.” He slides into the bathroom and despite the fact that you had just gotten sick, he pulls you close and kisses your forehead.

“Let me brush my teeth.” If this insane little plastic stick is going to tell the future you want it to, then you want to be able to kiss your husband.

“Whatever you need, sweetheart.” The timer on your phone buzzes and Javi jumps slightly.

He waits with obvious impatience for you to brush your teeth, practically dancing in place with nerves. When your toothbrush goes back in the holder, you exhale deeply and reach for his hand. “Okay,” you murmur, reassuring yourself as much as him. “If it’s negative, that’s still okay. We’ve only been trying for a few months.”

“Sweetheart…” Javi immediately pulls you close. “It is okay if it never happens.” One night recently you had confided your fears while you were snuggled into his chest, hesitant to bring it up. “There are other ways to become parents.” He pauses. “We love each other and we will love any child that we are blessed with. How ever we are blessed with them. Our family is by choice, after all.”

“It’s only been a few months,” you repeat, a little more steadily. “It’s okay if it takes a while, or if we use a surrogate, or adopt, or foster. It’s okay if we bring home a few dogs and have our friends around a lot. Our family is by choice.” You’ve been saying it in your head almost like a mantra, and you lean into him to hug him tightly. “Deep breath and then we check?”

“Yes.” He smiles at you, cupping your cheek and pressing his head against yours. “Breathe with me, sweetheart.” He encourages you, inhaling deeply as he watches you.

The long inhale and exhale do you both a little extra good, and though the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter has now been sitting and waiting for three extra minutes, it’s better this way.

“Okay.” You nod, but you can’t make yourself move. “Okay.” Another thirty seconds of standing and breathing and fretting, and you look up at Javi with furrowed brows. “I can’t look,” you whisper finally. “I’m too nervous.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Javi asks softly, unsure what you need right now. His fingers are itching to reach for it, but it’s not his to check without permission.

“Please?” It’s just turning over a piece of plastic. It’s not hard. But you feel paralyzed. “It’s silly, I know. But I just…I need you to look.”

“No, no, I will—” he breaks off, already turning it over while he holds you with the other arm. His eyes wide and fixed on the little screen. “What does— what does two lines mean?” He asks breathlessly.

“There’s two?” Way you whip around in his arms almost sends him reeling, but your eyes widen and nearly fill with tears all in an instant. “There’s two!”

“That’s good, right?” He asks, feeling like it’s good but you are about to cry.

“Two is positive.” That little plastic stick in his hand is a miracle and your breath shakes as you exhale. “It—it’s positive.”

“Positive…Pregnant.” The whisper is soft, so very soft as he stares at you in wonder while you stare at the pregnancy test. “You’re pregnant, sweetheart.”

“I’m…pregnant.” It makes beautiful sense and no sense and you’re bubbling over with everything all at once. The only thing that steadies you both in this moment is the automatic impulse you each have to move one hand to your belly.

“You’re pregnant.” Javi’s lips curve into a euphoric grin and he holds the pregnancy test up like a sword. “You’re pregnant!” He shouts happily before he swoops in to kiss you.

“I can’t believe it.” Little murmured words against his lips feel like a bubbling giggle of disbelief as they pour out of you. “We’re actually pregnant.”

Javi laughs and kisses you again. “I cannot believe it.” He admits with giddy glee. “I can’t believe it happened so fast.”

“It hasn’t even been six months.” The giggles turn disbelieving so fast, and you throw your arms around him tightly all over again to bury your face in his chest.

Javi laughs with you, joy and relief coming in waves as he hugs you close. “I love you, I love you sooooo much.”

Over and over you whisper it to each other, like a prayer of thanks to this little knot of cells in your body that is growing into your child. Words of love and joy and anticipation fill that bathroom up to bursting until you’re both leaning against the counter in an embrace so fierce that even force couldn’t separate you. “I should make a doctor’s appointment,” you say finally, the words more muffled in his neck than said out loud.

“Yes.” He nods immediately, “right away. Oh, we should call the concierge doctor.” He suggests. “Have the appointments here.”

“That might be helpful for some of the appointments, but I want do as much of this in a doctor’s office or hospital as I can,” you tell him gently. The last thing you want to do is hurt his feelings but you’re thinking of safety now. “If something were to go wrong at any point, I want to be in a place to be helped right away.”

“You are right.” He nods seriously. “I just want the best for you two.”

“I suddenly don’t feel like having the nursery decorated with the rest of the house was overkill.”

“It was never overkill.” He chuckles, knowing that all of your friends will shortly be announcing their own happy moments.

“Maybe I was worried or would jinx things,” you admit. “But that…that seems like a far away worry right now.”

“Unnecessary.” Javi agrees, nuzzling your jaw with his nose and following it up with soft kisses. Kisses of adoration.

“Mi amor…” you practically sigh it out, as if it were a prayer and not what you call him. “Take me to bed?”

“Are you tired?” His brow creases in a frown as he pulls back. Ready to scoop you up and pamper you, until he sees the neediness in your eyes. “Oh.” He hums, smirking slightly. “You want to celebrate?”

“Do you?” As much as you might want him, you are never going to push.

“Never a question.” Baby making can turn into something sweeter, more poignant if that’s possible. “I want to worship you, amor.”

“Time to see if that breeding kink turns into one for pregnancy,” you tease, but there’s no edge to it. Just pure joy.

“I have no doubt that it will.” He answers honestly as he guides you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom you share. The bed where you conceived a child. He shivers in excitement and cannot deny that he is getting turned on by the idea you are carrying his child.

"Neither do I." Once you said it out loud you realized that there was no way it wouldn't translate. He had already developed a near-Pavlovian hard on if you just said the word 'ovulation'.

“Amor….” His hands are gentle, loving as he starts to strip you out of another creation that you have sewn with your own two hands. “You will look like an angel. Madonna, the perfection of motherhood and a goddess to a mere mortal like the man that you are bound to.”

"No pressure," you tease lightly, pressing kisses to his jaw and his throat as he pulls your clothing away.

“None.” He promises with a smile, his eyes filled with love.

******

Saturday, September 19, 2026

It’s the day. Javi had hired an event planner, wanting you to enjoy this day without lifting a finger. Not that he allows you to lift many on any given day. The once a week housekeeper has turned into daily, he’s seriously considered hiring a chef, except you put your foot down about it. And the work you do can mostly be done from your very comfortable chair that he had put in your sewing room.

The decor is a mixture of colors and flowers. Everything is stunning, classy with a touch of whimsical. The charcuterie table is pregnancy friendly, even though you grumble about missing deli meats, and the little cookies and cupcakes all herald the celebration of the arrival of your firstborn. “Do you want some ginger candy?” Javi asks as the coordinators workers bustle about and put the finishing touches on the small ballroom Javi had insisted stay in the house plans. The party will continue on out into the garden by the pool as well through the large, elegant doors.

“I hate to admit it, but I would love one.” Every single snack and drink today is pregnancy friendly, but the baby seems to be head butting your stomach this morning so something that helps against mild nausea sounds perfect.

He really went overboard. You knew he would. But it’s still gorgeous. Flowers everywhere, soft pastel shades of every color in the rainbow, and so many different morsels to munch on that even if this part lasts all day there might still be leftovers. You drew the line at a live band but there is music playing through the speaker system that Javi had built into the walls of the house during construction.

He keeps them in his pockets at all times now. These small, individually wrapped little ginger candies, shaped similar to butterscotch candies. They have been a dream for settling your stomach and he produces one now. “I had hoped the baby would go easy on you today.” He admits, going so far as to unwrap it for you.

“I think they’re excited.” The decision not to find out the gender of the baby until they’re born had been one made practically. All of the things you’ve bought for baby number one are gender neutral and nature-themed, as if you were turning the nursery into a little secret garden or park to be explored by all future Gutierrez babies one by one. The list of names you’ve narrowed down slowly over time now has one girl’s name and one boy’s name, and the excitement of it almost being time to find out is making you both look forward to the birth that much more.

“I know I am.” Javi smiles as he hands you the candy and his hand cups the very distinguishable bump.

"We're only a few weeks away now." You pop the little candy in your mouth and thank your lucky stars that the flavor and scent of ginger has been helpful for this whole pregnancy instead of turning your stomach at any point. There was about a month where the smell of pizza made you feel sick and it was the absolute worst. "But...focusing. Is there anything else we need to do? People should be arriving any second."

“Sweetheart, your only objective today is to be the center of attention and to celebrate our little one.” Javi insists. “Everything is done.”

"But..." Jutting your lip out in a pout doesn't do much, but it does garner you sympathy. "I like hosting parties. Did you really have the party planner do everything?"

“Sweetheart…” Javi melts into a wave of guilt. You do love having parties, but he hadn’t wanted to stress you out. “I haven’t had them bring out the swag bags.” He offers softly with a smile. “Would that suffice?”

"Perfect." Feeling victorious, you perk up immediately and press and excited kiss to his lips. "Where are they? I'll go get them now."

“In my side of the closet.” He gestures towards the door. “But let me help you.”

"Is that why you've been so diligent about getting things for me from the closet lately?" You tease as you head up the stairs with him.

“Yes.” He huffs at you playfully. “That and I don’t like you going up the stairs by yourself.”

"I'm not that front heavy." But the visual is silly when you imagine it, and you snort out a little laugh. "Although I suppose I look it, don't I?"

“I worry.” He can admit that easily enough, there had been plenty of panicked nights thinking about baby proofing the house that is full of sharp corners and hard objects.

"Of course." He's too sweet, not to. Too caring and also too generally anxious. "But you're taking such good care of me, mi cielo."

“That is my job.” He holds your hand as you both go up the stairs. Eager to keep that connection and assist if needed. The ascent is slower than it might have been months ago, but there is an easiness to it. “You have the hard part, the beautiful part.”

"The bloaty part." He's already throwing you a disapproving pout when you say it, but you still both laugh. "The part without coffee or sushi or salami."

“I have already promised you the biggest boat of sushi I can have delivered to the hospital, as well as a triple shot latte as soon as the baby is here.” He reminds you with a grin.

"Yes, you have." A fact which you delight in, and had been practically bragging to Moira about just the other day. "I am very excited to join the legions of women who get sushi boats as push presents."

“I know you will be.” He chuckles. He had stopped eating sushi in solidarity with you, but it didn’t help that you craved it for most of your pregnancy. “I have found the perfect one.” He promises. It’s over one thousand dollars, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

"I'm not asking and you're not telling." That was the policy you agreed upon when Javi said he wanted to get you a push present. The topic came up about halfway through your pregnancy and at that particular point you were miserable enough for the idea of being spoiled by your husband to sound extra good.

He smiles at you, amused that you believe that sushi would be the only thing he gets the woman he loves after giving birth to his child. “That’s right.” He agrees as he kisses you on the landing.

"How many dozens of swag bags do you have stashed away up here?" You ask, mouth hanging open in shock when you see your husband's half of the closet completely overrun with little pastel green gift bags all full of goodies and yellow tissue paper.

“Ummmmm….” He chuckles as shrugs slightly. “I had enough for everyone attending?” He poses it as a question. “Or everyone invited.”

"I didn't think we had dozens of friends to invite." It is a Jack and Jill shower, though, so you suppose that when you add up all of your friends and family and their partners, that adds up after a while.

“There are a few others that have been invited.” He admits with a small smile. “Plus, everyone gets a bag.”

"Cryptic." Even as you waggle your eyebrows at him, you start scooping up trays of bags to bring downstairs. "What did you do, invite all my favorite Movie Moms or something?" He wouldn't. Because you'd be lightly mortified at that kind of attention. But you wouldn't put it past him to invite Meryl since you'd hit it off with the actress at a party following Alex and Billie's wedding.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that. We will do that when you can drink with them.”

He helps you pick up a few more of the trays of small bags and you grin. "I love that you thought about it and then vetoed it for logical reasons."

“I figured that you would rather get advice over mimosas than tea.” He admits with a grin.

"Right now I'll take advice from pretty much anybody whenever I can get it." Not having much family to lean on during your pregnancy - you haven't heard from your mother since running into her last year and most of Javi's relatives are serving time thanks in part to his testimony - it's been nice to talk to your aunt on the phone and read as much as you can. But it isn't quite the same.

“Oh there was a last minute invite.” Javi mentions as he helps you cart the bags out to the stairs. “The producer that wants you to design for his movie next year, the one that you couldn’t quite match schedules with?” He reminds you. “He’s in town for today only, so I told him to come, and you can talk after the party.”

"I thought my only job was to relax today," you tease. It's good networking and you don't mind it, but you still chew your lip as you move carefully down the stairs. "That means I should bring a sketchbook and some pencils out of my workroom. Or at least have them on my desk so I can pull them out when I sit down with him."

“That is up to you.” Javi tells you seriously. “I think he just wanted to get a feel for you as a person. He’s already seen the work you do and loves it.”

"Even if I don't need it, I'll feel better knowing that they're ready." The producer in question is working on a period mystery set in the late 1930s with the characters all coming from very distinct backgrounds. The thing takes place in a hotel and he from what you had heard, he wanted each character to have the complete contents of their luggage designed to use as their wardrobe. It would be a hell of a fun project to work on, and it's filming locally so you wouldn't even have to travel far.

“That’s if you want to do it.” Javi reminds you. “You don’t have to take it.” He worries that you will push yourself too much in order to try to be superwoman.

"It sounds like fun." Coming carefully down the stairs, you land back on the first floor again and head into the library to set all the little swag bags up on the tables there. "I'd like to do it, as long as what I've heard about the project is true and our little family is doing okay."

He smiles softly. “I have no problem writing when the baby is asleep.” He promises. “Even if we haven’t found a nanny to help out.” Both of you have been on the fence about that particular avenue, unable to decide what you need when the baby is here.

"Let's not worry about that today?" The guilt you feel over even considering it is balanced by how guilty you would feel for any sort of perceived neglect of your baby, and today is supposed to be happy. You just want to focus on your guests — especially since you can see past Javi into the foyer where Moira is bolting in from the front door with Jason strolling in on her heels.

“Today is whatever you want it to be.” He promises, hoping that his surprise for later on won’t blow up in his face.

"We're already a lot of the way to perfect," you promise him, laughing with relieved joy as your best friend dashes into the center hall of your house and throws her arms around your shoulders. Moira has been steady as a rock through your whole pregnancy, from giving you a ride to doctor's appointments when Javi was out of town and you weren't feeling well enough to drive yourself, to sending you things to add to your Pinterest board for the nursery.

“Oh my goddddd!” she’s squealing and she nearly bouncing with you in happiness. “Today is the day and you look amazing.” She’s been your biggest cheerleader, along with Billie and of course, Javi.

"Me? Look at you, gorgeous girl!" She spins around a little in the dress she's chosen to wear today and your smile softens measurably. It's one that you made for her — maroon with short sleeves and a circle skirt that spins gorgeously.

“I had to wear it.” She promises. “Now, what can I help with?” She asks as she looks around that controlled chaos of the last minute. It looks completely synchronized.

“Apparently the party planners have everything under control.” You hug her again, at your side because of your bump. “Now that you’re here I’d say it’s time to start the party.”

“Because I am the most important person here.” She teases playfully, taking the bags from Javi and helping you arrange them on the table where you wanted them. “Jason got the part.” She tells you quietly. “We are going to China for three months after the first of the year. So I will have plenty of snuggle time with the baby before we go.”

“Oh my god!” More hugs, squeezing this time, and the four of you move together into the library with the last of the swag bags. “Congratulations, honey! That’s going to be incredible for you!” Watching Jason’s star rise quickly after the film where you all meet has been incredible. He’s gotten more press mentions, party invitations, and auditions than ever before. “Take so many pictures of everything you can. I want to hear every story when you get back.”

“Jason is asking if I want to quit.” She bites her lip and looks to you for advice. “I don’t know what to do, honestly.”

“Have you talked to Leslie about it yet?” You loop your arm through hers to bring just a touch of supportive intimacy between you. The way you always have with her, ever since the day you met.

“No.” She admits softly. “I just know that I can’t be gone for months at a time, it’s not fair to her or the others.” She knows what she has to do. “Maybe - do you think that she might agree to part time help when we are in town?” She asks. “I just love being there. It’s where we met. Where I met Jason.”

“Leslie would agree to just about anything to be able to keep you.” You understand her conundrum, though. You’ve had to step back from regular work days at Hazelwood now that your work as a clothing designer and dressmaker is in full swing. Del Amor is a full fledged business these days, even if it is small. The exclusivity is helping you be able to pick and choose your clients while still making a profit. While you’re still on the payroll at Hazelwood House, it’s only as an occasional private tour guide now. “I never want to fully leave either. It’s where I met you and Javi and Alex and Jason and Tamara and…and it helped me be the person I am. Leslie means the world to me and I know she does to you, too.”

“Absolutely.” She smiles softly. “We should have a special soulmate day and both of us are there that day.” She suggests.

“Soulmate days at Hazelwood.” The idea makes you smile softly. “We owe that place so much.”

“Our entire futures.” She admits shamelessly as she grins at you. “Although ‘Little Hazelwood’ is also starting create memories.”

The affectionate nickname for the house makes you both smile. The little gift bags that you set out on the library tables are cute as a button and you half wonder if maybe one has been set aside for you, too. Javi clearly spared no expense on this party and you know it’s because he’s so excited to be a dad. “I’m glad you guys decided to buy nearby. I hated the idea of our kids not growing up side by side.”

Moira smiles softly, her eyes shifting to something a little secretive. “I don’t think we will have to worry about that.” She promises, adjusting the bags meticulously.

“Oh no?” You raise one eyebrow at her, both a silent question and a teasing one.

Her eyes flutter, almost bashfully. “No.” She admits. “We aren’t going to announce it right now.” She promises. “Today is about you and this one.” Her hand reaches out and caresses your bump affectionately like she has over the past months.

“But you’re going to announce it soon?” The giddy excitement that makes you practically dance in place is to be tamped down, but you’re grinning like an idiot now and glance back at Javi and Jason out in the main hall.

“We were thinking about next week.” She admits. “We just got to twelve weeks.”

“Honey!” You squeak excitedly and practically scoop her up in your arms, nothing bothering to wipe the beginnings of tears from your eyes. “Oh thank fuck,” you giggle behind the sniffles. “I’m so glad we get to do this together.”

“You’re almost ready to pop.” She reminds you, even as she starts giggling herself. “Jason is over the moon.”

“He must be so thrilled.” A happy sigh makes you feel lighter than air, even with as much extra weight as you’re carrying. “Now we just need Billie to hurry up and get knocked up with us.”

“Ohhhh Alex is on that.” She snorts, shaking her head.

The two of you are still laughing when your soulmates come into the room, each wrapping you in their arms protectively. “Are more guests arriving?” You ask, guessing that that would be why you’re being interrupted. It’s just a bit past the hour now, so people should start arriving.

“They are.” Javi presses as soft kiss to your lips, his grin slightly secretive. “Do you want to greet them?”

“Of course.” After all, you wouldn’t be much of a hostess if you hid from your baby shower guests.

“There is some mocktails the bartender has prepared.” Javi promises. Even though there is no alcohol at the event, he has still arranged for a mixer to come and make drinks for the party.

“You thought of everything.” Even in the instant you lean in to kiss his cheek, a glass is presented to you by a polished server all in black who smiles before she sweeps back to the bar. The sparkling drink in your hand tastes of grapefruit, lime, and ginger beer. Absolutely perfect, you think, enjoying the first sip.

“I wanted everyone to have enjoyable drinks, even if there’s not alcohol.” He’s not the type to drink when you couldn’t, so he hadn’t had any since that night that that you had taken your first pregnancy test. He takes a sip of his own drink and hums in approval.

The first guests come with happy smiles and warm hugs — Nick and Olivia first then Tamara, Tracy, and Tandy. The explosion of giggles and happy greetings that is Alex, Billie, and Auntie Kay. Though he’d been asked, Uncle Rick couldn’t get away from work.

The last to arrive are the crew member that you had gotten along well with. Some assistants, a lighting member, the wardrobe department. Javi’s manager brings up the party as she greets both of you with a wide smile and kisses. Happy that Javi was so settled that he seemed positively giddy.

All told there are a few dozen guests, which is more close friends than you realized you had. Dieter and his wife are now staples of your social circle and have immediately started recognizing people he’s worked with over the years in this rather large group of friends.

The music is soft, classical to keep the mood up as everyone mingles. Javi checks his watch discreetly again.

The gift table in the hall is piled high despite your instance that the invitations state that gifts were unnecessary, and you’ve all begun to make your way out to the tables upon tables of delicious things to nibble on displayed in the back porch when you hear new voices enter the hall.

“Oh!” Javi’s eyes widen and he quickly sets his glass down, squeezing your waist as he brushes past you. “That must be her.” He giggles nervous as he rushes back into the house.

“Must be who?” Your confused expression follows him for a few seconds but he gets lost in the thicket of guests still moving outside.

Olivia shrugs, waving it off. “Late arrivals, honey. Don’t worry about it. They’ll be out here in a minute.”

Inside, Javi’s eyes widen as he realizes there is an additional guest. One that he damn sure didn’t invite. “I’m sorry, I’m confused.” He plasters a tight smile on his face towards the older woman, his eyes narrowing at the younger one. “What is she doing here?”

The driver that had been hired to pick up one older woman from the airport had arrived with two and promptly gotten the fuck out of dodge after all the bickering that happened in his car, which has now transferred to the main hall of Little Hazelwood.

“She’s here to apologize.” The older woman states plainly, as she practically hauls your mother in by her ear.

“Oooooowwwww!” Jennifer hisses as she twists away from the old crone’s surprisingly firm grip and straightens her body before brushing her prim pantsuit. “Really Gertrude, I am not a child.”

“And yet you have acted like one for decades.” The older woman, short and dressed in much more flowing clothing with layers of jewelry in every direction, turns her attention to Javi right away. “Sweetheart,” she addresses him with a smile. “I’m so glad you found me and I’m so glad to be here.”

“Meemaw.” It sounds weird on his tongue, but that was what the old woman had demanded he call her just as soon as she found out who he was. “I am so glad you could make it.” He tells her truthfully. “But I do not think that it is a good idea for….”

“It needs to be.” Your grandmother says, wiping her hands as if that says everything. “She’s been through too much, sweet girl. If I had known—” She shakes her head. “Well, nothing to be done but move forward.”

She’s carrying a cane, her voice a sliver of commanding steel that demands to be obeyed without delay. She’s a strong-willed woman and Javi smiles as he realizes that you’ve grown into those same traits since you’ve been together. “Yes madam.” He agrees as he offers his arm. “But if she wants her to go, I will have her driven back to the airport.”

“Of course.” She looks momentarily affronted that he would think she might disagree, but she did bring your mother here without an invitation. “Of course. This is your house, after all. Her party.”

He pats her hand in reassurance, the hours of work he had put into this has paid off. “Ready to go reintroduce yourself to your granddaughter?” He asks softly.

When she smiles it is as sure and steady as anything else she does, and she pats Javi’s hand in return. “It has been far too long.”

The party is jovial when Javi escorts Meemaw out onto the patio, your mother trailing behind the two of them.

It almost feels like a change in the air in the few seconds before you turn around, hearing Javi talking to someone in his gentlest voice — the one he uses when he is also just a little afraid of upsetting the person he’s speaking with. A change in the air that smells faintly of medication powder and lavender, making your face crumble in confusion when you see the woman in embroidered linen and miles of jewelry with her carved wooden cane and orthotic loafers coming toward you.

A woman you haven’t seen since you were just a little girl.

“…Meemaw?”

“Child……look at you.” Her eyes are soft and proud as she continues towards you, picking up the slow pace slightly in her eagerness to reach you. “You look just like your father, thank God.” She huffs, dropping Javi’s arm when she reaches you and wraps her arms around you in a fierce, long hug. “Your mother was never the charming beauty she thought she was.” She murmurs in your ear. “Too rotten.”

“How are you—” The gentleness of her reaction is matched perhaps only by your shock, because while your father’s mother might look mostly the same as you did last time you saw her, it has been decades. “How did you—” Your wide eyes turn up to Javi right before you wrap your grandmother in a hug and quickly lose the struggle to not weep with joy. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Thanks to your wonderful husband, I am.” She quips, pulling back and patting your cheek gently. Affection and love shines in her eyes for you, “I would have been here earlier, but I had to go take care of some other business first.”

“How—” The question of how Javi managed to find your grandmother dies on your tongue just the same way your tears dry in your eyes almost instantly when you look up again and finally see who is standing next to Javi. It isn’t fear, really, that you feel tightening your throat. It’s dread. “Mom?”

Jennifer clears her throat and straightens up, her eyes flickering between you and your grandmother. “Yes.” She tilts her chin up. “Con-congratulations.” She awkwardly offers.

The part of you that wants to melt into gratitude and just be happy that your mother is at your baby shower has to stay in check. "Are—did you—" Your eyes dart between your grandmother, your husband, and back to your mother. "Does this mean you're ready to apologize?"

The others have occupied themselves, Billie and Moira guiding them away from the door to give you some privacy for what is obviously a personal moment.

“I—” your mother opens her mouth, but not quick enough for your Meemaw, her frown lining her already creased face. WHACK! Her cane comes out and smacks against your mother’s leg.

"Meemaw!" The absolute shock on your face is only tempered by the fact that your mother doesn't really seem hurt by the action. The only bruise seems to be on her ego.

“My son, your soulmate would be ashamed of you.” Your grandmother doesn’t even look your way, letting your scandalized censure roll off her. “Treating your child - his child, the way you have.” She lectures, obvious something your mother has had an earful of this entire trip. “Now you give her the apology you owe her.”

She shuffles uncomfortably and you swear you've never seen her look this cowed by anyone before. The way your stepfather controls people — or attempts to — you've never seen her defy him. Not ever. Which is how you ended up dominated by his word of law in their household and for years afterward while you struggled for independence. Whatever relationship your mother and grandmother once had, it's clear that Meemaw has been bearing this animosity long enough for it to come out as an iron fist. And the summoning of your father's memory seems to have brought just a touch of shame into the picture.

“When your father—” your mother chokes over the phrase, her voice catching, breaking. “When your father died, I lost part of myself.” Your mother whispered. “The best part of myself.” She pauses and the other woman snorts. “We know that Jennifer.” She huffs. “But that doesn’t excuse what you did.”

“No.” She nods solemnly, but doesn’t elaborate for another long few seconds. “I…didn’t know how to keep going. Your stepfather helped me find purpose again.”

Your grandmother snorts and you shake your head. “Your purpose was what? Fully ignoring me to have my brother and make him a golden child?”

She swallows harshly. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is quiet, humble. A far cry from the haughty tone she normally used. “I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” If you could cross your arms, you would. But the baby is in the way.

She looks away from you for a moment. “I didn’t want to be reminded of him every day.” She confesses quietly. “I couldn’t handle it.”

"Well, that's pretty convenient." You can really only shake your head at your mother, squeezing your eyes shut only so you don't cry again. "Because it sounds like Meemaw dragged you all the way out here only for me to send you home again. Unless you've had some enormous change of heart now that I'm pregnant, which...that's complicated in and of itself."

“Tell her the truth.” Your grandmother taps her cane on the ground impatiently, glaring at your mother.

"There's..." Your mother shifts her weight from foot to foot again, her lips pressed into a thin unhappy line. "You have an inheritance," she admits quietly, as though if she whispers it makes it less true. "It's not like it would have paid for your college or anything, not that fancy school you wanted to go to—" A steadfast glare from Meemaw makes her stop rambling right before she picks up volume or nastiness. "But," she swallows thickly. "It exists."

"Your father left you everything he had," your grandmother stresses, clearly impatient with Jennifer to get down to the full truth of it. "They've been holding it hostage while your stepfather tried to figure out how to break the will and claim it for himself."

Javi has moved behind you, hands on your hips in a gentle reminder that he is here. His conversation with your grandmother had alluded to that, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about it with him before seeing you. Something that Javi understood.

"What are you saying?" It's not as if your parents ever had much money. You were little but you don't recall any kind of extravagance or wastefulness in your life, and the house you lived in was modest at best.

“The house, his life insurance, his retirement, his investments.” Your mother lists them off. “His car. All yours.” There is an edge of bitterness to her voice, but also shame.

The shock on your face turns to anger instantly. "The house you live in? The house you all but kicked me out of?"

“Hell of a thing, isn’t it?” Again your grandmother glares at your mother, shaking her head.

"I can't look at you right now." Obviously there is more to deal with here. It's a complicated situation that is far more about dignity than money. "I can't even fathom what would make you think the decisions you made were acceptable, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to waste my energy trying to figure it out. You should go, Mom."

“I’m sorry.” This sounds honest, raw. She holds up her hand and steps back. “I’ll leave, but I want you to know I am sorry.” She sets the bag in her hand down. “This is for you.” She tells you before she turns and the driver that had brought her here, starts to guide her out of the house.

"Mom..." It's the genuine feeling in that sorry that catches you, and you step forward to touch her shoulder. When she stops and turns, you flounder a little. "I—" Javi has followed right at your side and his hand finds your waist again, giving you the support you need to take a deep breath. "Can you stay in town a night or two? I'm not...I need time to process all of this. And we need to talk. But there's some good hotels in town. If you don't mind staying, I mean."

It takes her a moment, but she nods slowly, as if she’s surprised that you have asked her that. “I can do that.” She murmurs. “It’s the least I can do.” Her smile is small, but her eyes are soft. “You look beautiful, dear.” She tells you. “Motherhood looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

It takes until she's all the way out the front door for you to even process the comment, and you lean of Javi in abject bewilderment. "I think that's the first compliment she's given me in twenty years."

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Javi murmurs. “I didn’t know she was coming.”

"Your husband only invited me." Your grandmother pats his arm gently. "I brought the bitch. You needed to know the truth, sweetheart. And finally get what your father wanted you to have." She smirks slightly, looking around the great palace of a house you now live in. "You don't need it, though. Good for you."

He can’t help but chuckle at your grandmother’s sassiness. “We can decide what you want to do later.” He promises you. “Right now is about celebrating our baby.”

"I already know," you lean into his side and absorb that strength that always seems to emanate from him. "A trust fund for the baby. To make sure they get to do whatever they want to in their lives. College, art school, travel, be an amazing writer like their Daddy? Whatever they want, they'll have a way."

He hums, not wanting to point out that both of you will already make that happen, even without the inheritance. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

"They'll be well loved, sweetheart." Meemaw promises, reaching to hug you. You fold around her and practically squeeze. The woman you haven't seen since you were knee high to a grasshopper just rolled into your house and possibly changed the entire way you relate to your mother, which is not a feat you thought possible. "Thank you, Meemaw. And...I don't even know what else to say. However Javi found you, I'm so grateful you came."

“Hired a private detective.” She announces, shooting Javi a proud wink. “Handsome fella came around asking questions. Former police detective named Tim Rockford. It was so good to hear something about you. To learn that you were here. When I talked to Javier I told him of course I would come.”

“We’ve been talking more about Dad lately,” you admit. Javi is smiling so softly that your heart feels like it might outgrow your chest, and you gently squeeze your grandmother’s hands. “Picking out baby names…we talked about the possibility of using Dad’s name in some way.”

She smiles. “Good for you, honey.” She steps forward and her hand comes out to take yours. “I am sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you were younger.” She tells you quietly. “The system wouldn’t let me fight for you.”

“You tried?” That is news to you, quite frankly, and you look shocked all over again. “I guess I—I shouldn’t be surprised that they lied to me about you just not keeping in touch after Dad died.”

“Oh sugarplum…they sold you that pile of horse manure?” She scoffs, angry and not surprised unfortunately. “I tried every lawyer on the east coast. We went to court for years.” She sighs. “I sent cards, letters. Even sent a gift basket to your school.”

“If they hated me so much, they should have just let you raise me.” That would have made far more sense, in your opinion, but it’s clear that sense was never a part of the equation.

“Because I would have thrown that son of a bitch out my son’s house so fast he would have had road rash.” She snorts.

“Fair point.” You had already forgotten that point. That the house your mother and stepdad are living in actually belongs to you.

“You are a good girl.” She pats your arm gently. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

“That…” your shoulders sag a little and your smile is watery again. “Means more to me than you could possibly know. I miss him so much.”

“We will have to talk about him after the party.” She decides. “But for now….” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a photo of your parents, your mother heavily pregnant and his hand on her baby bump, both of them beaming at the camera. “This was your baby shower.”

“There are photos?” It probably should have occurred to you that there would be, but like with everything else related to your father, you’ve been forbidden from asking for most of your life.”

“I brought albums of them.” She nods with a small smirk. “All of them.”

“You’re an absolute miracle.” You throw your arms around her again and make sure that your reach includes Javi — your perfect soulmate who moved the earth to find your grandmother for you.

“Shall we join the party?” Javi asks softly, “or would you like another minute?”

“I think we’ve been gone plenty long enough to make people curious.” From hugging her, you offer your grandmother your hand and a smile. “Do you want to come meet some of my friends, Meemaw?”

"Some?" She scoffs and loops her arm through yours. "I want to meet them all sugarplum."

******

It’s sunset before the last guests are leaving and the event planner is making sure all the vendors are packing up. The sudden appearance of your Meemaw’s sass and storytelling was a hit with everyone and you’re fairly certain you even heard her giggling with Tracy and Tandy over styling tips somewhere along the line. The whole party was gorgeous after the shock of your mother’s appearance had faded away, and you’re pretty sure you have enough of everything to fill two nurseries at this point.

“So.” Your grandmother gives you a small smile. “I should be off to a hotel, yes?” She looks to Javi. “You said you would take care of that, young man. Where am I going?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You shake your head immediately. “You’re staying with us. We have more than enough space.”

“Now, sugarplum.” Your Meemaw cackles as she shakes her head. “I might be old but I still recognize that look in your husband’s eye.” She tells you. “You need to have fun before you’re on a time out while recovering.”

“We have the guest house.” What once was the cottage that you spent every night in, is now a fully furnished and decorated guest house by the pool. “Please? It’s a small step to making up for all the years I missed out on seeing you.”

“Guest house?” She perks up slightly. “That’s the building out back?”

“In the opposite side of the pool.” Her attention is piqued and you grin. “It’s totally furnished and you would be the first person beside us to use it.”

She grins back you and wags her finger. “Give me a tour, sugarplum.”

“Where did you leave your suitcase, Meemaw?” You hadn’t had the presence of mind earlier to set eyes on it, too shocked to see her to process anything else. “We’ll get you settled.”

“The driver did something with it.” She looks towards Javi. “Do you know, young man?” She asks, making him grin.

“I will go get it and bring it out there.” He promises with a nod, having set the bag in the spare room downstairs.

“Gracias, mi amor.” The smile you flash him is brilliant, and you lead your grandmother out to the patio at a far slower speed than the one he takes off for the first floor suite at.

“He is a good man.” She tells you softly, patting your hand. “Your father would have loved him. He is very excitable and his love for you is obvious from a mile away.”

“I love him so much.” You know that’s obvious, too, and you’re glad that it hasn’t waned. That, if anything, it’s growing every single day.

“I can tell.” She hums. “He is good to you.” She snorts and looks around. “And rich.”

“Some of it is me…” you admit, albeit sheepishly. “He built the house and all, but my business is starting to really get going.”

“He told me.” She grins proudly. “A fashion designer.” She clicks her tongue and sighs. “You are talented. When he told me that in picture he sent you had made both outfits, I nearly lost my teeth.”

“I made most of my maternity clothes,” you tell her proudly, playing with the hem of the dress you have on. “As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I started on plenty of clothes that could accommodate my bump as it grew.”

“You did a wonderful job.” She praises. “This looks like one of those fancy boutique outfits.”

“I experimented a little on myself,” you admit as you show her inside the guest house. “I know a few my friends are trying too and I wanted to have good designs ready to go for them.”

“It reminds me of the beautiful dresses my mother would make for me.” She admits with a smile. “She made my wedding dress for when I married your grandfather.”

"I remember your wedding photo." It used to sit on the mantle next to your parents' and your maternal grandparents in the house you grew up in. "That dress was beautiful. Simple but gorgeous. It made you shine."

“Every stitch was done with love. You could tell.” You open the door to the guest house and your Meemaw chuckles. “You might never get rid of me.” She teases as you guide her inside to show her around.

"You're welcome as often as you want to visit," you tell her honestly. If any of Javi's family wanted to visit you know that the answer would be the same for the ones he loves and misses. "That's the whole point of having this place. For the people we love to be able to come and be with us anytime."

“We can see how you feel about that when I’m ready to leave.” She smiles at you softly. “This old woman is tired, but perhaps we can look at the photo albums together tomorrow?”

"Absolutely." The hug you share is long and sweet, and it takes you a long few minutes to let go. "I'll see you at breakfast, Meemaw. If you need anything before then there are party leftovers to snack on in the kitchen in the big house. You're welcome to anything you like."

“Thank you, love.” She isn’t without her luggage for long, Javi rushing in with the bags and setting them up for her in the room closes to the living room.

"And you have my cell phone number now," you remind your grandmother before you let go. "So if you need anything else, you just let me know. I'll come running."

“I’ll be fine.” She scoffs, shooing you away playfully. “You go spend the night with your husband and make him rub your feet.”

"He always does." Javi comes up behind you and presses a kiss to your shoulder, like he's heard the praise and his proverbial tail is wagging in delight. "Good night, Meemaw. We'll see you in the morning."

“Good night.” Javi smiles at you as he guides you out of the guest house. “How did I do?” He asks quietly.

"I don't think you'll ever out do that surprise." You loop your arm around his and lean into his side, sniffling slightly with the overflow of love that just can't be held into your heart right now. "You're a miracle, mi alma. I can't thank you enough."

“I wanted you to have a piece of your father with you.” He walks you back into the house. The cleaning crew will come tomorrow, but for now, he ignores the remnants of the party to take you to the stairs.

"I wish I could give you some piece of your mother for the same reason." The stairs are a tiny bit of a struggle with your feet hurting the way they do, but you go slow and Javi makes sure you're not working too hard to reach the second floor.

“We shouldn’t have taken out the elevator in the plans.” Javi huffs quietly as he makes a plan to rub your feet for you. “Do you want to soak in the bath or just crawl into bed?”

"I think I just want to crawl in and stay there," you smile at him — how could you not? — and lean on him as you walk down the hall together. "I know it's early, but we had a busy day."

“How does a foot rub sound while you work on your designs?” He offers with a smile. “That show we love watching on tv?”

"Jane the Virgin? Or White Lotus?" You've watched both recently, depending on whether you want something lighter or more dramatic.

“Whatever you are in the mood for.” He kicks off his shoes and bends down for yours. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

He has your shoes off in no time, setting them on the shelf in your closet and coming back with clean pajamas for you. Since getting pregnant you haven't been fond of sleeping naked and he respects that even if he's a little disappointed. "Jane the Virgin," you decide, wiggling your bare toes in the rug and pulling the nightgown over your head. "This morning had plenty enough drama in it."

“I would have told her no.” He promises you. “If I had any clue about your mother coming.”

"I know, mi amor." Once you're relatively comfortable, you set your sketchbook, pencils, and a bottle of water on the bedside table and crawl under the covers inelegantly. "I just hope I don't regret asking her to stay in town so we can talk."

“If you do, you never have to speak to her again.” He promises as he changes out of his own clothes into shorts and a shirt.

"I probably won't anyway." It's a gut feeling, but you can feel it in your heart just as surely as you can feel the baby pressing on your organs as it moves around inside you. "I just want to sort things out and be done with her."

“I can talk to our lawyer.” He poses softly. “Have him recommend someone to handle your inheritance issues?”

"That would be good." Once he's in bed beside you, you snuggle up together and let out twin sighs. "Unless you object, I'm inclined to just sell them the house. They've lived there for years, and I don't want it anyway. If we decide we want a second house somewhere, it won't be in Connecticut."

“That is completely up to you.” He promises. “Whatever you want to do, I will support you.” It’s not like you need the property and it holds some bad memories for you after your mother married your stepfather.

"I'll talk to my mother and we'll talk to our lawyer. Just to make sure everything is done correctly." You tilt your head back to kiss him, savoring the gentleness of the moment. "Thank you for today, amor. It was beautiful."

“I wanted you to have this day be one that you remember forever.” His hands stroke your belly gently, smiling against your lips when the baby kicks his hands. “They think it’s playtime.” He murmurs softly.

“Maybe for Mommy and Daddy,” you grin back and kiss him again.

Javi smirks and waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you up for it?” He asks. “You wanted to relax.”

“Amor, I am thirty-six weeks pregnant and achy,” you joke, laughing at the very fact of it. “Since when is being a pillow princess not relaxing?”

He huffs at you playfully and winks. “I don’t know, you seem pretty exhausted after.”

“Satiated,” you promise him. “Delighted and satisfied.”

“Oh is that what you are?” He smirks happily, proud that he could take care of you like you need.

"Absolutely." He shifts closer to you, and you lay back in your pillows, welcoming him with open arms. "Each and every time."

“Then let me make sure that it happens this time too.” He hums, always eager to touch the woman who holds his heart.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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[sherala007]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 12

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 9.2k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas, discussion of money/finances.* Morning sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, lovemaking, sex for procreation, low level breeding kink. Clothing descriptions are not meant to imply body types. Summary: The long-awaited premiere of the film that brought you and Javi together will bring more surprises along the way. Notes: It seems as though we are only a few chapters from the end, my dears! Stay tuned for updates about whose soulmate story is coming next and thank you so much to the faithful few still reading along with Javi's story!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

Thursday, February 12, 2026

The best and only perfect way to start each morning is, in your opinion, lying tangled and panting in your soulmate’s arms in your bed after sleepy, lazy morning sex that turns into something so needy and passionate that the only words you remember are yes and his name. But you can’t stay here all day. Not today, anyway. Today you have a full day of spa treatments and pampering scheduled to prepare for the premiere of his movie tomorrow night. Today you have a schedule. And that schedule starts with the car that will be picking you up in half an hour.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Javi pouts prettily, even as he is clinging to you as you drag yourself out of the bed. “I can pamper you, amor.” He’s teasing, mostly, but he’s always a little clingy after a needy bout of lovemaking.

“Mi cielo, you are the one that booked this trip for me,” you remind him, leaning into his touch with just as much tenderness. If you did not have to shower off the smell of sex, you would simply lie here that much longer. “The girls do not need me.” Although it would be a shame to miss out on. You haven’t seen Tamara in almost a month and Billie hadn’t made it to the last Margs and Nachos girls’ night.

“No, they do.” He huffs and shakes his head as he rolls over you and gets out of the bed on your side to tug you to your feet. “We must shower.” He winks at you. “You smell like sweat and my cum.”

“But that’s my favourite smell.” The pout you send him is just enough to get him to pause to kiss you, and that has you humming happily as you trail into your bathroom together. “Last interviews are today, mi amor?” He has been summoned to join the press junket this week leading up to the premiere, and to Javi’s extreme delight the last day of junket interviews are taking place at the museum so a specific set of reporters can be shown the house that inspired the film.

“Yes.” He opens the shower door to turn on the water before he smirks at you. “I have requested the interviews be done in the room we met in.”

“Really?” Your expression softens immediately, eyes widening slightly, and he grins as he pulls you into the shower with him.

“Yes.” He had been specific about to, and the producers have been more than amenable to his suggestions since two of the three stars, plus the screenwriter, have found their soulmates because of this movie. “It’s important to me.”

“You’re important to me.” With everything that has happened in the last almost-year of your lives, you and Javi are still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship and cherishing every second. “Te amo, mi alma.”

“Te amo.” It’s a simple sentiment, but both of you have come to enjoy the little affirmations and reassurances, even if both of you are secure in your relationship. Neither one of you wishes to let the other feel unappreciated for even a moment. He reaches for your soap and the gloves that he wears when he washes your body for you. Preferring them to a poofy loofa.

The shower cap you keep in the spacious shower is mandatory today, as you’ve been strictly instructed on how to care for your hair and skin by Tracy and Tandy in advance of the premiere. It will only be the second time they’ve ever made you up but they’re excited that you asked. There is no one you could possibly trust more, and Moira and Jason are coming over to share the experience of getting ready together.

“Are you planning on having lunch at the spa or having it delivered in?” Javi had left that up to you when he had set up the day, not sure what kind of diets you would be dealing with.

“We all looked at the restaurant at the spa and decided we liked the menu,” you assure him. “We’re aiming for this day to be relaxing as possible.”

“Then you should absolutely have a few cocktails from the bar as you are pampered.” Between the scrubbing and peeling, there is also massages and more massages. He wanted you to feel like a princess when you are done. You deserve it for all your hard work lately in designing and making the outfits for the premiere.

“Knowing us it will something fruity and lots of yapping while we’re in treatments.” Your fingers trace his jaw gently and you press a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you for this, amor. You know I’m nervous and time with my friends will help so much.”

“You deserve it.” He promises, kissing you again because one kiss is never enough.

“Tomorrow is so important for you. I want it to be perfect.” And it will be. If you have anything to say, at least.

******

“I cannot believe he rented a car to take us.” Billie huffs, even as she throws her arms around you when you pull up to her and Alex’s home to retrieve her. She’s the last one to be picked up since she lives the closest to the spa.

“Since when does Javi ever shirk when it comes to his wife?” Tamara poses, giggling as you pull your cousin into the limo. “I don’t mind riding the wave of generosity at all.”

Moira grins, leaning back beside the movie star. “You don’t mind missing the last day of the junket, either.”

“Not at all.” She snorts, rolling her eyes. “I get all the fashion questions, and I’m tired of answering the same ones six hundred different ways and not demand better questions.” It also stings slightly when everyone else is asked about meeting their soulmates and the subtle apologetic tone towards her was starting to rub her raw.

“You’ll have a far better day with us.” Billie promises. The car is moving again as soon as the door is closed and all four of you sigh happily. “Besides. We’re bonding with our designer,” she flashes you a grin. All three of them are wearing dresses designed and made by you for the premiere.

“They are amazing.” Moira gushes, all three women did their last fitting yesterday and there was nothing that needed to be changed. They are perfect. “Have you decided on a brand name?” She asks softly, ready to shout to the heavens what she is wearing and who made it.

“Not yet.” You’re almost dreading the red carpet tomorrow for this exact question.

“What are the top three choices?” She asks, knowing you and Javi have been talking about it.

“When we were kids, we used to want to run a clothing store called Button Up Buttercup.” Billie grins at the memory. “Not that I’m suggesting that. But I’m gonna tell everyone about it when you’re famous.”

“I’m not going to be famous,” you wave off that daunting thought even though the memory is sweet. “We haven’t really come up with a top three, but Javi thinks it should have some kind of historical flair since that’s where a lot of my inspiration comes from. We keep tossing around words like modiste or seamestre. Old words for dressmakers.”

“Modiste de Amor” Tamara almost sighs the moniker out, a soft smile on her face. The clothing was born out of love and is made with love, so it’s fitting in her mind.

"Weren't modistes specifically dressmakers and milliners for women?" Moira, ever on point, chews over the historical implications of the word. "You make clothes for men, too...and..." she grins slightly guiltily. "It will make people think of Bridgerton."

“I think it’s perfect.” Billie agrees. “A hippy romance period vibe.”

"What about..." It's you chewing this time. Chewing on your lip as you consider things back and forth and sideways. "What about just...Del Amor? Or even Con Amor? Almost like the label is the signing of a love letter?"

The other three women immediately start agreeing. Erupting into coos and sighs of happiness as they squeal in excitement for you. This is happening.

"The logo should look like a love letter!" Moira exclaims, practically squealing with excitement.

"With a little wax stamp." Billie agrees immediately. "Go full historical vibe."

“Ohhhhh what if the packaging for the outfits includes a wax seal on the tissue paper?” Tamara asks. “Or the ribbon on the box?”

The suggestion has made you a little misty, and suddenly you can't stop grinning. "That would be absolutely gorgeous."

“Del Amor.” Moira sighs. “Honey…it’s so you.” She promises. “Everything about this. And you know Javi will shout his pride from the rooftops.” She snorts. “As will I.”

"We all will," Tamara promises. "You're going to get so many requests after the premiere, babe. I know you will."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Honestly? You're trying not to get your hopes up too high. The disappointment would feel too much like your mother being right and you absolutely cannot have that. "What matters to me is that you guys and Javi and Jason love what you're wearing. The rest will happen the way it's supposed to."

“I am obsessed.” Moira gushes. Everyone had decided to keep their individual dresses a secret, even from each other. You had been a great sport and played along. Keeping them separate when fitting the dresses. “I’m going to be feel like a queen on that red carpet.”

"I really hope so." It isn't far to the spa from Billie's house, and you can already feel the car swinging off the highway again even though it's been practically no time at all. You're so nervous about tomorrow that your friends' excitement is exactly the tonic you need to combat it.

The next few minutes are a blur of spilling out of the limo into the spa to check in. Being treated like royalty as soon as your name is spoken, so it’s apparent that Javier had tipped the staff generously already.

The first place you are brought is to a changing room where you are encouraged to undress to your comfort level and given soft, fluffy robes to keep that are embroidered with the spa's logo. All four of you brought swimsuits, so you change into them and put on your robes, then follow the very sweet girl who is obviously starstruck by meeting Tamara. She brings you to the whirlpool and tells you to sit back and relax, and to enjoy the drinks provided on a tray nearby. It's fresh, cool water with cucumber and mint, and that is the perfect way to start out this day.

“How did Javier know about this place?” Moria asks, sipping the water and sighing happily as she sinks into the warm, bubbly water.

"He said a friend recommended it." The temperature of the water is perfect when you slide in and you hum with that same satisfied happiness that Moira does. "So I can only assume Olivia must come here. Nick sends her for a full spa day every Mother's day."

“Now that’s just a little bug that we need to put in Jason and Alex’s ears for when we have kids.” Billie smirks as she waggles her brows at you. “Right?”

"I say it's got to be standard," you agree with a smirk as you lean back in the whirlpool. "One by one, we all get added to the Mother's Day spa roster as we have kids."

“Can I join as the wine Aunt?” Tamara snorts, smirking slightly behind her glass of cucumber water.

"Hey." Billie waggles a finger at her playfully. "There is still time and I refuse to give up on the magic of this movie. We will find your soulmate because of it. We have until next awards season to still claim the magic."

“That’s a pretty generous timeframe.” She snorts, giggling to hide her doubts. She hadn’t found her soulmate yet, she doubts a longer timeframe to awards season will help. It’s not fair to bring clouds to your sunny days so she winks at you all playfully. “You’re on.”

“You’re going to get nominated for this movie.” Moira is absolutely sure of it. “Which means if you meet anyone at the Golden Globes or the Oscar’s, that’s still because of it.”

“You’re right.” She chuckles softly. “We will see.”

"What do you want your soulmate to be like?" It's a topic that has never been breached before, because none of you wanted to rub your happiness in her face. But really? Why shouldn't you all be helping your friend find her universe-sanctioned other half? It's your privilege and duty as people who care about her.

She takes a sip of her water and sighs. “Someone who’s willing to put up with the shit we deal with.” She admits. “Supportive and no offense, not another actor.” She shrugs. “I’ve seen too many couples try to compete with each other and start to resent success.”

"No offense to be taken here," you remind her gently. "You need someone to support you, not compete with you. That's more than fair." After all, what you and Billie and Moira have found out together is that having Hollywood soulmates is as stressful as it is luxurious. You may be sitting in a spa together right now, but this is as a result of months upon months of twelve-to-sixteen hour work days framed by frustration and exhaustion. There's travel, and you can't always go with them. There's plenty of time apart that you have to be secure in your relationship to be able to withstand. Not everyone is built for that. "When you find them, they're going to be so, so lucky to have you, honey."

“Fabulous me.” She titters, rolling her eyes playfully. “I just want someone…real.”

"You'll find them." Moira reaches over and squeezes her hand. "If it happened for all of us, it can happen for you, too."

“I’m not worried about that.” She lies, waving her hand with Moria’s. “Right now, I’m thinking about this premiere.” She giggles. “It’s gonna be amazing.”

"Javi's still upset that we're only having the after party at the museum and not the whole premiere." He had campaigned hard for it, but ultimately the producers wanted a traditional red carpet at a movie theater for the screening, and agreed to having the after party at Hazelwood House. It will be the last movie-related big hurrah for the museum, though you and Moira have helped Leslie develop a Behind the Scenes style guided tour for fans of the film that may visit.

“I swear that he would buy the museum if he could.” Tamara snorts, a little relieved that the subject has been shifted away from her absent soulmate. It has been weighing on her for nearly two years and the last thing she wants is for her worry about not meeting them to cast a cloud over this exciting time for you all. You have become some of her dearest friends.

"Well sure." Billie grins. "Just look at the house he built her!"

Everyone starts to chatter about the house, each woman almost as in love with the concept as you are. Although you hadn’t let them inside yet, wanting to keep it a surprise for when you have your big housewarming.

"It's so close to being done." There are some things that will be on going projects after you move in. The real bulk of the work is done, what's left is detail work and finishing touches. Appliances, furniture, fabrics, all of that is being delivered in just a few short weeks. "I can't wait for you guys to see it."

“Alex has been so looking forward to seeing it.” Billie admits. “He’s been talking about snatching your designer from you after the project is over based on what Javi has shown him.”

"No!" Tamara gasps in concern. "Please tell me you guys aren't gutting that big, beautiful house you just bought?"

“No.” She shakes her head quickly. “He wants to keep a lot of the features.” She grins. “He wants a pool house like you guys have. Not quite as big.”

"Their pool house is a whole-ass house." Moira teases, though it's entirely lighthearted. She's so glad of the happiness you've found. That great big house sounds far too overwhelming to her.

“What about you and Jason?” Tamara asks. “I know he was renting a place. Have you two decided if you’re gonna buy?”

"We're looking at a couple of places." Instantly, Moira is lit up and blushing. "Small places. We just want a starter place, if we're lucky enough to find one. While he's building his career and before we have a family."

“Ohhhh you should definitely ask Alex for our realtor’s information!” Billie tells her. “He was amazing and really listened to what we wanted.”

"If you still have his card, I'll happily take a recommendation." That would make their lives a hell of a lot easier. Real estate websites can only do so much.

“Absolutely. As soon as we get back to our purses.” Billie promises. All your belongings had been left in secure lockers in the changing room.

“For now, we relax.” And you do not mind that one bit. Not at all.

******

“I am nervous.” Javi admits, always feeling a little ill right before the premiere of one of his works. His hands shake slightly as he straightens his shirt.

“I know. But I’m right here.” The car that the studio sent to ferry you around tonight is comfortable but not extravagant. It will simply blend in with all the other black luxury cars arriving at the premiere. “I’ll be right by your side no matter what, amor.”

“What if they hate it?” That worry had kept him from sleeping last night. You had been asleep in his arms but he hadn’t been able to sleep more than twenty minutes at a time.

"Then they're fools with no taste." While you can't guarantee him that audiences will love his beautiful love story, you can assure him that anyone with sense will. The car creeps forward one more space and you glance out the window. You're next. "No matter what, remember that the people who made this movie love it as much as you and I do."

Javi takes a deep breath, your hand in his helps more than you ever know and he squeezes it gently. “Thank you for being here with me.”

"I will never be anywhere else," you promise him. One more squeeze of your joined hands and careful kiss is managed in the car, and you take a deep breath together before the door opens. "Ready, amor?"

“Ready.” The clicking of cameras isn’t as crazy as it would be, not right at the start. There’s a few flashes of light. Javi doesn’t mind that. He’s not a celebrity. Sliding out of the car and helping you out with gentlemanly aplomb, he hears the whispers start to build.

The press junket had talked a lot about your love story so you’re not entirely surprised to have the flashes pointed at you. You hold Javi’s hand on the carpet while he gets his bearings and then happily settle into wrapping your hand around his arm to walk together. Only a few people are here before you bit you know this walk will be long and slow — with plenty of stops to pose for photos and answers reporter’s questions.

It’s grounding to have you with him, and fitting. So fitting like the way you have seamlessly slotted into his heart and very soul. Fitting into his life all just as perfectly as the custom clothes you had made for him.

His suit, sans jacket, looks far better than you had originally envisioned. Javi was involved in the process of creating it and in the process of tailoring it so that every stitch and seam lay perfectly. He looks like a dream in black and red, with his curls immaculately styled and that bright smile on his face. If you weren’t wearing a flood of bright red liquid silk as deep and unctuous as your lipstick, you would have been riding him in the car on the way here.

“Javi! Javi!” The first reporter, one that had been very giggly and excited to meet him at the junket, is the first in line. “You are here! You are stunning!” She gushes, her microphone actually the same color as her dress, coordinated to perfection. “How are you feeling tonight?” Javi lights up even more, his face a wave of excitement, anticipation and happiness. “Like I’m on top of the world!” He promises with a laugh, the anxiety melting away. He might not be an actor, but he has the ability to push aside personal worries to perform. He’s done it all his life but this time, the rewards are more than just safety and peace. “My movie is premiering, I’m escorting my gorgeous soulmate, and…” he lifts his brows, aware that he is giving her the scoop of the night. “Modeling her clothing line.”

“How fantastic!” The reporter’s gorgeous curls bounce as she turns to you with bright curiosity. “Who are you designing for?” She asks, assuming you must have been picked up by a major design house. Not couture, surely, although the suit does look splendid.

“Myself.” You expected a question like that, and smile warmly despite being terrified to actually talk to the press about this for the first time. “These pieces are designed by me and made by hand from start to finish. Javi’s suit, my dress, and a few other pieces tonight…they’re all just the start.” He had helped you print business cards last night after you got home from the spa — simple little things but you’d gotten out your wax kit and sealed each business card with a piece of gold ribbon and a red wax seal. When you hand one over to this first reporter, it becomes official. You have a brand now.

Her mouth drops open in a surprised ‘o’ shape, eyes wide as she takes a closer look at your outfits. “That is- please- spin around for the camera!” She insists.

Javi insists you go first, holding your arm at length like he's spinning you slowly on a dance floor. The reporter generously Oo's and Ah's at your gown before once again admiring Javi's outfit when he turns for the camera as well.

"You made these entirely yourself?" She asks, obviously impressed.

"I did." And now, in the face of her admiration, you feel both pleased beyond measure and so awed that reality seemed to hit all in an instant.

You and you husband are standing on a red carpet wearing bespoke couture by you. This is your literal dream come true.

“She did.” Javi gushes. “She wanted a romantic look, one that has very old school vibes, just like our movie but brought forward into the modern world.” He kisses the back of your hand.

“A few other guests will be wearing my designs tonight.” You offer it to her like a morsel of sweet gossip, as though the pact amongst you didn’t already include the promise that your friends would be sure to name your designs with pride. After each of those conversations had been had, you had gone home and wept with gratitude and love. Tonight you’ll most likely do the same.

“Who?” She asks, delighted to have a spin on a premiere that no one else has quite yet. You bite your lip and Javi grins. “Why don’t you guess?” He asks her with a playful tone. “When the cast arrives.”

“I’ll just ask everyone I talk to,” she half-jokes. But it’s only half. She now has an advanced tip on reporting this premiere that could prove very important. Or at least buzzworthy.

“I think you’ll find her exceptional work to stand out.” Javi predicts with a wink.

“I look forward to seeing it.” She nearly giggles at the prospect and waves you down the carpet with a smile.

“I think that went well.” He hums proudly. The reporter, Kristy, had seemed thrilled about the outfits and that you had personally sewn each one. It adds a playful mystery to this happy day.

“Hopefully she likes the rest of the clothes and writes about it.” It’s not as though you just picked the first reporter you came across. Not at all. Choosing to hand your very first business card to the reporter from E! was strategic.

“Oh, I think that she absolutely will.” Javi looks over his shoulder to see her in a deep conversation with her camera man.

"Fingers crossed." As you glide down the carpet together, you slide your hand into the crook of his arm again and grin. "You look so good, amor. If I didn't know how much work this outfit took, I'd be ripping it off of you tonight."

“I will very carefully strip out of it for you later.” He promises with a chuckle. “Although you designed your dress to not need my help getting you out of it.” He pouts slightly but it had been a practical necessity, and he finds the side zipper to be very sexy for some reason.

"Just because I don't need your help," you murmur as you walk arm in arm. "Doesn't mean I don't want it."

“That is good to know.” He teases, smiling and leaning into you as you make your way to the next reporter.

The cycle repeats itself with the next few reporters. The chatting, the surprise, the spins, and then you hand over your card. By the time you hit the fourth journalist, the whispers have spread. The word is rippling through the crowd, and your cheeks are burning with nerves and excitement.

“Everyone is staring at your gorgeous dress.” Javi whispers to you, almost more excited for you than he is for himself. It is rare that the screenwriter gets much attention, he is only famous for the crazy true action drama with Nick. So he is eager to see what unfolds.

“I hope they’re not just wondering who the crazy lady is who got really dressed up,” you murmur back, even through a smile. A photographer nearby is sitting for you to turn toward him and offer a beaming smile in an effort to suppress your nerves.

“Baby, you are shining like a star in the sky.” He murmurs softly, laughing as he grabs you to spin you around on the red carpet to make you gasp. It’s recorded and photographed, and he knows it will be a hit, but he does it to make you laugh as he drags you close to him to kiss you.

That clip will be plastered all over the internet for days and weeks to come, but right now all you care about is sinking into the softness and the joy of being caught up in his arms. Showing the world how much you love your amazing husband is easy. It's almost as effortless as how you fell in love with him in the first place. All the hard and scary and uncertain moments melt away when the world narrows down to just you and him. The weight of expectation and the perception of false perfection slides right off of your shoulders.

Javi hears the shouted questions, the demands to do it again or turn and pose for the cameras, but he just kisses you once more and starts to dance with you right there. A slow little move that makes every romantic sigh a little.

From somewhere in the distance you could swear you hear music, but it's probably just the magic of the moment. You dismiss the thought well before looking around (you have no desire to take your eyes off of your soulmate) and so you never see Alex standing off to the side with his phone out, playing Ella Fitzgerald's Someone to Watch Over Me loud enough to be recognized. All you know is Javi is turning you right there on that long, red carpet and you never want it to end.

Alex grins, looking at the reporters. “They do this alllllll the time.” He confides. “The sappiest couple ever. Besides me and Billie.”

"Is it true that this film brought together four soulmate couples?" The young reporter on the carpet is wearing a badge that marks them from an online publication that specializes in soulmate love stories and they look positively starry-eyed.

“Yes.” Alex bobbles his head happily. “Of course, our wonderful writer, Javi Gutierrez and my best friend.” He grins when he says that. “Then we had one of our production assistants match with his mechanic.” He motions to Jason and Moira who have just arrived behind him. “Those two because Moira works at the house where we filmed. And then Billie and myself.” His hand wraps proudly around his wife’s waist. “Who knows who else might meet because of this movie?”

"Which one of your co-stars would you most like to see meet their soulmate next?" She has a microphone out to record every conversation she has tonight, but she can see this being the highlight of whatever she writes.

“Tamara for sure.” Alex murmurs immediately. “Whoever shares marks with her, rest assured you are getting the sweetest, most talented, brilliant woman that they could hope for.” He tells her and looks at the camera as he talks. “It was amazing to work with all my co-stars, and we’ve become lifelong friends.”

"Is that so?" It's something one hears from actors on a film every so often, but this young reporter is still new enough to be impressed by it. "So you think family dinners and lawn games are in the future for all of you together?"

“Oh absolutely.” Alex nods. “We are all bound by this movie in a beautiful way. My soulmate is Javi’s wife’s cousin and Jason’s is her best female friend.” He winks. “Because I’m her best male friend.” He chuckles and then stops to think about it. “Actually, come to think about it, she is the center of all of this.”

“Just because she knew everyone first?” The reporter asks, prompting him along.

“Not just because of that.” He shakes his head. “She also designed the outfits for tonight.” He beams as he tugs his wife closer. “Right, baby?” Billie has been quiet because she’s a little overwhelmed, but he’s wanting to bring her into the conversation.

"Several of them, yes." This is something that Billie can talk about comfortably, and she squeezes Alex's hand subtly in gratitude. This is precisely the right time to bring her into the conversation. "My dress, her own, Javi's suit, and the outfits for Jason Grant and his wife, Moira." She grins at Alex in amusement. "I think that's the next endorsement contract you're going to go over, isn't it babe?" He had pouted about still being under another designer's contract until spring was out. It was actually pretty cute.

“Absolutely.” Alex has no problem admitting that and if Tom Ford didn’t like that, they could sue him. The suit he is wearing tonight is nice, but it’s not nearly anything like the dress his wife is wearing. “Did you know she also made Billie’s wedding dress?” He asks the reporter. “Genius, pure genius.”

“You wouldn’t have a photo, would you?” The reporter hopes they can get a good close up or even a copy of the photo itself.

“Oh I always carry a photo of my beautiful wife.” Alex might be in the running for People’s Sexiest Man Alive for the second year in a row, but he’s become Billie’s greatest cheerleader. He pulls out his phone. “No peeking.” He teases before opening the device to his album of wedding photos. A few had leaked, but not many.

The photos are stunning and well posed, but she focuses on the bride’s dress and audibly sighs. “It’s—you look like you stepped out of a painting.”

“She didn’t even know it was going to be my wedding dress, but it was just perfect.” Billie gushes.

“It’s absolutely stunning.” She agrees, practicing cooing at the images as Alex shows her one or two more pictures from the day.

“Oh!” He perks up and takes a card out of his jacket pocket to hand to the young woman with the microphone. “This is her. Her line, I mean.”

“You almost forgot.” Billie laughs as she slaps his arm affectionately.

“I got excited,” he defends, leaning over to kiss his soulmate’s cheek. “I love showing off our wedding pictures.”

“I know you do.” That earns him a smile and a small peck on the lips. “He loves showing them. To everyone. Even our driver on the way here.”

“Remind me how long it’s been now?” The reporter asks. She knows it’s her job to know, but truthfully she hasn’t kept track.

“Five months and one day.” Alex supplies immediately with a beaming smile. “We are planning on celebrating our six-month anniversary with our actual honeymoon.”

“Any hints about where you’ll be going?” It’s a long shot, but she has to ask.

He chuckles and shrugs. “We’ll see.” He says vaguely. “My wife is a free spirit, so it could be anywhere.”

“What he means,” Billie teases, thinking fast on her feet. “Is that he let me pick because he wanted to be surprised.” She softly bids the reporter goodbye so they can glide along the red carpet, and Billie looks up to Alex and throws him a wink. “There’s plenty more people to talk to, baby. We’ve got to spread the love around.”

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” He asks, squeezing her hand gently as he grins at her.

“It’s a lot,” Billie admits. She’s holding tight to his arm for support but still laughing. “I don’t know how you do this as often as you do, but…it’s not not fun.”

“I’m a people person.” He reminds her with a shrug as he looks around and guides her towards the next reporter. “I love this.”

"Extroverts," she huffs playfully, rolling her eyes."

“Of course.” He snorts, leaning in and nudging her nose with his. Something that is also photographed to be published, the article talking about how in love Alex Powell is. “We have to counter balance our introvert soulmates.”

"Black cat wives for golden retriever husbands," Moira jokes as she and Jason catch up to them.

“Isn’t it great?” There is a back slapping hug between the co-stars and grins. “How are you two?”

"Great, glowing, giddy," Alex lists off the words like a checklist and leans down to kiss Moira's cheek just like Jason does for Billie.

“You look amazing.” Billie gushes to Moria as she hugs her friend again. “Me?” Look at you!” Moria squeals.

Moira's pink cocktail dress is a perfect copy of the blue one that you wore to Alex and Billie's wedding, with wide sleeves that hang off her shoulders and a cinched waist to accent her stunning hourglass figure. The embellishments are what make it unique — the pearl jewelry that offsets the antique-inspired lace belt at her waist, and the creamy pink and pearl pumps on her feet. Even her clutch is pearly white to bring the look together.

Jason, as though he needed to be complementary else he would combust, is in a soft dove gray two-button suit with Gatsby-inspired pink pinstripes. His pink tie is handmade from the same material as Moira's dress, and his cufflinks are pearl to match her accessories. They look positively enchanting together. A full contrast to the rich purple, Basque waist gown that you had designed for Billie. With silver accessories, she looks like she'll shimmer by moonlight.

“I cannot believe that we are here!” Moria whispers, looking around at the clicking cameras and hundreds of people staring them.

"See?" Alex asks brightly, grinning at his friends. "It's fun!"

“Fun for us.” Jason chuckles as he moves back to Moira’s side as if connected by magnet.

"How many cards have you guys given out?" Moira asks excitedly. In her little clutch purse she still has at least a dozen.

“Alex has given out one to the reporters.” Billie teases him. “I still have mine, but he can give those out too.”

"We have to keep some for people we talk to inside, and anybody who wants one at the after party," Alex reasons, pouting animatedly at his wife for teasing.

“That’s a good point.” Jason agrees. “Especially when other actors come up to admire your dresses.”

"She's going to have so much work she won't know what to do with herself." Moira giggles, bubbling over with happiness tonight and feeling like the totally new-to-her situation is giving her unexpected adrenaline.

“Javi has already started talking about her having more help.” Alex snorts.

"She's going to need a whole staff before too long." Billie smiles, looking a little too pleased with herself. "It's a good thing she's already got one more set of hands on deck."

Moira tilts her head. “Who?”

The smile on Billie's face grows just a little, and she beams like she's been keeping this secret for ages. In reality, it's only been a few weeks. "Me," she tells them and giggles when they look shocked and excited immediately. "She's the genius, but I'm pretty handy with patterns and the business end of things. And a website. She tried to put up her own website and it was a disaster, but I've been helping her fix it."

“That’s amazing!” Moira can’t even sew a button on straight, but she admires anyone who can. “Let me know if I can help any way besides with a needle and thread.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of things.” Billie knows more about running a business than you do, and you’ve always been a more creative artist with fabrics. Between the two — and maybe three — of you? This little business could grow up fast.

“Right now, we need be to models.” Moira points out with a grin. “So let’s go model.”

******

"Oh my god!" One by one the cars pulled up outside Hazelwood House for the after party, but the view from the car was like looking at a shooting star through a magnifying glass. The entire property is lit up with twinkle lights, there are live musicians littered around the grounds, and a uniformed staff of caterers are standing lined up with tray of champagne glasses at the front door to welcome every guest with a drink before they even hit the front door.

Javi laughs as he watches your eyes light up in excitement. “It seems like everyone has accepted the invitation.” He muses.

"It's incredible!" You cling to his arm happily, your face lit up in wonder as you walk up to the house you know so well. So much has changed since the film crew turned up on site almost a year ago, but you wouldn't trade it for the world. Not when every single thing has been so wonderful. "I doubt this house has seen a party like this in decades."

“They wanted to keep it very much in the time period.” The first reviews are out and it’s going to be a smash hit. They are talking box office records. So it was fitting the party to celebrate was over the top.

“It’s perfect.” One of the young men in uniform hands you a glass and you thank him, smiling when he then hands one over to Javi. “You had your nose in your phone for half the ride, mi amor. Are you going to tell me what the reviews say?”

“‘Hit of the summer’.” He quotes with a grin. “‘Masterful storytelling. and ‘a compelling love triangle’.” He practically giggles. “I think they like it.”

“Javi!” You have to be careful not to dose him in champagne when you throw your arm around his neck to hug him, but there are tears in your eyes when you pull back. “You deserve every second of praise, love. You wrote an incredible film.”

“You helped.” He whispers against your lips. “Both when I was writing it and when it was being filmed.” You don’t give yourself enough credit, but you have been the steadying anchor throughout all of this and he loves that you are so supportive.

“If the one thing I can claim to be in life is your muse, I will be a very happy and very proud woman,” you murmur, kissing him back one more endless time.

“I want you to socialize tonight.” He murmurs. “A lot of people will be here.” He smiles as he nods towards the car where an eccentric actor just popped out. “Dieter made it.” He hums happily.

Everyone who paid attention to tabloids heard the story of Dieter Bravo coming together with his soulmate, and everyone who watched the Oscars two years ago saw his on-air proposal. She's at his side tonight, as she always is, radiant in a black satin dress that compliments Dieter's three-piece black suit with all his stylized black jewelry.

"His stylist has been doing monochrome lately," you whisper to Javi, trying not to be obvious in looking at the actor to see his clothing at a glance. "He wears it so well."

“Hmmmmm.” He chuckles softly. “Dieter could be an amazing model for you.” He nods towards the soulmate smiling at him. “And her. She’s gotten contracts from what I’ve heard. And she’s an artist.”

"I've always wondered about working with painted fabrics..." you hum, feeling a little bashful about the idea but excitable all at once.

“Would you like me to introduce you?” He asks you with a grin when your eyes widen. “I met them at the Oscar after party last year.”

"It couldn't hurt..." Eager and nervous, that's how you've felt all night long, and you cling to Javi's arm as elegantly as you can and still have it qualify as clinging. "Right?”

“Absolutely.” Javi lifts his hand. “Dieter!” He calls out, smiling when the actor’s head turns his way. He’s sober still and gives the credit to his soulmate.

“Javi.” When Dieter and his soulmate reach your side, you can see his suit is threaded with gray just like his sparse but styled beard. It’s surprisingly stately. “Fuckin amazing film, man.”

“Thanks.” Every praise is enough to make him blush but he shakes the actor’s hand. “Maybe one day you’ll star in one of them? Hmm?”

“Got the next one written yet?” Dieter grins. “Turns out winning Oscar’s is fun, and I have a feeling your films are gonna be a good way to do that.”

“Have one already putting the polish on and another one in the chamber.” Javi admits, pulling you close. “Also, let me introduce you to my soulmate.” He says your name and then introduces you to the couple. “She works at this gorgeous estate. It’s how we met.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Shaking hands with Dieter Bravo and his wife is pretty high up there in the list of surreal things you’ve done since meeting Javi, but the movie star introduces you to his wife proudly and you immediately get the sense that this couple feels about each other the way that you and Javi feel. Like you’re lucky just to be around each other.

“I have to say, I heard that you made your dress?” She asks, eyes wide with excitement. “Please say it’s true because it’s gorgeous!”

“I did, actually.” And all at once, your face is hot again and Javi is beaming with pride. “I made Javi’s suit as well.” There are a few cards left in your clutch and you produce one for her with more confidence than you feel.

“Oh that’s amazing.” She’s snatching the card up quickly and examining it with rabid interest. “Dee, isn’t that amazing? I was telling him it was the best dress of the premiere.”

“Well, I can certainly fit you for one just like it, if you want?” The pattern exists now, and you worked through a couple of difficulties in the actual fabrication of the dress, so it shouldn’t be difficult at all to make a second.

Her face lights up in delighted surprise. “Would you?” She asks, interested. “Dieter and I have the annual gala for our charity and I am thinking that it would be perfect.” She admits with a slightly shy smile.

“Why don’t you let me know when you can come by for a meeting?” A phone number and email are both listed on the card, though you had no idea if they would get used or not. It looks like you may have gained one client from tonight and that makes it fully worth all this effort. “It would be my pleasure.”

“Oh absolutely.” She nods with a giant smile on her face. “One thing that I love is how much the celebrity community supports their soulmate’s passions.” Her eyes flit up adoringly to Dieter and her fingers thread through his to bring his hand up to her lips for a kiss.

It’s a far cry from those inflammatory stories you remember reading when Dieter’s soulmate first appeared on the scene, but has you smiling softly and turning your eyes up to Javi beside you. That feeling of complete adoration is one you know all too well. “You’re a painter, right?” The new arrivals are lining the path into the house with gusto and taking the four off you along with them. Inside Hazelwood’s great hall there is plenty more space to talk. “I wonder if I might talk to you about commissioning a painting for our new house.”

“Ohhhhh now you are speaking her language.” Dieter kisses her cheek and motions for Javi to move off to the side with him. “Why don’t we let them talk and you and I can discuss the next Oscar you’re gonna win me.”

******

“I don’t think I’m ever going to sleep again.” When the two of you fall through the front door of your near-replica of Hazelwood House (measurably smaller by virtue of not having a servants’ wing or as many guests rooms) many hours later, you’re flying on pure adrenaline and giddiness. “Is this always how you feel after big parties? No wonder you love them so much.”

“That makes sense, since you were the star of the party tonight.” Javi isn’t the least bit jealous of that, he’s actually filled with pride and gratitude that the cast and crew all celebrated the success of the film and the start of your business together with the grace and enthusiasm they had.

“I was not,” you huff, stepping out of your heels at the front door. Christian Louboutin makes high heels and you’ve been wearing those since five o’clock this evening.

“Amor…” he throws you a doubtful look. You had celebrities and producers alike around you. “You were.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Still, your face burns with temporary embarrassment and you’re grinning so hard you could erupt into giggles at any second. “Was it?”

“I loved it.” He assures you. “The launch of your brand was a success.” He winks. “We should celebrate by removing the dress that started it all.”

“Is that so?” You hum, but you’re already moving into his arms even as you hum at him.

“You looked delectable all night and I have been good.” He pouts playfully at you. “Even when Dieter snuck off with his soulmate to one of the resting rooms.” Everyone knew why the couple had left and there were some rumors they are expecting their first child.

“You were very well behaved. Even when I knew you didn’t want to be.” The few times you’d caught him not-so-subtly admiring your figure through the night had made you wonder if you would be slinking off to a private moment too, but you’d both behaved admirably.

His fingers find the discreet zipper and he tugs it down. Eager to pull this creation off of you. Not because he doesn’t love it, but because you bare is his favorite way to worship you.

You’re a bit more cautious in undressing him, if only because the nails that the woman gave you at the salon yesterday are longer than you’re used to. It almost makes you wish you hadn’t made his waistcoat double breasted. The extra interior buttons prove difficult to undo.

Javi watches you, wanting to help, but you have that set to your jaw that tells him you want to do this. You had already pouted that you had to get ready separately, so it’s fitting that you strip him down. “Te amo.” He whispers softly, loving smile on his face.

“Te amo.” The last button slips mercifully free and you slide the waistcoat off of his shoulders as you surge up to kiss him. Not a single stitch of these outfits will be tossed to the floor, not after the work you put in with your own two hands, but that doesn’t mean you don’t want it off quickly.

Javi kisses you just as desperately as he does when he is most needy for you. When the desire takes over everything and he groans your name while guiding you blindly into the house towards the suite you had chosen on the main floor.

It’s a big damn house. That is never more apparent than when you’re trying to get to somewhere quickly, and the forty stairs up to the second floor would be far too much right now. Thank God for the decision to put a bedroom suite on the north wing’s first floor. In future it will be for any guests that struggle with stairs. For now? It means you can close the door behind you that much faster as you desperately try to share every ounce of air in your lungs with your husband.

“Baby, I need you.” Javi groans as his hands squeeze your ass, lips trailing along your neck. “Need you so damn bad.”

“Then why are my panties still on?” You can barely push the words out in between kisses, but all of your clothes are now lying draped over the loveseat in your room and the only thing left between you is underwear. “I’m yours, cariño. Take me.”

Your panties are expensive, but Javi doesn’t give a damn. His fingers rip through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and he growls as he drags you over to the bed.

Pulling him down with you means that you land on the mattress in a tangle of limbs, grasping at each other and spreading those endless kisses across the exposed lengths of your bodies.

“Baby,” he whines when you nip at his pulse then kiss behind his ear. You always know exactly where to touch him, how to kiss him. His own hands cup and squeeze, cock twitching against your belly.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” you grin, nipping his throat again, a little further down. “You want to put a baby in me, cariño?”

The string of half English, half Spanish that comes pouring out of his mouth as he flips you over would be amusing to him, if he weren’t so desperate to do exactly that. So rattled and turned on by the prospect he can’t settle on what language to use while he is spreading your thighs and starting to rub his cock through your folds.

“Fuck, fuck, Javi, baby, please—” You’ll beg him for it every single time if that is what does it for him. Thankfully you know that for him, the real treat here is your shared goal. Fucking your soulmate is great. Making a baby is better.

“You’re so wet.” Javi groans as he uses that wetness to coat his cock. Just because he is eager to have you doesn’t mean that it should hurt. “Are you that turned on?”

"Baby," you would tut if you weren't squirming and desperate for him to be inside you. "I deserve a goddamn award for my self-restraint tonight. I've been wet for hours."

He chuckles in delight as he presses the head of his cock right at your entrance and it slips inside you. “Then we were in the same damn boat.” He admits. “Your tailoring job did a fantastic job of hiding my erection.”

Barely able to stop moan long enough to answer, you grasp his shoulder tightly while Javi slowly sheathes himself in your body. "Then I did my job well."

He smirks down at you as he settles closer, sliding his arms under your back as you lift up to let him. “You do everything well.” He groans, twitching inside you. “Especially this.”

“Especially this?” It’s just a little tease, considering your own breathless enthusiasm, but you roll your hips against his and wrap your legs around his waist as if you can’t bear to have him move even an inch away.

“Yes…” Javi pants out your name desperately as he pushes deep rather than pulling out. Grinding into you to be as close as possible as his cock twitches inside you again.

"Javi—" The groan that starts all the way down in your toes comes out raspy and needy and wraps around the two of you like it could tighten your bond even further. "So good, baby. You always feel so fucking good inside me."

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” He vows. “A part of me, staying inside you.” He groans after the words come out, finding it incredibly erotic to even think about.

“You can’t wait to see me knocked up.” A giggle escapes you but it morphs into a moan when he grinds his hips into yours again. “Filled up and dripping your cum now and my belly full of your baby for months to come.”

“Shit.” Javi chokes out, almost afraid he’s going to cum right then. Your words evoking something primal inside him and he kisses you almost desperately as his hips grind to a halt, needing a moment to calm down.

“Mi amor,” you manage to catch his lips, nipping at his bottom lip and dissolving into a kiss. “Don’t hold back. I want to be full of you.”

“You have to cum too.” He shakes his head, whispering the words into your mouth.

“And I will.” Of course you will. Even with the quickest of encounters, Javi always makes sure you cum. “I always do.”

“I want you to cum on my cock.” He pants against your lips as he starts to rock again. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Since the first time you said the words it has always been the same. Rocking in and out of you with the utmost devotion and passion, chased by that all-consuming need to lose yourself in each other. To become one for just a little while.

Or, in the case of tonight, to make one.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[sherala007]

Pedro Pascal for Flaunt Magazine

[sherala007]

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (COMPLETED)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

One Shot: The Future

One Shot: The Afternoon

[sherala007]

fucked royalty

Summary: You are working as a nurse on a military base when you meet and fall for Frankie Morales. And he for you. But before he could finally tell you the truth about him he just... disappears and you are left heartbroken without any way to get back in contact with him. After moping for a week you put in a request to relocate and get send to Spain where your new roommate wins a weekend trip to the Kingdom of San Senova, not knowing that all your unanswered questions regarding to Frankie, would soon get their answers.

Wordcount: Alejandro Carlos Francisco Sanchez Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 5.7k

Rating: M

Warnings: Royalty AU, fluff, falling in love, light smut (oral f receiving, unprotected sex), angst, heartbreak, me not knowing shit about royal titles, phones are not a thing (just go with it) happy ending 😍

A/N: omg I had so much fun writing this. Hello @flightlessangelwings! I am your secret valentine and I hope you love this little story!

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

The first time you saw Frankie Morales, he was getting stitches by the Doctor on military base you had been working on for almost a year as a nurse. 

You were carrying some more supplies and the medicine the Doctor had asked for, setting it down next to him when you met Frankie’s eyes for the first time. He gave you a small smile and even though his whole face was bloody (you could already see the stitches on the side of his forehead) he was still the most attractive man you had ever seen. 

You didn’t know that this would be the start of a whirlwind romance that would leave you heartbroken. 

You saw him again the next night at the bar just around the base. 

He was with there with his three friends, sporting a serious bruise on his eye from whatever had happened to him the day before. At some point one of his friends must have caught you starring, and it wasn’t long before Frankie asked if he could invite you for a drink. 

A drink turned into two, and you spend the whole night talking to each other about everything and nothing. Maybe you fell for him right then, watching him smile shyly at you, his hand holding yours. 

He insisted on making sure you got home safely after. 

„You know it’s just a five minute walk?“ You smiled at him. He shrugged, taking your hand. 

„A lot can happen in five minutes,“ he said seriously. 

He kissed you good night in front of your door, promising that he would see you soon. 

And he did. 

He was living on base and apparently on call being part of the special forces, so going on dates was a little complicated at the beginning. But what he lacked of opportunities, he made up with ideas. 

„This is…. This is beautiful Frankie,“ you smiled at him. 

He had found a field full of sunflowers, his hand holding yours as he let you through them, snapping picture after picture from you. 

„I flew over it the other day and I thought this is perfect to spend some alone time with you,“ he grinned, pulling you against his chest.

„So this was all a scheme to get me all alone to yourself?“

„Mhhh,“ he hummed, a smile on his lips as he dipped his head down, kissing you softly. You crossed your arms behind his neck, getting on your tiptoes to get even closer. His hands were on your hips, his fingers carefully digging into your skin.

He had you pinned against the wall the moment you got to your place, his lips and hands all over you. 

„Want you,“ he mumbled, kissing down your body, pushing your summer dress up. 

„Take me then,“ you gasped, when you felt his nose run up your thigh.

„I have heard the wildest rumour,“ you flopped down on the couch next to him. He was at your place for the whole weekend, insisting to wine and dine you for a change, even if it was at your home. He was waiting for you when you came home and you love the feeling of knowing someone was waiting for you. 

You had been dating for almost six months now. 

And you hoped many more months would follow. 

He was basically living at your place when he wasn’t on mission. 

„What rumour?“ He asked, his hand coming down to rest on your thigh. 

„Carla said that she heard that there’s some European Prince undercover on the base doing his military service,“ you snorted. You stretched your muscles, sighing loudly, missing Frankie’s eyes widening. 

„Sounds to me like a Hallmark movie if you ask me,“ you rolled your eyes, letting your head fall against his shoulder. 

„How would Carla know?“ Frankie asked. 

„Dunno. She send me the link to his Wikipedia page though. Wait a second,“ you pulled your phone out, opening the link. 

„There we are. Alejandro Carlos Francisco Sanchez Morales the third. Future king of San Senova. I don’t even know where that is,“ you read out loud. 

„Between France and Spain,“ Frankie provided and you looked at him, impressed. 

„How do you know that?“ You asked. He shrugged, though you could see him blushing. Adorable.

„Dad is big on geography,“ he said and you nodded, laying your head back against his shoulder. 

„Maybe you’re related to them too. Your last name is Morales,“ you chuckled. 

„Many people with the name Morales. It’s pretty common,“ he said right away. 

„I guess you’re right,“ you sighed. 

„Any pictures of him?“ He asked, kissing your hair. 

„Sadly no pictures after he turned five years old. Cute little boy though, don’t you think?“ You held the phone out.

„Cute,“ he said before he pulled your phone away, throwing it on the couch next to him. 

„Heeeeey,“ you pouted, shrieking when he pulled you beneath him and kissed you.

„Want you,“ he hummed, his hips dragging against yours, making you gasp. 

„Take your clothes off baby,“ you grinned, already pulling your shirt over your head. 

Within minutes both of you were naked and Frankie was inside of you, making you cry out his name while his lips were all over your body. 

He made you cum four times on that couch.

Making you forget about a potential European future king working among you at the base.

Santiago Garcia was Frankie’s best friend. 

And, to say it in the most nicest way, a slut. 

He had broken the hearts of all the nurses at the base, which left you to be the only one still willing to attend to him, if he had some medical issues. 

„So how are things between you and Frankie?“ He asked while he sat on the table. You were cleaning his bloody knuckles, not even asking how it happened anymore. He had a wild streak, leaving you to patch him up regularly.  

„Is this the part where you ask me about my intentions?“ You teased and he chuckled. 

„Nope. Everyone who has eyes can see how much you love him,“ he said and you stilled, taking a deep breath before you carried on tending to him. 

„Same with him too though. He speaks about you all the time. Kinda annoying if you ask me,“ you looked up at him and he winked. You continued cleaning his wounds. 

„I haven’t told him that I love him. I… We haven’t talked about what happens when he has to go back home. I don’t even know where is home for him, he always changes the topic. And I’m scared he’s just gonna end up leaving me here,“ you confessed. Your turned away from Santiago, grabbing the bandages. 

„Talk to him. Frank is… A little hesitant when it comes to feelings. He told you about his ex?“ Santi asked. You nodded. 

Frankie had told you about his last girlfriend. It was pretty serious. They had been together for three years and he could see him getting married to her. He found out that she had been cheating on him with one of his cousins. And then she tried telling him that she was pregnant which turned out to be a complete lie to somehow baby trap him. 

Your heart broke for him as he told you about it. 

„I think the whole thing broke him more than he wants to admit. Means also he can’t see what’s right in front of him,“ Santiago explained as you finished bandaging his hand, looking up at Santi. 

„So you mean I have to confess my feelings in a big gesture?“ You asked. 

„I mean you can. I bet he would loooove a flashmob,“ he grinned and you slapped his arm playfully. 

„Just tell him how you feel. We’re not gonna stick around for much longer,“ he said and you nodded, watching after him as he left the room. 

Frankie had told you that he had received word that he was close to being finished with his service. He didn’t tell you an exact time frame, but you knew the end of whatever this was could be closer than you liked. 

You would have to talk with him. 

About your feelings and about a potential future. 

Because you had already decided that if he would ask you, you would follow him everywhere. 

You had no family and only a few friends here. 

And nurses were needed everywhere. You would find work quickly. 

You and Frankie had made plans for the next evening. You wanted to cook and confess your feelings to him. 

But when he didn’t show up at your place you grew worried.

Frankie was always punctual, always calling you if he would be running late. Private cellphones were forbidden at the base, so the only way of contacting him, would be calling the base. So when fifteen minutes went by after he had promised to be here you called the landline of the house he was living at, but nobody picked up. 

Next you tried the base but the line was busy. 

An hour later and no message you grabbed your car keys and drove the way from your place to his place at the base. You hadn’t been here often. He shared the small house with his three friends and privacy was not really something they valued, leaving to interesting encounters and teasing in the morning when you stayed the night. 

The house lay in darkness when you got there. 

After knocking and ringing the bell you received no answer. 

You had a bad feeling in your stomach. You stood there in the darkness looking at the house. 

There was no one here. 

Maybe they had an important mission and he did not have time to tell you. You shook your head. In the months you had dated he had always informed you when he had to leave on short notice. 

Something was not right. 

It’s why you made your way back to the base to ask around. 

„You here about Frank?“ His superior, General Lopez asked, after you knocked on his door. You nodded. 

„He was sent home together with the whole fifth devision,“ he said. 

„Oh,“ you said surprised, your heard beating fast in your chest. 

„Anything else you want?“ He barked and you shook your head numbly, before you walked out. 

You held the tears in until you were back in the apartment and saw Frankie’s hoodie still hanging over your chair. 

He had to leave without you being able to tell him how you felt. 

You just hoped that he would call you once he made it out of the plane. 

He didn’t call. 

He did not send a letter.

He didn’t try to get in touch with you. 

So after moping around for a week you applied for a transfer packed your things and took the new job. 

In Spain.

Vowing to yourself to get over Frankie.

Two months later

„I can’t believe you dragged me into this,“ you whined before you turned the air conditioning of the car to its highest level. 

„For someone who got invited to spend a two night stay in a five star hotel in San Senova without having to pay a single cent for it, you sure sound ungrateful,“ your friend Lisa hummed as she drove the car down the highway. 

You had to admit that she was right. 

The last two months had been long and dark and depressing, but meeting Lisa on your first day, finding out she was your roommate for the six months you would spend here in Spain, was the greatest distraction. 

She was loud and playful and funny and she made it her mission to get you out of your „depression hole“. 

It’s why after winning this weekend stay in a raffle on the 4th of July celebration on base, she didn’t even ask you if you would like to come. She just informed you that you were going. 

„You know that there was a rumour back in my old base that the crown prince of San Senova was doing his military service back there?“ You asked. 

„King,“ she said.

„Huh?“

„He’s the king now. Has been for almost two months. Apparently his father died suddenly and he had to take the throne overnight,“ she explained.

„Look at you being informed,“ you teased. 

„Don’t want to be the dumb American stereotype tourist. Also, thanks to my research, I know that tomorrow will be a national holiday in San Senova because it’s the kings thirty fifth birthday. Apparently there’s a military parade. It’s a whole thing,“ Lisa said. 

„What I am hearing is, that you gonna drag me to this thing, isn’t it?“ You sighed. 

She turned her head, grinning at you. 

„You know me so well already,“ Lisa winked. 

With a chuckle you shook your head. 

Spending time with Lisa this weekend would be great. 

You wouldn’t be thinking about the plans you and Frankie had made for this birthday that was tomorrow back in the states. 

After parking the rental car and checking into the hotel (which made your jaw drop) you passed out for a nap almost right away. 

It hadn’t been a long drive, but you had started studying to become an OR nurse and you had only fallen asleep in the early morning hours after having been allowed to watch an operation last night. 

Lisa made sure to roughly wake you up an hour before she had made reservations in a local restaurant she had found on trip advisor. 

And while you wanted nothing more than to sleep, you let her excitement over this trip influence you. After a small dance party in the huge bathroom of the hotel room where Lisa told you that if you were a guy, she would have fucked you in the big walk in shower first thing while proceeding to sing into her brush-microphone, the two of you stepped out of the hotel.

Lisa had talked you into wearing a dress, so you were wearing your most casual, yet fancy dress. A dark red wrap dress that ended just above your knees. 

You drew the line at wearing heels, leaving you with some flat sandals as you walked down the street, your arm hooked under Lisa’s as she led you towards the restaurant, google maps on her phone showing you both the way. 

Walking through old European cities like these, alway left you impressed and yearning to live here. You had managed to visit Barcelona and Seville since getting to Spain and frankly you couldn’t imagine ever going back to the United States. 

You made smalltalk on the way, both of your eyes taking in the old city.

And men. 

Well at least Lisa did.

She knew about Frankie and she knew you weren’t ready for someone new. Which did not stop her to point out candidates which you had to admit were super attractive. 

But they weren’t Frankie. 

How things ended with him still left you with a billion questions. The loudest of them all being if you could be so wrong about his feelings for you. 

Even Santiago had told you Frankie loved you. 

And while you or him never heard or said the words, you deep down knew he loved you. 

He could maybe lie to you, but what reason would his best friend have to lie?

Why did he ghost you like this?

Taking a deep breath you stopped walking as Lisa announced that you made it. Looking around you saw that the restaurant was pretty busy. 

„Seems like trip advisor was right to make a reservation, huh?“ You asked and she nodded. 

„Looks expensive,“ you noticed and she turned her head, grinning at you.

„You’re paying! I invited you for this trip“ Lisa announced and your jaw dropped, watching her walk towards the entrance. 

„This trip was free!“ You gasped. 

She only laughed and you shook your head, following her inside. 

„You might have to carry me back to the hotel,“ you groaned almost two hours later. The dinner was probably the best you had in your life. 

Lisa and you had shared a bottle of wine between the two of you and you were now waiting for dessert. 

„Would it be weird to call a cab?“ She asked. 

„It’s a five minute walk,“ you laughed. 

She pouted. 

„I don’t think I can do it,“ she said with a dramatic sigh before she smiled. 

„Gonna go to the restroom. Don’t steal from my dessert when it comes,“ she said seriously, before she grabbed her purse and walked through the restaurant towards the restrooms. 

It was almost fifteen minutes later, your dessert almost gone when you heard her laugh. 

Your dessert was almost gone and you were sipping on your wine glass when you turned your head towards the sound, finding her sitting with her back towards you at the bar. She was talking to a man, her hand on his shoulder, and you smiled to yourself until your eyes landed on the face of the man she was talking to. 

As if sensing your eyes on him, his head tilted, his eyes frowning before they widened. 

„Santi?“ You whispered in disbelief. 

Lisa’s head turned when Santi stopped talking, her eyes narrowing between you and Santiago. 

She left him standing walking towards you. 

„Why are you looking at Santiago like you’ve seen a ghost? I just met him?“ She asked, her hand on your shoulder as she stood beside you. 

Looking up at her you gulped. 

„That’s Frankie’s best friend,“ you whispered, suddenly very tired. 

Lisa’s eyes widened before she turned around to look at him, just as he stepped beside her. 

„He’s what?“ She asked. 

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. 

Santiago said your name and you could feel yourself shaking. 

It was like you were underwater. You could hear Lisa and him talking, but you didn’t understand what they were talking about. 

If he was here, was Frankie somewhere here too?

What was he doing here out of all places in the world?

Why did they leave?

Why did he leave?

Why did no one tell you?

You finally looked up at him, tears lingering in the corner of your eyes. 

„Why?“ You asked quietly. He looked at you with sadness in his eyes. He was sucking on his bottom lip, nervous. He let his eyes wander through the room, noticing some people already staring. 

You didn’t know that people were staring because they knew who he was. 

Not yet. 

„Not here,“ he said and you frowned, about to open your mouth to ask what he meant, when he took a step closer. 

„It’s not my place to explain. I’ll try. But not here,“ he said. 

Both you and Lisa followed Santiago to a private dining room of the restaurant that was empty. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to talk or if you wanted to run. 

As soon as the door closed his eyes were on you, then on Lisa. 

„Talk,“ she snapped, her arms crossed in front of her chest and you almost laughed as you saw him jump, surprised by her outburst. 

He looked at you as if in question and you rolled your eyes. 

„She knows. About me and Frankie and how all of you just…. Ghosted me from one day to another,“ you said. 

„Like I said, it’s not my place to explain,“ he started and Lisa scoffed. 

„I would love to just tell you everything but I made a vow I can’t break,“ he said and you confusingly stared at him. 

„A vow?“ You whispered, he nodded. 

You looked at Lisa who looked like she was ready to scratch Santiago’s eyes out if you gave her the go. 

„Let me take you to him,“ Santiago said. 

„Let me take you to Frankie.“

The ride in the car was silent. 

You were anxious, your hands sweating. Lisa was holding your hand while glaring at Santiago. 

„Can you tell your friend to stop looking at me like she wants to choke me?“ Santiago said after a while and your lips almost broke out into a small smile. 

„Last thing I remembered I heard Nurse Sam say you’re into that,“ you said and his eyes widened before he laughed. 

„I might be, but in the sexy way, not in the I’m gonna die way,“ he winked and you released a shaky breath. 

You tuned out the conversation that now started between Lisa and Santi, your head resting against the cold glass of the car window, your eyes trying to figure out were he was taking you. 

You hadn’t been driving for a long time, before the car stopped at a gate. You could only make out what looked like a long fence before the car started driving again, driving towards a huge building. 

It didn’t take long then before the car stopped in front of an already opened door, a deep red rug on the steps leading up and inside. The door on Santiago’s side opened and he stepped out, turning to hold out his hand, helping you out. 

Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the car, taking a look around as he helped Lisa out of his car. 

A man in a suit walked out, bowing his head.

„Duke Garcia,“ the man said and your head turned to Lisa who was already looking at you with wide eyes. 

„Where is he?“ Santiago asked. You saw the man look at you and Lisa before he focused back on Santiago. They talked to each other in hushed voices before Santiago turned around with a sigh. 

The man walked back inside, leaving you alone with Lisa and Santiago, the car driving off. 

„Frankie is in a… meeting. But I think we can interrupt it. That is, if you want?“ He asked. 

You nodded. 

You wanted answers. 

„What about you?“ You asked, looking at Lisa. She suddenly had a shy smile on her lips as she looked at Santi. 

„I’m gonna take care of her,“ Santi said with a wink and you playfully rolled your eyes. 

It took almost ten minutes of Santiago leading both you and Lisa through the building before he came to a stop in front of two closed doors. 

He looked at you, silently asking for permission, before he loudly knocked on the door. 

He didn’t wait for anyone to invite him in, before he pushed the door open. 

The first thing you noticed was that the room behind the door was huge. And looking more… opulent than some of the hallways you had walked through. Golden ornaments and deep red on the walls made it look like out of a fairytale. 

You were in a castle. Why were you in a castle?

You let your eyes wander through the room until your eyes stopping on the very end. There was a woman sitting on a chair in front of a canvas, painting someone. Taking a step further  into the room you noticed someone sitting in front of her. On a golden chair. A throne? He was wearing what looked like a uniform with various medals and buttons, looking very official. 

The man stood up and you titled your head up, finding Frankie’s wide eyes looking at you. 

The woman in front of him, got up from her chair too, bowing her head with a whispered your majesty as he took the three steps from the podium down and walked towards you. 

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he walked towards you. 

„Clear the room,“ he said and you released a shuddering breath. You felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. 

Breaking eye contact you looked at Lisa who looked as confused as you felt. 

„You okay?“ She mouthed. 

You shrugged. She eyed the man who was now standing almost in front of you with a frown before she looked at you again. 

„I will be right outside,“ she said loud and clear before she let Santiago lead her out of the room, closing the door behind them. 

You closed your eyes, gathering your thoughts before your eyes opened and found Frankie looking at you. 

Allowing yourself a moment to really take him in, you noticed how tired he looked. There were bags under his eyes you could see, even though someone did a shitty job of covering them up. It seemed like he aged at least ten years since you’ve last seen him. His hair was shorter, his beard was trimmed. 

His head tilted to the side and it was only then that you noticed the tears in his eyes. 

„You left,“ you whispered and he closed his eyes, releasing along breath.

„I’m sorry,“ he said and you had too look away from him when he opened his eyes again. Turning away you slowly walked towards the windows, looking out of it. 

If you would continue to look at him, you would cry. And right now you weren’t sure if it was out of anger or because you had missed him so much. 

You crossed your arms, your hands tucking underneath your arms to soothe yourself as you looked out into the dark night. 

„Tell me why you left,“ you said quietly. 

Footsteps came closer towards you and it was like before, like you could feel his warmth. 

„My father died,“ he began. 

„I received the news of his death while I went through the store to get some of your favourite snacks. I wanted to go over to you anyway and finally tell you the truth. Tell you that I lo…. I had the plan to tell you everything that night even before all of it happened. But… Once my father…. The King of San Senova died, I was swept up by the royal protocol. Thirty minutes after I received the message I was already on a plane and being briefed on what was going to be happening as soon as I arrived here back home.“

„You didn’t even have a minute to call?“

„I… I tried. But your number had been disconnected by the time I finally had a minute to breathe. And I had left you messages with my superior but he told me that you weren’t interested….“

You turned around, your head tilting up to look at him. 

„I never received any message from you,“ you shook your head. His eyes widened. 

„I left you a letter. And… at least a dozen messages….“

„I went to the base an hour after you hadn’t shown up and talked to your Superior. He only told me that you left earlier. There was no message.“

His jaw tensed as he took a deep breath, his eyes darkening for a moment. 

„I left you a letter that explained everything. I gave it to him weeks before I even left because I wanted you to have a way to contact me. It had Santi’s and Will’s number. Because I am not allowed to carry a cellphone.“

Sucking your bottom lip in you looked at him. 

„Why would he not give me your messages if you left them for me?“ You questioned. 

His face fell and he groaned. 

„His fucking daughter. Fuck, I can’t believe this…“ He turned around, his hand running through his hair in frustration. 

„Santi!“ He yelled and you almost jumped at the tone of his voice. 

The door opened and Santiago walked in, looking a little… wild. His hair a wild mess and… was that lipstick on his lips?

„Your majesty?“ He asked and your could see Frankie roll his eyes. You caught Lisa in the hallways behind Santi with big eyes. You chuckled to yourself. 

„I want General Lopez and his daughter here first thing in the morning,“ he hissed and Santi’s eyebrow raised. 

„Fucker never gave my messages to her,“ Frankie explained and Santi sighed as he looked at you. 

„I will get right to it,“ he promised. He turned around and closed the door behind him. 

„I should have known…. I should have tried harder,“ Frankie shook his head, his fingers rubbing over his temple. 

Slowly you approached him. 

Sure, he could have tried to get in touch with you somehow. But… you couldn’t even imagine how much his life must have changed in a matter of hours. Not that you weren’t hurt how things went, but… you could at least understand him. 

Carefully you brought your hand up to rest on his shoulder. 

He looked at you. 

„I missed you so much,“ he whispered. 

„Yeah?“ You asked. He nodded. 

„Even though there are now always people around me, I feel so alone. I always felt so alone. But not with you. Never with you,“ he turned around so he was standing in front of you.

„I missed you too. Every single day,“ you said, tears lingering in your eyes. 

His forehead came to rest against yours as he pulled you into a hug. The big clock in the room began to ring, the clock striking midnight. 

„Happy birthday Frankie,“ you whispered. 

Ever so slowly you pressed your lips against his.

„Tell me everything?“ You asked. 

He smiled. 

Things went very fast after that night. 

It turned around General Lopez had indeed not given a single message Frankie left to you because he was hoping that Frankie fell for his his daughter, who was in line to be Frankie’s wife and future queen.

He just hadn’t counted on how deeply Frankie had fallen in love with you. 

You had spend the whole night talking. After he had gotten out of his uniform he had taken you to his private quarters that fell much more like Frankie.

He told you about growing up in this palace, knowing that he was next in line for the throne. How every single relationship he had in the past only was about getting what they wanted, which was power or money, but never him. Frankie. They wanted Alejandro Carlos Francisco Sanchez Morales The Third, or now King Alejandro the third. 

That was the reason, he was so hesitant to tell you. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was scared it would change something between you. 

It took a while to realise that the man you heard singing „Everytime we touch“ under the shower in the morning while he ran late for work, was now a king of a whole country. 

Your weekend trip became a lot more serious once Frankie told you he loved you and asked you to stay on the day after you arrived first at the palace. 

He did not want to waste any more time pretending he wasn’t in love with you and… you didn’t want that either. 

So you stayed. 

In separate rooms in the palace at first. 

Not that you slept in separate beds even one day after you arrived. 

But the King having his girlfriend move into his quarters right away apparently wasn’t a good look. You learned much about the royal protocol in the weeks after you arrived.

Part of you wanted to let him grovel for you for a while, but you knew from the start that you wanted him back in your life. 

You didn’t want to waste any more time apart from him. 

Almost four months later Frankie asked you to marry him and you said yes. 

There would be a huge royal wedding in the next spring, the planning already under way. There was talk to combine his official coronation with the wedding, but two months was apparently too little time to plan it. Your dress alone would take half a year to make. The times of ordering your clothes online were officially over.

You had a stylist now. 

And responsibilities.

Because you would become the Queen of San Senova in the coming year. 

Which is how you found yourself here, wearing a deep green floor length gown, your back leaning against a wall, next to a room full of people who were waiting to officially see the new King. 

The new King who was on his knees in front of you, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder, your dress carefully held up as he licked into you. 

Your hands were pressed against the wall behind you, trying to stop yourself from running them through his hair. 

„Frankie,“ you whimpered quietly, your head falling back against the wall. 

He had pulled you into this room not five minutes ago, both of you not really having seen each other more than in passing in the last four days. 

Which was apparently too much time. 

You could hear the people cheering outside of the palace as they waited. 

„Don’t let the people wait, my love. Cum for your King,“ he grinned before he sucked your clit into his mouth and you came with a quiet gasp, your legs shaking. 

„You’re a fucking menace,“ you sighed and you felt him chuckle against you, before he carefully slipped your panties back and kissed you thigh. 

A knock on the door, someone reminding you that it was time, let you both jump before you laughed to yourselves. 

He put your leg back to the floor as he got up, standing in front of you. 

„How do I look?“ He asked and you smiled, bringing your hands up to brush over his shoulders. 

„Majestic,“ you smiled and he kissed you softly. He took his hand, wanting to exit the room with you when you stopped him. 

He frowned.

„You have….. me all over you….“ You mumbled and he licked his lips. 

„Just how I like it,“ he winked before he opened the door, pulling you through it. 

And minutes later Frankie stood on the balcony, wearing his crown, waving to his people as their new crowned King, while he held your hand. 

Looking at you he gave you a small wink before he kissed you softly in front of thousands of people who cheered both his and your name. 

Not knowing what their King was up to not only ten minutes ago. 

[sherala007]

He is so funny, omg!!

[sherala007]

Plot: Hastily returning to Texas after his mom has had an accident, young Frankie runs into an old acquaintance who gives him a life lesson.

Or; how Frankie became the 🐈👑

Young!Frankie Morales x Female reader

Author Note & Warnings: Explicit - smut & fluff, some moral dilemmas but we're all good.

Word count: 15k (yeah, it was meant to be a little drabble but it got out of hand)

Frankie Morales was nervously drumming his fingers against his jeans as the San Antonio, TX, flight corrected its path and came in to land. The pilot touched down smoothly and as soon as the fasten seat belt sign was switched off, Frankie was on his feet. He apologized right and left as he squeezed his way down the center aisle, his army duffel bag like a shield in front of him.

The call had come in at midday, he'd been out doing laps on the track when the jeep had pulled up and his name had been shouted across the field.

"Morales, urgent call for you, it's your mom."

He'd ridden back to the barracks in the jeep and stormed into the office, where an officer handed him a phone.

The voice on the other side had introduced himself as Dr Carmichael at the San Antonio General Hospital. Was he Francisco Morales, son of Gloria Morales?

Frankie felt like his heart stopped as he answered yes, and then Dr Carmichael put him somewhat at ease.

"Your mom isn't seriously injured, although she's got a complicated break on her right leg. She was very lucky, coming off a horse at that speed could've done a lot more damage," the calm voice at the other end explained, "But as I've told your commanding officer, as she has no other immediate family nearby, you'll need to come back and look after her for a while. At least until she's stable on her feet with crutches."

So now Frankie was in the back of a taxi, rushing over to the hospital in his hometown, instead of continuing his aviation school training. He hadn't been back since Christmas, and now it was August, more than four years since he'd graduated high school and immediately joined the army. He would have a shitload of catching up to do when he got back, his commanding officer had made sure to let him know before he left, but at least he got leave to come home to take care of her. Plus, his bag was stuffed with text books too, he'd be doing some serious cramming while he was here.

A couple of hours later, he drew a deep breath as he stepped out of the hospital. His mom was doing alright, high on pain meds, but lucid and recovering. The surgery had gone well and now she needed to focus on healing. She was going to be in the hospital for a few more days, maybe even a week, then she'd be allowed to come home with Frankie if all went well. He hailed a cab and got back to the house, where his beaten up old 1975 Ford Bronco sat under a tarp. Maybe he'd fix it up while he was here, and drive her back to base rather than fly. He gave her a fond pat as he walked past, he'd lost his virginity in the back of this old truck, fumbling and nervous, to Angela Demasio. She'd been in his year at high school, and she'd been just as nervous. It was a damn miracle they figured out how to even do it, and as he remembered, he'd come after about three pumps, and he's pretty sure she didn't come at all. They sure as hell hadn't tried doing it again and she'd started dating one of the football players two weeks later.

He unlocked the front door and then dumped his bag in his old room and headed for the shower. He'd just pulled on his clothes and was standing in front of the open fridge to figure out some dinner, when there was a knock on the front door.

He shoved a hand through his short cropped hair and went to open the door.

"Hey, Frankie, I thought that you might be back home," you smiled up at him.

He blinked a couple of times, wracking his brain for a polite response while he stepped back to let you in. He didn't know you very well, just that you were his mom's best friend and that you were in her book club. All he knew was that you'd moved in next door with your husband around the time he started high school, and that your husband had moved out around the time he graduated. His mom had told him bits and pieces, something about your husband cheating on you with a paralegal at his firm. Frankie had remembered that part because it sounded like such a fucking cliche and he'd wondered who'd be stupid enough to cheat on someone who looked as good as you did in a bikini. He'd definitely had a bit of a sexual awakening after seeing you play pool volleyball at his mom's 4th of July BBQ the year that you moved in.

The thought filled his brain now as he tried to respond to the question you'd just asked, his mind was stuck on the image of your wet breasts bouncing up and down as you jumped for the ball and the way he'd gotten so hard he'd had to sneak up to his room and jerk off straight away.

"Hey, hi, hi, yeah, I just got back from the hospital, I went straight from the airport," he finally pressed out, hoping you hadn't noticed his slow reply. But you just smiled and dropped your bag on the chair by the door and followed him into the kitchen.

"Gloria told me they'd called you and that you were flying home as soon as possible, she was really relieved that you were able to come."

Frankie closed the fridge door, he'd left it open, a bad habit his mom had often scolded him for, and when he turned around you were leaning against one of the counters.

"I remember Gloria yelling at you for leaving it open while you made your sandwiches," you smiled, "but you're still doing it."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "and the army doesn't let me cook so I'm still only making sandwiches."

"You're having sandwiches for dinner?" you asked and he nodded.

"There's a bunch of stuff in here but I can't cook, so PB&J it is."

"Not gonna happen," you laughed, pushing off the counter and shooing him away, "Gloria would kill me if I let her son eat sandwiches for dinner after flying half way across the country to see her. Sit down, I'll make us something and you can tell me about the army stuff. Gloria said you're in aviation school now?"

Frankie nodded, smiling at the way you took charge and ordered him to sit down at the kitchen table. Before he knew it, there was a cold beer in front of him too, another one for yourself on the counter.

"Yeah, I got accepted to aviation school last autumn, I've got another six months and then I go on to helicopter training, that's my goal."

"That's impressive, Frankie," you exclaimed as you started pulling ingredients from the fridge, "the last time I saw you was at your high school graduation, skinny little kid all excited about signing up with the army. And now you're here, very much not skinny any more, and learning how to fly planes? You've done a lot in only four years!"

Frankie glanced down at himself, and missed how you glanced over at him too. He'd had the beginnings of a broad frame when you first met him, an awkward, but sweet and polite kid, just starting high school. Skinny with stringy muscles on his too-tall-for-his-age body, all knees and elbows. Three years later, at his high school graduation, you'd given him a short hug and felt the muscles starting to build up on him. Now, four years of army training behind him, he was lean and muscular, fully a man with broad shoulders and wide back that stretched his white t-shirt. The rest of his body had caught up with his height and he'd all but towered above you when he'd opened the front door. If you hadn't seen the dimple in his cheek and the same sweet smile he'd always had, you wouldn't have recognized him.

Frankie filled you in on all the details his mom hadn't shared with you, while you pulled together a simple pasta sauce and made garlic bread. The beer warmed his belly and he gladly accepted a second one when you offered. It was easy to talk to you about the army, easier than to his mom. His mom was always nervous about him getting injured, or getting shipped off somewhere really dangerous, which was of course kinda the whole point of joining the army. His mom hated him even mentioning where he might go, so he stopped talking to her about it, he didn't want her to worry too much. But you listened when he talked about it, and the challenges of keeping up with all the studying, offered some advice, and shared stories of some of the places you'd traveled when he talked about where he was hoping to be deployed to. You made it sound like the most natural thing in the world to backpack through South America or sleep on trains while crossing the European continent on a shoestring budget, treating his coming army life like a big adventure, just the way he saw it.

By the time the pasta was done, you were trading stories about parties you'd been to and a pleasant buzz was forming, the atmosphere relaxed in the familiar kitchen. When Frankie finally twirled some spaghetti around his fork and tasted the dinner you'd cooked, he was completely relaxed and without thinking, he dropped his head back on his shoulder and moaned loudly.

"Fuck me, this is so good, you need to teach me!"

You laughed at his honest review, while Frankie's cheeks flushed red and he quickly took a swig of his beer.

"Sorry, don't tell my mom I said that. She'd kill me for cursing and then she'd kill me for liking your food better than hers."

That made you laugh even more, snorting as you almost choked on your pasta.

"Don't worry, Frankie, I won't tell if you don't," you replied, "I'm getting her son drunk in her kitchen, she'll never forgive me for that."

Frankie laughed and raised his bottle.

"Alright then, to keeping secrets from my mom," he said and clinked his bottle against yours.

"To keeping secrets from Gloria," you repeated with a smile.

After dinner Frankie cleaned up while you sat and watched him, he was telling you about his plans after he'd gotten his helicopter license, his bright enthusiasm shining through even though he tried to play it cool.

"There's this special operations group called Delta Force, it's like…the best of the best," he said, "they go undercover, blend with the locals, and do covert missions…that's where I wanna be."

He wiped down the counter as he spoke, rubbing at a stubborn spot, "I mean, I speak Spanish and I'm Latino, I could go undercover in any South American country and I've got this friend from basic training, Pope, well, we call him Pope because his real name is Santiago, so like Santi for short and santo  means holy so, you know, Pope."

He chuckled at the last thing and looked up at you, you were smiling at him, his eyes bright and happy as he went on about his new life, "So yeah, Pope, he's Latino too, and he's really cool and he's like my best friend and we're gonna try and make Rangers and then Delta Force together."

"I'm sure you'll make it, Frankie," you said to him, "You seem to have found your passion in life with aviation."

Frankie hung the towel on the rack and sat down at the table again.

"Yeah, I suppose, but I always knew I wanted to fly shit, like helicopters and planes, and the army was the best place to learn that. The rest…I mean…I'm good at shooting but I'm not sure how it'll be if I have to shoot at an actual person."

He shrugged and the smile slipped from his face as he rubbed at a spot on his hand, a fresh looking tattoo.

"That's probably gonna be really difficult, Frankie," you said, reaching out and taking his hand in yours, stopping his nervous rubbing, "but I'm sure you'll get plenty of support, it's part of being in the army after all. Just make sure you find someone to talk to if things get difficult, ok?"

Frankie nodded, his eyes on the way your hand was holding his, your thumb gently rubbing soft circles on his bull's eye tattoo, the one he'd gotten only a month after leaving home. His mom had been livid when she saw it.

He still looked a bit troubled, his earlier enthusiasm seemed to have been dampened by his thoughts about shooting someone real, and not just training dummies. You dropped his hand and took his chin between your thumb and fingers, making him look up at you and meet your eyes.

"You'll be fine, Frankie, and it's good that you're worried about it. I'd be more worried if you weren't worried about the idea of having to shoot a real person."

You gave him a smile and a gentle tug on his peach fuzz covered chin that made him return your smile, some of the light returning to his eyes.

"Ok, I've got to get going," you said, standing up from the table, "I'm renovating one of the spare rooms and I've got a ton of furniture to move tomorrow before I can start painting."

"Do you need help?" Frankie immediately asked, and you thought about it for a few seconds while you walked to the front door, Frankie following behind you.

"Not with the painting, but there's a heavy desk that I could use some help with, if you've got time?"

"Yeah sure," Frankie replied, "I'm gonna be home all day studying anyway. I'll come over after breakfast and move it for you."

"Thanks, Frankie, you're a lifesaver," you smiled at him, giving his arm a squeeze before you headed out the door.

Frankie watched you cross the yard to your own porch, and returned your wave as you opened the front door.

Texas summers get hot so you made sure to wake up early the next morning. You wanted to get as much work done as possible before the heat got unbearable. By the time Frankie was at your door, you'd stripped down to your shorts and bikini top, and moved as much of the furniture you could, covered the floor, and filled any holes in the walls. You were half way done with the first layer of paint when the doorbell went off.

Frankie had two take away cups with coffee in his hands as you opened the door, and he smiled and handed you one as you greeted him. But you didn’t miss how he glanced down at your body too, the Adam's apple in his throat bobbing as he swallowed. It put an extra sway in your hips as you lead him through the house, smiling to yourself. Frankie was about 25 years younger than you, and it thrilled you that someone his age would still do a double take of your boobs in a bikini. He was a good looking guy, probably had girls throwing themselves at him, and it boosted your damaged ego to see his eyes drop down and then snap back up, a flush creeping up his throat.

Frankie took a long sip of his coffee, trying to keep his eyes nailed to the back of your head as he walked behind you through the house. It was difficult to say the least, your shorts hung low on the curves of your hips, hugging tight around your soft thighs. And when he did manage to look at your head, he saw the line of your neck, damp with perspiration, and strands of hair escaping your hair clip. A drop of sweat trailed down your neck and ran the length of your shoulders, and he had the sudden urge to taste it, to put his mouth against your skin and lick it up.

He quickly took another sip of his coffee, and focused on your voice instead.

"So, this is the desk, old as fuck and heavy as sin," you said, pointing to a solid wood office desk, "and I need to move it over there so that I can paint behind it."

"Ok, let's get to it," Frankie said, walking over to the desk and looking for a good way to grab it, "If you take that end, I'll lift it here and we should be able to move it together."

You did as he instructed, grabbing hold of the end of the desk that didn't have built in drawers. On Frankie's count, you lifted, and despite it being the lighter end, you had to strain your legs and arms to get the legs off the floor.

"Fuck, this is heavier than I thought," you huffed, adjusting your grip as Frankie seemed to effortlessly pick up his end. You could see the muscles in his shoulders and arms move under his shirt as his big hands wrapped around the edge of the desk.

"You've got this," he grinned, "Just lift with your legs, I bet you're stronger than you look."

You snorted at him and awkwardly shuffled across the room, carrying your end.

"'Stronger than I look'," you muttered, throwing Frankie a mock scolding look that he met with a bright smile, laughing as he changed his grip and took more of the desk's weight.

"You should come with me to the gym," he said, "I'll show you some of the stuff the army has me do. Is here good?" he motioned with his head at the wall next to him.

"Yeah, perfect," you replied, gratefully letting go of the edge of the desk, "Maybe I should, the army's really put some muscles on you, Frankie."

"Yeah? You think?" Frankie asked, lifting his arms and looking at them as he was only just noticing the thick biceps he'd developed, "I guess, they work us really hard, more than I ever did at the gym in high school."

"You really filled out, you look great, Frankie."

He blushed brightly at that, a proud smile creeping up his face as he awkwardly wiped his hands on his shorts.

"Thanks," he said, "I don't know, I think I'm too skinny, I need to bulk up some more."

"Trust me, Frankie," you said, picking up the paint roller again, "you look great. Bulk up if you want too, but from a female point of view, you're doing just fine, the girl's must be all over you."

Frankie swallowed audibly and from the corner of your eye you saw the pink on his cheeks moved down his neck as he rubbed a hand over his neck, the proud smile widening.

"So, can I help you with the painting?" he asked after a few seconds pause, "Or do you need help with anything else?"

"Thanks, Frankie, but I'm good for now. I don't wanna keep you from studying," you replied over your shoulder, rolling the paint up the wall in one smooth motion as Frankie watched. He hadn't noticed before, but there were paint splashes on your skin, drips of pale blue clinging to your body like water, a long dribble running over the outside curve of your breast, the soft swell that he could see peeking out from the side of your bikini.

He swallowed again, thickly, as he tried to repress all thoughts from his head, but it was too late. His cock responded instantly, rapidly filling up and straining against his shorts.

"Alright, well, I'll get going then," he mumbled, quickly shuffling to the door, "See you later."

"Oh, Frankie, wait up!" you called after him, and he stuck his head around the door frame. "Are you gonna go see your mom today?"

"Yeah, late afternoon," he replied.

"Can I come with you? I promised to bring her a couple of books she's been meaning to read."

"Yeah, sure. I was thinking like five, does that work?"

You nodded, glancing around the unpainted room, "That sounds great, I'll be sick and tired of painting by then. I'll come knock on your door."

At five you were truly fed up by paining and the smell of fresh paint had given you a slight headache. A shower and a lot of scrubbing had removed the paint from your skin though, and you were in a breezy linen dress on the Morales’ porch.

Frankie opened after a couple of minutes, looking a little bit stressed and sweaty. 

“Shit, is it five already? I was gonna shower first," he said, looking you up and down and instantly blushing. He'd been studying most of the day, but the intrusive thoughts had finally won out, and he'd been on his bed, cock in hand, when the doorbell went off. Now the object of his recent fantasy was standing right in front of him, looking cool and calm with damp hair.

"I can wait, no problem," you said, but Frankie shook his head.

"No, mom said they're strict on visiting hours. I'll have to shower when I get home. Shit…"

He looked around for his keys, grabbed a cap and swiped a hand over his hair and crammed it down before looking around the hallway again, quickly grabbing his phone too.

"Ok, shit, ok, let's go."

He was sweating bullets as he pulled the door closed and locked it. You walked over to his truck and waited next to the passenger door while he caught up, smiling at him as he approached. Frankie felt like his heart was still sitting in his throat, his cock uncomfortably stuffed into his shorts, and he could only pray his t-shirt was hiding the bulge.

"Alright," he said unnecessarily, popping the lock and climbing in. You opened the passenger side door and got in too and Frankie cursed under his breath.

"Fuck, s-sorry, I should've gotten the door for you," he stammered, but you just laughed at him.

"It's the thought that counts, Frankie. Just focus on driving and get us there in one piece. Although, considering your chosen profession as a pilot, I've probably never been with someone as competent as you."

You smiled at him across the bench seat as you buckled yourself in, and Frankie blushed again, shrugging as he turned the key to the ignition. 

“I’m alright,” he admitted, “planes are a lot harder than cars.” 

“Are they training you on several different aircraft?” you asked as Frankie pulled out of the drive, “Which one’s your favorite?”

You kept Frankie talking about aircraft and his training the whole ride over, to keep his mind off his mom, he seemed stressed about seeing her in the hospital again. You were asking him about his friend Santiago, ‘Pope’, the basic training they’d done together, and just as Frankie started on a story about Pope and him at a bar while they were on leave, you arrived at the hospital. 

You dropped off the books and a few other things with Gloria and chatted for a bit, then you left the room so that mother and son could have some private time together. You were in the hospital cafeteria sipping on an ice tea when Frankie found you again. 

“Ready to go?” you asked him, and he nodded in reply.

“Yeah, and mom says I need to cook you dinner. Apparently she put chicken to defrost in the fridge yesterday and it needs to be cooked and I’ve got orders to cook it for you. But honestly, I think she just wants you to make sure I don’t burn the house down.” 

Frankie gave you a sheepish grin, shrugging as you laughed. 

“She told me the recipe, doesn’t look too hard, but I might need a hand.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to cook as a thank you for moving the desk today. Plus, I get a home cooked meal out of it so I’d say win-win for me.” 

“I just need to shower when I get home, so maybe you can come over at like seven thirty?” 

You’d reached the car, and this time Frankie hurried round to the passenger side, holding the door open for you, offering his hand as support as you climbed in. 

“Thanks, Frankie,” you smiled at him as you fastened your seat belt, “seven thirty, sounds like a plan.” 

Frankie smoothed his hands down over his chest one more time as he gave himself a critical look in the bathroom mirror. Was the shirt too much? He’d undone a couple of buttons and rolled the sleeves up in that casual way Pope had shown him and he liked the way it made the material strain around his forearms. Turning to the right, he appraised himself again, he was only wearing shorts with the shirt, and bare feet, it made him feel relaxed and casual despite the shirt. And the blue of the shirt made his eyes pop, or so a girl he dated a couple of times had told him. 

The doorbell went off and he cursed at his reflection. 

“Fuck it, it’s not a date, Morales.” 

Leaving the shirt on, he hurried through the house and opened the front door. 

You nearly balked when you saw him, the rich deep blue shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders, hugging his biceps, sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms and a deep V at the neck that showed off a smattering of freckles. You had to remind yourself that the man in front of you was only twenty two years old and young enough to be your own son, but…you had to admit…if you had turned up at a blind date and the guy looked like this, you’d be thanking your lucky star. 

“Ready for your cooking lesson?” you asked, giving him a wide smile to hide the way your thoughts were traveling.

“Ready to not burn the house down you mean?” he quipped, letting you inside with a chuckle, “Mom’s already called and triple checked on me.” 

You laughed as you followed him into the kitchen, you knew Gloria took pride in her cooking, and it would be driving her crazy to not be here to supervise her son cooking for her best friend. 

“Well, I see you’re off to a good start with your mise en place,” you commented, pointing to where he’d lined up all the ingredients on the counter, “I’ll be over here with a glass of wine, you just get started and I’ll tell you when things get out of hand.” 

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes at you as you sat down at the counter. 

“Alright, let me be a good host then, and serve the lady some wine,” he said with a smile, getting two glasses from the cupboard, and a bottle of red wine from the cabinet. 

“Some French stuff I think?” he said, reading the label, “I’m not even gonna try pronouncing that.” 

You squinted at the label as Frankie poured a glass. 

“Something hospital?” you tried with a laugh, “I have no idea either.” 

“Is this the fancy stuff you drink at those book club meetings?” Frankie asked, reading the back, “Sounds fancy, maybe I should join the book club.”

“No alcohol at the book club meetings unfortunately, one of the other ladies objects to mixing books and alcohol.” 

“What, like a ‘don’t operate heavy machinery’ kinda thing? Frankie asked with a snort, “Reckless reading?” 

“Something like that,” you laughed, “Gloria hates her, she’s got plans to start her own book club and only read the books this woman objects to. Which is anything with sexual themes, glorification of alcohol, any mention of drugs, and gay people.” 

“Wow, she must be fun at parties,” Frankie commented, holding up his glass to you for a toast, “So to my mom, the revolutionary apparently, and to books with sexual themes.” 

“To revolutionary book clubs,” you added and clinked your glass against Frankie’s with a smile. 

“Ok, now, cooking,” Frankie said after you both sipped the wine and nodded approvingly, “Where do I start?” 

“Well, what are you making?” you asked and Frankie slapped his forehead. 

“Yeah, that might be a good starting point,” he said, pulling a notebook from a shelf, “So she said Chicken Alfredo and her recipe is in here.” 

You sat back and watched as Frankie began by skimming the recipe and then started chopping up the ingredients. 

It turned out Frankie didn’t need much help after all, he followed the instructions and sweated the onions and garlic like a pro, frying the chicken on the side before adding cream and cheese. The timer for the pasta went off just as he’d declared the sauce ‘fucking amazing’ with a big grin and then plated it for you both. And as the evening had taken some of the worst heat away, he led the way to the back porch, hitting the switch for the patio lights on the way. 

“More wine?” he asked as you were both seated, holding up the bottle, “Although, are you meant to drink red with chicken?” 

“I think we can drink whatever we think tastes nice, Frankie,” you replied, letting him refill your glass, “So what are we toasting to this time?” 

“Your turn to choose,” Frankie said, lifting his glass and smiling at you with that deep dimple in his cheek. Again you had to remind yourself that this was dinner with your best friend’s son, not a date with a cute guy on his romantic back porch with wine and a meal cooked by your date. 

“I…think…we should toast to your mom’s cooking skills, she’s clearly passed them on to you,” you said after a pause, and Frankie nodded, clinking his glass against yours. 

“To mom’s cooking, and to you for making sure I didn’t burn the house down,” he replied with a wink that made your insides squirm. You smiled back and quickly raised your glass, taking a sip to hide the way your heart was suddenly beating very hard. 

Silence settled between the two of you as you took your first bite, but you had trouble stifling the moan that escaped you at the first taste. 

“This is really ‘fucking delicious’, Frankie,” you said, going in for a second bite, “I’m impressed, you can clearly cook so maybe you should up your game from PB & J’s, this will really impress any woman you date.” 

Frankie chuckled softly, shaking his head, “I don’t know, I don’t date right now, there’s no time. But thanks, I’ll keep practicing.” 

“Tell me the rest of that story about you and your friend at some bar?” you asked, “You started telling me in the car, it sounds like Pope is trouble?”

Frankie laughed again and nodded, “Oh yeah, he’s trouble alright. He can bullshit himself out of any situation, he’s got charm and charisma for days and he knows how to use it,” Frankie sipped some of his wine and you could see the smile in his eyes as he thought about his friend. 

“So we were at this bar, but we’d just been out on a really long training mission and we’d come back to base earlier that evening. And since we’d been given leave to get off base that same evening, we’d basically just showered and changed and then gone into town. But Pope had been hungry so he’d eaten one of the leftover rations that we’d prepped that morning.” 

Frankie paused and laughed, shaking his head, “Big mistake, huge! So we’re at the bar, and as usual, Pope has like three girls hanging around him, all flirting. So he gets one of them on the dance floor and they’re grinding and start making out, and then I see them heading to the back of the bar and some dark corner and I know what he’s got planned.” 

“Smooth,” you laughed, “He works fast.” 

“You have no idea,” Frankie chuckled, “But things didn’t really go his way this time, because less than like two minutes later the girl comes rushing back over to her friends, and she’s got some nasty goo all over her front.” 

“Oh no…please don’t tell me it’s what I think it is….” 

“Yup…Pope’s stomach decided to rebel against the twelve hour old rations and…well, I guess you can guess the rest.” 

“Poor girl! And poor Pope,” you laughed, “What a nightmare.” 

“Oh no, no, no, there is no ‘poor Pope’ here,” Frankie interrupted, shaking his head, “You have no idea how good this guy is. So the girls get their friend over to the bathroom to get cleaned up, I go to find Pope, and he’s outside, recovering. I get him some water, he starts feeling better so we head back inside and one of the girl’s friends comes over and gives him a piece of paper with her number on it.”

“No!”

“Yes!” Frankie laughed, “Turns out, she’d taken a taxi home, so Pope immediately called her to apologize and before I knew it, he’s in a taxi on his way to her place to…you know.” 

“Damn…” you said slowly, “I’m impressed, not sure I would’ve let a guy who literally threw up on me climb into my bed a few hours later.” 

“Told you he’s good,” Frankie smiled and you nodded.

“I think I know the type,” you replied with a smile, “Good looking guy, smooth and confident, always making others laugh, always flirting?” 

“Yeah, that’s him alright,” Frankie said, “He’s fucking annoying but I love him, he always picks up girls when we’re at a bar, it’s like they’re just magically drawn to him, and I just stand next to him like someone’s awkward cousin at a wedding.” 

“Frankie, you’re not awkward,” you said, “you’re a great looking guy and I think you’re funny too. Plus, you’re very easy to talk to.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie replied, and even in the dim light you could see him blush as he put down his fork, his plate empty, “I don’t know…you’re easy to talk to too, and I can talk to women in bars too, I just…it’s never been great when I’ve actually dated someone. It just feels awkward and weird.” 

“I think that’s most of us, I went on a lot of first dates with guys where everything just felt weird,” you said, “I think you’ve just got to find the right person and then it doesn’t feel awkward.” 

You paused and sipped your wine as Frankie looked at you, a sudden sadness had crept over your face and he didn’t like it. He wanted to make you feel good again. 

With a sigh you shook your head, “But what the fuck do I know, I married a guy who cheated on me with his one of his staff and it took me a full year before I even realized.” 

“C’mon, that’s not on you,” Frankie protested and stood up, reached over and took your hand, “The guy was clearly a first class idiot, I even remember thinking it when mom told me, who’d be stupid enough to give up being with someone like you? Fuck him. Let’s go for a swim, I’m fucking boiling up and the water is cool, don’t think about him anymore.” 

Frankie was looking at you with pleading eyes, holding both your hands in his large, warm ones now, gently tugging you towards the pool. 

“C’mon, swim with me,” he smiled, making you give him a small smile in return. 

“You’re sweet, Frankie, thank you.” 

“I just don’t want you to thin-” 

With a yelp Frankie missed his next step, stepping over the edge of the pool and tumbling backwards, pulling you with him with a loud splash. 

You hit the water, felt Frankie’s arms go around your waist and push you upwards, and with a cough you got your head over the surface again. 

“Oh fuck, shit, you ok?” he spluttered, shaking the water from his ears as you started laughing, pushing your wet hair from your eyes. 

“Yeah, just wet,” you replied, grabbing hold of his shoulders for support. The pool was just deep enough for you to stand on your tiptoes, and Frankie still had his arms around your waist, his height letting him stand on the bottom. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how close I was to the edge. Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked again, and you nodded. 

“If you wanted to go for a swim so badly, you should've just said,” you smiled, “I would’ve brought my bikini.” 

“You look so fucking good in a bikini,” Frankie replied, biting his tongue the second it slipped out, and he felt heat creep up his neck as your eyes widened in surprise. “I-I mean... “ he stuttered, but you interrupted him, shaking your head. 

“Don’t apologize, Frankie, it’s nice hearing you think I look good. I think I need to hear that sometimes.” 

“I think you’re gorgeous, so beautiful, I always have,” he said, softer this time, and you felt his arms tighten their hold around your waist as he dropped his gaze to your mouth for a second. When he looked up again, his eyes had darkened, almost black in the dim light from the pool. 

“I…thought about you a lot…you were always so…” he slowly confessed, his eyes drifting back down to your lips, and when he slowly leaned forward, asking permission with the way he carefully moved closer to you, you did nothing to stop him. 

You tasted of pool water and wine, a sweet flavor that invaded his mouth when he carefully licked between your lips. A soft sigh escaped you when you let him in, your hands tightening their hold on his shoulders, pulling him closer. He took a few steps in the cool water and pressed you against the tiles of the wall, needing more, as much as you’d give him, as he explored your tongue with his own. He let slip a quiet moan against your lips as heat filled his body, angling his head to reach more, to get more, arousal rushing through his system, filling him up. Against his wet chest he could feel your hard nipples through the thin layers of cotton that separated the two of you in the pool, the friction of them egging him on, making him moan into your mouth again. Without thinking, he slipped his hands from your waist, slipping over the round swell of your ass, and down to your soft thighs, grabbing them and lifting you up to hook your legs around his waist. His cock was aching, filling up so fast he almost felt dizzy, and he wanted nothing more than to let you know how hard you made him, the effect you had on him and what a fucking idiot your ex had been. He’d have you naked in his bed in a heartbeat if you asked him. 

“Frankie…” you mumbled, letting him kiss you again, and you couldn’t resist kissing him back. His hands were warm even in the cool water, and they were wrapped around your thighs, holding you up as his very evident hard on pressed against your core. He was filling your senses, his mouth, his tongue, his thick cock pressed against your clit in a way that made you see stars, “Frankie…” you mumbled again, and this time you pushed back just a little. 

He pulled back immediately, looking down at you with a worried crease between his eyes. 

“Frankie, I can’t…you're Gloria’s son…” 

“But I want you,” he replied immediately, “And we’re both adults, we can do what we want.” 

“I can’t, please,” you pleaded with him, pushing at his shoulders, and he let you go, dropping your legs back down. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” he mumbled, “and she doesn’t have to know, I just want to make you feel good.” 

“You already did, Frankie,” you replied softly, cupping his cheek with your hand, “But I should go home now.” 

You took a few short strokes towards the ladder and pulled yourself up, waiting next to the pool while Frankie followed you. He swallowed thickly when he saw how your wet dress clung to every inch of your skin, showing off your underwear, the hard pebbles of your nipples. He looked away, dropping his gaze to his feet, feeling rejected and disappointed. 

“I had a really nice time, Frankie,” you said, “I’ll see you around, ok?” 

He nodded, and you gave him a final look before you turned away, grabbing your phone off the porch table before you walked towards the gate leading to the street.

“Wait,” Frankie called quickly, hurrying after you, “Tell me something at least, ok?” 

“What?” you asked, turning to him as he caught up with you. 

“If I wasn’t Gloria’s son, would you be ok with it?” 

“Frankie, you’re like twenty five years younger than me…” you said but Frankie shook his head. 

“Forget that, if we were the same age, and you met me at a bar or on like a blind date, would you be interested?” 

“If you were my blind date, Frankie, I’d be the luckiest woman alive. You’re a really great guy,” you reached up and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, “Good night.” 

You’d kept your distance from him, and from the house, over the next couple of weeks, and when his mom came back home, you only seemed to stop by when he wasn’t around. His mom told him you’d been over, dropping off a book or a lasagna, and that you’d told her how nice you thought he was. How studious, how polite, how sweet. And his mom glowed with the praise, proud of how well he’d gotten along with her best friend when she wasn’t there. 

But he didn’t see you again, and then his leave was up, and he packed up his truck and reversed it out of the drive. His mum was on the porch, waving at him with tears in her eyes the way she always did when he left, and he smiled and waved back. But before he accelerated down the street, he pretended to stop just to shift his seat belt as he glanced up at your house, one last look to see if he could catch a glimpse of you. Too late did he realize your car wasn’t in your drive, and he sighed, drew a deep breath and put the truck in drive again. 

Frankie lingered on your mind the next few months, and not only because Gloria kept you up to date on what he was up to at aviation school, but because you often drifted back to that moment in the pool. You knew that you’d made the right decision to stop, he was out of bounds, he was your best friend’s son, and to make out with him, and perhaps even more, in Gloria’s house, that was unacceptable. 

But you couldn’t help the ‘what if’ that kept coming back to you. What if he wasn’t your best friend’s son? Would you be ok with it? He was clearly attracted to you, and it would’ve been consensual on both sides. Did you have a problem with sleeping with a man twenty five years younger than you? A fling? Only a fling, you weren’t delusional to imagine a relationship with someone that young. But a night or two of just sex? And your mind drifted back to Frankie, the way his clearly very well proportioned cock had strained against his shorts after he’d helped you move the desk, and the feel of it pressed against your core in the pool. He’d been so willing, if you’d just slipped your hand down and cupped it, caressed through the fabric of his wet shorts, you’re sure he would’ve moaned again in that enticing way he had when he kissed you. He could’ve just slipped your underwear to the side and pushed in, you’d sure been wet enough for him that night. 

Fuck

You twisted the question around in your head late at night, reading articles online, the discourse on how men always seemed to get away with having much younger girlfriends and it was never any real scandal. It even seemed to be a sign of virility for men to hook up with women young enough to be their daughter, even their granddaughters. Where was the scandal and shame in you hooking up with a younger man for a night? He’d made you feel so desired, so attractive, and after the way your ex-husband had left you, it had been a rush to see Frankie’s eyes slip down your body and swallow thickly. Because in reality, you had to admit, it was Frankie who did it for you, not just any random young man. His warm smile, his large hands and wide shoulders, and that flash of insecurity that seemed to drift across his eyes. It made you want to give him what he wanted, to show him how good he was, how lucky anyone would be to have him in their life. 

A few months had passed since he was last at home, and now he was nervously drumming his fingers on his truck’s steering wheel outside a hotel in Montgomery, Alabama. He’d been dismissed from base for a weekend leave only two hours ago, and you were in town for a conference. He only knew because his mom had called him to let him know, and told him he should take you out for dinner as a thank you for all the help you’d provided while she was injured. He’d tried getting out of it, to the point where he was sure his mom now thought he couldn’t stand you. But she’d insisted, told him to put on his nicest uniform and take you out for a nice meal, she’d even sent him money. He’d sent it back, guilt burning up his insides. And hadn’t worn his uniform, it just drew too much attention, he liked being in the background anyway. 

The clock eventually hit seven thirty, and he peeled himself off the seat, a knot of nerves in his belly, and made his way across the street to the hotel lobby. His fingers were twitching by his sides as he walked through the entrance, fidgeting. 

You saw him walk across the lobby, shoulders up by his ears, a cap crammed low over his eyes, he looked nervous, ready to run if given a chance, and you chewed on your bottom lip at the sight of him. Gloria had stopped by your house a few weeks earlier, just a day after you’d told her you’d be away for the weekend. It hadn’t occurred to you that Montgomery was so close to where Frankie was stationed, and when she told you Frankie would love to take you out to dinner, you’d been too surprised to come up with an excuse on the spot. She’d made the plans, and now, here you were, the object of your inappropriate fantasies walking towards you.  

“Hey, Frankie,” you smiled, hoping to take the edge off your own nerves, and his, when he came close. 

“Hi…” he replied, his voice low, “I’m sorry, mom insisted I come, I couldn’t get out of it, I know you don’t wanna see me.” 

“Frankie…of course I wanna see you, it was never about that,” you said softly, reaching out without thinking and taking his hand, “It’s all good.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thanks.” 

He gave you a small smile in return, squeezing your fingers lightly before you dropped his hand and picked up your purse. 

“So where are you taking me on this big night out for an army man? McDonald's? Or are we being fancy at Olive Garden?”

Frankie shook his head at you with a snort, “Smart ass. C’mon, I’ve actually made a reservation.”   

He had indeed made a reservation, at a very relaxed local place, big plates of southern food being served up for you both to share, surrounded by couples, families and groups of friends out enjoying the Friday night. He was driving of course, so he didn’t go big on the drinks, but by the end of the evening you were both buzzing, laughing and sharing stories like two old friends catching up. You got him to tell you more about Pope, apparently his friend had been very curious about the older woman Frankie was taking out on a Friday night. Frankie was laughing as he tried to do an impression of Pope asking for ‘photographic evidence of said date’. 

The walk over to Frankie’s truck was companionable, and he hooked his arm around your shoulders without thinking about it and helped you up into the truck, a hand on the small of your back. The ride back to your hotel was short and you were leaning back in your seat, enjoying the balmy air that was blowing across your face and singing along to the radio. Frankie was smiling to himself, watching you from the corner of his eye as he tried to concentrate on driving. You were swaying in your seat now, dancing along to the music as you hummed when you’d forgotten the words, and he was trying to push back the attraction he’d been battling all evening. Your skin was glowing as the street lights slipped past, the hem of your dress pushed up by the breeze, and he could feel the warmth radiating from you, the smell of perfume on his skin and shirt after he’d had his arm around your shoulders. 

When he pulled into a parking spot across the street, the same he’d been waiting in at the beginning of the night, you turned to him. 

“Thanks for a lovely night, Frankie.” 

“My pleasure,” he smiled back, “And don’t touch that door.” 

He gave you a mock stern look and you feigned a look of innocence as you pulled your hand back from the handle. Frankie jumped out of the car and jogged around to your side, opening the door and holding out his hand, guiding you down with a hand on the small of your back again. 

“Thank you, such a gentleman,” you said, smiling up at him as he closed the door behind you, and without thinking, you leaned in and gave his check a kiss. 

His scent overwhelmed you, warm and rich, a hint of a spice from his aftershave, and you froze in your movement, stopping just for a moment to inhale more of him, your lips close to his cheek. Frankie let out a sudden shaky breath, his hand still on the small of your back, and he turned his head, his lips finding yours a split second later. They were tender and warm, soft against you as if he was just tentatively testing if you’d let him. But his hand on your back pulled you just a little bit closer, and you felt yourself pressed against him, your body suddenly thrumming with need. 

All your months of debate back and forth, your what ifs, it all faded, and you parted your lips to his, licking into his mouth as he rewarded you with a low moan. The metal of his car was suddenly at your back, his hands tugging you closer as he cupped your cheek, eagerly tasting your tongue as he crowded over you. There was no longer any rationale, he was hard and warm and smelled delicious, his fingers digging into your hip as he kissed you hard, low moans escaping him as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I…I don’t have to be back until Sunday…” he mumbled against your lips between kisses, “Please…you’ve all I’ve been thinking about, I wanna make you feel so good.” 

“Ten minutes,” you whispered without hesitation, “Room 494.” 

Frankie nodded, his head swimming and hazy, but he noted the number, and reluctantly let you go, watching you cross the street. 

You drew a couple of deep breaths as you crossed the lobby, smoothing out your blouse as you reached the elevator. A few minutes later you were in your room, closing the door. You weren’t sure what had happened, but something had reached a boiling point, that much was clear. All your plans of politely saying good night to Frankie and then getting in bed with your Satisfyer had flown out the window the second you got close to him, his close proximity had stalled your brain and he seemed to experience the same thing. The feel of his lips on yours when he turned his head, it made all rational thought impossible.  

Two adults, on the same page, and his mom will never know. 

You nodded to yourself, glancing around the room and quickly shoved your clothes in the suitcase, turning down the lights and kicking your shoes aside in the room’s small hallway. You were in the bathroom nervously smoothing your hair when there was a low knock on the door. 

Frankie had waited by his truck, pressing his trembling hands against the warm metal after you’d disappeared into the hotel. He could still feel your body pressed against his, your scent in his nose. He wanted to bury his face against your neck, inhale you as he got to feel your warm skin against all of himself, but nerves were crawling up his spine. He wanted to make you feel so good, but all he had was a few awkward encounters in high school and a rushed blow job in a nightclub that he regretted so much it made his cheeks heat up as he thought about it. His hands were shaking as he crossed the street ten minutes later, deep breaths to calm himself as he rode the elevator up, the knock on your hotel room door seemed too loud, his heart suddenly beating too fast. 

You let him in and closed the door behind him as he stepped out of his shoes, noting that you’d left yours by the door. Now that this was really happening, he didn’t even know where to start as he glanced around the room. The floor length windows were covered by sheer white drapes, the light in the room dim, and he wondered if you could hear his heartbeat as you walked past him. 

“Are you ok, Frankie?” you asked him, he was standing so still in the small hallway. 

“Y-yeah…” he stuttered, cleared his throat and repeated himself, “Yeah, I’m good, fine, just…”

“Nervous?” you asked when he trailed off, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, I-I’ve been thinking about this, a-about you, so much, I don’t want to mess up or disappoint you.”

“What are you nervous about?” you asked, coming back to him and gently taking his hands, he tangled his fingers with yours. 

He blinked a couple of times as he looked at you, as if he was trying to find his words. 

“Messing up, not making you feel good,” he said, his voice low in the quiet room, “not…not making you come.” 

“Are you sure you want this?” you asked, “We can just walk away right now and it won’t be anything wrong.” 

“No, no,” he rushed out, tightening his hold on your hands, “I want this, I really want this, you have no idea.” 

“Then we just take it slow, figure things out together, ok? That’s how it should be.” 

Frankie nodded, his eyes still locked on yours like he was trying to stay balanced, keeping his eyes on you so that he knew you wanted this too. 

“I’d like that,” he said, “Show me what you like, I want to learn.” 

The last words from him made you smile, he was so eager to be a good student, you could feel him almost vibrating, and when he saw you smile, he seemed to relax, a warm smile brightening his tense face, a small puff of air escaping him. You stood on your tiptoes, reaching up so that you could put your arms around his neck as you leaned your cheek against his. 

“Let’s just have fun, Frankie,” you breathed into his ear, “tell me what you like and I’ll tell you what I like. I want to make you feel so good too.” 

Frankie let out a low groan, his hands landing on your waist, “Please…” he muttered, and you felt his lips against your neck as he bent his head. 

He continued to press light kisses to your skin as you guided him back, stopping when your legs hit the side of the bed. Then you climbed up and pulled him with you, making him lie down next to you on his side. 

“We’re gonna start slow,” you said, “Just kiss me and touch me wherever you want, explore with your hands and mouth. Your mouth feels so good on me.” 

He nodded, blushing at your praise under the dim lights, “Ok,” he replied in a low voice. 

His previous nerves seemed to have faded, he was smiling, and by the way his hands were wandering, he was more than ready to begin. You smiled back at him, waiting for his first move and it took him a second to catch up. Then he chuckled and leaned in, capturing your mouth in a firm kiss, making you open your mouth to his searching tongue, confident in his ability as a kisser at least. You leaned back, pulling him with you, a hand behind his neck as you caressed his soft, short curls, the other holding on to his firm shoulder, his skin warm under the thin cotton of his shirt. 

Frankie shifted his weight, moving so that he could prop himself up over you and let his hands do as you’d instructed, explore your body. He’d already decided he was going to cover you in kisses later, once he had your soft skin under his mouth. Now he wanted to map your body, get his fill of touching you. He traced your sides, let his hand run down your waist and over the curves of your hips, his large hands spanned across your thighs, and the soft flesh yielded under his grip, he couldn’t wait to get your jeans off and see your skin dimple as he grabbed it. 

“Can I take off your pants,” he asked, lifting up just a bit from your mouth, and you nodded, reaching down to undo the button. Frankie sat up on his heels as he helped you drag the jeans down your legs, kicking off your socks in the process. You watched as he let his hands run the length of your legs, squeezing softly, he seemed to be transfixed by the give in your thighs, the soft swell where they met. His fingers trailed upwards, over the edge of your underwear, tracing the pattern as you softly inhaled when he got close to your core, already aching with need. 

He looked up as he heard your intake of breath, “Is it ok?” he asked, stopping his movement, and you nodded. 

“More than ok, and I’ll tell you if it’s not. I like your touches, they’re very soft and teasing.” 

He smiled at that, resuming his slow movements across your underwear, drawing more soft moans from you until he moved upwards and reached the edge of your blouse. 

“Take this off too,” he said, and you noticed he didn’t ask this time, and his eyes were a shade darker, the warm brown almost gone as he looked at your body with increased longing. 

You unbuttoned your top slowly, letting the fabric slide to the side with each movement, and Frankie watched, his eyes flicking between your hands and your eyes. When the last button was gone, you pulled the blouse aside and lay back against the bed. 

“Take yours off too, Frankie,” you said, and he quickly sat up and pulled the t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it to the side. He rested on his heels for a moment, watching your eyes roam across his body. His time in the army had given him a lean, muscled look, wide shoulders and strong arms. There was a smattering of dark hairs across his chest, and a tantalizing trail leading down into his jeans. 

Frankie’s hands were moving again, distracting you from his body, sliding up over your waist, caressing your belly, always squeezing and exploring your flesh. When he reached your bra he slipped his hands behind your back and unhooked it, pulling it off and letting it drop next to the bed. 

“So not totally inexperienced,” you smiled up at him, teasing his deftness with the hooks, and he chuckled. 

“Less complicated than a helicopter,” he grinned, his hands coming up to slowly caress your breasts, running his thumbs over your nipples, teasing them as he drew circles and watched them pebble under his hands. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming about touching them,” he said, moving down to lie on your side, his large, warm hand caressing and squeezing you, watching the soft, yielding flesh move under his fingers. 

“Tell me,” you said, moving your hand up to run along his strong back and over his shoulders, the warm, golden skin smooth to the touch. 

Frankie chuckled lightly and shook his head, “It’s almost embarrassing, teenage fantasies,” he said, “You played volleyball in my mom’s pool years ago and I was having trouble not staring at the way your breasts moved when you jumped, all wet and slick…” Frankie smiled up at you, his cheeks pink and you smiled back at him, “You were part of my…imagination…many times after that.” 

“Francisco Morales,” you exclaimed in mock shock, “are you saying you jerked off thinking about my tits?” 

Frankie blushed even more and laughed, nodding, “Yeah, yeah…many times.” 

He looked down at your breasts, his hand still caressing them, the nipples hard under his fingers. He looked up at you again and bent his head down to them, not asking for permission this time as he took one in his mouth. First just soft licks with his tongue over the nipple, but when his first attempt made you take a deep breath, he got more confident. His mouth closed around the pebbled areola and gently sucked on it, all the while keeping his eyes on yours. The sensation of his mouth made heat shoot through your body, making you inhale sharply. 

“Frankie…” you breathed, dropping back to the pillow and closing your eyes, “you’re very good with that mouth of yours.” 

You felt him smile against your breast while he continued to lick and explore the firm nipple, every flick of his tongue sending little shivers through your body that he picked up on, he kept coming back to the moves that made you tremble under him and you felt a need mounting inside you. With a soft grip on his hair, you made him lift his head. He kept his hand on your other breast, toying with it as looked up at you. 

“Have you ever gone down on a woman? Eaten her pussy?” you asked. Frankie hesitated for a moment, quickly licking his bottom lip before he shook his head, looking a bit sheepish. 

“No, I…never…never got that far, and my ex didn’t want me too,” he mumbled, “Do you want me to?” 

You pushed yourself up so that you could cup his cheek and run your thumb over his soft looking lips. 

“Only if you want to, Frankie. And only if you want me to teach you how. I love the way your mouth feels on me.” 

“I want to,” he replied immediately, pressing a kiss to your thumb, “I’ve always wanted to know what it would feel like. I…” he cut himself off with a small chuckle, resting his head on your breast now while he looked up at you, “I used my fingers on my ex, because she didn’t want to have sex, and I licked my fingers afterwards. She thought it was disgusting, but I loved the smell and the taste.” 

You smiled at him and laced your fingers through his, his large hand enveloping yours, “Do you want to start by using your fingers on me, Frankie?” you asked as he began to move down your body, holding your hand while pressing wet, open mouthed kisses over every inch of skin he could reach. 

“No,” he mumbled, pressing his nose and mouth to the underside of your breast, “I want to start with my mouth.” 

He flashed a quick grin up at you when his honest reply made you giggle, and then he moved further down. You spread your legs for him as he slid down, making room for his wide shoulders. You were still wearing your panties and Frankie pressed a soft kiss to the top of them before he began to pull them off. 

“Leave them on for a bit,” you said, stopping his motion, “Tease me through them first, and you’ll feel how wet I am too.” 

He nodded and kept his eyes on you, bending down to run the tip of his nose over the fabric. It was a slow, exploratory movement, but the sight of him, his eager, dark brown eyes looking up at you while he listened to your instructions, this gorgeous man spreading your legs with his warm hands, it made you hum in contentment. 

Frankie let his hands caress your thighs, pushing them apart as he made room for himself between them. You hooked one leg over his shoulder and he nuzzled closer to your core, mouthing over it as if trying to taste you through the thin fabric. The tip of his tongue ran over your slit as his nose rubbed along the damp spot up to your clit, and the contact made you gasp and squeeze your legs together. 

The movement made Frankie look up at you with a pleased smile. 

“I guess that was the right spot,” he said with a smug look, and as you watched, he stuck his tongue out and slowly dragged it over the same spot again, grinning as he did it. Your giggle at his confident manner got stuck in your throat as the touch flickered through your nerves, making you gasp again, and Frankie smiled wider. He continued to focus his touches to the fabric over your clit, the muted touches keeping your arousal thrumming but unsatisfied as you let small moans escape, your eyes closing. You felt an increased need to have more of him, and firmer touches, your impatience was rising. 

“Frankie…you’re doing so good…” you mumbled, “take them off, I want more of you now.” 

You felt him push himself up and hook his fingers into the edge of the fabric and drag them down. Looking up at him, you watched him toss them over the edge of the bed as he kept his eyes on the aching core between your legs. He was stroking your thighs, pushing them apart as he sunk down to his belly. You could feel his hot breath as he came closer, glancing up at you as he settled, and you reached down and caressed his short cropped hair. 

Frankie felt your fingers scratch across his scalp and it sent a tingling sensation down his spine. He was hard as a rock, pushing his erection into the soft mattress, but he wasn’t close to coming, not yet. First he wanted to take his time and give you as much pleasure as possible and enjoy being allowed to bury his face between your legs. 

“Later,” he murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your mound and looking up at you, “Later, I want you to ride my face, I want to know what that feels like.” 

“So eager, Frankie,” you smiled, “we’ll do whatever you want.” 

He nodded and turned his attention back to the soft, slick opening before him, he could feel the heat radiating from you, and the rich, almost sweet, scent that was all but making his mouth water. He gently used his fingers to part the folds, pushing your legs apart until you were on display in front of him, liquid glistening and slowly sliding from the dark opening that his fingers had revealed. Carefully he stuck his tongue out and teased at the edges, drawing a sharp gasp from you. 

“More…Frankie…please…” you begged, and your fingers tightened in his hair. He didn’t need any more encouragement, he licked again, firmer this time, pushing the tip of his tongue inside, the sweet, salty taste invaded his senses as you moaned above him, egging him on. 

It didn’t take Frankie long to catch on, his tongue explored your folds, guided by your breathless instructions and sharp gasps. When you told him to lick you with the flat of his tongue, he grabbed both your thighs and held you down as he dragged it up along your folds, ending right over your clit, the point of his tongue flicking over it, making you buck your hips up. The reaction made him smirk and repeat his move, firmly licking your cunt until you were a writhing mess, your fingers tight in his hair, and in danger of coming far too soon. 

“So good, Frankie…” you told him, taking hold of his chin and lifting it up so that you could look down at him. His soft lips were slick and wet, and his eyes were gleaming with both pride and lust, almost black in the dim light. 

“Do you want my fingers?” he asked, teasing your opening with one thick digit, but you shook your head. You were aching for him to fill you up, to feel his heavy weight on you while his cock sat deep inside you, but you wanted him to experience it all first. 

“Your tongue,” you said, voice still slightly breathless, “I want to feel your tongue in me while your nose rubs my clit, I have a feeling your nose has the perfect curve for it.” 

“Now that’s a first,” Frankie chuckled, sliding down a little bit lower as you laid back down and you lifted your hips to his mouth, “Let’s try it out then.” 

He was exploratory at first again, licking around the edges, gently pushing inside as your breaths grew more shallow again, moaning at his syrupy slow pace. He hooked an arm around your leg, pushing you open wider as he drove his tongue as deep inside as he could go, you could feel his growl vibrate through you as he took a firmer hold on your thigh and curled his tongue. The cool tip of his nose brushed perfectly up against your clit and you pressed your core against his face. He knew what you were asking immediately, and rubbed his nose against your, making you groan as each pass made pleasure zip through your system, pooling just where his nose was teasing you higher. He slowed down when your breathing got quicker, relaxing his grip on you a little, but he still let his tongue explore and lick, while his nose circled your swollen bead. How he was breathing, you had no idea, all you could hear was his groans, and the slick sound of his wet tongue. 

Eventually he pulled back a little and pressed a kiss to your sensitive skin before moving up a bit. 

“Do you want me to make you come?” he asked, flicking his tongue over your clit with soft touches, making you take a deep breath to control yourself. 

“Please, Frankie,” you replied, glancing down along your body down at his glistening face, “I want you to suck on my clit, your nose felt so good on it, a little bit harder.” 

“It’s all swollen now,” he smiled, blowing a puff of air on it to see your reaction. When you inhaled sharply, he grinned wider and did it again before he lowered his mouth. Looking up under his eye lashes, meeting your gaze, he sunk down and placed a wet, open mouth kiss right on your aching epicenter, making you groan with longing. He kept his mouth on you, watching your face, as he sealed his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and started increasing the pressure. 

It was bliss, pleasure rolled through your body as he figured out how to keep the pressure steady. Listening to your body, he let you guide him, and kept his mouth working as he licked and nipped at your clit. He soon found the sweet spot, right where you were just on the edge, whining and gasping for air, but never letting you fall. His tongue felt like electricity every time he swiped it over you, and soon you were bucking your hips, seeking more friction as he kept his pace steady. 

“Frankie…” you whined, tightening your hold on his soft curls, “I’m…I’m…so close…more.” 

He didn’t reply, just shifted his hold on you, tugging you closer as he came up on his knees. Suddenly you felt more of his weight on you, his shoulders pressing your legs wide as he opened his mouth and increased the pressure, pushing you down into the mattress as his tongue flicked faster over your aching clit. Every nerve ending in your body seemed to converge between your legs, Frankie’s tongue stroking all of them with fast, firm licks as you gasped for air and whimpered underneath him. 

He didn’t let up, his hands holding you steady and open for him, until you shattered, your body arching up and freezing as your climax coursed through your nerves. You cried out, broken moans and whines as you dug your hands into his shoulders, his tongue working you through every wave of pleasure, and then your body went limp underneath him, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. 

His hands were still on your thighs and hips, holding you open, his face pressed against your spent cunt, gently licking through your folds, placing feather light kisses on your clit, making you shiver as you felt his hot breath. When you pushed at his shoulder, your body growing too sensitive, he slowly pulled back a little, still licking and kissing, tasting his way as you came down underneath him. 

With a groan he pushed himself up, kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs. 

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” he mumbled, his eyes on your swollen cunt as his hand went to palm the bulge in his jeans. 

“I want you to fuck me, Frankie,” you replied, making him flick his eyes up to you, lust clouding them as he squeezed himself, “Take of your jeans, I want to see your cock.” 

He stood up, a bit unsteady on his feet and smiled when you giggled. 

“Do you feel good?” he asked, hooking his thumbs into the waist of his pants. 

“Never better, like I’ve had my pussy eaten by a master,” you said, giving him a lazy grin and he puffed up, a smug look on his face. 

“You’re a good teacher,” he chuckled. 

His jeans came off, and his boxer briefs, slipping down his legs until he could get back on the bed with you. But he seemed a little self conscious all of a sudden, keeping his eyes downcast, on your legs, as he moved over you, the confidence he’d just had slipping away. His cock hung heavy and hard between his legs but he was curving in on himself, not meeting your look. 

You pushed up and took hold of his shoulders, pulling him down next to you so that you could swing your legs over his and straddle his thighs.

“Relax, Frankie….” you cooed, imitating the way he’d caressed your thighs by letting your hands run up and down his lean legs as he looked up at you, “my turn to make you feel good now, you’re so gorgeous, such a good looking guy. And this cock…” 

You ran the tips of your fingers down the length of him as he flushed pink at your praise, jolting under your touch. His cock was warm, almost hot, under your hand, and hard under the silky smooth skin, every vein standing out as you lightly traced them with your nails.

“I’m so fucking horny…” he mumbled with a sigh, “your hands feel so good.” 

“I want to make you feel good, Frankie,” you replied, watching as your hand closed around him and the muscles on his abdomen flexed. 

You teased him for a few moments, caressing his balls and then up over the weeping red head, running your thumb over the slit. A fat drop of precum stuck to your finger, and you licked it off, keeping your eyes on Frankie. He inhaled sharply, his tongue coming out to run over his pink lips, still puffy from eating you out. 

“Do you want to fuck me straight away, Frankie? Or do you want me to suck you off first?” you asked, sitting back a little on his legs so that he could see how wet you still were. 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled, grabbing your hips, “Ride me, please.” 

“My favorite,” you smiled as you leaned down and kissed the tip, letting your tongue come out just to taste a little, “I’m on the pill, have you been tested?” you asked, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, a couple of months ago at a health check up.” 

“Good, because I don’t know where we’d find condoms in your size at this hour,” you smiled and he flushed again, a look of pride creeping up his face. “Don’t look so smug, Frankie,” you laughed, “You’re a big boy and you know it.” 

“The guys at base keep reminding me,” he chuckled, “Communal showers and all that.” 

“I bet they’re all jealous,” you said, moving up so that you were just above his hard on, his grip on your hips tightening, “good looking guy, charming, cute, and a big dick. I bet some of them look at you and wish you’d fuck them too.” 

You saw something wild flash across Frankie’s face at your last words, and you sank down, letting the fat head breach your opening as Frankie cursed with a strained voice. 

“Fuck…” he mumbled, biting his bottom lip, breathing hard through his nose, and you rocked your hips slowly, gasping as he slipped in deeper. You hadn’t been exaggerating when you praised his size, he was big, the stretch was delicious as you put more weight on his hips and pushed him further in. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenched as he tilted his head back and breathed hard, his taut neck exposed for your tongue to taste. He gripped your hips, pulling you down over him, as you leaned in, tasting the sweat and aftershave on his skin. 

You moved slowly and steady, he was close to coming already, his cock pulsing deep inside as he tried to keep himself from ending too fast, and you rocked your hips again, increasing your speed and pressure, your wet cunt gripping him tight as you let him slide almost all the way out, before taking him all in again. 

“Fuck…” he gasped again, “I’m not gonna last, I’m so fucking close.” 

“Then let me ride you hard and fast and feel you fill me up, Frankie,” you breathed out close to his ear, and his groan vibrated through his body at your words. Pushing back you picked up your pace again, Frankie’s jaw falling open, slack mouthed as he cursed under his breath. 

“C’mon, fuck me harder, Frankie,” you egged him on, moving your hand between your legs to rub at your clit, making sure he could see his cock slide in and out of you, your fingers sliding over yourself and him. He gasped, wrapping an arm around your waist as he put his hand over yours, feeling your movement between your bodies. He was whimpering into your neck, burying his face as he panted hot breaths over skin, his hips punching up into you as best he could while you rode him hard. The only sound was skin slapping on skin, the grunted breaths of you both, Frankie moaning into your neck, trying to hold on while he felt your fingers move across your clit.

Suddenly he changed his grip, a loud, almost pained, groan, as he took hold of your waist and lifted you up, moving you back so that you fell down on the bed on your back while he crowded over you. Pushing your legs open as he slid himself in again with a deep groan as you gasped at the way he dragged across every nerve ending inside. . 

“Need you,” he panted, hooking an arm around your shoulders as he rocked his hips deep, “Need to fuck you so badly, you feel so good around me, so fucking tight and wet on my cock, filling you up, wanna fuck myself so fucking deep in you, watch it spill out…” he was rambling, thrusting hard, his eyes squeezed shut, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, heat building quickly as he slid fast and firm over your core. You could feel his muscles working under your hands, your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. 

“I’m gonna…” he gasped, and his hips stuttered as he buried his face against your chest, whimpering, as he pumped himself deep, ragged breaths with each sloppy thrust until he finally collapsed on top of you, his hands trying to keep himself up. 

You were so close, he was still rubbing against your core, put as Frankie stilled, exhausted on top, you just put your arms around him and stroked his damp back and sweaty locks. 

It took him a couple of minutes to come back to himself, his eyes hazy as he finally remembered to not put all his weight on you, and pulled out with a hiss. He pushed himself up with a dopey smile, sitting back on his heels. 

“I wanna see,” he said, a small sheepish smile on his face as he pushed at your thighs. With a laugh you obliged him and parted your legs, watching his eyes darken a shade as he looked at the way his seed was dripping out of your cunt. With a soft finger, he traced the outline of your folds, feeling the puffy flesh. 

“It looks so fucking hot,” he mumbled, looking up at you again with a wicked grin, his previous shyness gone, “It looks so fucking hot that I just wanna fuck you again straight away.” 

“I’ve got all night, Frankie,” you smiled, “Let me know when you’re ready for round two.” 

Frankie’s face broke into a broad grin and he crawled up your body, caging you in between his arms, “You’re fucking amazing, you’re so sexy and beautiful and you taste so fucking good…” he kissed you softly, opening his mouth so that you could taste yourself on his tongue, “I wanna fuck you anyway you’ll let me,” 

“What’s your favorite?” you asked, looking up at him as he traced your face with the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch that made you close your eyes. 

“You on top, or me on top, fucking you into the mattress,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice, “Or with my face between your legs. I still want you to sit on my face, I wanna make you come again.” 

He pushed up, pulling you with him, “C’mon, sit on my face.” 

“Already?” you asked, laughing at his eagerness again. 

“Yeah, no time to waste, I need to make you come at least three or four times more. What’s your favorite?” he asked as he maneuvered you into position, making you straddle his chest. 

“I’ll show you later,” you smiled, lifting yourself up and shuffling forward, “Now, Frankie, tap my leg twice if you need me to stand up.” 

Frankie grinned and nodded, taking a firm hold on your thighs and pulled you down. 

“Noted, but I doubt I’ll need it,” he smiled, winking as he extended his tongue.  

Twenty years later

The chair wobbled under you on the uneven surface of the backyard lawn, but you stretched a little bit higher, reaching as high as you could with the banner in hand. 

“Oh..shit…” you gasped, feeling your balance falter, just as the chair slipped sideways. 

“I got you, I got you,” someone suddenly said behind you, warm hands landing on your waist and keeping you steady as they lifted you down. 

“Thank you, shit, that was scary,” you replied a little bit unsteady,  as you turned around and looked up at a very familiar face, “Frankie! You’re home!” 

He grinned wide and opened his arms as you hugged him, nearly lifting you off your feet again. 

“Of course, couldn’t miss mom’s retirement party.” 

“She’d never forgive you,” you laughed, patting his back and giving him an extra squeeze before he let you go again, “It’s been so long, Frankie. I haven’t seen you in ages.” 

“Yeah, I know, mom keeps scolding me for not coming back home often enough, but it’s just been…” he paused and shook his head as he rubbed a large hand over his greying beard, “it’s a long story, let’s just say it’s been a few rough years.” 

Something in his dark eyes told you it was more than just the usual mid-life crisis bullshit, so you didn’t push him. Instead you put your hand on his arm and gave it a small squeeze. 

“Anytime you wanna talk, Frankie, your mom knows how to contact me, ok? And come by and see me and Harry up in New York if you need to get away sometime.” 

He nodded, smiling again, “Thanks, I appreciate that. Now let me get this banner up before you try breaking your neck again.” 

“Very funny, I would’ve gotten it up but the lawn is so unsteady because Gloria’s son is never here to help her with her yard,” you poked him and he laughed. 

“Ouch, you’re worse than mom.” 

Once the banner was up, you went back to the kitchen where Gloria was in full swing, trying to control the caterer. 

“Mom, go outside, they’ve got this,” Frankie laughed, hooking his arm around her shoulders and pulling her away from a saucepan, “It’s your party, go sit down and have a drink. Pope!” Frankie called the last bit to the man who’d just sauntered into the kitchen, “Can you get her out of here and get her a drink? Don’t let her come back inside.” 

“Gloria, mi amor,” Pope cooed, smiling at Frankie’s mom, “Let Frankie do the work for once, he and Mrs Castillo have it all under control.”

“Santiago, that charmer smile doesn’t work on me, you know that,” Gloria replied, but she was smiling back at him all the same, and she let him lead her out into the garden. 

“If she comes in again, let me know,” Frankie told one of the three caterers who were busy arranging the food and drinks. 

“Sure thing,” they replied as you grabbed a tray of drinks and brought it into the garden where guests were starting to gather. 

The party was a big success, and Frankie played host to all of his mother’s friends and coworkers, or ex-coworkers now that she was officially retired. You mingled around with your husband by your side, catching up with old friends and new. You’d married and moved to New York almost twenty years ago, and it was fun revisiting Texas, a rare visit when your husband had also been able to come. 

As the evening grew late, people started dropping off. Frankie enlisted some of his friends to help with the cleaning up, while he ushered his mom away from the overflowing dishes. 

“Sit down, have a drink, chat to Mr Castillo,” he ordered her with a smile, and your husband hooked his arm into Gloria’s and pried her away from the chores she was trying to do. 

“Come on, Gloria, let’s dance instead, let the kids do the work.” 

He winked at you as he led her away to the improvised dance floor under the big tree at the back of the garden. 

“I don’t know how she’s gonna cope without working, she’ll be living at the stable now,” you said to Frankie as you grabbed a dish towel to help him with the clean up. 

“Put that down, you’re not doing any work either,” he scolded you, snatching the towel from you, “I swear you’re as bad as my mother with actually sitting down and relaxing, I’ve seen you at it all night.” 

You laughed at him and leaned back against the counter instead, “If you say so, I’m not gonna complain.” 

“Fish, Will’s asking if he should grab more beers from the garage?” one of Frankie’s friends asked, putting his head around the door into the kitchen. 

“No, we’re good,” Frankie replied, and the blonde man nodded, and yelled something over his shoulder, presumably to Will by the truck, before he came into the kitchen. 

 “Honestly, I’ve got the perfect buzz, if I have another, I’ll go over the top,” he grinned as he came to lean on the counter next to you, “Great party, Fish.” 

“You’re Benny, right?” you asked, looking up at the tall, blonde man. You’d seen him at the party but you’d never managed to talk to him.

“Yeah, sorry, hi!” he exclaimed, holding out his hand with a bright smile, as you gave him your name, “I’m an old friend of Frankie’s, from the army.” 

“I’ve heard of you, both from Frankie and Gloria, you’re an MMA fighter?” 

“That’s me, although, less so these days to be honest. It takes a lot out of you to get beat up,” he replied, but his smile didn’t dim, as if the thought of being beat up was something he thoroughly enjoyed.

“I can imagine,” you laughed, “I can’t even watch the fights, it looks so scary.” 

“Meh,” Benny shrugged, “only if you don’t know what you’re doing. Catfish here has helped train me, he’s a great sparring partner.” 

Frankie grinned and dodged as Benny threw a couple of mock punches at him. 

“‘Catfish’?” you asked, confused at the nickname, and looked at Frankie who shook his head. 

“No, no it’s nothing, it’s ju-” 

“It’s his army call sign,” Benny interrupted, his bright smile growing wider, “Wanna know why we call him ‘Catfish’?” 

“Benny, you're drunk…” Frankie tried, but Benny had already turned to you and leaned closer so that he could pretend to whisper in your ear. 

“He can stay down for hours, if you know what I mean, never leaves the ladies unsatisfied,” he chuckled, looking over at Frankie who was a familiar shade of pink as he glanced at you. 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you gave Frankie a big grin, feeling very smug, and he grimaced, but there was a hint of pride there too. 

“Are you telling me Frankie is a known pro at eating out the ladies?” you asked Benny, who was laughing loudly now. 

“Yup, he’s our pussy eating king, our Catfish,” he replied, reaching over and clapping Frankie on the shoulder with another chuckle. You smirked at Frankie, and he couldn’t help but laugh a little too. 

“Imagine that,” you smiled at him, and his bright pink cheeks vividly reminded you of the night you’d spent together all those years ago. 

“Yeah, imagine that,” he chuckled in return as the door from the garden swung open. 

“Francisco, come dance with your mamá,” Gloria said, holding out her hand to her son, pulling him out as your husband Harry stepped inside.

“And come dance with me, honey,” he said, holding out his hand with a smile, and you took it willingly as he leaned in and gave you a warm kiss. 

“Having fun?” he asked as you followed him to the dance floor and his arms wrapped around you for a slow dance at the edge of the garden. 

“Very,” you replied with a wink, “I’ll tell you all about it later, it’s a long story and I’ll think you’ll like it.” 

“Is Frankie the guy I think he is?” Harry asked with a smile as he pulled you a bit closer, lowering his voice. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” you laughed softly, “Jealous? 

“Not at all, I’m the one who got to marry you after all,” he said, smiling down at you as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He lowered his head, putting his mouth close to your ear so that you could feel his warm breath over your skin, sending a delicious tremble through your body, “And I’m the one who gets to take you home and eat that sweet pussy again.”  

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Tagging some people who offered lovely support while I hatched this place. And an extra shout out to @lady-bess for that gorgeous banner!

@pedroacrossthestreet

@bergamote-catsandbooks

@din-cognito

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@angiewatson

@mymo-n

@chujo-hime

[sherala007]

Happy Frankie Friday, Orange bedroom besties 🧡🧢🧡

Imagine waking up with him on a workday, an early Friday morning, perhaps, all grumpy from sleep and mussed hair, your cheek creased with the imprint of the pillow.

In silence, you shuffle over to the kitchen, start fixing coffee. He joins you, heavy-limbed and quiet, tousled curls, eyelids weighed down by half-dreamed dreams. He pops the bread in the toaster, he doesn't like you going to work with nothing but coffee on an empty stomach.

You move about together like sleep-walkers, rising sun, chirping birds, the bed's warmth clinging to his bare chest, grazing your naked arms, rising goosebumps. The scent of him. Everywhere. You almost resent the coffee, soon its smell will overtake his.

Next door, the neighbor's radio blasts news you don't care to hear.

The coffee pot's bubbling, and without warning, his hands wrap around your waist. A strong clutch, as he backs you into the Formica table, an easy lift, as he props you on top of it. He tugs up your night t-shirt --well, his, actually, the one that spells AIR FORCE in big black bold letters-- and he's kneeled between your legs, spreading them with the breadth of his frame, hooking your calves over his shoulders. Your head drops on the table with a light thud, rising sun, chirping birds, his skin so smooth, so warm, his touch almost gentle when he starts devouring your cunt, greedy, all of a sudden.

The radio fades, your hips buck, your chest expends. With love and light and lust, it swirls lazy and amber under your navel. Thick, a living-breathing thing he commands with the tip of his tongue, with the plush of his lips, sucking sharp and hungry.

Your fingers threading through his curls, languid, as his face pushes into your core and your hips spread wider. Your leaking pleasure, his groaning harvest, as his thick fingers dig into the plump of your thigh, as he bends an arm across your waist.

Sensations and sounds, deliciously muffled by lingering sleep, by the week's tiredness.

And when you're about to come, swaying and silent, still not fully awake, he reaches out and holds your hand.

The coffee's burning.

You haven't said Good morning yet.

[sherala007]

I'LL CARRY YOU

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Status: COMPLETE (38k)

SUMMARY: You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right. CW: Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Infidelity. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst.

parts are recommended to be read in the following order:

PART ONE: I'LL CARRY IT (read on tumblr)

PART TWO: YOU CARRY IT

one shot: GOING DOWN (read on tumblr)

one shot: DARK HEART

PART THREE: I'LL CARRY YOU

bonus one shots & more:

javier & lorraine's wedding day (drabble)

what about the ring? (headcanon)

javier confesses about colombia (and the girls) (drabble)

playing with javi's hair (headcanon)

THE FUNNIEST THING (one shot) - new may 18th!

series on ao3 | main masterlist | get notifs

[sherala007]

theorems of longing masterlist

francisco "frankie" morales x ofc!reader*

summary: When Francisco 'Frankie' Morales, a former U.S. Army pilot turned engineering professor, starts a new semester, he isn't prepared to see Bea again—especially not as his student. Or for the way she keeps turning up beyond the classroom, in places that feel too familiar.

warnings: professor and student, but no age gap (community college and mature student). slow burn (so slow we're going to be clutching our pearls for when they even kiss. ex-army-turned-professor frankie. sweet as hell oc. jo banter and jo descriptions. fluff. romance. eventual smut. jo-ness?

CHAPTER ONE: ENGINEERING 101

CHAPTER TWO: INTRODUCTORY PROBLEMS

CHAPTER THREE: STATICS & DYNAMICS 5th June

CHAPTER FOUR: FIRST PRINCIPLES

and more

EXTRACURRICULAR:

COMMISSION OF PROF.FRANKIE

[WIP WEDNESDAY TEASE 1]

thank you as always to @goodwithcheese who has made me feel like i am capable of this even when i have a breakdown over a timetable for this pair that isn't needed, but i NEED and for writing so much with me, ily. to @almostfoxglove @hellfire-state-of-mind and @yopossum for putting up with me rambling about this, asking a thousand questions. and to @secretelephanttattoo who lets me plot with her in February as we have learnt this is when new frankie ideas are born. to all of you and others, it wouldn't be more than a thing that rots as an IDEA if it weren't for you all, love love love.

*ofc!reader — she has a name and backstory, occasional favourite foods, songs and items. her clothing will be minimally described by appearance is not described.

[sherala007]

Meet the Millers - Chapter 13

Pairing: Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader (coming soon - another Miller?)

Word Count: 5700+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Well folks, it's finally here! I originally ended this series back in April 2022, nearly a year before TLOU season 1 debuted. I thought it was over, but not only did I have a few scenes I wanted to write but wouldn't fit, SO MANY PEOPLE asked me for more. No one more than @theewokingdead so I dedicate this last half of the series to her!

Posted in 2022: This is set loosely in The Last of Us universe. I’ve only played a bit of the game and watched others play (and the show isn’t out yet), so please forgive any inaccuracies. Also it’s a post-apocalyptic world so I’m taking a bunch of liberties here. Because fan fiction.

Ages at the time of this story (so you don’t have to do math):

Reader: 29

Benny: 36

Will: 39

Joel: 51

Main Masterlist

Meet the Millers Masterlist

<<Chapter 12<<

A loud BANG! Brings me back to reality and my eyes fly open. My head pounds and I gasp, reaching for my head when Will appears, his body shielding mine.

“Are there any more of them?” He yells.

“I don’t think so,” Benny answers from…somewhere.

I hear Ellie and Joel talking, but it sounds like they’re far away. I blink some more and Will’s eyes snap to mine.

“Hey, darlin’. Can you hear me?” I nod, trying to sit up. “Whoa, take it slow. Let me help you.” Will helps me sit up slowly, a spinning sensation joining the pounding one. I look up into his grey blue eyes filled with worry as he pulls out a flashlight and shines it into my eyes. “I don’t think you have a concussion. But we do need to get that gash covered.”

I attempt a smile, the spinning subsiding. “What happened? Is everyone ok?”

Will hesitates a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah we’re all ok now.”

“Now?” 

Benny pops into my vision, his smile warming me. “Hey sweetheart! Did you get enough beauty rest while the rest of us were fighting?”

I punch his arm weakly. “Fuck you…but seriously, are you ok?”

He nods, leaning forward to press a kiss to my cheek. “Yeah. Joel almost got it but Ellie saved the day.”

“Which she shouldn’t have had to do,” Joel’s gruff upset voice sounds in the small space. “More on that later. We have to move.”

Will and Benny help me up, holding me while I acclimate. “I’m ok. I think.” 

“Can you walk?” Will asks, taking another deep look into my eyes.

“Yeah. I think it’s just my head.”

We manage to make our way into a building, newspaper covering the windows, thanks to the help of Ellie, who was able to squeeze into the small hole in the wall to unlock the door. We wait a while, listening to the trucks blaze past outside. 

“What happened?” I ask once the truck sounds fade.

“We were ambushed. I tried to get us out of there, but they were waiting. Had spikes in the road. We were spinning out so I drove us into the building to give us some cover. You hit your head and blacked out. Will pulled you from the truck but they were already on us. I-” Joel hesitates, looking at Ellie. “-one of them got on me. Tried to choke me. Benny and Will were already fighting off another couple of guys.” He looks at Ellie, sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to…you’re so young-”

“Not…not my first time,” Ellie says, so quiet I almost don’t think I hear her right.

Silence for a bit before Joel speaks. “Well I’m sorry for that too. You shouldn’t have to..do that. At your age.”

“But you’re glad I did, right?”

Joel’s jaw clenches and releases. “I’m glad to be alive, but I’m not happy you have that on your conscious.”

Ellie shrugs, kicking the dirt at her feet. “I’ll be ok, Joel.”

A few more moments of silence before it’s my turn. “Who attacked us?”

“Not the qz. These were homemade soldiers.” Benny says before he takes a swig of water from his backpack. “Probably whoever took over.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” Joel says nodding to the windows. “We have to get out of here either way. I have a plan.”

About a half hour later, we make it to the 33rd floor of a tall building, Joel slumping against the wall as he catches his breath. Ellie sticks her hand out in front of him.

“Come on, get up. Lazy ass.”

Joel glares at her but takes her offered hand and pulls himself up. “I’m 51 years old, you little shit.”

We all chuckle as we walk down the hall, our guard still up. Joel stops in front of an office door and smashes open the glass panel, reaching in to open the door. We all file in and take a look around. No one here but us.

We grab some cushions off the office couches and drag them into the same area, rolling up our outer shirts to use as makeshift pillows while Joel and Will spread the broken glass in front of the door. Ellie watches them, cocking her head slightly. 

“What are you guys doing?”

Will glances at her before resuming his work. “If someone comes in, we’ll hear them.”

Ellie nods. “Ah I see. Crunch, crunch. Nice.”

We all settle on our cushions, the office dark and foreboding. I curl up with Will as there weren’t enough to go around, pressing myself as close to him as I can. His hand grips my hip and he whispers in my ear. “You gotta stop pressing, darlin’. There’s a kid here.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks, but no one sees it. “Oh. Sorry, Will.”

A few more minutes of shuffling and getting settled before Joel speaks. “First light, we’ll go up and get a good look at the city. Find our way out.”

We all mumble our agreements. A few minutes later and I hear Benny and Will’s breathing change as they fall into sleep. Joel seems to hear this too and he talks to Ellie, who is closest to him.

“What you said before about…that not being your first time to..”

I hear Ellie shift around on her makeshift bed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Joel shifts to face her. “You don’t have to. I’m just sayin’...it’s not fair. You being so young and having to deal with all this shit.”

“So you’re saying it gets easier when you’re older?”

Silence. “No.” It’s so quiet, I can barely hear him, despite being in a nearly silent room.

Ellie takes that and sits with it for a minute. “Make sure to lay on your right side. I noticed you don’t hear as good from it. That from when you got shot?”

My stomach flips. I know why that scar is there. But before I can say anything, Joel interrupts my thoughts.

“More like from shootin’, so keep that knife handy if you want to keep your hearing.” He shuffles around, most likely to lay on his right side. Just when I think she’s about to fall asleep, Ellie whispers.

“Joel?”

“Mmm?”

“Did you know diarrhea is hereditary?”

“What?”

“Yeah. It runs in your jeans.”

I have to bite my fist to keep from cackling, Ellie’s chuckle and Joel’s look doing nothing to help. Then I hear Joel, trying to hold back laughter.

“That’s so fuckin’ stupid.”

“You laughed, mother fucker.”

“I didn’t laugh.”

“Yes you did.”

Joel is barely holding it together. “Fuck, I’m losin’ it.”

“You’re losing it big time.”

He breaks and they both quietly laugh together, both telling the other to go to sleep already, and I can’t help but smile, their sounds lulling me off to sleep. 

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

“Joel!”

Ellie’s stern tone rips me from my sleep and I glance around, feeling Will tense behind me. A man and a smaller boy stand over us, pointing a gun at both Ellie and Joel, moving it between them and Benny and Will, who are both still laying with their hands up. The man looks at Joel.

“We don’t want to hurt you, ok? We just want to talk. Deal?”

All traces of the amusement of last night are gone as Joel looks the man dead in the eyes. “Sure.”

“Why do you sound like that man?”

Ellie desperately answers. “Sometimes he’s just an asshole. Joel, tell him everything’s fine.”

No change in his expression. “Everything is fine.”

“What the fuck, dude? Ok look, you guys need out, we have a way out. Can we talk?”

Joel stares the man down for several long seconds before nodding. The man lowers his gun and holds his hand out, shaking Joel’s before helping him up. 

“Sorry to creep up on you guys like this.”

“You’re lucky we didn’t shoot you,” Benny nearly growls from somewhere next to me.

The man nods. “Yeah. Like I said, sorry. I’m Henry and this is my little brother Sam.” He signs to the boy who points to all of us and signs back. “He wants to know your names.” Henry signs to Sam, telling him all of our names and continues to sign while we talk. We share some of our food with them, albeit a little begrudgingly from Joel, as it seems it had been a few days since they’d eaten. Henry tells us about the qz and how FEDRA was taken down and a rogue group of residents now runs the place. Within a couple hours of their abrupt arrival, the sun starts to rise, so we all make the trek up the remainder of the floors to the uppermost office, with a wall of windows down an old conference room. Henry stands at the head of the table, Benny and Will on the side across from Joel and me. Ellie and Sam are busy talking to each other using Sam’s writing board he carries around his neck. Henry gestures to a map he’s laid out on the table.

“So basically, we enter the underground through this building and we’ll pop up on the other side. No problems.”

“Then why do you need us?” Joel asks, hands on his hips.

Henry hesitates. “Just in case we run into trouble.”

“Clickers?” Will asks.

Henry shakes his head. “Nah. FEDRA cleared them out years ago. No one knows, but I heard it on the inside.”

“The inside?” Benny asks, eyebrows raised. Henry glances at Sam.

“Yeah. I uh…I gave FEDRA intel.”

We all suck in a breath but it’s Joel who says it. “I’m not helping a rat.”

“No, it’s not like that. Look, Sam got sick. Lukemia. The only drug that could save him, FEDRA had. And surprise, it was rare. So they told me I had to in order to get the medicine to save him.”

I nod. “I understand. I’m sorry FEDRA put you in that position.”

Henry looks at me and I can tell there’s a little more to the story, but I don’t push. “Thanks…so what do you say?”

“What about when we’re on the other side?” Will asks, pointing down at the map.

“There’s some buildings and shit out there. We just cross over that little bridge and we’ll be good to go.”

Joel, Will, Benny, and I exchange a look. We know each other so well that we don’t really need to exchange words with situations like this. Joel nods at us and we nod back. “Alright. Let’s go.”

We all pack up and quietly head outside, running a few blocks down and into a glass building that simply said BANK on the outside, its full name lost to time. We sound loud, our boot sounds echoing off the walls. 

“Where are we going, Henry? We’re sitting ducks here,” Joel barks out. Henry looks around and points, heading down a side hallway, which leads to another smaller hallway that is not nearly as fancy as the main entrance. He stops in front of a door that says MAINTENANCE. 

“You ready?” He asks. We all nod and Joel and Will push forward, Benny at the rear, Ellie, Henry, Sam and I in the middle. Silent, we all follow Joel as he opens the heavy door as quietly as he can, following the hall down. No one is here.

Henry whoops. “See? I told you it was empty!”

Joel shushes him. “Just because you don’t see them don’t mean they aren’t here. Quiet and silent.”

We follow Joel on constant alert, scanning the area as we move down the twisting hallway. Eventually we come to a doorway, the outside of which is painted in wonderful, bright colors, chipping away with time. A rainbow and grass, a castle and other fairy tale creatures are splattered across the walls. Ellie and Sam look around in awe before Sam presses forward, reaching for the door handle. Joel shoots his arm out, grabbing Sam’s wrist and shaking his head. “No.” Henry pulls Sam back and we give Joel some room, turning to cover him as he opens the door. 

It turns out to be an old child care room. No one is here, but more murals are on the walls, small tables with crayons and paper, some toys and books and magazines scattered about. On one wall a soccer goal is painted, a few balls sitting on the floor.

“I’ve heard about places like these,” Will says as he looks around. “Some people went to escape in the early days underground. Most of them got infected and emptied out.”

Ellie and Sam find a comic book and start eagerly chatting with each other about it. “Joel, can we stay a while? There’s actually shit to do here,” Ellie begs.

“We should get going,” Joel gruffs out. I can sense how tense he is being confined in a small room with no windows. 

Henry looks at him. “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt. We could wait out some of the daylight, pop back up with the cover of night. Let the kids relax a little.”

Joel thinks about it a moment and then tosses his hands up. “Fine.” He sits at a table with Henry, Joel crossing his arms as he watches Benny, Ellie, and Sam start up a game where they try to kick the ball past Benny, but mostly just pelt him with the ball. I notice a couple of doors, presumably leading to smaller rooms that may be makeshift storage rooms. I quietly open one, gun out, and quickly see no one in it. Clicking on my flashlight, I look around and yeah it was definitely a makeshift office or supply room. Or both. There are a few metal shelves that sit mostly empty, a box of granola bars sitting on one of them. Some more makeshift shelves litter the opposite wall and on the floor is some bedding that hadn’t been used in ages. The door clicks closed behind me and I spin, my gun rising with it as my light lands on Will.

“Fucking hell, Will. Don’t scare me like that.”

His smirk is not dimmed in the minimal lighting. “Sorry darlin’. Find anything good?”

I hold up the box of granola bars. “Just some ancient food. Might still be edible.”

Will looks down at the makeshift mattress on the floor. “Someone took naps in here.”

“Not gonna lie, Will. I was about to lay down myself.”

Will turns around and cracks open the door. “Joel, there’s a mattress in here. We’re gonna lay down a bit. Wake us when we’re leaving.”

“Yeah. Remember where you are.”

Will chuckles. “I got it.” He closes the door behind him and shucks off his outer shirt, rolling it up and setting it down on the makeshift mattress. He lays on his side and then gestures to me, opening his arms wide. I slide in next to him, my body molding to his. He pulls me close and inhales next to my ear, a small sigh escaping him. A few minutes go by before I feel his fingers popping open the button on my jeans.

“Can I help you, good sir oh!” I gasp as Will slides his hand into my pants but over my panties, slowly rubbing circles over my clit. 

“Don’t worry, I washed them. I just need you, darlin’. Can I have you?” His fingers slide lower, teasing my entrance, heat rushing between my legs as I nod furiously. “Please, Will.” 

He slides my pants down over my ass, helping me to get them around my ankles before he opens his own. I kick off one of my boots, sliding my top leg out of my pants as he pulls it up over his leg, his fingers immediately back to teasing me, tracing my clit up and down, slow circles as he grinds himself against my ass. 

“Can’t wait. Need you inside me, now.”

“Yes, darlin’.” Will slides into my wet pussy with ease, pushing himself all the way inside as I choke back a moan, vaguely remembering there are people in the next room. Will’s fingers move against my clit in time with his thrusts, back and forth, circling and tapping, the heat and pressure mourning until I can’t hold back. I bite my own hand as I come, not being able to stop myself from a desperate whisper of his name. He grips my hip and thrusts into me hard, panting my name in my ear as he spills himself inside of me a moment later. We stay like that for a while, him softening inside of me as he holds me close. 

“I love you, darlin’. Don’t you ever forget it.”

I smile, satisfied. “Never, Will. I love you too.” 

—----

A couple hours later and we’re out of the tunnel and outside, right where Henry claimed we’d be. It’s dark now and I’m glad we waited for this extra cover. 

“I delivered!” Henry says. “Take this right, down the street, you’ll see the embankment there, and then we’re out.” We all turn right, heading down another dark street. 

“So we cross this river and then what? Where are you gonna go?” Ellie asks. 

“Don’t know yet.”

“Well, we’re going towards Wyoming.” Joel shoots her a look. “What? It’s a big state!”

Henry hesitates. “Yeah maybe we just call this a success and say our fond farewells.”

“Are you worried about Joel? He’ll change his mind. He always does. He’s like-” Ellie deepens her voice. “-No Ellie. It’s never ever happening!” - her voice changes back. “But I always wear him do-”

BOOM! A gunshot rings out over our heads and we rush to duck for cover, trying to figure out where it came from. Joel, Ellie, Henry, and Sam take cover behind a car, while Benny, Will, and I take cover behind another car. Up ahead is an older house, a couple stories tall, the shots firing from the topmost window. Joel motions to get our attention and points to himself and then towards the house with the sniper. I point to myself and gesture the same, indicating I’ll move around the side of the car we’re behind, mirroring him. Joel nods to me and starts to move, Benny and Will providing cover as we both make our way to the house in a parallel move. We meet at the back door, as the front one was boarded up. Joel motions for me to move behind him, providing cover, as we proceed up the stairs. We hear a few more shots go off intermittently until we’re in front of the open doorway that leads into the room where the shooter is. I step to the side, just outside of the door, while Joel proceeds inside. 

“Put the gun down, slide it over to me, and then stay up here for another hour. That’s all you have to do.” Silence. Then Joel speaks again, sternly but also sadness in his voice. “Don’t….don’t do it. Please.” My heart breaks on that last word, the gunshot that follows it ringing in my ear.

“Clear.” Joel says quietly as I move into the room, the shooter man laying dead on the floor. I walk up to Joel, squeezing his arm.

“You tried, Joel. He made his choice.”

He sighs. “Yeah. Doesn’t get easi-”

Static from a walkie-talkie scratches out over the silent room. A female voice comes over it. “Anthony? Anthony?....Anthony hold them where they are. We’re almost there.”

“Fuck,” we both whisper in tandem. Joel and I turn to the window, both yelling as loud as we can to everyone still hiding behind the cars. “RUN! RUN!”

It takes a few seconds before they seem to understand what we’re saying, but it’s too late. Armored vehicles come flying down the street, smashing into the cars that are scattered about. Benny, Will, Ellie, Henry, and Sam run, scattering in a few different directions as the cars are forced apart. Joel takes aim beside me, several shots ringing out and the battering truck shifts to the side, the driver slumped over the steering wheel, as it slams into a house. More cars and trucks slam on their brakes as Ellie, Henry, Sam, Benny and Will continue to run.

BOOM!

The house that the truck had rammed bursts into an explosive flame, Joel and I shielding our eyes at the sudden brightness on the dark street.

“What the fuck was that?” I whisper, Joel looking through the scope towards the blaze.

“Truck caught fire.” Joel scans the street. “Ben and Will are behind the truck on our right. Henry has Sam and Ellie on the left.” Joel moves to the side of the window out of sight, and I mirror him on the other side of the window. As the blaze calms down, scattered bits of debris lighting up small fires across the road, Joel peeks his head out again and a man from the street yells “He’s up there!”

“Fuck!” Joel whispers. 

Another man yells. “Two and two, around the back. Take him out!” Joel reloads the new acquired sniper rifle while I sling mine down from around my back, desperately missing my bow. But I’m no slouch with a rifle either. I didn’t get the nickname Ghost for nothing.

A woman calls out this time. “Dead end, Henry. Why don’t you come on out and save us all some time?” No one moves, aside from the mini army striding down the street with the woman. “That’s alright. Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll come out!” Henry yells from his position behind the car. “Just let the kids go!”

“No, sorry,” the woman replies. “The girl is with the people who killed Bryan. And Sam…well, he’s with you.”

“You don’t understand!” Henry pleads.

“I do! I know why you turned in my brother. But did you ever think that maybe Sam was supposed to die?” Confused and shocked, I look at Joel, who looks neither shocked nor surprised. Henry must have told him the full story. But I fully trust Joel and since he’s still here, so am I.

“He’s just a fucking kid!”

“Well kids die, Henry. They die all the time. You think the whole world revolves around him? He’s worth everything? This is what happens when you fuck with fate…It’s time Henry. Enough is enough!”

Joel and I slowly peek out from the window for a quick glimpse, seeing Henry come from behind the car, hands in the air. Ellie is still hiding, hand in hand with Sam, both looking like they’re ready to run. For several long moments, Henry and the woman stare at each other. Joel and I move back to our positions next to the window, our eyes on each other. 

The woman shrugs. “It ends the way it ends.” She takes out her handgun and slides it, putting a round in the chamber. She aims it at Henry. A low rumble echoes across the street, creaking and moaning coming from the house on fire. The truck that had hit it slowly tips on it’s front end, the ground swallowing it up. Joel quickly moves in front of the window to look, rifle at the ready. I’m watching him for a command, a direction, but the look of pure horror that washes over his face momentarily freezes me. But in the not too far distance, carried on the wind, I hear it. Them. The snarling.

Clickers.

I jump to the window beside Joel, bringing my own rifle up and ready, willing my heartbeat to slow even just a little. And then the ground opens up and spits out a horde of clickers, snarling, screeching, and running towards the group of people. They immediately open fire, screaming as clickers go down but also jump on them, biting and tearing at their flesh. 

“I got Ellie. Cover Ben and Will!” Joel barks out as his gaze narrows in on Ellie. 

My eyes find my husbands, who quickly move from behind their truck as a clicker climbs up the back of it and launches itself at Benny. I aim and fire, landing a shot in its head and it goes down. Benny and Will don’t question this and keep moving, firing their own shots. Another clicker comes from nowhere, grabbing at Will’s pack and he goes down, Benny fighting off another one. I aim and fire at the one on top of Will, keeping my breathing steady when I miss and have to reload, seeing the clicker’s mouth getting closer and closer to Will, who is pushing back with all his might. I finish reloading and jam the scope to my eye, take aim, and fire, my bullet exploding from the other side of the clickers neck. It goes down and Will shoves the body off himself and attempts to stand, but another clicker lands on top of him, trying to scratch at his face. I aim again and get his head, grateful for once for the large fans of mushroom that have erupted from its head as it gave me an easier target to hit. Will shoves that body off too, scrambling backwards a moment before jumping up. 

I pull my eye back and scan the moving masses for Benny, my heart racing and anxiety spiking the longer I can’t find him. A low, loud snarl comes frome the hole where they all crawled from and fear floods my system. I know that sound and I’d hoped I’d never hear it again. A bloater, big and fat and solid, comes crawling up, bellowing at the throngs of people, his eyes turning to-

Benny.

“Fuck!” I whisper, jamming the scope to my eye and lining up the sight, the bloater having only eyes for Benny, who has turned the other way and started to run, dodging around other people and clickers. But before I can fire, one of the soldiers that had come up starts shooting the bloater, drawing away its attention. Relief momentarily washes over me as the bloater barrels down on the shooter, grips him, and rips his head in two, growling out as it looks for its next victim. 

Next to me, Joel is focused but worried, shooting off a few shots before he swears under his breath. But a moment later, he breathes a sigh of relief. “She’s ok.” He says it more to himself than me, but I’ll take any reassurance for my adopted little sister’s wellbeing. Scanning the crowd, I spot Benny and Will rushing to a truck, helping Ellie take down a few clickers to rescue Sam and Henry who are trapped under the truck. Joel and I take out a few more to give them cover and they all start to run towards the path that will take them to the bridge. Joel pulls away from the window and I follow, both of us practically running downstairs as we hear more trucks pull up outside, the sounds of more guns joining the fray. I follow Joel out the back door and arond the house as we come up on Benny, Will, Henry, Sam and Ellie as they all watch in horror as the woman that had been trying to kill us all gets torn apart by a clicker who couldn’t have been more than 9 when the outbreak happened, both of their screams and screeches echoing into the night. 

“This way now! Move!” Joel yells as he practically pulls Ellie along, the rest of us quickly following him away from the clickers and towards the bridge. The roaring of the infected and gunfire gets further and further away and I realize that they must be following the people back into town, the ones that are running away. 

We keep silent as we make our way across the bridge, not stopping for at least a mile until we come upon a dilapidated motel, probably nothing fancy even before outbreak day. We clear the building, all of us aside from Henry and Sam used to our routine. We find a couple of rooms that are connected by doors and head inside, finally stopping to catch our breaths. 

“Let’s all get some rest and..take a breather,” Joel says, slightly out of breath himself. Ellie and Sam take a small bedroom, the door open wide as they snack and read their comic series they both love so much. It’s great seeing Ellie get along with another kid. She so rarely has the chance to interact with someone even close to her age anymore. Henry and Joel sit in the main room, Joel taking a few bites of jerky before passing the bag to Henry, who takes it gratefully. Benny opens the other door and peeks inside the opposite bedroom. 

“As much as I’d love to stay and discuss that, I need to sleep.” He heads into the room and Will follows, yawning and stretching as he goes. “Same. Wake us for watch?” He asks Joel, who nods at him. 

Joel turns to me. “Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

“You sure? I know you have to be tired, old man.”

He gives me a stern look and I hide my smirk, holding my hands up in defeat. “Ok, ok. I’ll go sleep too.” I walk past Joel and lead down, gently cradling his face in my hands when he looks up at me, his eyes dark and sad. “You were amazing today. Really. I love you.” I gently kiss his lips before I pull back, rubbing my thumb across his cheek. 

He takes one of my hands in his, kissing the back of it, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re amazing too. I love you.”

I head into the room and immediately notice there’s only one bed. I roll my eyes and head over to the king size bed, Will and Benny already on either side. I set my bag down and hop on the bed inbetween them. But it’s not until they both scoot closer to me that I feel the tears finally welling up behind my eyes, and I’m unable to stop them. 

“Sshh sweetheart what’s wrong?” Benny cups my face and scans it, looking for any marks he may have missed earlier. 

“I…I almost l-lost you b-both. Y-you came so c-close to d-dying,” Get your shit together, Ghost. 

They both immediately envelope me in a hug, Will from behind and Benny in the front, both of them clapping the other on the back. 

“We’re alright, darlin’. But if I’m honest, I thought I was a goner. I’m assuming I have you to thank for those killer shots?” I nod and he kisses the top of my head. “You’re an amazing shot.”

“Fuck yeah she is!” Benny says, looking me straight in the eyes. “You shot that one practically in the air! And then I thought that bloater was my end. It was comin’ straight for me. Did your shot scare it away?”

I shake my head. “No. That was one of the soldiers. I’m not sure if they were terribly familiar with bloaters, but it doesn’t matter now.” Benny cocks his head in question. “Bloater riped the guy’s head in half.”

“Yeah that does tend to make you not learn stuff,” Benny says, his thumb wiping away one of my tears.

We all fall asleep in each other’s arms, grateful to be alive.

—----

A snarling sound from the main room wakes us up, all of us sitting bolt upright when we heard it wasn’t in the room. But before we could move, a shot rings out. 

“What did I do? That was Sam…What did I do?”

“Henry, just put the gun down… no Henry!” Another shot and Will is at the door, pushing through it, gun at the ready. He slowly lowers it, his eyes casting downwards before he turns back to Benny and me.

“Henry. Sam turned, Henry shot him and then himself.”

“Shit,” Benny whispers. 

I push past them both into the room, ignoring the pools of blood on the floor. I kneel in front of Ellie, who stares at Henry’s lifeless body. I take ehr face in my hands and call her name until she finally drags her eyes to mine. 

“Ellie, did you get hurt? Are you ok?” She blinks a few times and shakes her head. I scan her body anyway, noting only a few superficial scratches. I turn to Joel, who’s standing, wiping a hand over his face.

“Are you ok, Joel?” 

He looks at me and nods. “Yeah. Fuck, I didn’t want that to happen. I tried to stop it.”

I cross the room, avoiding the blood, and hug him, his face pressing into my hair for a moment. “You did what you could. You’re not to blame here, ok?” Silence. I pull back and grip his chin to look at me, his sad, big eyes finding mine. “Ok?”

He nods, glancing down once before back at me. “Yeah. Ok.”

We spend the next few hours digging 2 graves out front, silently saying our goodbyes to the people who helped us out of Kansas City. I really wish they had made it. Sam was so sweet and he and Ellie became fast friends. Henry, despite his past, was a good protector of Sam. And wherever they are now, I hope he knows he did the best anyone could. Ellie silently puts the writing pad Sam had used on his grave and turns, stopping to look at Joel.

“Which way is west?”

 Joel nods in the right direction and Ellie starts walking. Benny and Will drop their shovels, dusting their hands off before grabbing their packs and following Ellie. Joel looks down at the notepad Ellie left as I come up next to him. I look down at it and read “I’m Sorry”, which clenches around my heart. 

“Let’s go!” Ellie yells from half a block away. Joel drops his shovel and grabs his pack and I fall into a walk next to him, all of us a little more silent on our way west. 

We found fear and death and grief in Kansas City. I can only hope whatever we find out west isn’t worse. 

—----

>>Chapter 14>>

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